Rocky Mountain Retribution (The Ames Archives Book 2)

by Peter Grant

  He rose to his feet. “Get a good night’s sleep. We start work tomorrow.”

  The sun was setting red in the west, and a chill wind was blowing across the valley, when the farm worker keeping watch from the flat roof opened the hatch and put his head inside. “Four riders coming, Señor Parsons,” he called down.

  “Thank you.” Parsons stood and reached for the Winchester rifle leaning against the wall by his desk. There were loaded rifles or shotguns in every room. Until he knew for sure that Ames wasn’t coming, he figured to be ready for anything.

  He stepped outside the front door, and peered eastward. The leading rider took off his hat and waved it around his head from left to right as he turned off the trail onto the wagon-wheel-rutted farm road leading to the house. Parsons relaxed, and looked up at the roof. “Don’t worry. It’s my four men.”

  “Yes, Señor Parsons.”

  He turned and walked towards the barn, where Jaime looked down from the hayloft. “You need something, Señor Parsons?”

  “Yes, my four men are back. Get Adelardo to help you. Brush and curry-comb their horses, and give them water and a good feed of oats. Tell Vicente to light the fire in the bathhouse boiler, pump more water, and make sure there’s soap and fresh towels.”

  “Yes, señor.” He turned and bellowed in Spanish towards the white adobe huts where the laborers lived. Two figures scurried from their cottages in response.

  Parsons stood waiting as the four men rode up and halted before him. Their faces were weary, coated—as were their clothes and horses—in layers of trail dust.

  Travis said simply, “We’re back, boss.”

  Parsons felt some of his long-standing tension melt away. With these four by his side once more, he was much better prepared to handle anything Ames might try. “Put your horses in the barn. Jaime and Adelardo will take care of them. There’s only one bedroom, with three beds. One of you can bed down in the living room. The fire’s being lit in the bathhouse. I’ll tell Maria to have supper ready in an hour. You can tell me what happened over a meal.”

  The four tired faces broke into smiles. “If you got any good whisky to follow it, sir, that’d be what I’d call heaven right now,” Drake said. “I’m all tequila’d out for a while.”

  “I have.”

  Maria beamed at the sudden challenge to her skills, and called two young girls to help her. Soon delicious odors of cooking were wafting through the house, making Parsons’ mouth water with anticipation. The hissing and crackling of frying potatoes—Maria’s sole concession to Anglo taste in food—only made it worse.

  The four new arrivals sat down at the big table in the kitchen alcove with huge appetites. For the first five minutes, only chewing could be heard as everyone filled tortillas and stuffed their mouths to overflowing. Clay mugs of water helped to wash it down.

  At last Travis swallowed, drank a little water, and said, “Man, that’s better than eatin’ our own cooking on the trail!”

  “I’m sure it is,” his boss agreed with a smile. “So, tell me about it.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll skip over gettin’ your telegraph messages, takin’ care of Muldoon an’ Wadsworth, and meeting up in Trinidad, where we wired you that Sanchez an’ his brothers had skipped town after bein’ let out of jail.”

  “Yes. I still don’t know what that was all about. They were accused of stealing cattle, but I never told them to do that. As far as I know, they hadn’t stolen any cows in the three years they worked for me there.”

  “Maybe that Ranger got it wrong, boss,” Drake offered through the remnants of a mouthful of food as he swallowed. “Maybe he found out he’d made a mistake, and let them go with a warnin’ to get lost before he changed his mind.”

  “You didn’t ask Sanchez when you found him?”

  “He didn’t give us time to talk, sir,” Travis said apologetically. “We followed their trail down through New Mexico. They were movin’ real fast. They crossed into Mexico at El Paso, about a week ahead of us. We went after them.”

  “Why didn’t you wire me?” Parsons asked, trying to mask the annoyance in his voice.

  “We did, sir!” Travis looked surprised, and the others nodded in confirmation. “The four of us went to the telegraph office in El Paso together. We told you we was headin’ into Mexico after him—not as plain as that, o’ course—an’ we’d be in touch when we got back.”

  “Strange. It never reached me. You sent it to my town address here?”

