The Secret Saddle_Anna Troy's Emancipation

by Dani Larsen

  Because of his previous successes, he felt like he needed to accomplish this one last thing before he retired. He wanted to bring the man to justice who had helped to kill the governor of Idaho in 1905, especially now that he suspected the same man had killed at least two more people, and maybe four. Charlie was sure that Jude had also been responsible for the injuries to Frank Hempe, Tilly, and Jude's own mother.

  It took three hours for the train to finally reach Rawlings, where it stopped for water and coal, and the passengers took a two hour lunch break, before it left again at one in the afternoon. Four hours later, they had crossed the Continental Divide and made it to Rock Springs, Wyoming. The train arrived at Kemmerer at eight-thirty p.m., after a two hour break at Rock Springs and a fifty-one mile trek. It finally reached Montpelier, Idaho, at eleven in the evening, after a mountainous ride, which included a thirty minute stop for mail and passengers. It left again and arrived in Pocatello at two o'clock on Saturday morning.

  Charlie got Jody out of the stock car and put her in the livery stable and checked himself into the local hotel. He had the rest of the day and all day Sunday to rest up for the last leg of his trip north. The train that would take him to Butte, Montana, didn't leave until Monday morning at six.

  A week had already passed since he had left his ranch in New Mexico, by the time the train headed for Idaho Falls. The route to Butte took him through; Spencer, Idaho; Lima, Montana; Dillon, Montana; and finally to Ramsay, Montana; where he arrived at five-twenty in the evening. Ramsay was where the Union Pacific connected with the Northern Pacific. Charlie unloaded his horse, saddled her, and rode her the last five miles to Butte, where he checked into a hotel and put Jody in the livery stable.

  Although it was summer in Montana, the nights were much colder than New Mexico. Siringo was used to the warmth of the southern states, so he put on his warm coat when he left the hotel in search of dinner. As he headed for the saloon a few doors down, he fervently wished he had a picture of Jude Burden, as lately having a photograph of a suspect was a helpful way to find someone. For all he knew, Burden could be going by a different name. If he thought that the Pinkerton Detective was after him he would not be going by either Jude Burden or Bud Dampierre. Maybe he doesn't know I'm after him though. After all, he doesn't know that Caroline Hempe had Gus's address in Pendleton, and that I went up there.

  Even though it was summer, it was raining in the bustling town of Butte. The General store was still open, so he stopped in and bought an Oilskin duster. He had left his at home, thinking that he wouldn't need it in the summer. He also bought two heavy wool blankets as he was planning on eventually heading north toward the Canadian border, if he didn't find him in Butte, and he knew it would be colder the farther north he went.

  A saloon was always the best place to start, when trying to track someone down, and the best place to eat. Cowboys that have been riding the trails always found their way to the nearest saloon for a stiff drink, a good meal, and the companionship of a woman. Butte was pretty big and had quite a few saloons so this could take a while. After he checked out all the saloons, he planned to take his time and stop in every store, barber shop, bank, or business on the main street and ask about the man he was looking for. He had already asked at the hotel about any strangers checking in within the last few months and at the general store. There were several other hotels and the mines to check out also. He knew he would be in Butte for a week or more

  The bartender was usually the one who knew what was going on in the town and who was new and who was not, so he went straight up to the bar and ordered a beer.

  "Howdy, mister, I was hoping you could help me find a fella I've been looking for. Have you got a couple of minutes to answer a few questions?"

  "May I ask who's asking, and what did this fella do?" The man answered as he poured Charlie's beer.

  "The name is Charlie Siringo, and I'm with the Pinkerton Detective Agency. I'm looking for a man named Jude Burden. I think his real name is Jude Dampierre, but he often goes by Bud or Buddy Dampierre. He may be using another alias by now. If he is Bud Dampierre, then he could be the man who killed the Governor of Idaho a few years back. I just want to find him and ask him a few questions. He left La Grande, Oregon, a few months ago and said he was heading this way."

