by Lou Bradshaw
“You want me to go witcha?” he asked.
“Lord no! You’d drive me crazy on the trail… I been runnin’ by myself for too long.” I think he was happy to hear me say that. I think old Griz had left the idea of sleeping under the stars and taking trails up mountainsides far behind him. Can’t say that I blamed him… there comes a time when we all have to look at what we can and can’t do.
I bought up some supplies, and spent the night sleeping on the floor of that trading post. The next morning we had breakfast and I left with the promise that if I caught up with that woman, I’d deliver a message from Ol’ Griz. Then he handed me a pick handle. I told him that I’d use whatever was handy, but she’d get the message.
~~~~~ 0 ~~~~~
The next afternoon, I was on the down slope heading into the foothills and eventually to Cimarron. Cimarron was a noted trail herd town and one of the last towns in New Mexico if you were driving a herd. It wasn’t much, but a fella could get a drink, a meal, and a few other things. That bunch was headed straight for it.
Along the way, one of the riders parted company with the rest and took a side trail and I followed him. Three hours later, I ambled into a wide spot in the road called Rooster. It wasn’t much more of a town than Empire City had been, except the locals seemed to be a little bit less friendly and a bit more unkempt… if that was possible. From the looks of things, I’d say it had once been a ranch or a homestead. The saloon had definitely once been a house, and the hotel was nothing more than a bunkhouse with a hotel sign painted on it.
There were a few more buildings and a livery barn, but none of them looked like they were overly maintained. The newest building was the one that called itself “The Store”. It had been thrown together with logs, planks, and stone. I went there first.
The stock of merchandise told the story. It had a fine assortment of trail supplies and gear, but not much that a family or a working ranch would be shopping for. There were no barrels or flour sacks. It was all in small quantities. The Store had a larger than usual assortment of used guns. Otherwise what they had was just enough for a man to pack for the trail. I bought a small pouch of tobacco and left.
There were six horses tied to the hitch rail in front of the saloon, none of them were overly impressive. Looked like that roan of mine was in a class all by himself, and he was acting kinda uppity when I started to tie him there with the others. So I tied him to the porch post. He was a bit happier there.
Dog and me went on in the saloon. I didn’t invite him, but I didn’t tell him not to come in either. He was a grown critter and could make up his own mind about things like that. I can’t make all his decisions for him. He turned to the right just inside the door and curled up against the wall.
I went on up to the bar and asked for rye in a clean glass. The barman glared at me, but he pulled a respectable glass from the back bar and filled it. I thanked him and went to sipping. Looking around the main room I could tell immediately what Rooster amounted to.
I was probably the cleanest man in the room… and I’d spent the last few weeks on the trail. If I were to hazard a guess, I’d say there was a paper in some lawman’s stack on every man in the room… except me. And I wasn’t all that sure about me. Rooster, it appeared was a hideout or hangout for those with a little tarnish on their name. It wasn’t on a main trail and it was kinda tucked back in the foot hills. Cimarron was still thirty miles away, and on the main trail.
I stood there listening to the talk around the room. Mostly what I heard was cussin’ from the four who were playing cards at a table in the corner. There was an end of the line gal standing there watching the game, but the language didn’t seem to bother her much. I called her, “an end of the line gal,” because this was just about it for her. I don’t know what her story was but I reckoned there wasn’t much left of it.
The two other gents who were leaning against the bar were mumbling and talking in low tones, but I couldn’t pick up much of anything of importance. The one fella was getting ready to leave and said, “I gotta go now, Fargo…. See you on up the line, maybe.” He laid a coin on the bar and walked on out the door.
He had walked on past Dog without incident, and my mongrel didn’t give him even a notice. I was getting ready to say something to Fargo when Dog started growling and I heard a horse causing a fuss outside. Dog was out under the batwings and barking.
