"Where do the Chiricahua Apache live?" Homer asked.
"They hole up over in the Dragoon Mountains. You don't want to go anywhere near those savages," Dobson said.
Homer remembered what Doreentah had said about the "White Eyes" and their attitude toward her people. He was determined to not let the Marshall know about his relationship with the Apache. He felt that in time he would be able to find Doreentah. He wished Uncle Charlie had never joined the Union Forces.
The Marshall talked about what duties he expected Homer to perform, and what precautionary measures he should take while on duty. "Tucson is a tough town, Crane," Dobson said. "There are too damn many reprobates that have come out here from the war. They think this is the land of milk and honey but find out that it is a bad place to find legitimate work. The Mexicans have been here a long time and pretty much control what happens except for the law and that's where you and I come in."
"Why are we that important?" Homer asked.
"Well," the Marshall said, leaning back in his chair. "The Mexicans were all under the Napoleonic code of law before the Gadsden Purchase. One of the principles of that law is that you are guilty until you prove yourself innocent. Now this entire territory is under English common law and there are differences. The biggest difference is that now you are innocent until the court proves you guilty. Some of the Mexicans still don't understand the differences. Lots of the Civil War veterans may have lived under English Common Law all their lives, but many don't choose to obey any kind of law. So you can see that we have our problems keeping this tough town under control."
"I have never been much of a fighter, so all I can say is that I will do my best," Homer said.
"That is all I expect of you, Crane." the Marshall said.
When the Marshall finished his indoctrination lecture, Homer, armed with a Navy Colt issued by the Marshall, went out on his first walking patrol of the wildest town in Arizona Territory. As he strolled, people glanced at him with questioning eyes because Homer Crane was a brand new deputy, replacing Joe Squires, who was gunned down while chasing horse thieves on the banks of the Santa Cruz River. Abner Dobson had survived being Town Marshall for four years by sitting behind his desk in his office and sending his deputies out into the dusty streets to attempt to enforce the law in what was close to a lawless town.
As Homer strolled he began to think about the discussion on law he had had with the Marshall, and realized that he knew next to nothing about laws or their enforcement. He decided that he would confront situations with a question as to whether or not enforcement was needed. He didn't need a law in his mind to be something that demanded his attention. As he approached the Lucky Dollar Saloon on the south side of Congress Street almost to Meyer Avenue, he heard what sounded like a fight. Without increasing his pace, Homer went to the open door of the saloon and looked inside.
There were two cowboys fighting in front of the long bar. Both were on the floor trying to punch each other as a girl, obviously a "Lady of the Night" by the manner in which she dressed, stood leaning against the bar, watching the two combatants. Homer watched for a few moments, then turned around and started walking toward Meyer Avenue. Before he had gone five steps Billy Peabody rushed out from the door of the Lucky Dollar and called to his friend, Homer. "Hey Homer, wait up, it's me, Billy."
Homer stopped walking and turned around to see Billy walking toward him, a bit unsteady on his legs. Billy stopped in front of Homer and held out his hand. Homer took it in his and they shook hands, greeting each other. Homer took a step back. "How long have you been in the Lucky Dollar?" he asked.
"A while. I've had a few," Billy said. "I feel pretty good."
"I can see that," Homer said. "Marshall Dobson told me that the Lucky Dollar was a place where trouble quite often started."
"There's been no trouble since I been in there. They got some fine tasting stuff they call 'mescal'.' Come on back with me and I'll buy you a drink."
"The Marshall Dobson told me that he would not look kindly on me if he caught me drinking on duty."
"I'll bet he don't even leave his office unless someone comes and gets him," Billy said.
"I just started working, so I am not about to take a chance on getting my butt fired the first day," Homer said."
"Come on, Homer," Billy said. "I'll bet that Marshall sits on his butt all day lookin' out the window at the gals walkin' by. Besides, Tucson is wild country and nobody is goin' to notice a Deputy Marshall havin' a drink with an old friend."
"When I looked in, there were a couple of cowboys on the floor fighting, I am not sure that is a good place for me to have a drink with you."
"Now, Homer, I saw that, too, and I figure those two fellers are fightin' over that "Fallen Angel" that's leanin' up agin the bar. That ain't none of your nevermind. It's their business."
"Well, I reckon one drink won't hurt," Homer said. "Lead the way, Rebel."
Homer followed Billy back into the Lucky Dollar. As they passed the bar Homer noticed the two cowboys that had been throwing punches at each other a few minutes before, were standing at the bar laughing with one another as if nothing had happened between them. The rouged woman was nowhere in sight. Homer noticed the bartender eyeing the badge on his shirt. Billy led him to a small table, turned toward the bar and motioned for service. The bartender whistled at the Mexican waitress and motioned to her that she should take Billy's order.
"What's you pleasure?" she asked when she arrived at their table.
"I'll have another mescal and one for my friend here," Billy said.
The waitress scurried over to the bar, gave the order to the bartender and waited as he poured two shot glasses full of clear liquid from a bottle that had no label. The waitress put them on her tray and carried them back to Homer and Billy. Billy put two coins on her tray. "Thanks, Angela," he said.
