Packing Iron

by Steve Hayes

  ‘Hmmm,’ she said impishly. ‘Not a bad idea.’

  ‘Momma, you make him let me go this instant or I’ll never speak to you again.’

  Ingrid cupped a hand to her ear. ‘Did you hear something, Mr Moonlight? Or was that just the wind?’

  ‘Momma!’

  ‘The wind, ma’am, I reckon.’

  ‘MOMMA!’

  Ingrid chuckled. ‘What do you say, Mr Moonlight? Do we give her one more chance?’

  ‘Seems reasonable.’ He let the rope go slack, loosening the loop around Raven. Immediately she squirmed out of it and ran off, stopping only when she was out of his reach.

  She glared at them. ‘You’ll be sorry. Both of you!’ Before either of them could stop her, she swung up onto the stallion and galloped off.

  ‘Raven – come back here!’

  ‘Let her go,’ Gabriel said. ‘If there was ever two of a kind deserved each other, they’re it.’

  She was waiting for them about a half mile up the trail. As the wagon approached, she got up from the rock on which she’d been resting and offered the reins to Gabriel.

  ‘Keep ridin’,’ he told her. He indicated the awning overhead. ‘It’s a mite cooler where I’m sittin’.’

  Exasperated, Raven mounted up and fell in beside the wagon.

  They reached Munsey’s Trading Post around noon. Knowing there was another six hours of hard traveling ahead of them, Gabriel suggested they give themselves and the horses a much-needed rest.

  There were three, sweat-lathered saddled ponies hitched to the rail outside the large, adobe-walled building and two other wagons had just pulled out. Gabrielle watched them plodding toward the horizon for a moment then unhitched the team and led them to the drinking trough. Raven had already taken the Morgan there and, as Gabriel approached, the all-black stallion lifted its dripping muzzle from the water and snorted, warning him to stay clear. Gabriel ignored Brandy and told Raven to join her mother, who was looking for something in one of the valises.

  ‘Tell her yourself. You’re not my father.’

  ‘Don’t try to buffalo me,’ he warned gently. ‘I’m hot an’ tired an’ leanin’ toward irritable. So go round up your mom an’ the two of you go on inside an’ get washed up. By then I’ll be ready to join you. Mrs Munsey sets a fine table.’

  ‘Mean we’re gonna eat here?’

  ‘My treat.’

  ‘But what about the sandwiches?’

  ‘We’ll save ’em for later. Nothin’ but desert ’tween here an’ Las Cruces—’ He broke off as two disheveled-looking men with beards and long straggly hair came out of the trading post. One glimpse told Gabriel they were saddle tramps. They wore long grimy dusters over their soiled clothing, pants tucked into knee-high boots, and sweat-stained hats that hung down their backs, Mexican-style. They staggered drunkenly as they walked, and the larger man held a near-empty bottle of whiskey in his fist.

  They stopped as they saw Ingrid, grinned at each other and lurched toward her.

  ‘Stay here,’ Gabriel told Raven. He started for the wagon, unhurried but purposeful, his gun hand hanging loosely beside his holster.

  Neither man saw him coming; they were too focused on Ingrid. She, in turn, didn’t see them. Bent over the open valise, engrossed in her search, they were on her before she knew it.

  ‘Well, lookee here, Jesse,’ the big man said. ‘We found us a woman.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Jesse. He stroked Ingrid’s hair. ‘If y’ain’t the purtiest damn filly I ever did see.’

  Alarmed, she tried to squeeze past them. But they grabbed her and pinned her back against the wagon.

  ‘P-please,’ she begged, ‘let me go.’

  ‘Sure, sure, all in good time….’ Jesse ripped open her shirt and clumsily fondled her breasts.

  Ingrid jerked away. ‘Stoppit! Don’t you dare touch me!’

  ‘Hear that, Turk?’ Jesse grinned at his partner. ‘Little lady here don’t want me to touch her.’

  ‘Teach her a lesson, Jesse. G’wan. Show her who’s ramrod.’

  Jesse laughed, showing broken snuff-stained teeth, and tried to kiss Ingrid. She twisted her face away. He grabbed her by the chin, forced her to face him and again tried to kiss her. She bit his lip, bringing blood. Cursing, he went to slap her.