I was a step behind him, and soon enough to see Fargo’s drinkin’ buddy throw a leg over my horse and spin him around. The roan got himself out into the road and headed left. That fella yanked him back around and kicked the spurs to him. The roan dug in and took off, and that gent was just starting to give a great big “Yee Haw” When I sort of cut him short with a .44 slug.
Both arms went up, and he rolled off the back. He hit the ground flat on his back and didn’t move. I didn’t expect him to. The roan had come to a stop about twenty yards up the road. I didn’t even have a look at that fella; I just went up and collected my horse and retied him. Then I went back to my rye.
That roan was a good horse, but he wasn’t what you’d call a one man horse. Just about anyone who could ride well could ride him… as long as they didn’t get too rough with him. And that fella had all the earmarks of being rough, so I just figured to stop him before he got hurt…It seemed to work.
Back at the bar, I went about finishing my drink. Fargo was standing a couple of feet to my right working on his drink. I could tell that he was looking my way most likely he was trying to see if I was anyone he knew… or someone he should know of.
“You’re sorta sudden like, ain’t you?” he said.
“I can be, I reckon.”
“And you got a lot of brass, just strollin’ in here where you don’t know anybody after shootin’ that boy down. Why he might have a pardner in here.”
“That could be… but the way I figure it, if a horse thief had a pardner, then that would more than likely make him a horse thief too…. Probably have to shoot him too, I reckon… Is there something you want to tell me?”
“No. Not off hand.” He said and went on back to his drink.
I gave him time to take a couple of swallows and then I said, “I heard that fella call you Fargo. You the Fargo that’s riding with Frank Dooly’s bunch?”
His head snapped back a little. It was just enough of a tell tale movement to let me know that I’d hit a nerve.
“Maybe… depends on who’s asking and why.”
“Cause if you are, then I got a message for you from Willis.”
“Yeah, I been ridin’ with that bunch…. What’s the message?”
“Barney’s dead, and Willis is heading for Arizona or California…. Said he weren’t cut out to be no outlaw.”
“I reckon he weren’t. That boy just didn’t have a mean bone in him…. Not like old Barney. Why that Barney’d steal your glass eye and then gouge out the other one… What’d you say your name was?”
“Cain… just Cain.”
“Well, Cain, you look to be pretty salty, I think Frank wouldn’t mind havin’ you ridin’ with us. They’re all on their way to Cimarron to do a little business. I had me some business to take care of here. I ain’t been near a woman since I was locked up in that Texas prison. Except Rita…. She’d be the kind to shoot you if you didn’t do it right.”
“I knowed about this place, so I just kind of begged off that Cimarron bank job and swung by here. Rita didn’t like it much, but she don’t like anything. I done my business with Amazin’ Grace down there… It amazin’ that she can still go… so I’m ready to git back to work now.”
“So you headin’ for Cimarron now?”
“Na, if you’re ridin’ with me, we’ll meet up with them up at Red River… just this side of the Colorada line. They been just diggin’ that yeller rock out of the ground, and stickin’ it in a cracker box bank. Then we’ll go on to Pagosa Springs, and then we’ll kinda hit Durango, Silverton, and some of them up that way. By the time we leave Colorad
a, we’ll all be rich enough to buy ranches or saloons or whatever we want.”
“Rita says that if we stay out of the bigger towns, we’ll have a lot less trouble with posses. The big towns are all connected to the telegraph, and they can get word ahead of us… That Rita’s a pretty savvy woman despite being such a hateful ol’ shrew.”
Chapter 9
We rode out of there by the same trail I had used coming in. Fargo liked to talk, so I let him. When I asked him why they had even bothered with Willis if he wasn’t up to the job, he told me that he had been good with the boy.
“Why, he’d play with that kid we’d snatched, like they was about the same age. Rita just wanted to be done with him. She wanted to just git rid of ‘im, but Frank wanted to get the money first in case his pa wanted to see ‘im alive. Then she could do what she wanted.”
We were a few miles where the trail joined the main one, when I asked him, “What happened to the kid?”
