Hickory Jack (Ben Blue Book 1)

by Lou Bradshaw

Juan’s face broke into a wide grin and he said, “Si, Don Carlos, a subtle message from you is worth far more than an armed threat from me. Enrique and I would very much like to join you and Benito.”

  After a moment of thought, I pulled the badge from the breast pocket of my coat and laid it on the small table among the cups and cakes. “I’ve been deputized by US Marshal Stewart, and given a free hand in finding these two men. If I recognize Gentry, I will arrest both men on the spot… Do you still wish to go along?”

  “More than ever.” proclaimed Don Carlos, and was echoed by Juan Domingo.

  On the trail leading to the – M – Don Carlos explained that he and the Dona Elena had returned from Santa Fe with the Domingo family after the wedding of their daughter Maria. It was an opportunity to visit many of the New Mexican families that they had not seen in years. The Dona was staying with her brother and his family. They would be returning to Santa Fe soon. He also stated that he had hoped to see my valley before he My humble casa is your casa. I would be honored.”

  We were fourteen strong when we rode into Matt Barkley’s ranch yard. Someone scooted through the front door as we approached. As we came to a halt, Barkley came through the door, and stood on the top step of the porch. Enrique and the Don’s nine vaqueros stayed about twenty yards back, and the three of us rode forward to the base of the steps. The Don sat his magnificent saddle beautifully in the center with Juan on his right and me on his left.

  Juan Domingo, being a neighboring rancher did the talking, “Senor Barkley, I believe you’ve met Senor Blue, and I’d like to present Don Carlos Vasquez. We are visiting a few of my neighbors paying our respect.”

  Barkley cleared his throat and said, “How do, Don, pleased to meet ya… this here is my foreman, Frank Miller.” as Miller joined him from within the house. I nudged Bob to get him to dance around a bit just to pull their attention to him. Then I settled him down with a few gentle pats. There was no reaction from either Miller or Bob.

  “Don Carlos wanted to meet as many of the ranchers as he could in the short time he will be here, so I am introducing him to some of the more influential men of the plateau.” explained Juan.

  The Don began, “Senor Barkley, Senor Miller, it has come to my attention that an old practice has been revived on the plateau. The practice of claiming unbranded cattle, what is often called mavericks, and branding them. Such practices are still acceptable in unsettled remote areas, but cannot be tolerated in settled established ranges.” Barkley was openly uncomfortable, but Miller was downright sweating and pale as the moon. “It would please me greatly if you gentlemen would pass the word that among some of the smaller ranchers that such activities are to cease as of this day.”

  Miller was staring beyond the three of us. I looked back at the vaqueros behind us bristling with finery and weapons. That sight would certainly get my attention.

  Miller made several efforts to speak before he finally got a start, “Damn it! Branding mavericks is still done in Texas.” His face had gone from washed out white to a bright red, but the sweat was still pouring.

  “You, sir, are no longer in Texas, and I doubt that Texas accepts a calf of one brand following a cow of another. That would cause serious consequences even there.”

  With that the Don nodded to them slightly and said, “Good day to you, gentlemen.” The three of us turned and rode out of the yard followed by the vaqueros.

  Chapter 40

  Riding back to the Rancho Domingo, I congratulated the Don for putting out a message that could save a number of lives. He asked if I thought Miller might be the man I was looking for. “Unfortunately, no. The man I’m looking for would be no more that forty years old at most. Miller must be nearly sixty.”

  I asked the Don if he had any idea yet when Padre Paulo would be coming to Santa Fe. He said all he knew was that it would be before year’s end, which was still more than two months away.

  He smiled, seemingly pleased with himself and said, “Paulo must never know of this, for he wants to be his own man. I’m proud of my son, and I know he has done an admirable service in Texas, but the happiness of my dear wife is a stronger force than his desire for independence. It can be very advantageous having a bishop as a close friend.” He smiled and chuckled then pressed his finger to his lips. I did the same.