  “Yes, sir, just like you’d fixed up in case we all had to get out of Colorado.”

  Parsons’ brow was creased in a frown of frustration. “I don’t know what happened to it. When I didn’t hear from you for so long, I feared the worst.”

  “Sorry, sir,” Shelton said apologetically. “We thought you knew.”

  “It can’t be helped now. At least I got your second wire, which was a big relief, I can tell you! Go on, Travis.”

  “Yes, sir. They slowed down once they were in their own country. Must have felt safer there, I guess. They made their way down to San Buenaventura in Chihuahua province, where Sanchez had relatives. We took a while to pick up their trail, ’cause no-one would talk to us. We were Anglos, an’ they don’t trust our kind much down there. Eventually we hired one of the local smugglers. They run cattle across the border. We paid him to ask questions for us. That opened things up, an’ we were able to figure out where they’d gone.

  “We got there just as a fiesta was startin’. Sanchez and his brothers came into town for it. We saw them, an’ managed to get out of sight before they saw us. We figured to take them later, after they’d filled up on tequila, but they must’ve heard there were four gringos in town. They came lookin’ for us. We’d taken two upstairs rooms over a small cantina. Morley was lookin’ out of the window, an’ saw them comin’. He warned us, so he an’ I waited at the windows with our rifles while Drake an’ Shelton took our stuff an’ went downstairs to get our horses ready.

  “They came swaggerin’ down the middle of the street with three local men they’d hired, lookin’ like they owned the place. We got the three brothers first, then one of their hired guns. The other two ran into an alley before we could hit ’em. We put two more rounds apiece into the four on the ground, then ran downstairs an’ jumped on our horses. On our way out of town, we rode past the bodies an’ put a shot into each of their heads. They won’t be testifyin’ against you, Mr. Parsons.”

  He sighed with real relief. “You made a thorough job of it. Well done!”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “They didn’t chase after you?”

  Morley sniggered. “There was a lot of fireworks goin’ off all over town—hell, a lot of those greasers were shootin’ their guns into the air. I figure most of ’em thought our firin’ was part of the celebration. We got away clean.”

  “That’s right,” Travis confirmed. “We made tracks for Columbus in New Mexico. We figured we’d better not head back to El Paso, in case anyone figured out who we were or what we’d done, and tried to follow us. It was a long, rough road, an’ we had a bit o’ trouble with some bandidos, but nothin’ we couldn’t handle. We wired you from Columbus to say we were back, an’ then headed here.”

  Shelton sighed. “If I don’t see a saddle for the next week or two, I won’t complain.” The others laughed.

  “You can relax for a week before you head out again,” Parsons assured him. “I’ll tell you more after we’ve eaten.”

  They adjourned to the main room, where a log crackled in the big open fireplace, warming the room against the chill of late fall. Parsons set out bottles of bourbon and rye whiskey, and everyone helped themselves. The four rolled cigarettes, while Parsons permitted himself one of his occasional cigars.

  “So what’s next, boss?” Morley asked.

  Parsons gathered his thoughts. “I think the pressure’s off for now. Did you hear what happened to Ames?”

  “No, sir. All we got was your warning that we had to ge
t out of Colorado fast, soon as we’d finished our work.”

  “There was a lot happening. Let me tell you about it.”

  Parsons described Furlong’s abortive attack on Walt and his wife. “He and all those with him ended up dead, which was very lucky for us! I got there in time to put down one of his sons, but I couldn’t stop them all. Ames’ wife was killed, and he was hit three times. He lost his left hand. I got out of town and rode cross-country to the New Mexico border, then came here. My contact in Pueblo is keeping track of Ames. He says he’s been recovering slowly, but apart from a trip to Denver to be fitted for a hook on his left arm, he hasn’t traveled anywhere else. He’s got the gunmen who were guarding his freight depot, but my man hasn’t seen or heard of any others moving into the freight yard with them, or anywhere else in town either. He reckons Ames probably hasn’t hired any yet. I’d say that means he’s still getting over his wounds.”

  “That don’t mean he won’t come after you, boss,” Morley warned.

