by Lou Bradshaw
“I do not know… It look like the sun shining on a mountain… but the sun is gone… long gone… You see it, Benito?”
“I see it, but it doesn’t make any sense. It looks like a patch of light hangin’ in the sky.” Is what I said, but what I thought was… I sure don’t need any ghosts, spirits, dreams or Injuns that can stand in fires.
My field glasses were in my saddle bag, but a shaded match held by Flynn helped me to find them. They wouldn’t be much help due to the lack of light, but I might be able to see something. I fumbled around for a bit, trying to locate the patch of light. I was ready to give up and call it swamp gas, when the patch flashed across my vision.
I was able to steady my hand and narrow my search, until at last, I captured the spot. Carefully focusing, I was able to bring the little odd shaped patch of light into something that made even less sense. Close up, it was pulsing, throbbing and, flickering, and then it was broken by the silhouette of a very tall man.
There was a fire down there, but it was hidden from our view. The only thing we could see was the reflection on the upper part of an opposite wall. The light was dim even with the help of the field glasses. There were few visible landmarks to set our sights on to guide us in the morning. The only thing I could do was drive two sticks into the ground and tie them together where they would be pointing to the patch of light. It wasn’t perfect, but it was the best I could do. We each took a turn at sighting the light over the cross point of the sticks.
As the sun started spilling into the valley from the hills to the east, we were up and waiting for it. Breakfast was already finished and the last of the coffee was being swallowed. We each took another sighting with the aid of the crossed sticks, but the only thing we could agree on was it was farther away than we’d thought the night before. At least we had narrowed it down to a half a mile or so.
Chapter 15
We broke camp and moved along the pine clad hills. Down below we could see cattle moving around in small groups. Here and there, small herds of horses, generally no more than six or seven, grazed. Each time a bunch was spotted, I checked them with the field glasses, but could see nothing that looked like the Don’s horses. I did, however see a Morgan that looked a lot like Frank Peabody’s mare.
Someone had a nice setup here. It didn’t seem to be big enough to make a full fledged cattle outfit, but it made a dandy place for a horse ranch. Running a few cattle would be a sideline. A man could supply the Ute Mountain reservation with beef, or he run a small herd up to Cortez now and then… just for a little cash money. But a horse breeder could build a following and make some real money.
Keeping our eyes on the landmarks we had picked out after the sun came up, we moved along the slope undercover of the pines. We still had several miles to go. The valley was long, but it was quite narrow. It probably wasn’t over a half mile wide at any given point, and in many places it was a good deal less.
Pablo was at point and I was bringing up the rear. Seeing something that set the hairs on the back of my neck, gave me a reason to stop and take a closer look. Tracks in the soft damp soil had come from below and crossed in front of us. They were going higher up and, they were fresh. Swinging back into the saddle, I started to put Dusty into a quicker pace. I didn’t want Flynn and Pablo riding into a trap, and they were already a good fifty yards ahead and out of my line of sight.
It wasn’t like me to go charging ahead like a blind fool, but I was worried as to what the others might run into. So I gave my horse a nudge to move a little quicker, but pulled him to a halt when I heard the voice. I was out of the saddle with my Winchester in hand moving through the brush as quiet and fast as I could.
“You boys just sit there and don’t get stupid because stupid is a terrible disease… it’s killed more men than typhoid.” There was no reply from Pablo or Flynn.
“I don’t know you two, so I’m goin’ to ask you to state your business.”
Pablo said nothing, but a person could count on Flynn to start the conversation. “We heard there was a camp meeting up this way and they had some dancin’ girls passin’ around the collection plates… That is somethin’ I’ve dearly wanted to see since I was a wee laddie.”
“Enough of the smart assed nonsense, Paddy. You just tell me what you’re doing on my mountain and maybe I won’t shoot you.”