  "I don't remember ever hearing either one of those names, Mr. Siringo. That is not to say he hasn't been in here and didn't say his name. What does he look like?"

  When Siringo said he was a Pinkerton Detective, he had no idea how much dislike there was for any lawmen in the town. The bartender pretended to be friendly, but knew his first priority was to tell the men from the labor unions that this guy was in town, and to watch out for him.

  "That is part of the problem. He is a very average looking guy. Doesn't stand out in a crowd, or have any distinguishing marks that I know about. He stands about five feet ten, probably weighs about one hundred sixty or one hundred seventy. Brown hair and brown eyes, and rides a brown sorrel. Not much else I can tell you."

  "Sounds like about eighty percent of the cowboys who come in here. I'll ask around for you, if you want. How long are you going to be in town?"

  "I don't know really. As long as it takes to ask around and make sure he is not somewhere in the vicinity. I'll be here at least a week, maybe two or more. I'll check back in every so often. I would sure appreciate your help, mister."

  "The name is Bart, Bart Thomas. Can I get you something to eat, Charlie?"

  "Yes, I'm real hungry. Whatever you're serving tonight would be great."

  The man came back with a big bowl of hot chili and a plate of corn bread. He was a big man, probably weighing about two hundred pounds, and at least six feet two inches tall. His dark hair was parted down the middle, and he sported a handlebar mustache that had enough hair crème on it to stay curled on the ends. Charlie could tell he was well liked by his customers, as he was friendly and polite, and laughed and talked with everyone who came in.

  "You make this chili, Bart?"

  "No, I have a good cook in the kitchen. Can I get you another helping?"

  "No, thank you, but it sure is good. Do you serve this all of the time?"

  "Yeah, Mike makes a big pot of it every day because everybody likes it so well. Then he makes sandwiches and something special daily too. I'm lucky to have him."

  "Yes, you are."

  Charlie paid his bill and went back to his room. He was exhausted after the long trip, and after all he wasn't getting any younger. He went to bed and planned on starting early the next morning on his search for the governor's killer.

  After Charlie left the saloon, Bart went up to a group of men who were sitting at a big table in the corner.

  "Did you guys recognize that guy that just left?"

  The big man in the corner responded. "I wasn't paying any attention. What about him? Who is he?"

  "He said he is a Pinkerton Man, name is Charlie Siringo. He is looking for some guy named Dampierre. I think he said he also could be known as Jude Burden. Anybody heard of the guy he is talking about?"

  "I wouldn't rat the guy out if I knew him. I'm so sick of these Pinkerton agents getting in our business. Why aren't they ever on the side of the little guy? What was he after this fella for?"

  "It seems he had something to do with the murder of that governor of Idaho way back in 1905."

  "I heard that bastard deserved it. He was taking money from the mine owners." The tall man on the other side of the table piped up.

  "Yeah, keep us informed on this guy, will you Bart? We are all pretty upset about what happened at the mine. I swear those dirty lawmen are going to get theirs. I'm real sick of them getting paid off by the mine owners. I hope that Frank Little can do something to help us out. I've heard he really works hard for the miners."

  "If this Siringo guy is on the side of the mine owners, we might as well add him to the list of people that need to be taught a lesson. I lost a lot of good friends in that mine blast, and now they
have promised to fire any man that goes on strike. We all got families to feed. We don't need any snoopy detectives getting in our way."

  "Yeah, I agree, Jimmy. How long is this guy going to be in town?"

  "He said at least a week, maybe more."

  "That will give us enough time to plan something, to make sure that Siringo fella learns to keep his nose out of our business."