  “I’m aware of that.” Parsons replied, slightly frostily. He didn’t appreciate being taken for a fool. “I’m sure he’s asking questions, trying to find out where I’ve gone. That’s why I wanted Sanchez dead so badly. You see, I met him while I was buying property in the San Luis Valley. If he’d mentioned that to anyone, they’d realize I might be hiding out further west than they thought; but thanks to you, he won’t be able to do that now.”

  “What about the papers in your safe at Salida, sir?”

  “It only held a few documents concerning our stock theft business east of the Continental Divide, and I brought those with me. None of the title deeds, company registrations, or share certificates linked to my properties out here were in there, and Liza didn’t know about them. I kept them all in Denver. I’ve hired Pinkertons to get them safely to Taos. It’s a good thing they don’t know what they’re escorting!” The others laughed. “I’ll collect them there next week, and bring them here. I’ve had a good strong cabinet built in my study in the rear, to hold them.”

  “What’s going to happen to Liza, sir?”

  “I don’t know. I suppose she’ll have moved on by now, after I didn’t come back and she wasn’t paid for a month. I’m sorry about that—she was a good cook and housekeeper—but it’s too risky to do anything for her.”

  “And the farm there, sir?”

  “I’ve abandoned it, along with all the other properties I own out that way. If I try to sell them, no matter how careful I am, it might be possible for someone to trace me that way. I can’t risk it, so I’ll just cut my losses.”

  Travis gave a low whistle. “You had a tidy sum invested in Fremont County, sir.”

  “Yes, I did, but that can’t be helped. I have twice as much invested out here, in three parcels of land, and there are others besides. I still have plenty of money, too, in a bank in Santa Fe. I transferred all my other accounts to it, as soon as I got here and could arrange it.”

  “Does that mean you’re givin’ up a life of crime, sir?”

  “Do you really think I’m cut out for a peaceful life, Travis?”

  “Well… no, sir, I don’t.”

  “Neither do I.” The four laughed. “I’ll put my mind to figuring out new ways to make money. You four will stay on the payroll.”

  They all relaxed. As his four most trusted henchmen, Parsons rewarded their services very well, much more so than the average gunhand. They didn’t want to lose that.

  “What will we do in the meantime, sir?” Shelton asked.

  “You can relax here for a few days, then I want you to split up for the winter. One of you will go to my place south of Animas City, this side of the border with Colorado. It’s about five thousand acres of good valley land, which should do well for farming and raising horses. It has a farmhouse and barn, and a few laborers living there, but I don’t have anyone managing it right now, which isn’t good. It’s also near the Navajo and Ute reservations, and I don’t want any of them horning in on it. Whoever goes there can hire a few local gunmen to work with him. He’ll clear out any squatters, get the laborers to fix up the buildings as needed, and inspect the property to make a list of everything that needs to be done. We’ll keep in touch every week by mail through Animas City, to exchange news. He’ll come back here in the spring, and I’ll appoint a permanent overseer there.

  “Two of you will head north to Colorado, further up the San Luis Valley. I’ve got something like ten thousand acres there, much like I’ve got down here. I want them to do the same things: get the farmhouse, barn and laborers’ cottages repaired, get rid of any squatters, and make a list of work to do in the spring, when they’ll come back here. I don’t think two of you will need extra help, but if you do, you can hire some there. One of you—Drake, that’ll be you, I think—will stay with me through the winter, and we’ll do the same on this property.”

  “But, boss… I don’t get it,” Travis said, puzzled. “Why split us up? If Ames might come looking for you, shouldn’t we be together, to deal with anyone he brings with him?”

  “I’ll get a few weeks’ warning of that, from the man that’s watching him for me,” Parsons explained, reaching for the bourbon bottle and refilling his glass. “I’ve also tied off every loose end I can think of east of the Continental Divide. I’ve adopted a new name out here, shaved off my beard, and let my hair go back to its natural brown—although some gray’s beginning to creep in there, dammit!” The others laughed.