  When I got back to the house that evening, I found a note from Andy on the kitchen table. In essence it told me that Stewart had some new information and would like to see me as soon as possible. I started packing for the trail again. There wasn’t much to keep me at the ranch. My horses can fend for themselves, my cattle were in safe places, and my meat hanging in the smokehouse was just about ready. I would need to stop by the bank and pick up some traveling money, but that wouldn’t take much time.

  The next morning, I built one more fire in the smokehouse and took a chunk of meat for the trail, and I was off riding the Jake horse. As a final thought I quickly wrote a note to Don Carlos telling him that I had been called away to Santa Fe, and to feel free to look over the valley as much as he wanted. Mi Casa su Casa.

  Stopping by the Esses, it wasn’t far out of my way, but well worth the effort. Over breakfast, I told Sam and Patty that I was going to be gone for about four days, and that Marshal Stewart had some new information which may bring my searching to an end. I surely hoped so. I needed and wanted to get down to the business of ranching and building a spread. It seemed like for every day of work there were two days of distraction. They both looked at me with a bit of puzzle in their eyes. Then it dawned on me that I hadn’t ever told them that there were possibly two members of that gang of killers living near Taos.

  I told them the whole story complete with the Texas whorehouse. I told of the outlaw preacher I caused to be hung, then taking Frazier in to be hung, the trip to San Antonio and Brazier’s big scheme and his demise, and finally how we wound up in New Mexico. “The trail ended here, so we stayed.”

  “I could have dumped this whole business on to Andy, after all it was his family they killed, but it was the only family I could remember. Andy came very close to becoming a real gunfighter back there in Texas. If we hadn’t left Hickory Jack and his reputation back there, I don’t know what kind of person Andy would be today… or if he would even be alive.”

  “When we catch up to those two, I’ll do everything in my power to bring them in, but I’m afraid Andy will start shooting. And he doesn’t need any more killing on conscience….Nor do I, but I can deal with it better. Andy buries them; I face up to them and fret about them. In time, I feel that they will fade into lost memories, but Andy will not let them come close enough to the surface to deal with them.”

  They both sat looking at me like they didn’t know me. I told them, “I have a lot of blood on my hands and I’m sorry, but I’ve done what I had to do as both boy and man. If you would rather I didn’t come around, I’ll understand.” I picked up my hat and walked to the front door. I had gone down two steps from the porch when I heard the door open.

  Stopping, I turned to look back. Patty walked across the porch and took one step down to where we were at eye level. She reached down and took my hand and folded it into the both of hers and said, “Ben, be careful and come back to me… us.” Then she leaned forward and kissed me. It wasn’t much more than the touch of a downy feather, but it carried a bigger impact than a cannon ball. She stepped back up, still holding my hand until she had backed away.

  As I got into the saddle, Sam came to the door and said, “You come back, boy, anytime.”

  Arriving in town before the bank opened, I stopped at the Sheriff’s Office to let Andy know that that I was on my way to Santa Fe. Andy had just come in from chasing down a miner who had knifed a drifter in a saloon the night before. He said, “The fool was so drunk that he passed out about a mile and a half out of town. I found him curled up in the middle of the road.”

  I told him to watch out. I didn’t think that Gentry and Poke had made the connection between him and I
, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t. He said that he was getting carefuller and carefuller all the time.

  Sheriff Nelson came in with the mail and a smile. He said, “Red, I got some good news for you.” He handed me an opened envelope and pulled two others from his desk drawer. “I been waitin for this one to come in. It’s the reward money for those three bank robbers.”

  The envelopes contained three bank drafts made out to me. Two were for five hundred each and one was for a thousand. “That rancher in Socorro, whose wife was killed, said it was money well spent watching that fella swing.”

  I was flabbergasted, that was a big chunk of money. “This’ll go a long way toward building my herd… I just hope I’m around long enough to drive those cows into the valley.”

  I signed the receipts and took my new found wealth to the bank, where I had planned to withdraw twenty five dollars for travelin’. I might just make it thirty now.

