"Mister, I don't appreciate you squealing on me for drinking with my friend yesterday. You have caused me an angry boss."
A hush had come over the bar. Conversations stopped and everyone listened to Homer Crane expressing his displeasure to the Lucky Dollar bartender.
"Let me know if you ever have any trouble here in the Lucky Dollar and I'll see if I can get here in time to stop it," Homer said, and tapped the mahogany bar with his right fist before turning to leave. The silence in the bar room prevailed as Homer left the Lucky Dollar. He figured the bartender would tell the Marshall what had happened and what he had said about trouble, but Homer didn't care. He knew what he would do before he took another admonishment from Marshall Dobson. Hoping that Dobson would still be in his chair in the office, Homer made his way back, stepping lively as if he was going after a hidden treasure. Opening the door and walking into the office where the Marshall sat gazing out of the back window, Homer cleared his throat to get Dobson's attention. The Marshall swung the swivel chair around to face the deputy.
"What is wrong out there, Crane?" Dobson asked.
"Nothing is wrong out there, Marshall, but I just had a talk with the bartender at the Lucky Dollar."
"How did you find out that he told me about you drinkin' on duty?" Dobson asked.
"I just knew it must have been him. He kept looking at me when I was there yesterday with my friend. I have to tell you that I do not appreciate you getting someone to sneak on me. If I thought what I did would make it impossible to do my job, I would not have sat down with Billy Peabody. I left when I saw that I was not going to get him to stop and come with me."
"Well, Crane, sneak or no sneak I found out you were drinkin' on the job and that is grounds for dismissal. But, I have given you a chance to redeem yourself," Dobson said.
Before picking up one each of the dodgers from the deputy desk, Homer reached across his chest and unpinned the deputy Marshall's badge from his shirt, and tossed it and the Navy Colt on the desk. "Marshall, I don't need this job anymore. It reminds me too much of the army and I had enough of that to last a lifetime. Thanks for the ride."
He picked up the stack of sorted dodgers from the desk.
"What are you doing, Crane?" Benson asked.
"Go ask your bartender friend," Homer said, and left the building.
With the dodgers in hand, Homer walked over to the Lucky Dollar, went inside and sat at the same table where he and Billy had been the day before. Angela came over and took his order for a whiskey. As he waited for his drink, Homer shifted through the dodgers looking at the faces and the crimes the faces had supposedly committed. When Angela came with his whiskey, Homer paid her and glanced over at the bartender who was staring at him with glaring eyes. Homer did not give the bartender more than a glance before returning to read the dodgers.
He had just arranged the papers into a neat stack when Billy Peabody arrived and sat down at the table with a groan.
"What's wrong, Billy?" Homer asked. "Did that whiskey grab you by the hair in your ears?"
"Darn stuff grabbed every hair I have," Billy said.
Angela arrived to take Billy's order. "I think I will buy you an 'Angela's Remedy','" she said.
"What is that?" Billy asked.
"Don't ask, just drink it when I bring it over to you," she said, and left for the bar. She returned with a tumbler full of reddish liquid and set it on the table in front of Billy. He looked at it while his arms were close to his sides and he moved his head around in a circular motion with his hat hiding his face.
He took the tumbler in both hands and lifted it to his lips, guardedly taking a small sip. He looked up at Angela who waited for his reaction. "This isn't bad at all, Angela. What did you put in it?"
"It is my secret cure for la cruda, the hangover. I can tell you that the red chile is the magic ingredient. When you finish it, you will feel more like yourself than when you came in here."
Angela left to wait on other customers as they entered the Lucky Dollar and sat down at various tables. Billy drank Angela's hangover cure, put the glass down on the table and exhaled a sigh of relief. "Wow," he said. "That girl is a magician."
"You even look better," Homer said.
"I believe all my hair is back to normal. I don't remember much after you left. I don't have any idea how I got back to the bunkhouse the Sopori maintains next to their mansion in 'Snob Hollow',' but I have a faint memory of having Angela in my arms for a while."
"When will they come for you to go to work on the ranch?" Homer asked.
"Some fellow came by this morning after I woke up and said they would have a horse and saddle for me early tomorrow morning."
"I expect you should go easy on the whiskey today," Homer said.
"I am going more than easy," Billy said, raising his left eyebrow. "I am not letting a single drop pass my lips."
"That's a wise southern decision," Homer said. "I'm about ready to go back to my room and try to figure out how I should approach my new profession."
"I thought you were a deputy."
Homer pointed to the left side of his chest. "I turned that badge in this morning. The Marshall gave me grief about drinking on duty with you yesterday. I didn't take orders well even in the army, so I gave his badge back. I figure to become a bounty hunter."
He pointed to the stack of dodgers. "All I have to do is go out and look for these fellows and bring them in for the rewards."
"Finding them is one thing, Homer," Billy said. "Bringing them in is another."
"I realize that, but I am not about to listen to that Marshall treat me like an eight-year-old kid."
The two friends walked toward the room that Homer rented, stopping to chat at the door.