  “I reckon there’s only one way Ames might locate me now, and that’ll be real hard for him unless he has contacts out here. Since he came to Colorado from back East, and as far as I know he’s never been in the San Luis Valley at all, I doubt he has them—but you never know. He found out I used bearer share companies to register some of my land in eastern Colorado. He might be smart enough to search land registries west of the Continental Divide, to see whether that’s been done out here as well. It has, of course, but by quite a lot of investors, not just me. He’ll find lots of properties he’s got to check out, one by one.

  “He’ll have to either come out here himself, or send people to do that. That’s why I want one or two of you on each property. If you find someone snooping around, or you hear from the locals that someone’s asking questions about who owns it, I reckon you’ll know what to do about them—and what questions to make them answer before they die.”

  * * *

  As Parsons and his men refilled their glasses, Walt was sitting in the rented farmhouse outside Pueblo. They’d finished a hard day’s training with their weapons. Tom had run Jacob and Sam through a hundred rounds of birdshot and buckshot apiece, teaching them how to use a shotgun. He’d borrowed Walt’s ten-gauge and Isom’s twelve-gauge Parkers for the purpose. Both former buffalo soldiers were now sporting bruised shoulders, and muttering darkly about sadists, and the former sergeants who hired them to torment former corporals—much to the amusement of the said former sergeants, and the other men.

  Isom and Walt had given Pablo a morning’s instruction in the use of his revolver, and he’d returned the favor that afternoon by teaching them more about fighting with a knife. They’d both gained a new respect for how deadly an edged weapon could be at close quarters.

  “I reckon I daren’t let a knifeman get within a few yards of me,” Walt mused. “If they move as fast as you do, they could gut me before I got my gun out and shot them.”

  “Si, señor,” Pablo agreed. “Not everybody is that fast or that good, you understand; but yes, one who knows the cuchillo like he knows the back of his own hand… he can be very dangerous, especially inside a room, where you cannot get far enough away from him.”

  Walt winced. “I don’t even want to think about that! What about throwing a knife?”

  “Not your main fighting blade, señor. Only a fool would leave himself without a weapon, and at the same time give his enemy a good knife. However, a small throwing knife does have its place. Watch.”

  He reached up as if to
scratch the back of his head, then suddenly his hand whipped forward. With a solid thunk! a small brightly-polished steel knife quivered in the wall of the barn, about twenty feet away.

  “Where the hell did that come from?” Isom exclaimed.

  “I carry it strung around my neck,” Pablo explained, pulling the sheath out of his collar to show them. “It can be in front or behind, hidden by my clothes—usually behind. If I am told to put my hands up, it moves them closer to the knife, so I might get a chance to use it. I also carry one in each boot. If I am sitting on the ground, I can reach them without making any threatening moves.” He demonstrated by squatting on his heels, with his forearms resting on his knees. His wrists were bent, so that his fingers dangled close to his boot tops.

  “That’s pretty smart,” Walt admitted, impressed. “Where do you get knives like that?”

  “You can buy cheap ones almost anywhere, señor, but to find ones that are properly made, balanced and sharpened is hard. I know a man in El Paso who makes good ones.”

  “I’ll write to him and order some, then you’ll have to teach us how to do that.”

  The others had concentrated on rifle work, experimenting with the shooting sticks Walt had made. They were universally impressed with them for slower, deliberate fire at longer ranges, but agreed they served no useful purpose for rapid, closer-range fire. Walt was practicing two or three times a week with the Winchester carbine and the Remington rifle he’d captured from Bart Furlong. He knew the telescope sight on his own Remington wouldn’t stand up to weeks of being bounced around on horseback; so, when they went after Parsons, he’d rely on the less precise, but more robust iron sights of Furlong’s weapon. Fortunately, it had a single-set trigger, the same as his gun, so they both felt the same to shoot. He was finding accuracy much more difficult than when he’d had both hands, but was making progress.

  Isom was particularly pleased with the shooting sticks. He’d been practicing with the long, heavy Springfield Model 1868 rifle, and was making good progress learning to shoot it from his left shoulder over longer ranges. He exuded satisfaction as they cleaned their weapons at the end of the day’s shooting. “Never thought I’d be able to do that again,” he remarked smugly.