  Ingrid cringed, but to her surprise the blow never came. Hit from behind by Gabriel’s Colt, Jesse’s eyes suddenly rolled up into his head and he crumpled to the ground.

  Turk gaped at Gabriel, who now leveled his gun at him.

  ‘D-don’t shoot, mister,’ he stammered, hands raised. ‘Please. We didn’t mean no harm. We was jes’ funnin’ with her. I swear….’

  Gabriel, eyes ablaze, thumbed back the hammer.

  ‘Leather it!’ a voice snarled behind him.

  Gabriel looked over his shoulder. A third saddle tramp, who’d just stepped out of the trading post, moved toward him. He looked and smelled as badly as the others. Difference was he was aiming a scattergun at Gabriel and Ingrid.

  ‘Y’heard me, mister. Do like I say or you an’ the skirt get blown to yesterday.’

  Gabriel slowly slid his Colt back into the holster.

  ‘That’s more like it,’ said the man with the shotgun. ‘You awright, Turk?’

  ‘Be a helluva lot better when I shoot this no-good sonofabitch!’

  ‘What’s left of him, y’mean.’ He began to squeeze the trigger – when a small stone struck him on the temple, stunning him.

  Even as the man crumpled to the ground Gabriel drew his Colt, fired and put a bullet between Turk’s eyes.

  Turk collapsed, gun still in his holster.

  Ingrid turned away, sickened.

  Gabriel whirled and aimed his gun at Jesse, who still lay in the dirt but was starting to come around.

  ‘Go on,’ Raven urged. ‘What’re you waiting for? Kill him. If you don’t,’ she added when he didn’t move, ‘I will.’ Putting another stone in her slingshot, she angrily pulled it back and aimed at Jesse’s head.

  ‘No!’ Ingrid stepped between Jesse and her daughter. ‘For God’s sake, child, put that thing away! Hasn’t there been enough killing!’

  ‘But, Momma, they were gonna hurt you. They ain’t fit to live.’

  ‘Do like she says,’ Gabriel said quietly. Holstering his Colt, he helped Ingrid to her feet. He then looked at Jesse, who was bleeding from a swollen cut on his temple. ‘Ride,’ he said grimly, ‘an’ take that scum-eatin’ filth with you.’

  Rising, Jesse dragged his dead partners to their horses, threw them over their saddles, grabbed the reins and rode off.

  ‘We’re done here,’ Gabriel told Ingrid. He helped her onto the wagon box. Then he put his arm around Raven’s shoulders and said so only she could hear: ‘Look after your mom while I get the horses. She needs you.’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘Sure. Don’t always take a lifetime, y’know.’

  ‘What doesn’t?’

  ‘Bein’ responsible.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Sometimes, just like now, person gets all growed up in seconds.’ Patting her on the head, he walked toward the team.

  ‘Aren’t you even gonna thank me?’

  ‘I just did,’ Gabriel said. ‘Think about it.’

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  It was dark when they reached the outskirts of Las Cruces.

  Once a dusty little Mexican village located at the foot of the Organ Mountains, it had acquired its name in 1830 when a group of travelers were massacred by Apaches and crosses were put on their graves. Then in 1882 the arrival of the Santa Fe Railroad transformed it into a bustling town with a courthouse, six hotels and almost twenty saloons. There was also a sheriff’s office and jail, numerous stores and churches, schools and a residential area where large hip-roofed houses on grassy lawns dwarfed the rows of traditional one-story adobe homes.

  At the edge of town, bordering the desert, there stood a large walled compound known as Ft. Seldon. Manned by black troopers w
hom the Indians called Buffalo Soldiers, it had been built to protect the settlers from marauding Apaches; but with Geronimo’s capture it had outlasted its usefulness and was now due to be closed.

  Gabriel, astride the Morgan, led the wagon past the fort on into town. They cut through the Mexican section, riding past cantinas, adobe hovels and a mariachi band playing in a small dirt plaza, and finally reached Main Street. Though it was supper time the sidewalks were crowded and buckboards and wagons were everywhere. Gabriel kept his eye out for the law as he rode alongside the wagon. None of the townspeople paid attention to them but Ingrid, concerned for his safety, begged him to ride straight to the mission. He stubbornly refused, and insisted on making sure they were comfortably ensconced in the Hickory Hotel before leaving them.

  ‘I’ll be back in the mornin’ to take you to the train,’ he told Ingrid.