"Provecho," she said.
"Welcome to the Lucky Dollar," Billy said, lifting his glass toward Homer.
Homer lifted his glass. They tapped the drinks in a toast to the Lucky Dollar.
"That Angela sure shows a lot of her chest when she bends over with the drinks," Homer said.
"I think that's why only a few men stand at the bar. Sit at a table and you get a nice view of Angela's gems," Billy said. "I am getting so I like watching Mexican girls more and more as time goes by."
"I can understand that," Homer said. "I think that the color of their skin is like a beautiful painting."
"That's a good way to say it," Billy said. "I remember the colored gal that lived at the plantation next door to our small farm. She used to come over and I would meet her in our barn. I loved watching her take off her skimpy dress before we lay down in the hay. I have thought about Mandy a lot since I went away to war. I wonder how she is now that she's free."
"She's probably married and mothering children," Homer said. "I wonder a little bit about Margie Beckwith. We were pretty close, and the week before I went off to the army she and I were out in the woods in back of the town and she gave me a bunch of 'going away presents' as she put it. She said she would wait for me, but I hope she changed her mind because I will never go back there."
"What would happen if you did go home?" Billy asked.
"My father would no doubt disown me for deserting the Union Army. One of the main reasons I joined was to get away from him telling me what to do every time I saw him. He even told me that I should not see Margie because she was not of the same class as we were. I didn't know what he was talking about until I asked Margie. She told me that her father had told her to stop seeing me because my father was a snobbish rich man."
"Was that true?" Billy asked.
"I suppose so. I had never thought about that before. But then, I could see where my father looked down on people who didn't come up to his standards. I enjoyed Margie and she enjoyed me, especially when she gave me all those 'going away presents'.' Margie was different than any of the others I had known."
"My father was rea
lly upset when he found out about Mandy and me. He told me that I should never have anything to do with a colored gal because God would punish me for doing something that wasn't meant to be."
"Why are parents so determined to interfere with their children's lives even when their children have grown up?" Homer asked.
"My father was scared that I would get Mandy with child," Billy said. "I suppose that would have been a problem if Mandy's master found out that I had been the father."
"What business of his would it have been?" Homer asked.
"Mandy was her master's property and he had total say over her life. That is slavery. That's one thing we Southerners wanted to keep goin' so we went to war. That wasn't my reason for goin'. I joined because all my friends had joined. I reckon a reason I deserted after Antietam was 'cause I had no axe to grind against you Northerners. When I think about Mandy now I realize I was probably in love with her. We used to talk a lot about all kinds of things. When we talked about slavery we both agreed that it was not a good thing for anyone to be a slave to anyone else. Ya know Homer, if I thought I could go back home without getting' caught as a deserter, I would to be with Mandy again. I never felt better than when I was holdin' her close in my arms or talkin' about what we would do if there was no slavery and she was free."
"You're the first Southerner I ever knew," Homer said. "I heard people around home talk about slavery, but I never paid much attention. Hearing you tell about Mandy makes me sure that I didn't love Margie Beckwith. She was fun to play with, but we never talked about much of anything serious. Our talk was mostly about our fathers' attitudes. Believe me, that topic was not too interesting. I like Margie a lot, but I don't think I would ever want to marry her. From what I have seen of Mexican women, I might like getting acquainted with some of them."
"I reckon I am feeling the same," Billy said. "I sure wouldn't mind seein' what Angela looks like without her clothes on. I haven't been here long enough to get up my nerve to ask her for some time together. Hell's fire, I don't even know whether or not she has a boyfriend."
"It sounds to me like both of us have been on the trail for too long a time to have good judgment about women," Homer said.
"I reckon you got a point there, Homer."
Chapter Five
They finished their second shot of mescal before Homer remembered he had a job to do patrolling the streets of Tucson. He rose from his chair at the table, gave Billy a pat on the shoulder and left the Lucky Dollar feeling somewhat light-headed from the mescal. On his way to the door he again noticed the bartender looking at his badge.
The Marshall had told him that his shift ended at six o'clock in the evening so until then Homer strolled around Tucson, occasionally nodding his head to people walking along the streets and also getting acquainted with the layout of the town. Most of the town was inside an adobe wall, but outside the wall there were a few small buildings that looked like residences. Homer thought about what Billy had said about his Mandy and wondered what it would be like to share himself with a colored woman. At one point his thoughts made him quiver so with some difficulty, he chased them out of his mind.
After strolling around the adobe walled town for three hours, Homer began to wonder about the worth of being a Deputy Marshall. Thus far keeping the peace in the town seemed simple enough, but he contemplated what a situation involving gunplay would be like. Those thoughts had not crossed his mind when he took the job. He was merely grateful that he had found something to do in order to make a living in the West. He had quite a few questions on his mind when he returned to the Marshall's office where another deputy sat guarding the office, in which there were two iron-barred cells for detaining prisoners. As Homer entered the office, the other deputy looked up quickly from a newspaper he was perusing. "How's everything on the streets of Tucson?" he asked, putting down the newspaper.
"It seems calm enough," Homer said. "Is it always this quiet?"