“We’re not real sure. One of the horses started acting up and finally broke loose. Well, it just got crazy and that kid disappeared. We got all the horses but one, and when they went lookin’ for the boy, he was gone. Rita thinks someone got him, but I think he just wandered away. He probably fed the wolves or coyotes.”
I pulled up and he stopped beside me. “Fargo, you know, of course that kids pa is a Deputy US Marshal? He was a bounty hunter when he was fourteen and runnin’ with Hickory Jack Moore.”
He was looking at me when I said it, and you’d have thought someone had punched him in the belly. He swore a dreadful oath, and he followed it up with a grimace.
“You shore bout that?”
“Yep… as sure as I know, I don’t want to be within fifty miles of you when he shows up. I reckon I won’t be goin’ up to Red River with you.” I slipped the thong off the hammer of my six-gun.
“Too bad… didn’t figure you to be skittish about a lawman. He’s only one man, and there’s six of us… if you count Rita.”
“Oh, Blue ain’t the one I’d be worried about because he’d just take you in for a trial, but he’s got some friends that won’t be bothered with taking prisoners…. By the way, that little boy got home to his mama safely… I saw to that.”
He was about four feet to my right, and he just sat there for a few seconds pondering what I’d just said. Then his hand went for his six-gun, but mine was already coming up by the time he got the thong off. Being wrong handed, I just pulled it up and shot under my right arm. Two slugs in the brisket at that range are enough to take most men right out of the saddle, and they did just that.
Luckily his horse stayed where it was because his right boot was hung up in the stirrup; otherwise his last few minutes on earth would have been pretty hard to live through. I got his boot free and he lay there on his back all sprawled out looking up at me. He was in shock, so he wasn’t feeling what he’d be feeling soon enough.
Taking his canteen from his saddle, I gave it to him and said, “Some things don’t seem to work out the way they’re planned. If it’s any consolation to you, it ain’t gonna be any better for the others. Just look at it this way, at least you were able to finish your business with Amazin’ Grace.” He had a little smile on his pale and incredibly placid face… but that would change soon.
As I swung into the saddle I said, “I’ll be sure to give ‘em your regards when I get to Red River.”
Red River was northwest of where I was and about three days ride. I’d have to go back to Empire City and leave word there for Ben. I’d never been there, but I’d bet that old Griz has. He’d point me in the right direction.
~~~~~ 0 ~~~~~
Griz was just throwing bacon in the pan when I came through his front door. He immediately started slicing more and took down another cup from the shelf.
“Did yee already git ‘em caught up and whooped?” he asked.
“Well, I’ve got one of them down and feedin’ buzzards, but the rest of them are still out there on a rampage.” I told him.
Over breakfast, I told him what I’d learned and got directions to Red River. He told me that he’d been through there a time or two, but there were two darned many people there, so he didn’t stay around. Griz was particular about his company. He figured there were about twenty five men up on the slope behind him working their claims, but when it got to twenty six, he was shutting down and leaving.
I told him that Ben Blue would be coming through any day, and I needed to leave him a message. He handed me a sheet of paper and a chewed up pencil and said, “I can remember what that beaver pond looked like… the one I broke my leg in, back in ’29, but I cain’t recall whether we had bacon or taters or both for breakfast.”
Leaning over his counter with a blank white sheet looking back at me I started drawing out the letters that said,
“Ben Blu they headed for red river then pagoza spring. If I miss thim I’ll leave word.
Regards Cain.”
Well, I didn’t know where the little crooked marks went, but I figured he’d get the gist of it. If he had any questions, he’d just have to ask Griz. Griz would tell him more than he wanted to know, so I left it at that.
“Griz,” I said, “There’s gonna be a mighty big red headed fella come in here in the next day or two. You give him this note and answer any questions he might ask. He goes by the name of Ben Blue… Now, give me about a pound of them dried apples and bag of that Arbuckle’s coffee. I paid for my purchases and joined Dog and roan with our noses pointed north.
