by Lou Bradshaw
“Well, the Mexican left for a couple of hours, according to the bartender… He just figured the man had a Chiquita somewhere in town, and went to pay her a visit. If he did, the bartender said it didn’t slow him down any when he came back.”
As I was leaving town and heading home, I took a little detour to the Telegraph office. I figured a little help from the Marshals office in Santa Fe couldn’t hurt. Besides that, it would give Jasper Stewart something to do.
~~~~~ o ~~~~~
It was about noon the following day when the horses and the prisoners showed up at the MB. Gracy, Delgado, and Flynn took the horses to a pasture along the north rim. Delgado would take over and register all the brands, as well as making sure they were all sound after their trip from Colorado.
I introduced Patty Anne to Angel Baca, and his Latin charm won her over. It definitely won the heart of Consuela, a young señorita who had been helping with the cleaning and cooking. Even dusty and trail worn, Baca had a polish and smoothness that ladies just naturally approve of. Maybe they saw a romantic figure with a streak of naughty little boy when they looked at him… They had no idea how bad that naughty boy could be, and I wasn’t the one to tell them.
Riding along with the vaqueros and the prisoners, I learned that the rest of the trip had been uneventful. When we rode up to the jail, we drew quite a crowd. The street was lined on both sides with men, women, and children. They were standing in boots and sandals, watching with blue, green, brown and black eyes. Taos had turned out a week early for an unscheduled parade.
The problem was, we only had evidence on two of the prisoners, and unless we could get them to implicate others we’d have to let most of them go. By the time we got them into the cramped jail cells there was enough grumbling and pushing, that someone would start talking soon enough. Baca and I went in with Sheriff Nelson, while the rest of the posse stood on the boardwalk looking rather menacing.
Bob Parker, the county prosecutor came in and started interviewing the prisoners. We had their names, or at least the names they were going by, and one by one we brought them out. At first they were all innocent as new born babes. But after we started matching faces with wanted posters, we found that some of those babies hadn’t been quite so innocent.
We hit the jackpot with Bailey and Turner, the two men who had been with Collins when I separated him from his two front teeth. Both knew they were fair caught, and they were eager to share the blame with most of those in the cells. Parker was licking his chops to get that bunch in court.
I asked Turner, “How did you know when Don Carlos was sending his horses north?”
“Collins came in to the Wagon Wheel Saloon and told me and Bailey… He’d been with Cope most of the afternoon and they got the word in the mail. They was waiting for the afternoon stage to bring it… He checked with Cope almost every day for a week.”
“Cope have another name?”
“He sure does, and Collins knows it, but he don’t tell nobody nothin’. Kade knowed it too, but I wouldn’t even ask him… He’s a bad one.”
“Where would they meet?”
“Sometimes, we’d sit and play cards, an’ Cope would sit in for a couple of hands… Sometimes we’d go to his house… but we had to slip in so nobody would see us.”
“So you know where Cope lives?” I was getting excited… this was as close as we’d come to finding out who the mysterious Cope might be. “Where is his house, can you take me there?”
“It’s just a little ways past the town limit… over yonder a ways… I couldn’t tell you how to get there, but I could show you.”
I looked at Nels and then to Parker. They were both eager to go get him. Nels told Parker to stay because there would probably be bullets flying. Parker was hoping to score some voter points by helping make the arrest, but his better sense took over at the mention of bullets.
We were headed out of town to the southwest. Only Nels, Turner, and I were on that particular ride. We didn’t expect to make an arrest at that time, we would go back later with deputies. We’d just passed the last house in Taos in that direction. “How much farther?” I asked Turner.
He turned in the saddle to tell me, “Oh, it ain’t more’n a half mile, an’ then you tur…”
I was grabbing for his horse’s reins. He still had a foot caught in the stirrup. I could hear Nelson firing with his six-gun, but he was shooting at boulders and sage hoping to hit something. I could see the dust and hear the horses hoof beats. The sniper was gone. Our first duty was to see how bad Turner was hurt.
Turner was hit in the chest, and wasn’t ever going to see the inside of the courthouse. He’d be lucky to see another sunrise. We made him as comfortable as we could, but there wasn’t anything else we could do for him. He wouldn’t last long enough to get a doctor, and the way he was coughing up blood a doctor wouldn’t do him much good.
He was gone within a matter of a few minutes. There was nothing left to do but load him across his saddle and visit the undertaker.