  Worried about his safety yet wanting to see him one more time, she said only: ‘If you insist.’

  Gabriel fondly tousled Raven’s hair, ‘Right proud of you, scout,’ and was gone before she could answer.

  There was a livery stable on the next corner. Gabriel turned the Morgan and team over to the old bearded hostler, paid him for one night’s keep, along with a dollar tip, and thumbed at the hay loft above them. ‘Mind if I stretch out for a few hours?’

  The hostler leaned on his hay fork, sized Gabriel up, and spat tobacco juice into a pile of hay. ‘For one more of these,’ he said, holding up the silver dollar, ‘you can keep the mice company all night.’

  Gabriel handed him the dollar, hefted his saddle onto his shoulder and climbed the ladder up to the loft.

  ‘Might you be expectin’ any visitors, son?’

  ‘Just the mayor an’ a ten-piece brass band,’ Gabriel said.

  ‘Figgered as much.’ The hostler chuckled, spat again and continued forking hay into the feed boxes.

  Dawn was still an hour away when Gabriel swung into the saddle and nudged the Morgan out of the livery stable. The mission convent was only two miles away in Mesilla, but he wanted to get there early so he didn’t have to rush his visit with Ellie and still be back in time to take Ingrid and Raven to the station.

  Taking care of them had become important to him. He didn’t know exactly when it had started but he now knew Ingrid meant something to him and he felt fatherly toward Raven. Vexing and rebellious as she was, he knew that if he’d been lucky enough to live a normal life and raise a daughter he would have wanted her to be like Raven. As for Ingrid, a man would be hard-pressed to find a better woman. Too bad, he thought, that fate had chosen another trail for him….

  The town was quiet. Still. Gabriel felt a cold wind off the desert chilling his face as he rode toward the outskirts. He kept to the unlighted side streets, hoping to avoid running into a patrolling lawman, the steady thud-thudding of the stallion’s hoofs on the dirt a lulling rhythm in his ears.

  As he rode he tried to imagine how surprised Ellie would be when she saw him. His last memory of her was an ugly one. Knowing he’d been shot, she begged him to let her take him to the doctor in Santa Rosa. He refused, assuring her that his wound wasn’t severe. By her expression he knew he hadn’t fooled her, but she was wise enough to realize he didn’t want her to see him die and let the matter drop. She just sat there, astride the leggy blue roan, tears running down her lovely face. At death’s door, he’d then kissed her hand and promised to write her soon as he reached California, believing even as he spoke that he’d never see her again.

  Well, he thought now, he hadn’t lied to her after all. Because in a few minutes he’d be able to hold her again; and though her love would never belong to anyone but God, at least from now on they would occasionally get to see one another.

  The thought of that made him smile.

  Leaving Las Cruces, Gabriel rode south and soon entered the outskirts of Mesilla. As he looked about him he realized nothing had changed since his last visit.

  Before he’d holed up in Mexico he’d often met Cally in one of the many backstreet cantinas, knowing that if he didn’t cause any trouble the law, such as it was, wouldn’t bother him. And here he was, he realized, five years later riding in to meet her sister.

  At a convent!

  Fate was sure strange.

  But then the history of the little village, he knew, was equally strange. During the Civil War Mesilla had served as the capital of the Confederate Territory of Arizona; later it became known as the ‘hub’ of the entire region and the crossroads for two important stagecoach lines, Butterfield and the Santa Fe Trail. At the time, adjoining it was a smaller, sleepier village known as Las Cruces. Neither was expected to ever grow into a city. But of the two Mesilla, she of the bawdy cantinas and festivals that were frequented by Billy the Kid, Jessie Evans and Pat Garrett, would have been the choice if anyone asked.

  Then in 1881 the Santa Fe Railroad offered to pay the citizens of Mesilla for the right to build a railroad through town. The people agreed but the price they demanded for the land was too high. The railroad men looked elsewhere. They discovered neighboring Las Cruces wasn’t so greedy. Visionaries, the townspeople knew their future lay with the railroad and offered their land for free. The rest was history.

  Ahead, Gabriel saw the old adobe church and buildings of the Sisters of Mercy convent silhouetted in the dawn light. Reining up, he dismounted, tied the Morgan to a tree and approached the chapel-shaped wooden gate. It opened at his touch. Removing his hat, he walked up the flagstone path to the front door. Lights showed in some of the windows. The nuns, as he had expected, were early risers. Hoping he wasn’t disturbing their prayers, he took a deep breath to settle his nerves and pulled the bell-rope.