It took me two days to reach Red River, and I went through some mighty pretty country along the way. About a mile out of town was where the prettiness seemed to fade away and was replaced by the trashiness of a gold camp. Back off the trail, I could see tents, shacks, dirty clothes hanging from trees, and men grubbing around in muddy water.
The town of Red River wasn’t any better. In fact it was a sight worse. It was a town of muddy streets going in several directions lined with all manner of muddy tents and a few shacks. Some of the bigger tents had signs hung on them that read things like Saloon, Store, and Saloon again. One of the shacks had a broken sign that said it was a Bank, but the sign on the door said “closed indefinitely”.
A short way up the muddy slope was a plank and canvas tent that had a sign boasting that it belonged to the Undertaker. In front of the tent propped up on boards were three bodies wrapped in mud and blood splotched canvas… The Doolys had been here.
I figured the undertaker would know about as much as anybody, so I went in to see what I could learn. Dog followed me in through the front door flap, but the smell of old and new blood made him somewhat uncomfortable. He went out to keep the roan company.
The man in a tall hat and apron was busy putting together a coffin from a stack of pre-cut boards.
“How do.” He said as he turned and saw me standing there. “You don’t look to be needin’ my services for yourself, so what can I do for ya?”
“Well sir,” I said, “I been followin’ a bunch of pretty nasty people, and I was hopin’ that some of those out there was them.” As I pointed my thumb to the front opening.
“There may be a couple out there that was pretty nasty, but they’re all town folk. I reckon you’re lookin’ for them that did the robbin’ an killin’.
I admitted that I was and asked what happened.
“Your bunch came riding in, and a woman was with them. Riding side saddle, she was with her leg hooked over the saddle horn. She got down and went into the bank. Two of the men got down and followed her in. Fellas that were nearby kinda moved on close to get a look at the woman. There’s only a couple of women within thirty miles…. And they’re Injin women.”
“The two customers in the bank stepped aside to let her go first. She told the banker that she wanted to make a withdrawal, and he asked if she had an account. She said she did, and she reached in her pocketbook and pulled out a big old Colt. The banker jumped back and she shot him dead center. Then them other two that came i
n behind her started shooting at the customers… killed one… and one may not live, but he told the story.”
“They scooped up what gold was on the counter and what the customers had, but that safe was locked. The one fella was so mad that he emptied his gun into the safe door. Fool almost killed himself when those bullets started bouncin’ off that iron door. Then he pulled out another and they busted out the door a shootin’ at everyone. Killed Earl Smith, him just standin’ there lookin’ at that woman.”
“Yep that’s a nasty bunch all right… you be watchful if you’re trackin’ ‘em. My problem now is the banker had enough money in his pocket for a coffin, whereas the others didn’t… now I can’t remember which one is him out there without unwrappin’ them… I reckon it really won’t matter.”
I thanked him and started to leave, when he said, “You know, that woman came in ridin’ sidesaddle, but when she left she was astraddle…. You shoulda seen them skirts aflyin’.” I reckoned Red River to be a town starved for entertainment.
Chapter 10
I shook the mud and blood of Red River from my boots and headed on up towards Pagosa Springs. My first thought was that Fargo had made a mistake about Pagosa Springs because as far as I knew there wasn’t any kind of money floating around that town. It was a little town on the western slope of the Front Range with no more industry than a little ranching going on in the basin and the hot springs. Mostly the Injuns used the springs for medicine, and there wasn’t much money there.
But the Dooly gang was heading for it, so someone thought there was some money to be had there. Or maybe since it was the only thing in that neck of the woods, they figured it to be a trading center of some sort…. It wasn’t. The last time I was through there, it didn’t even have a bank. All that was there was a general store, a saloon, and an eating place with a few houses scattered around. But that had been five or six years back, so I guess there was no telling what it was like by now.