Chapter 21
By the time we got back to the office, it was getting late in the day and soon be too dark to track the sniper. I asked Angel Baca if he and Pedro would care to accept the hospitality of the Casa del Blu. He thanked me, but said he already had a hotel room and was expecting a friend to meet him for dinner. The way he smiled, I knew there was nothing I could offer to compare. “And Pedro will camp with the vaqueros.” He said.
I was eating breakfast at the Wooden Spoon café as the sun was peaking over the Sangre de Cristo Mountains. Sheriff Nelson was coming in just as I finishing, so I waited while he placed his order and was poured a cup of coffee. He told me that nothing new had happened overnight, and there were no problems with the vaqueros camped at the edge of town. “In fact,” he said, “it could have been a Thursday night… nothing ever happens on a Thursday night.”
We talked until his breakfast came, and then I left. I wanted to start tracking as soon as the light was good enough. I was riding Dusty my best wild country horse. I’d almost swear he did the tracking and just brought me along to keep him company.
Picking up the killer’s trail was easy enough, and I had no trouble finding where he had lay in wait. I only found one spent shell, which was all I had heard. The killer would have had no way of knowing Turner would be out of jail and leading us to Cope’s house. He must have been watching the trail and put two and two together. It was a simple case of opportunity. It was probably either Collins or Kade who did the shooting. They had both ridden with him and knew his weaknesses, so they would know he’d be the one to crack.
The trail led me on a merry chase through gullies and over ground, much used by cattle. It was a challenge at times, but it was more intended to slow down pursuit than to end it. After about an hour, I saw the ranch house. It was a working ranch from the look of the buildings. They were well kept, but like Glenn Battles place, there was little evidence of cattle and no horses in the corral.
The house was small, not more than four rooms, but it looked well made and well cared for. The bunkhouse was small and would have been comfortable for four or five men at the most. The barn could have been on any one of thirty or forty small ranches on the plateau. The one thing that stood out was the lack of anything animal… any kind of animal… dog, cow, horse, or human.
The place looked deserted, but it hadn’t been for long. The occupant or occupants may have ridden into town or they might have all still been in the house… or they may have figured the game was busted and made a run for it. There was no smoke coming from the cook stove chimney. Well, it was late June, and they may have let it burn out after a small breakfast fire. I was up on a ridge roughly three hundred yards away with my field glasses. So I could wait a while.
After thirty minutes, I hadn’t heard a thing or seen a thing move, so I did. I mounted and worked my way down the slope keeping my eyes and ears open the whole time. The doors and windows were closed of both the house and the bunk house. That made no
sense at all. It was midsummer and it wasn’t unusual to have some pretty warm days around here. And this was one of those days you couldn’t leave your horse in the sun without burning your back side when you hit the saddle.
Stopping at the edge of the clearing, I gave the place a last hard look. I pulled the sawed off from my bed roll, checked the load, and cocked it. I had a spare pistol in my left hand, and the thong was off my holster gun. I was as ready as I would ever be.
I ran the twenty or so yards to the front porch in a low crouch. Taking the four steps in two strides, I was on the porch and flat against the wall beside the door. I knew a .44 slug would go through four inches of pine, and I was sure the wall behind me wasn’t anywhere near four inches thick. But it made me feel better having it there.
Leaning to my left, I took a peek into what I assumed was the parlor and saw nothing but some pieces of furniture and scattered papers and clothing. I stuck my spare in my waistband and tried the door. It opened a crack, so I filled my left hand with the six-gun again and went through the door in a rush. I went in low ready to cut loose with the express gun, but there were no targets. Nothing moved and there was no sound except the glass falling to the floor from the broken door window. I must have flung that door harder than I’d planned. I was a little nerved up.
Moving from room to room with a great deal of caution, I found the house to be every bit as empty as I had believed it was. The stove was cold, and the cupboard was almost empty. But the signs of habitation were there. What looked to have been an orderly well managed house, until recently showed the signs of sudden company. Empty bottles and trash littered the kitchen, and the rest of the house wasn’t much better off.
Rummaging through the papers and trash, I found nothing to tell me who had been there. All it told me was they weren’t there then. The bunkhouse told me there hadn’t been anyone living in it for at least a couple of years. There had been at least four horses in the stable and maybe one or two more in the corral. I saw where they had saddled up and rode out sometime last night.
I’d have to get back to town and let Sheriff Nelson know, then I’d have to stop by the ranch and get ready for the chase. I wasn’t ready to take off again on a long hunt. I know the ranch was in good hands with Gracy in charge and those were all good solid hands… even Flynn. In fact I felt good having Flynn on the place. That hellion would stand toe to toe with the devil himself, and he could shoot.