  The two days on the trail were uneventful and dull. Dull can get a man killed in these parts. You tend to let up and get lazy with your caution. Much of the trail was in the open and not much chance for ambush, unless some fella had him a really long shootin gun and a grand eye. But I’d heard stories of Apaches hiding in plain sight. I was hoping that Gentry and Poke didn’t know any Apaches.

  Jake horse sure was a special ride. He was almost as tall as Bob and had a nice easy gait. I had no doubt that he could go all day and all night without givin out. I hoped I never had to ride him all day and night. The long eighty mile ride did give me a chance to search my memory for the name of Stewarts clerk… Peters.

  When I got to Santa Fe I went directly to Stewart’s office. Peters let the marshal know that I was there and I went right in. Jasper had a sheath of papers in a large envelope.

  “Ben, I told you that I wanted to try something else to try and get a handle on Poke and Gentry. Now listen to these descriptions and see if they match anyone you know.”

  He started reading from the top sheet, “Six foot tall, one hundred and sixty pounds, brown eyes, brown hair heavily mixed with gray. Fifty three years old. Does that sound like anyone you know?”

  “Off hand, I couldn’t single out anyone, but I’m sure there’s a few in Taos that’ll fit that.” I told him.

  “Well let’s try another one.” He started reading from a second sheet, “Five foot eight, one hundred and thirty five pounds, gray eyes, sandy blond hair, and forty eight years of age. Does that strike a familiar chord?”

  “Probably about a hundred men in Taos County.” I answered.

  He went on, “The first one is Abraham Pickering, and the second is his long time friend and assistant, Ralph Bristol.”

  “Oh, they got it all wrong. Pickering ain’t more than five foot six or seven, and he probably weighs more than a hundred and eighty poun…..” The light came on in the back of my mind and I said,

  “They’re not them.”

  “You catch on pretty quick for a hillbilly kid.” Jasper said with a wry grin.

  “These two men got off the stage at Tucumcari and never got back on and were never seen again. They were ticketed for Santa Fe. I guess the driver figured they were taking the next stage. Folks will often layover to rest up and catch the next coach.”

  “Well, I’ll be doggoned!”

  “Blue, don’t you ever just let loose and cuss?”

  “Sure I do, but I was afraid that Peters might overhear and think less of me.” That sent him into a coffee spillin choking spasm.

  When he had regained his breath, he said, “Obviously Pickering and Bristol were robbed and probably murdered and their identities assumed by the killers, along with any money and papers they had with them. And we can pretty well figure that Poke and Gentry did the killin and the identity assuming.”

  “That’s pretty much the way I see it, Marshal. I’ll head back in the morning and serve the warrants on em.”

  “Hold on there, Lad. If those men were killed in New Mexico, then this makes it a New Mexican crime as well as a Federal crime. I’ve got warrants from the State Attorney General, which gives any sheriff or marshal reason to arrest them. So you give these to Nelson and get some help. Those men are deadly with a long trail of blood behind them.”

  I took the warrants and thanked Jasper for his help. Then he thanked me, and I was out the door. I had given Jake horse some grain because he’d need it with a return trip looming, only I didn’t know it would be such a short rest in between trips. I bought some extra grain for the trail and took him to the freight company corral. I found Senor Gomez in the warehouse and told him I’d be sleeping in the loft tonight. He asked if I was ready to come back to work, and we both had a chuckle. After a good supper at my favorite little cantina, I crawled into the loft and slept.

  I was up well before the sun. The freight company hostlers were hitching a team to one of the big double wagons, so there were several lanterns shedding light on my work. Jake horse was getting pretty shaggy with his winter coat, so I made sure to smooth his back before putting a saddle and blanket on.

  The first open cafe I came to I stopped and bought whatever they had that they could make a sandwich out of to take with me for breakfast. I drank two cups of coffee while they were putting it together. And we were out of Santa Fe within minutes. Jake horse seemed to be ready for the trail. I suppose he was ready for anywhere away from those mules.

  On the second day out of Santa Fe, I met the Don’s party on the trail. They had stopped for their nooning, and all were gathered around a fire with plates of food. The Don and the Dona were seated at a small table with good china dishes and stemmed glasses. The Don rose when he saw me and asked me to join them at the table. I told them that I’d just grab a bite from the cook and be on my way.