As I came to where I could see what was going on, I saw Flynn taking a deep breath and getting ready to fire another round of nonsense at the man holding a rifle on them. That seemed to be curse for an Irishman… we always wanted to have the last word. In this case, I was going to have the last word. So I jacked a cartridge into the chamber and held my gaze on his midsection. If I was forced to pull the trigger, I’d shatter his breast plate.
“Damnation!” he said, and then he followed that up with some less biblical language. But he raised his rifle and held it pointed to the heavens.
“Just you ease that hammer down and put it back in the boot… we don’t want any trouble if we can avoid it.” He did as he was told and I walked out into the open.
He was a man of middle years, and rail thin. His clothes were what you’d find on almost any working cattle ranch in this part of the country. Only they were showing a little more experience than some. In other words the clothes suited the man… they were well used. His most striking feature was a magnificent mustache. It was as full and droopy as any I’d ever seen, and like his long hair, it was untrimmed and streaked with gray.
“You belong to this ranch, do you?” I asked.
“Hell, no!” he shot back at me, “This ranch belongs to me!”
I was a little surprised by that. This was a nice layout, and I would expect the owner to be somewhat… less scruffy. He sat his saddle and glared at me until I told him to get down. I’d give him plenty of credit; he wasn’t backing off one bit. He knew he could die at any second but if he had any fear in him… I couldn’t see it.
“You tellin’ me you’re the one bringin’ those fine horses into this valley.”
“Red, you’re about as smart as that other Irishman. No, I ain’t bringin’ no horses up here… them’s my cows down there. I got no need for fancy horses. I just wanna run my few cattle and make a modest livin’.”
“Explain.”
“I filed on that valley eight or nine year ago, built me a cabin, a barn, and put up a few fences. I brought in about a hunderd cows and a bull and waited… Then this Rivera fella with a couple of gunnies came in and took it away… They didn’t even offer to buy it they just started shooting. I took to the hills and plugged up the holes… they wasn’t too concerned, so they didn’t chase after me.”
“Did you go to the law?”
“Ha! There ain’t no law closer than Silverton on the other side of them mountains. An’ he’s just a town marshal… I’ll wait my time and pick ‘em off… Sent a couple of them to hell already… oney problem is, more of ‘em keep comin in… Now, are you gonna shoot me, or have you got some coffee?”
Flynn brought up my horse, and we followed Henry Bench back to his fire. He had meat, but said he hadn’t had any flour or coffee for quite a while. He told us he was making a meager living trapping and panning some of the streams, but it was slim pickin’s.
I gave him the brief version of what had been going on with the stolen horses and that we were particularly interested in two special horses. I described them, and he’d seen them come in and knew where they were kept.
I knew how important a good cup of coffee was, especially if a fella hasn’t had any for a while, so we took the time to make a pot. I left the bag we’d gotten in Ulla Mea and what flour and sugar we could spare. Henry led the way through the hills until we were close to where we thought last night’s light show had been.
Hunkered down across the valley and about a hundred feet higher, we had a good look at the mouth of the canyon. They must have used it before because it showed some work had been done to make it livable and comfortable. Set back from the m
outh of the canyon, a crude rail fence had been built. Beyond the fence was a lean-to with a wide roof to keep the guards out of the weather. Their cook fire was also under cover, so they could cook in the rain.
With the field glasses, I could see hooks and crude shelves inside the lean-to so they could keep their bedding and food off the ground. I could see two men milling around, but I couldn’t see the horses. The canyon took several turns back into the mountain, so I figured that was where we’d find them.
The two men near the gate were working around getting their gear together. It looked as if they were getting ready to leave. That would sure make things easier. We could just go in and take Achilles and Athena and be gone before anyone even knew we were there. I gave Henry a questioning look.
“Wait fer it.” He said.
I turned back to the canyon across the valley and was getting ready to raise the glasses, when a third man came up from back in the canyon. He was leading three saddled horses.
“Are there anymore back there?” I asked.
