Cain (Ben Blue Book 5)

by Lou Bradshaw

  I had to admit, what he said was true. So I asked, “Couldn’t they raise sheep… they can feed up in some of those high valleys all summer and there’d be plenty of grass for them in the winter.”

  “That’s surely true, boy, but then they’d be on the same level as them Mesticans…an that’s somethin’ they jus caint abide.”

  We… he talked for a bit longer and then he said, “Last time you wus in town, I’s tellin’ you bout that wild bunch out in the mountains…. That’s one ov ‘em over there… the greasy feller at the back table.”

  Of course I turned around with my back to the bar and gave him a good look over. He was a youngish fella not more than twenty five or so, but he was nasty. From the top of his matted and filthy head, down as far as I could see, he was sure nuff greasy. He was dark, but I couldn’t tell if that was due to his skin color or his fear of soap and water. His clothes were ragged and hadn’t been in water for months. His expression was the nastiest thing about him, but I’m sure much of that could be laid on the bottle without a label sitting in front of him.

  I turned back to the bar and bid Old Percy a fair thee well, then I reached down and picked up my rifle with my left hand, me being off handed. I turned away from the bar just in time to see that greasy bastard coming my way.

  He just walked up to within a few feet of me and said, “Something about me, that you find interestin’? You been payin’ a good deal of attention to me.”

  “There ain’t much about you that’s worth considerin.” I told him.

  He took a half step forward and stuck his head out toward my face and started to say something. That’s when I got a whiff of that whiskey breath and the rank odor coming off the rest of him. I naturally drew back a bit and said, “Mister, I’ve killed skunks that smelled a damned site prettier than you do.”

  It took him a half second to get the gist of what I’d just said, and that half second was his undoing. He naturally reached for his gun with his right hand, and I naturally slammed that rifle stock into the top of his foot. He yelled bloody murder and started hopping around on one foot. Between some sounds that I’d never heard before, he was doing some mighty impressive cussin’

  When he had hopped around in a complete circle and was comin’ back towards me, I gave him a two handed swing to the face with that rifle butt. That stinker dropped like a pole axed ox. I felt bones crunch, but I couldn’t tell if they were nose, cheekbone or eyebrow…and I didn’t much care. When he was sprawled out on the floor moaning, I went over and stomped on him breaking a rib or two.

  Old Percy stood there with his eyes wide open and said, “My Gawd boy, you a shore nuff mean ‘un.”

  “Yep.” I said. “This boy is gonna do one of two things. He’ll be mad enough to come lookin’ for me in a red hot rage, or he’ll have learned enough to stay the hell away from me… his choice.” I left an almighty quiet saloon.

  Riding back to the cabin, I had time to do some serious contemplating, and then it dawned on me… I had someone who could give me good advice and there were surely plenty of sheep or cows in that neighborhood. The Duke had given me everything I needed.

  Chapter 7

  Old Wellington, the Duke, said he’d wintered in Taos. Well, I’d scouted for a Taos outfit and I’d sure trust the word of Ben Blue of the MB connected. I couldn’t think of a more honest and straight talkin’ man…but don’t get him riled, cause he can sure make things hot.

  By the time I reached home… funny, I was already callin’ it home, I had made up my mind and started getting things stowed and packed. Taking off had never been much of an effort for me, since the most everything I owned was usually on my person or in the rifle boot of my saddle, but now I was a man of substance. Substance meant that there was stuff that needed to be put away and packed up…. And then there was that extra horse to think about.

  As it turned out, I had enough to take along that the extra horse came in handy, although he was by no means overloaded. If I’d left him, he’d be easy prey for a cougar, wolves or a bear. Or else he’d run off somewhere… either way, I’d not see him again. Horses are sociable animals. I could leave a pair of them in a pasture and chances are they’d still be there in a month, but you put one out by himself and you just don’t know what goes through his mind.

  I figured I could make it there and back in a week of easy riding, and if it took a little longer… well, it would take a little longer. So I took to the trail again, and it felt good. I knew where home was now, and I knew I’d be back unless hell barred my way… and it had better be the real hell or I was coming back over or through it.