  The group of men started talking all at once. They were all angry and began planning what they would do to the men they thought could cause some trouble for them at the mines. The bartender went back to the bar and picked up Siringo's bowl and glass and began washing them. He knew the men were dangerous, but his loyalty was to them, and not to some detective. He would get as much information as he could about the unwanted stranger who had just arrived in town.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  "The Cattle Rustling Business"

  Sam and Jude wandered the area southeast to Malheur Lake, checking out the land between Burns and Winnemucca, Nevada. They soon realized what a vast area it was, and decided that they should try to find out the lay of the land from a local. They knew there was at least one hundred fifty miles in between the two towns, and that the rich range land was only used by cattle and sheep farmers. Sam had heard that sheepherders and cattle ranchers had been fighting over that land for years, so he suggested to Jude that they befriend a sheep herder to see what they could find out about how the land was used. After they approached a few herders that they came across, they found out that the best cattle lands were on the east side of the Jordan Valley along the Owyhee River. Most of the land they were looking at was in Malheur County. Neither Sam nor Jude had been to this area before. The sheep ranchers told them that Winnemucca, Nevada, was about sixty miles south of the Oregon border. Sam had it in his mind that they could rustle cattle, and then herd them south to Winnemucca through Fort McDermitt, which was an Indian reservation where the Central Pacific mainline came in, and where they could sell the cattle. He thought it would be the easiest place to sell them, as they would be immediately loaded on the train. They found out that there was a geologic formation called "Pillars of Rome" by the locals, and that it sat in the middle of the range. If one got lost, they said, one could locate that landmark easily and find their way back to any location. Sam told Jude that they just needed to find a good place to round up, and brand the cattle, before they took them south.

  They were just roaming the beautiful range land when they came across a small herd of sheep and their herder, a scruffy looking dark skinned man riding a brown sorrel. He was very young and looked frightened when he saw them. The two men galloped up behind him as he was riding behind his herd. When he turned around to see who it was he had his hand on his pistol. Sam lifted his right hand in greeting, and then rode his horse up next to the man with a smile on his face.

  "I not do anything wrong, señor, this is range land, and it is okay to let my sheep roam here." The sheepherder spoke with a heavy accent. Jude thought he was Mexican, but he wasn't sure.

  "I don't know anything about that, mister. We are new to this area. We just wanted to introduce ourselves, and to ask if you knew a good spot where we might camp for the night. My name is Sam, and this here is Jude."

  "That is no problem, señor. If you have not been sent by the ranchers, and mean me no harm, you are welcome to join me where I am camped for the season. I would enjoy your company as it is very lonely out here on the range. My name is Diego de Santos. I am from the Basque region in Spain. My family came to this country about twenty seven-years ago, but we have been treated very poorly by many of the rich ranchers."

  "Where is the rest of your family, Mister de Santos?"

  "I am the only one left as my madre, padre and hermano died in a fire at our small homestead three years ago. I was out tending the sheep when it happened, so I do not know how the fire started. My brother was only three years old. I rebuilt our house, but that and these sheep are all I have left."

  "I am sorry to hear that. It is not easy to lose your family. It is nice to meet you, Mister de Santos, I am Sam Johnson, and this is my cousin, Jude. It sounds like you have had a rough start in this country. We would like to camp with you, and we mean you no harm. If it is okay, we will just follow you when you are ready to camp for the night."

  "Oh, please call me Diego, señor. Yes, I am leading my sheep to where my camp is right now. I have found a secluded place where the ranchers don't bother me. When they see me, they try to run me off of the plains and have killed many in my herd."

  "I heard they didn't want to share the rangeland with anyone, but since it doesn't belong to anyone but the government, I'd say they don't have the right to run you off."

  "No, señor, they don't have any rights to the land, that is why I continue to graze my sheep here, but they still continue sending their men to try to chase me off. That is why I thought you were some of their men."

  "Don't worry, Diego. We are not with the ranchers, and we are not going to tell them where you camp."

  "Thank you, señor. Just follow me as it is only a fifteen minute ride from here, on the other side of that ridge."

  Diego began to herd his sheep with commands to his dogs, who started barking and running around the herd, and the sheep started picking up the pace and moving faster. Sam and Jude just followed the herd at a trot.