Chapter Six
Billy left Homer, and, in spite of his vow not to drink any more mescal, returned to The Lucky Dollar. When the bar waitress had brought him a shot of mescal, he took on sip and noticed a grizzled looking cowman sitting at one of the small tables. Their eyes met. Billy lifted his shot glass as a greeting to the man. The cowman shoved the brim of his worn Stetson up and smiled over to Billy. Billy grabbed his shot glass, rose from the chair and walked over to where the cowman sat.
"I'm Billy Peabody," Billy announced. "Mind if I join you?"
"Sit yourself down Billy Peabody. I am Mike Haggarty. I don't think I have seen you before."
"I haven't been in Tucson long."
"Are you looking for work?"
"I was, but I think I have a job south of here."
"I am the foreman at the Empire, and I came to town looking for a hand. I start the gather in a couple of weeks. What outfit did you sign on with?"
"I think I have a job with the Sopori," Billy said. "Someone is supposed to bring a horse and show me the way there, but he hasn't showed up. I can tell you one thing, I am getting tired of waiting."
"Walter Vail and his partners pay ten dollars more a month than the Sopori outfit. If you want to hire on, we can head on down there tomorrow."
"You just hired yourself a hand, Mister Haggarty."
"I have an extra horse and saddle for you, Billy. We can meet right out front of here at sunup."
"Sounds fine with me," Billy said.
They enjoyed a couple of drinks, talked about cattle and the Empire Ranch and how Walter Vail had partners that everyone called, "The English Boys" because they had come over from England. By the time they left for the night, Mike and Billy had gotten to know enough about each other to be friends.
The following morning Billy arrived in front of The Lucky Dollar before the sun had made early morning light. Mike arrived a few minutes later leading a saddle horse for Billy. Without any hesitation Billy mounted the bay gelding and the two started their three-day ride to the Empire headquarters near Sonoita, southeast of Tucson. Long before they reached their destination Mike informed Billy that they were riding over Empire range.
Upon arrival at the ranch headquarters, Mike showed Billy the bunkhouse
and introduced him to the other cowboys. Billy felt a bit uneasy among them because he had never had a job as a cowboy before, and he wondered how these seasoned hands would take to him. However, within a week, Billy had the distinct feeling that he had found a home. He also discovered that he loved being a cowboy in spite of the long hours he had to spend in the saddle.
Chapter Seven
Gus Davis and his company of Buffalo Soldiers saddled up and led their mounts to the drill field, lined themselves and their horses into formation and listened to their commanding officer, Captain Henry Wittlesley, read their orders from a notebook. It was one year since Gus had enlisted in the army as a cavalry trooper. He had already begun to regret his decision for a couple of reasons. The first was that he had been told that he would be assigned to training mules and that had not yet happened. The second most gouging reason was that the army and its hierarchy of command and orders to do this or to do that reminded him too much of his days and years as a slave in Louisiana. He had fled that life, and thought the army would offer something far different. He was wrong.
The orders the Captain read were to send the troop south and east into the Chiricahua Mountains to hunt for an Apache band that had recently raided four ranches in that area and stolen eighty-three horses belonging to the four ranchers. On command the troop mounted their horses and reined them into formation as instructed. They left Fort Buchanan behind and entered the landscape covered by grasses that cattlemen considered excellent for grazing. What made it undesirable grazing country was the threat from Apache raiding parties that were hungry for meat. They would take cattle in spite of their preference for horsemeat. Ranchers had long been accustomed to keep their saddle horses enclosed in corrals that were easily guarded.
Several wagons drawn by teams of mules accompanied the troop. The wagons contained rations, extra ammunition, cooking gear, and bedrolls for the troops sparing them the inconvenience of tying their rolled up bedding behind the cantles of their McClelland saddles. Eight troopers rode alongside the wagons to protect them from any sporadic raids that might occur while they were in transit to the mountain range that was one of the hideouts for Apache raiders. The trail they followed went to the town of Agua Prieta in Mexico, but they would branch off to the north and keep close to the mountains in which they hoped to rout out the Apaches that had stolen the horses. The Captain had voiced a prediction that many of the horses would likely have been eaten by the time the troopers found them, if, in fact that came to pass.
After six days of hard riding the troop reached a good campground north of Agua Prieta. Captain Whittelsly spoke to the soldiers before giving them the order to dismount.
"Men, we have ridden a long distance up to this point. We are at the foot of the mountains where we hope to find the Apache savages that robbed four ranchers in this area. I know that you have not had time off for some time, even while we were bivouacked at Fort Buchanan. Therefore I am granting you time off to enjoy Agua Prieta, a short distance to the south. I must warn you that trouble is easy to come by south of the border and you must stay in groups of six in case trouble does find you. I will ride down your column and where I rein in will separate you into two groups. The first group from the head of the column to where I rein in will be free to go tonight. Tomorrow night the second group will enjoy their time off. First group, you are free to leave at once if you so desire. But you must leave your mounts on this side of the border at Lyman's Livery. Is that understood?"
A chorus of "Yassirs" sounded off, and the first group reined their horses around to head for the border. Gus was among those in the first group, but he did not leave with the others. "Why aren't you going with the others, Davis?" the Captain asked.
"I'll go in after supper. I see no reason to spend money I don't needs to."