  With two days behind me, I came into the Rio Grande valley, and we made much better time after that. I rode into Taos on the evening of the sixth day. The first thing I did was get myself a room and had the man arrange a bath. Then I took my horses to the livery stable to board them for the night. I’d asked the hotel man where I might find Ben Blue or the MB connected. He told me to the north of town, but he wasn’t sure how far or how to get there.

  When I got back, my bath was ready and I managed to scrape off more than a week’s worth of grime… hot water made me think I was in somebody else’s skin. My oh my, that felt good. Then I put on that new buckskin shirt and some somewhat cleaner pants and went lookin’ for food.

  I had just sat down in an eatin’ house and given that cute little lady my order, when a shadow fell across my table. Lookin’ up, I saw the twinkle of a star just below a square face set on a square body. That square face was lookin’ none too friendly. It wasn’t lookin’ unfriendly just serious.

  The mouth below a full but gray streaked dark brown mustache moved and then said, “I’m Sheriff Nelson, and you are…?”

  I took that as meaning that he wanted to know who I was so I said, “Cain…Shadrac Cain of Creede, Colorado. But don’t call me Shadrac because I don’t want to end up in your jail.”

  A little tiny twitch turned up one corner of that mustache and he said, “Fair enough, Cain… mind if I sit down?” I motioned for him to sit, and he did.

  “Is this a social meeting, Sheriff? Or have you got something on your mind that we need to talk about?”

  “That depends on how you answer a couple questions, Mr. Cain... I was informed that a rather salty looking gentleman was asking about a very respected and important citizen of Taos County. We wouldn’t take kindly to anyone coming in here and causing problems for Ben Blue. He’s stuck his neck out for a lot of folks in these parts, and he may have made some enemies doing it. It wouldn’t be the first time someone came into town looking to take a red headed scalp.”

  “Well, Sheriff, you can put your tomahawk down, I came here looking for Blue, hopin’ to get some advice and maybe buy some sheep, if there’s any for sale. I rode scout for him on a trail drive a year or so ago, and figured he’d give me the straight of things.”

  Nelson sat there for a long half minute thinking, and then he smiled and said, “I didn’t connect the name together right away… you’re the Cain that was with him when he blew up that rustler camp with those cans of powder.”

  I nodded my head and said, “Guilty as charged, but he did all the blastin’. I just held the horses and kept their heads down while he tossed those cans.”

  We talked for a few more minutes, and he said, “If you can be ready, at first light, I’ll ride out with you. Ben’s got him a top notch cook and we can get there just in time for breakfast.”

  True to his word, the sheriff led me to the front door of a mighty fine Spanish style Hacienda, where we were taken inside by a sweet young Mexican girl. As we walked through the hall that led to the back of the building, we walked through an open courtyard area with flowers and decorative bushes here and there. Then she opened a double door and ushered us into the dining room.

  I caught a glimpse of the boy they called Tater, going out the back door. A very pretty young woman with long curly dark hair was standing at the table picking up some odds and ends when we came in.
She looked up and said, “Sheriff Nelson, what brings you out so early in the morning, besides Maria’s batter cakes? Hope there isn’t any trouble, and I sure hope you don’t need Ben because I’m not finished with him yet.”

  About that time, Blue walked through a side door carrying a chubby little red haired baby. “Here he is, Sweet Pea, and he’s as fresh as a daisy.” That’s when he looked our way and his face took on a serious look.

  “Nells, is everything alright?” That’s when he saw me standing slightly behind the sheriff. “Cain!” He exclaimed. “What on earth… Well, I’ll be da.. darned, if you ain’t a six toed surprise, I’ll kiss a jackass.”

  “Ben!” the young woman scolded. “How you talk… Here give me little Andy, and you go shake his hand… sometimes I think I’m raising two little boys, Sheriff.”

  Blue came around the table and nearly crushed my hand in his paw…he was a mighty big and powerful man. After he introduced me to Miss Patty Ann, and little Andy, she thanked me for my help on that trail drive. I told her, “Ma’am, we just happened to both be in need of something that the other could supply, and our timing was good.”