“Possible but not regular. They usually have three men at a time watchin’ here… this is where they bring the good ones… the blooded ones. They’ll hold them here for a while, especially a good stallion like that white one. Then they’ll put ‘em in a pasture with a bunch of mares…. They’ll be out lookin’ for some good mares for that big fella… course that mare he came in with would be a fitting mate for him.”
“Henry, you have no idea how fitting that mare is.”
We sat back and waited to see what their next move would be. All three men more or less loafed around drinking coffee and in general doing nothing. Each man carried a rifle or had one close at hand. I had an idea their jobs were to keep cougars and wolves away from the valuable horses in their charge. The odds of someone coming in and stealing them would be off the scale. The fact that we were here…was due more to determination to get the Don’s horses back, than anything else.
Nothing happened for about an hour, and I’m sure Flynn was getting restless. Pablo had no place to go or any plans to do anything, so he sat without too much agitation. Pablo knew how to be patient… Flynn just didn’t have the stuff to be a good Injun, but he had a ton and half of toughness, and there’s a place for toughness.
Just about the time I was thinking of hog tying Flynn to keep him from fidgeting, Henry pointed back toward where the ranch house was located. I looked up and saw several riders coming through the tall grass. As they got closer, I could make out three men and a pack horse.
“Changing of the guard?” I asked.
Henry grinned and said, “Yep… every three days. When you see them boys packin’ up they gonna get some relief.”
“You been watchin’ ‘em for quite a while…haven’t you?”
“Like said, I put lead in a few of ‘em. When I do, I have to hightail it outta here for a spell… ‘cause they come scratchin’ and diggin’ after me… I seen the time when they had more’n ten men out lookin’ for me… I figure one day they just gonna pull up stakes and leave accounta me.”
He chuckled and smiled at his own dream. I wasn’t sure that Henry Bench was still fully sane, or even if he had ever been, but I had to admire his grit for standing up to and taking the fight to them. He was up against some heavy odds, but I had a notion they would either bury him in this valley, or he would bury a bunch of them here.
“How often do they change the guards?”
“Every third day, just like clockwork… Them that’s leavin’ will take the pack horse an’ then ride on to the tail end of the valley. They’ll make a circle an’ go back to the house ridin’ on this side…. I reckon they be lookin’ to see that they ain’t no varmint sign or… hee hee hee… Henry Bench sign.” He laughed again and I didn’t blame him. He had their attention if he had nothing else.
Someone down there was well schooled in management. Someone was running that outfit with as much efficiency as I’d ever seen… maybe they were a little too efficient. They were becoming predictable. Henry didn’t need to be a college professor to figure out their schedule. That sort of efficiency would be ideal on an army post, but I wouldn’t want to apply it if I was chasing a band of Apaches.
We watched as the new men came in and the others left. Sure enough, those leaving made a wide sweep around the valley watching for a sign. The passed within a couple hundred yards of us, and I had to put my hand on Pablo’s arm to make him lower his rifle. He was a man loyal to his people. Those men hadn’t only stolen a pair of fine horses; they had stolen a symbol of the pride of his people… He understood that we couldn’t start the war right then and there.
“That’s why I didn’t take you fellas over there earlier. They’d a seen our tracks and been lookin’ for us.” Henry said. “You boys just make yourselfs comfortable an’ wait till dark, an’ I’ll git you over there.”
Henry and Flynn went back to Henry’s camp and did some cooking and coffee making, while Pablo and I kept an eye on the canyon. It was near sunset when they came back with sandwiches and a canteen filled with coffee.
“Assuming we can get in there and get the horses, is there any way we can get them out of the valley without going past the house and bunkhouse?” I asked Henry.
“That depends on how bad you want of get out.” He laughed again.
Chapter 16
About an hour after full dark, we came down off a ridge single file and out on the valley floor. The new crew had already built a fire, and someone was fixing their supper. The fire they’d built was big enough to guide ships safely into port during a typhoon, but I reckoned they liked plenty of light.