"This is unusual," the other deputy said. "Most nights there's at least one prisoner in a cell to keep me company."
"Why is today unusually calm?" Homer asked.
"It might be because you're a new man and they are waiting to see what you're like before they start a ruckus."
The seated deputy took his watch out of his trouser pocket, glanced at it and pocketed it again. "It's almost six," he said. "Your shift is almost over. I'll take over and you can come back in the morning."
"Marshall Dobson never told me your name," Homer said.
"Joe Hand," he said.
"Any relation to George Hand?" Homer asked.
"Half-brother. George is ten years older than I am," Joe said.
"I'm Homer Crane. "What family I have is all back East."
"Mine is too," Joe said. "My old man sent me out here to live with George because I couldn't behave back in Pennsylvania. George got me this Deputy Marshall job so I would have to behave, I reckon."
"I'm from New York, up in the Catskills. Nothing much doing back there, so I came West."
Joe Hand rose from the chair in front of the desk and went to the door. "Marshall Dobson generally gets here around seven," he said. "Are there any drunks asleep in the street anywhere?"
"Not that I noticed," Homer said.
"Well, have a good sleep. I'll take a pasear through town."
Homer felt relieved to sit down in the chair. He didn't look at the newspaper. He was content to sit and think about his situation. His eyes caught sight of a stack of papers on the right side of the desk. He picked them up and saw that they were "wanted posters" or "dodgers" as they were commonly called in the law enforcement business. Each sheet had either an image of someone wanted by the law, or a description. On each there was an entry as to what crime the person was wanted for and the reward, if any, that was being offered for that person's capture. Some offered a reward for the culprit "dead or alive"." Homer sifted through the dodgers, examining each image. There were twenty-seven dodgers in the stack. After looking at them, he put them back in a neat stack where he had found them. He continued thinking about the amounts of money that were being offered for the capture, killing or even information as to the whereabouts of the people. Homer went back to the room and went to sleep. Marshall Dobson arrived just before Homer arrived after breakfast. The Marshall had told him that his second shift would be the following night so he could get used to the town better.
"How did your first shift go?" Dobson asked. "Anyone get out of line?"
"No trouble at all," Homer said. "Is that unusual?"
"I would say that generally there is more trouble than most people elsewhere realize. Tucson is a tough town to deal with. Some say it's the heat, but I think it is mostly because there are all sorts of people that make their way here and are too broke to go further."
"I noticed the stack of wanted people," Homer said.
"There's always a stack of "dodgers" there, three or four of the same fugitives. There's an occasional bounty hunter that drops by and goes through the stack to see if there might be an easy dollar. Once in a while they find one and track the varmint down. I'm glad this job is confined to the town of Tucson and not all over the territory."
"How many bounty hunters work around these parts?" Homer asked.
"Probably three most of the time, but there's isn't a one of them that seems to be on the job full time. Once in a while I see one come in with a prisoner and discover that the bounty hunter was a cowboy before he went to chasin' crooks. There was one bounty hunter a couple of years ago that had been a stagecoach shotgun rider who was as mad as a wet hen at holdup gunmen after being stopped fourteen times. He was hell bent to chase as many down as he could to avenge what the bandidos had stolen."
"Do bounty hunters make a good living?" Homer asked.
"If they are good at what they do and don't get shot in the process, some do quite well," Dobson said. "You had better get some sleep so you can be ready for the night shift tonight." Homer rose from the chair behind the deputy desk. "I
hope you are wrong about trouble," he said, and left the office. He had eaten a substantial breakfast at the Territorial Restaurant located a block south of the Marshall's Office. He decided to go back to his room and sleep some more.
Homer fell asleep almost as soon as he flopped down on the bed in his room. It was mid-afternoon before he opened his eyes again. After pulling on his clothes he went out for a meal before reporting back to Dobson for any instructions or information the Marshall might have for him.
As soon as he walked through the door of the office he saw Marshall Dobson scowling at him. "We need to get a few things straight, Crane," the Marshall said. "I am given to understand that you were in the Lucky Dollar Bar yesterday drinking while on duty. What do you have to say to that?"
"That is true, Marshall. I sat down with a friend to try and get him to stop drinking so much."
"So you think that drinking with your friend is the way to have him stop drinking?"
"I suppose I was wrong to do that," Homer said, feeling trapped by the Marshall's words.
"From now on I don't want to hear about you in bars drinking. And, I don't care who it is you are drinking with, I'll have your badge back."
"Yessir," Homer said. He turned abruptly around and went back into the heart of the town to carry on his patrol. As he walked through the dusty streets of Tucson he kept remembering the stack of dodgers on the desk in the Marshall's office. He wondered if he could manage to make a living chasing fugitives instead of walking around wearing a tin badge in a town known for violence starting at the drop of a hat. He also thought about the tongue-lashing the Marshall had given him and about the old lawman most likely getting his information from the Lucky Dollar bartender about him drinking with Billy Peabody. The bar was a half block down the street. Homer headed that way. He paused before entering the drinking establishment; then entered looking straight at the bartender who was watching his approach. Homer stopped in front of the bar.
Along the Trail to Freedom Page 5