  "Okay, Sam, what are you up to now?" Jude asked when Diego was out of hearing distance.

  "I figure we need some help finding a good place to put the cattle as we take from the bigger herds, and we really need a third man to help us keep them there. We can offer to pay him for his help with branding when it is that time. He could also help us keep watch over them before we take them to market. If he catches on to what we are up to, we may have to get rid of him in the end."

  Jude smiled and said, "Good, I really don't want to share our profits. It sounds like there is no one who is going to miss him either. He does know the area. I think he may be a big help with our plan, Sam!"

  "Yeah, I think we can make this profitable for both of us. When this job is done, we can head back up to Baker City and start looking for that gold."

  Jude just grinned as he thought of the saddle sitting in the Troy Stable.

  They followed the sheepherder, and true to the man's word, they reached his camp in fifteen minutes. Diego slept in a two-wheeled cart that held his bed roll and a few supplies. It was parked by his fire, which still held some hot embers inside a circle of large stones. His horse and two dogs lived with him. He added some wood to the still smoldering fire and invited the two men to "make yourselves comfortable".

  They ate beans and hard tack and drank water from their canteens, which they had filled in the nearby creek. After they were finished, Jude uncapped one of the new bottles of whiskey they had purchased in the last town, and offered some to Diego. The sun was almost behind the hills, when Jude filled up the man's tin cup and passed it back. After taking a few sips he began to tell them about the history of the Basque in the valley, as the glow of the crackling campfire highlighted his face and his dark eyes reflected the glowing fire eerily as he talked.

  "I imagine you are wondering what a Basque is and how we came to be in this area."

  "Yes, I was wondering what would bring a man like you to live out here with your sheep."

  Diego laughed and took another drink before he started talking. Jude just sat there quietly sipping his whiskey.

  "I am the third generation of my family to live in the Jordan Valley. My father and grandfather homesteaded one hundred eighty acres of the best grassland in the valley many years ago. They fenced the meadows so they could keep the cattle and sheep out of the hay, until they could harvest it in the fall, and provide the feed for the livestock in the winter. After the harvest they stacked the hay in lean-to shelters, and then they let the livestock back in, where they would keep them in the pens until the winter was over.

  "We Basques are the oldest pure race in Europe.
We come from the Pyrenees Mountain area between France and Spain. There was much unrest in our homeland in the late 1800's, and my family emigrated here in 1890. What is left of our original homestead is about thirty miles from here. I have one ranch hand that takes care of the place, while I am on the range, and rides out to bring me supplies once a month. He was just here last weekend, so I am well stocked for a while. This system has worked well for our family until the ranchers decided they wanted to own all of the government lands, and to not let the sheepherders roam as well.

  "I winter my flocks on the land I have homesteaded and sell some sheep and wool in the spring. Then I take a few rams and the ewes and lambs back out on the range. There was a big search for gold in the 1860's, from what I heard, so there are lots of abandoned mines and cabins around, especially on the Owyhee River. The miners were not very successful and left before we homesteaded our land. Homesteaders started arriving in the 1870's, so we were lucky to find some good land when we arrived over twenty years later."

  "I didn't see many cattle before we ran into you, where do the ranchers graze them around here?" Jude wanted to get down to business.

  "Oh, they are here, but they roam all over, and you will find most of them in the 'breaks'."

  "The breaks? What are those?"

  "Sorry, I mean the small canyons on the river. They only round up their cattle in the late fall after they have harvested their crops. The ranchers turn them out shortly after they breed them in the spring. They have shelter there from the spring rains, plenty of water, and green grass to eat. The cows calve down there in the breaks and are pretty big by the time they round them up and take them back to be branded."

  "Isn't it dangerous to leave the cattle alone for nine months out of the year? We are planning on ranching around here and would be interested in finding out the lay of the land. Where is it safe to let our cattle roam?"