Henry led us west away from the fire so we could come in from the side and take them by surprise. That wall, which had been reflecting the firelight the night before made a blind side to the entrance. We could be right in their hip pockets before they knew we were anywhere near, especially if they had been watching that beacon of a fire.
We worked our way up to the jutting wall and dismounted. Henry stayed with the horses. I knew Dusty would stay till I came to get him, and I was sure Pablo’s mount was well trained, but Flynn was riding his own horse and not one from the MB’s remuda.
Easing our way around the massive up thrust of stone that made up the gateway to the canyon, the three of us walked toward the fire. Only two men were in sight. I searched all the possible shadows and corners trying to find the other one. He wouldn’t be far. My worry at that moment was that he would come strolling into the light just as we were ready to make our move. I didn’t want any shooting if we could help it. This narrow valley would send echoes all the way to the ranch house.
Flynn had taken two of the rails out of the gate, and we crossed into the fenced area. That roaring fire was making enough noise to cover any noise we were making, so we stepped in and walked up behind the two men standing with cups in their hands. I was just on the edge of poking my rifle barrel into the back of the nearest one when I heard,
“Hey, Porter, you bring any a that whiskey?” The third man walked into the light fixing his belt.
He looked up, and at first didn’t seem to understand what he was seeing. There were too many people on the other side of the fire for his mind to reconcile and make sense of. His reaction was to reach for his gun, but an eight inch blade and the good throwing skills of Pablo ended the threat. The two men before us must have been as surprised and confused as their friend because they didn’t move… they just watched as he fell.
The man in front of me snapped out of it and made a move for the gun on his hip, but I took a swipe at the back of his head with my rifle barrel and dropped him. The last man was quick enough to duck his head and throw up his hands. Flynn had him covered and under control.
Within minutes, the two remaining men were hog tied and left propped up against the back of the lean-to. The one with the sore head started coming around, so I waited till he had his eyes open enough to know what I was saying.
“Here’s the way things are
gonna be, fellas, We’ll leave you here with a fire going. That should keep the critters off you tonight. Come morning, you head on back and tell your boss that we took the Don’s horses back… If you’re smart, you’ll draw your time and get the hell out of here because it ain’t gonna be much fun from here on in.”
Pablo came out of the dark leading Don Carlos’s horses. Pablo was a man who had a bond with horses. He knew how to treat them, and he knew how to put them at ease. A few words he used didn’t mean anything, but spoken in soft musical Spanish and they were friends forever. Some men just have the gift.
That was one of the reasons I wanted Pablo along on this hunt. The last thing I wanted was a high strung temperamental stallion on my hands. If Pablo can bring Achilles and Athena in safe and sound, he will have done all I could ask. And if Henry could get us out of here without meeting up with that gang, we’ll have a good chance of making it.
I figured there would be some help coming up the trail from Taos and Santa Fe. The Mexican community tends to rally around a man who has meant so much to so many. There should be several following up from Domingo’s spread and several other Spanish speaking outfits. Within a day’s ride of Ulla Mae, we should have company.
Henry Bench was happy to hear that one of them had been killed, and he led off with satisfied smile. Pablo followed with Achilles on a lead rope, and the mare would follow on her own. Flynn came next leading our pack horse, and I brought up the rear on Dusty.
It was dark as sin, and how Henry found the trail, was beyond me, but he knew this country by day or night. About a mile west of the canyon, he suddenly turned into the brush and started climbing. We were up among the pines in a matter of minutes. If possible, it was even darker on that slope. If there was a trail there, I couldn’t see it. But the horses didn’t seem to have any problems with their footing.
Several hundred feet higher up, we topped out a ridge and went through a narrow gap. For a moment, I could see a few stars in patches of sky. The clouds were thin and broken and the light from a tiny piece of moon was no more than a soft glow overhead. But I could see enough to know we had more climbing to do… and we did.