  The queen and the prince of the Hacienda left and we sat down at the table just as two plates and a pot of coffee were brought in. The sheriff didn’t exaggerate one bit on the quality of the victuals. That was a mighty fine cook back there in the kitchen.

  I told Ben how I had cleaned out a little treasure box of gold under that pine tree up in those tall Colorado mountains. Then I told him about my homestead up the road a piece. I also told him how I’d been trying to decide whether to put sheep or cattle on it, and I’d finally decided to go with sheep.

  “Well, Cain, I would have gone with cattle, but that’s because I know cattle, and I don’t know sheep very well at all. There’s sheep up along the rim of the valley and some of them will winter in the valley, which is alright with me… they don’t hurt anything.”

  “Most cattlemen don’t think sheep and cattle can share a range, but I know they can as long as you don’t over stock the range. Sheep just crop the grass closer to the ground like a horse, but it grows back. That’s why the herders are always moving their flocks from meadow to meadow, so that grass can grow back.”

  He asked if I could stay around a while, that they had plenty of room at the hacienda. I told him, “Well I’d like to stick around for a few days, but if you don’t mind, I’ll just camp out in the bunkhouse… I’m barely used to sleepin’ up off the ground. If I was to fall to sleep in a real bed, I might never wake up.”

  “You do what’s comfortable for you, and you’re more than welcome at either place. I can give you a quick tour of the spread, and then we can take a ride up on the rim to have a talk with Rubio. He’s an old Navajo sheep herder, but he’s a legend around here as an Apache scalp hunter. You just sit with him for a bit and you’ll know whether or not you want get into the sheep business.

  When we’d finished at the house, the sheriff went on back to town and Blue and I went out to look over the ranch. The first place he took me was the horse pasture. It was much bigger than I could have imagined it would be. It was at least sixty acres, well fenced, and full of some of the finest horses I’ve ever laid eyes on. There were some good lookin’ Arab blooded mares and really fine mustang mares with some good Arab blood runnin’ through their veins. A buckskin stallion of the first degree was holding court. I don’t think I’d ever seen a horse anywhere near that fine. His sons and daughters were easily spotted… they had the look. There were also a goodly number of good competent cow ponies in the mix.

  “That’s The Prince” Blue said, “I captured him and this gray I’m riding, along with those mustang mares in a valley in the lower San Juans a few years ago. The old patriarch was on the verge of being dethroned by The Prince, so I took the young one and left the pa to keep the blood line going. The Prince has never been ridden, and probably never will be… he’s too valuable as a stud. Besides…. I doubt that I could.”

  We rode around the ranch looking at this and that. It was a nice set up. I could see why he was so pleased to be where he was. The valley was huge, and it was surrounded by mountains and high ridges. As far as I could tell, the only opening I could see was by the gate the way I had come in. There was high steep tree covered hills to the north, towering snow capped mountains to the east, and mountainous country cut with canyons to the south. The west was impenetrable except for the gap where the gate allowed entrance.

  The grass looked good and the cattle looked fat and happy. They were mostly longhorns, but there were a good many whiteface Herefords as well. Blue said that he’d just gotten a good start with those whiteface, but they look like they’re gonna be as good as advertized. They sure pack in a lot of beef.

  Looking that high valley over from top to bottom, I was mighty impressed. So I asked, “How much of this valley is MB range?”

  “As far as cattle range is concerned, that would take in all of it… There’s a couple of sheep outfits workin’ out of the south canyon country and along the east wall of mountains but only MB cows.”

  “The only way to get cattle in or out is through that gate,” he went on, “and that’s all land that I hold deeds to. Oh, it was just a stroke of luck, and I didn’t realize it until well after the sale was done.”

  “No problem with the sheep men?” I asked.

  “None at all… Hardly know those along the east wall, and old Rubio, down in the canyons, has become a good friend. He keeps the varmints off the cattle and sheep, and cheats me out of ammunition, but we’ve been under fire together more than once and we’ve covered each other’s backs more than once. I’d trust him with my life.