  Shortly the door opened and an elderly nun in a black habit and a medieval white coronet smiled serenely at him. ‘Yes? May I help you?’

  ‘I’m here to see someone, sister.’

  Her gray eyes looked at the gun on his hip then lifted to meet his gaze and held steadily. ‘Are you sure you have the right place?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am.’

  ‘I see. Then perhaps you’d better tell me her name.’

  ‘Kincaide, sister. Ellen Kincaide.’

  ‘Ahh,’ the old nun frowned. ‘Dear me, I hope you haven’t traveled too far.’

  ‘Far enough. Why?’

  ‘I’m afraid Sister Kincaide has left us.’

  Gabriel’s heart sank. ‘She’s passed on, you mean?’

  ‘Oh, no. Sister Kincaide’s in excellent health. But she decided to serve the Lord at another mission.’

  ‘An’ where might that be, sister?’

  The old nun hesitated and he could tell she was trying to decide if she should reveal Ellen’s whereabouts to a stranger.

  ‘It’s mighty important,’ he said. ‘Ellie thinks I’m dead and I want her to know I ain’t.’

  ‘Oh, my gracious … yes … yes, I can see where that would be important. Well,’ the old nun said cautiously, ‘I can’t tell you exactly where Sister Kincaide went – she wasn’t sure herself when she left. But I can tell you that her intended destination was California – Carmel, I believe she said.’ She paused and reflected sadly for a moment. ‘We all thought she was making a mistake. Mother Superior tried hard to change her mind but Sister Kincaide couldn’t be swayed. Said her destiny awaited her there and off she went.’

  ‘Caught the train, did she?’

  ‘Yes. Week or so ago. I’m sorry you missed her,’ she said, seeing Gabriel’s disappointment. ‘I’m sure Sister Kincaide would have enjoyed seeing you. She hasn’t been her usual cheerful self of late and I think now I understand why.’

  Thanking her, Gabriel dug some money from his pocket and stuffed it into the nun’s aged hands. ‘Put this to good use.’

  ‘God speed,’ she said gratefully and crossed herself.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  As he rode away from Mesilla a storm thundered over the Organ Mountains. A sudden stray shower soaked Gabriel. But the rain only lasted brief
ly and by the time he’d reached Las Cruces, stopped in at the livery stable and hitched the team to the wagon the sun was shining again and he soon dried off.

  Ingrid and Raven were waiting in the hotel lobby when Gabriel drove up. Raven, who’d been watching through the window, ran out to greet him.

  ‘Can I ride Brandy to the station?’ she begged as he climbed down. ‘Can I, Gabe? Can I? Please?’

  ‘Sure. But stay close, scout. If someone recognizes me, we’ll need to trade places pronto.’

  As he was untying the Morgan from the wagon, it tried to bite him. Cursing, he slapped it with his hat.

  Raven scowled at him. ‘You’re never gonna get to be his friend like that.’

  ‘I don’t want to be his friend,’ Gabriel said. ‘Hell, only reason I’m keepin’ him around is so when he gets old I can sell him for dog food.’

  ‘Don’t listen to him,’ she whispered to the stallion. ‘He’s an old meany. Besides, I’d steal you away from him ’fore I’d let him do something like that.’

  Behind them, Ingrid emerged from the hotel followed by a bellhop with their valises. Gabriel tipped him, threw the bags in the wagon and helped her onto the seat.

  ‘Sleep well, ma’am?’

  ‘Very well, thank you.’

  ‘Fibber,’ Raven said. ‘Momma was worried about you,’ she told Gabriel. ‘Hardly slept a wink.’

  ‘Raven—’

  ‘Kept talkin’ in her sleep, too. Should’ve heard all the things she said.’

  ‘Enough!’ Ingrid rolled her eyes at Gabriel. ‘I swear she has no sense of decency whatsoever.’

  Gabriel grinned, snapped the reins and the wagon lurched forward.

  They rode along Main Street in the direction of the train station. Townspeople occasionally glanced their way. But no one recognized Gabriel and they went on about their business.

  ‘How was Ellen?’ Ingrid asked Gabriel. ‘Overjoyed to see you, no doubt?’