  He excused himself to his wife and we walked off a ways. I told him that we were pretty sure who the killers were, and that I was on my way to make the arrests. I gave him Pickering’s name and that his foreman would be Clyde Gentry, the one who had been hiring drygulchers to kill me. I returned him to his lady and paid my respects.

  She said to me, “Benito, we visited your rancho, and you have a very good chance of becoming a large rancher. Your home is lovely and you are an excellent housekeeper. The next time I visit I hope to see many niños and niñas playing in the yard.” I blushed and told her that I’d like that too.

  They made an impressive caravan, with the covered coach, two wagons, one of which was a well set up chuck wagon, and fifteen outriders. Nobody sat horses like those vaqueros. I accepted a plate of frijoles and beef washed down with some strong coffee, and then I was back in the saddle again.

  It was nigh on to evening when I rode into Taos. The sheriff had already gone home for the day, and Andy was up north with another deputy bringing in a man who chopped up his wife. The jailer said he had an empty cell, if I wanted to stretch out and spend the night. I told him that I was tired enough to sleep anywhere, “just don’t close the door.”

  After stabling Jake horse and visiting the eatin house, I went back to the sheriff’s office and went to sleep on a thin jailhouse mattress. It smelled a little, but then… so did I.

  Chapter 41

  When I rolled out the next morning, I had to take a few minutes to realize where I was and why I was in a cell. True to his word, the jailer hadn’t closed the door, and I was free to go without even a fine. The sheriff was sitting at his desk drinking coffee when I came through the cell block door. He looked up and said, “I was wondering what kind of riff raff we had back there snorin’ like a locomotive.”

  I poured myself a cup of coffee and sat down across from him. “Sheriff, we’ve identified our men.” Then I went on to tell him how the descriptions from Ohio were nothing like the men we knew as Pickering and Bristol, and how the true Pickering and Bristol were last seen at the Tucumcari stage station. “Stewart believes that the real Pickering and Bristol were killed and robbed there by Poke and Gentry, their bodies dumped and their identities taken. The New
Mexico Attorney General has made up and is sending out warrants for Poke and Gentry, since it’s believed the killings took place in New Mexico.”

  “Well, how do you want to handle it?” he asked.

  “I’m going up there and knocking on their door. If you want to send someone along, then I say the more the merrier. I’d like to wait for Andy to get back, but I’m afraid they’ll have another one of their scalp hunters on me if I wait too long.”

  He agreed and said that, “Drake should be in about mid morning, and the two of you can go together.”

  Deputy Cal Drake and I left Taos a little after ten that morning for a two hour ride to the Pickering spread. Cal was a might older than me but not by much. He was a nice enough fella, and I liked his company, but I wasn’t too comfortable with his background. He’d been a puncher on his pa’s ranch, and that was all. He’d only been a deputy a little longer than Andy. Granted, Andy had been a cowboy too, but he had been a man since he was fourteen and a man hunter since he was sixteen.

  From the top of a little knoll, we stopped to survey the ranch. There was a thin trail of smoke coming from the house and also from the bunkhouse. That meant there was somebody at home and someone in the bunkhouse. Drake said, “Oh yeah, I guess it does.” My confidence was eroding.

  Stopping at the hitch rail, we got down and I told him, “You wait here on the porch. We don’t know how many are in the bunkhouse or how mixed up they are with these two. So don’t let anyone get past you. If you hear gunfire in there, be ready to come in shooting, but be careful.” All the time I was talking he was nodding. “Remember, these men won’t hesitate to kill you. They’ve killed all the way back to Missouri. So watch yourself. He was still nodding.

  I knocked on the door, and walked in. Pickering, or rather, Poke was sitting in a comfortable looking leather chair with his feet on a table reading a Santa Fe newspaper. He looked up from his reading and said, “Oh, I thought it was one of the hands. Blue isn’t it? Have you come to…?”