"Good thinking," the Captain said and went to unsaddle his horse where two troopers had fashioned a rope corral. Gus tied his horse to a nearby shrub and went over to the place where the cooks had started a fire with which to begin cooking. The wagon containing the bedrolls stood nearby. Gus walked over as casually as possible, found his bedroll and took it off the load. He carried it to the area that had been designated for sleeping and placed it at the perimeter. He sat down on it while he waited for supper to get ready, thinking out again the plan he had made to desert the army and find freedom once again. The temporary destination he had decided on, Mexico, might end up being his permanent place to live if he could find work that would make him a living. Having lived his life thus far in slavery he was not used to the concept of working for wages in order to make his living.
He hoped that he could get away with enough meat from the meal to last him several days, or until he would come across a deer or antelope for food. The cooks also acted as hunters for the troop and they had brought in two good sized deer carcasses the preceding morning. Gus hoped he could sneak away several chunks to roll up in his bedroll and carry with him to Mexico. The only part of his plan that remained to accomplish was getting out of the camp as soon after dark as possible in order not to raise any suspicions from anyone. He had not mentioned his intentions to anyone. He figured that he would not be missed until the troop saddled up for their ride north in the morning in two days. That should give him a good start in case the captain took the notion to send some troopers after him. So, for that possibility he had decided that once he had crossed into Mexico he could turn away from the town of Agua Prieta, where he could slip through the rickety fence with ease, he would head out for the Sierra Madres. He would not stop in the town to find civilian clothes; he would take his chances on getting changed later.
He rose from his bedroll and sauntered casually around among the wagons. He came to the wagon that carried extra ammunition and paused long enough to determine where the boxes were so that he could possibly get a supply for his Remington before heading out into the mountains. The cooks had undone the tarpaulin covering the load so he was able to spot a bundle of cartridge boxes on the other side of the wagon from where he stood. He raised his head and looked around and saw that it would soon be dark enough to allow him to gather what he wanted and head for the border.
He had heard from the conversations among the troopers that Tara, the Apache headman, had eluded the U.S. Army by remaining hidden in the Sierra Madres. He wondered why the Captain was leading the troop into the Chiricahua Mountains that were in the United States. He had decided that it was not for an ordinary trooper to question the authority of the officer class and just follow orders. But, that was what reminded him so much of slavery. And, that was the basis of his decision to run away from the army just as he had run away from slavery.
Gus ate the venison steaks with relish. He returned for a second helping after he finished the first, and managed to roll the meat into a dishtowel that he had "borrowed" from the cooks. After the third helping he decided not to push his luck so he went to his bedroll and unrolled it to put the meat inside and out of sight. Meandering over to the wagon holding the ammunition, he reached in quickly and grabbed six boxes of shells for his Remington and carried them to his bedroll. As he did all this he looked around to make sure nobody had seen him. He rolled up the bedroll again and since darkness had now fallen, he carried it to his patiently waiting horse and tied it all onto the McClelland saddle behind the cantle. He stopped by the sergeant and muttered, "I reckon I is ready to go to town and see what's there."
"Be careful, Gus," the sergeant said. "Those women are sometimes meaner than wildcats."
Gus walked over to the horse and mounted. He waved to the sergeant even though it was too dark for him to see. He started the horse off at a slow trot. When he was out of hearing distance from the camp, he reined the horse southwestward so that he would meet the border fence at a safe distance from town. His main concern was finding a place in the fence where he could get across the border without much trouble. As he rode along the fence with the tension of the situation, something happened that was not part of his plan; the moon
rose and the landscape took a bath. He rode another one hundred yards when he saw a break in the fence that offered plenty of space for his horse to cross through to Mexico.
Once on the Mexican side of the border, Gus relaxed and his thoughts turned to Homer Crane and Billy Peabody. Gus hoped that his two friends had found the feeling of freedom that he was feeling on the moonlit night as he headed west toward the Sierra Madres.
Chapter Eight
May 1870
Billy Peabody thought he would probably spend the rest of his life as an Empire Ranch cowboy. He had been on the payroll for six years. Then, one late afternoon when he was unsaddling his grey gelding, Mike Haggarty approached him slowly, but looking into his eyes all the way.
"Billy," Mike said. "I hate to be the one to bring you bad news because I have liked you from that day I met you at The Lucky Dollar. I have to tell you that those English Boys have decided to cut back on cowboys because they are expecting some of their kin in from England and they will be working here."
"That sure is bad news," Billy said. "I enjoy working with you here at the Empire. When do I have to leave?"
"Aw, hell, take your time and take that grey gelding and saddle with you as a bonus. This makes me feel like quittin' this outfit now."
"I reckon I best be getting' settled somewhere else. Maybe that Sopori outfit still needs a cowboy."
"Give 'em a try," Mike said. "You know how to get there from here without going clear into Tucson."
"It's over the Santa Ritas beyond the Canoa Ranch," Billy said.
"That's right. You can make it over there in a couple or three days. And, here's your pay."
Mike dug into his Levi front pocket, and took out three twenty dollar gold coins and handed them to Billy.
"That's more than I got comin'," Billy said.
Along the Trail to Freedom Page 6