  He added, “I figure with those herders up in the hills, I save any number of steers with them thinnin’ the cats and wolves out. That’s why they can take their herds through the gate as they please… but I don’t allow no cattle that ain’t wearin’ MB on their butts.”

  We rode on south past a number of narrow canyons until we came to the east wall. Then he led the way up a narrow trail, which had been well used by sheep and a few horses. When we reached a hangin’ valley, he stopped and pointed back across the valley below.

  “I never get tired of looking at this.” He said

  I told him, “It’s sure nuff a sight to see, but if we was somebody that old Injun sittin’ on the rock didn’t like, we’d be toes up by now.”

  “Oh, Rubio wouldn’t shoot me, there wouldn’t be anyone to fetch him cartridges and tobacco if he shot me.”

  The old Indian spoke for the first time saying, “That true… whitemans afraid of Rubio. Want to shoot him on sight. Benblue keep hat on around Rubio. Him afraid Rubio get other red scalp.”

  Blue chuckled and said, “Rubio won’t take this scalp… Benblue’s squaw and Rubio’s squaw won’t allow it… Rubio never have another moment of peace.”

  Rubio laughed, proving what I’d always suspected, that Indians really do have a sense of humor. They just don’t want us to know about it.

  We dismounted and the introductions were made. I took to the old boy right away, and I think he accepted me. We had what might be called mutual respect for each other as men from another time, and we both knew that our time had passed… our way of life was coming to an end, but we would cling to it as long as we could.

  Rubio walked me around the meadow, and told me about sheep and the way of sheep. He talked of their breeding, their birthing, the shearing, and the protection they needed. Much of that protection was the job of the dogs. He showed me how the dogs worked, and I was dumbfounded. I’d seen some smart dogs in my time, but I’d not seen anything like what those could do with only whistles for commands.

  After a while, Rubio said, “You come… stay these many days,” he held up four fingers, “and nights… I sell you these many ewes and a ram.” He flashed ten fingers three times. “You learn about sheep… I teach.”

  I looked over to Ben, he nodded and said, “He’s an old pi
rate, when it comes to cartridges, but he’ll not cheat a friend on a stock deal. He must have taken to you because he’s never offered to let me spend four days up here.”

  So I told Rubio that I’d be back in the morning and learn about the sheep business. On the way back down the trail to the lower valley, Ben offered me the run of the Casa del Blu, but I told him I wouldn’t know how to act with women in the house.

  He laughed and said, “What makes you think I do?”

  I left my horses in the corral and took my bedroll into the bunkhouse, where I ran into the boy Tater. He was some surprised to see me, and he asked if I was coming to work there. I told him that I was just here on sheep business, and I told him about my place up in the San Juans. About that time, Delgado the horse wrangler came in. It was like a rendezvous, the only ones missing were Jesus and that fella Max Bell.

  Delgado said that Jesus had gone on back to the border country, and Tater told me that Bell had married up with that Isadora gal and they bought a ranch on the coast south of Frisco. Seems that they were both smart enough to know that a gambler’s life made young men old in a hurry, and they both wanted to grow old at a more leisurely pace.

  When the dinner bell rang, we all trooped into the dining room, where a fine table was set, and mighty fine meal was set upon it. The hands dove in like they hadn’t eaten in a week. I was introduced to Sam Stellars, Miss Patty Ann’s grandpa.

  Ben told me that Sam had been over to the Esses this morning when I arrived. Sam still owned the S-S, but he had retired from managing. “He gets tired of aggravatin’ the women folk here on the MB, so he’ll run over there and annoy poor old Charlie, his manager.”

  Sam didn’t try to deny it, he just smiled and nodded and went back to his meal. He was a happy man. In fact it seemed like that whole MB crowd was a happy bunch. I wonder if that could have something to do with the quality and quantity of food being served there.

  The following morning, I was topping out the trail leading to Rubio’s spring sheep camp as the sun was trying to get around that big snow capped mountain. It had been light for an hour, but the sun was still not in full bloom.