As I rode away from the deserted ranch, I decided to go back to town by the main trail, instead of taking the roundabout route that led me there. I recalled Turner saying they had always gone the back way so no one would see them. It made me wonder what the front way was like. So I followed the lane leading away from the house.
I reached the main trail in only a few minutes time. I could see smoke from a few cook stoves. I could also see the church steeple, and when I gained the top of a first hill, I could see the whole town spread out before me. No wonder Cope didn’t want his neighbors seeing a bunch of low life hardcases showing up at his home. Cope had a good cover and he wanted to protect it. There were two or three homes within sight of his lane.
Jogging down the main street of Taos, I saw a familiar horse standing at the hitch rail in front of the hotel. I reined in and tied Dusty next to it. Inside I found Luis and Fernando casually standing at the doorway to the hotel dining room. I spoke to them, and they smiled and stepped aside. At a table across the near empty room, I spotted Juan Domingo and Don Carlos Vasquez having coffee, while Angel Baca was finishing a late breakfast.
“Aye, Benito, come join us.” Don Carlos called when he saw me crossing the room.
I told them what I had found this morning, and the three agreed the master minds of the operation and their picked men had gone on the run. I told them that I was just on the way to give the sheriff the news and get a posse together. But I had to do a little ranch business before I could leave.
“Benito, you have already done more than your share. Stay home and spend some time with your family. I have just tried to hire Angel to hunt those men down, but he refuses. He insists on going after them On the Roof.”
“On the house, Don Carlos. It means I’ll not accept your money for this job.” Baca explained.
“You’ll find, you have many friends, who would do much for you without expecting payment…. You have helped many, Señor.” Juan Domingo told him.
“Don Carlos, who knew when you were sending Achilles and Athena ahead to Don Felipe’s rancho?” I asked.
The question caught him off guard and he had to think for a moment, then he said, “Beyond my own people, whom I would trust with my life, there was only one. The chairman of the Independence Day celebration… a Señor Cravens… Paulo Cravens.”
A flash of realization brought me to attention. Cravens was involved in many things in Taos. Everybody liked him, and trusted him, but nobody knew anything about him other than he was a businessman with his fingers in a lot of pies.
“Excuse me, Don Carlos…. I’ve got to take care of something…. Would the three of you meet me at the Sheriff’s office when you’re finished here?”
Angel raised a heavy black eyebrow and said, “I think I will go along and help with that business, with your permiso.”
I smiled and said, “Gracias.”
As he put down his napkin, he turned to Don Carlos and said, “Leave the señorita a nice tip… por favor.” The Don only chuckled.
We were out on the board walk and crossing the street in half a minute. Craven’s office was a half a block up the street, and we covered that distance with long strides, but we stopped just short of the front door. The shades were pulled down and the door was locked. I motioned for Angel to cover the back door. I gave him time to get around to the rear, and I knocked on the front door. There was no answer, and I was getting ready to kick it in when the young lady who worked for Cravens unlocked it.
“Is Cravens in?”
“No…he didn’t come in this morning. I was just getting ready to close and go home. He may be ill or some problem at the ranch…. It’s not like him not to come in.”
“Sorry, but I’ve got to see for myself.” I said as I moved passed her and walked into the back room, which was small and mostly contained supplies and little else.
“Well, I never!” she uttered as I barged through.
I unlocked the back door and let Baca in. The young woman put her hands to her throat as we came back from the rear. Baca can have that effect on people sometimes, especially if they aren’t expecting him.
“I apologize for my rudeness, but we need to see Cravens…on some very important business. Can you tell me how to get to his ranch?”
She accepted my apology and gave me directions to the deserted ranch, I’d left a half an hour earlier. Back at the hotel, I yanked the slip knot from the hitch rail, mounted, and rode the few blocks to the jail. Baca went to get his horse in the hotel stable.
Juan Domingo and Don Carlos were already there, when I came through the door. Nels had a yellow telegraph envelope in his hand and a confused look on his face. He handed it to me and asked, “What’s all this about?”
Before I even looked at it, I knew it was from Marshal Stewart in Santa Fe. What I read was what I expected.
Ben Blue & Sheriff Nelson, Taos, New Mexico
Ben…. No record of D.C. Enterprise…No David Crabtree…. No bank account for either….. Dan Cope wanted in 8 states and Federal warrants being sent on next stage.
J. Stewart, US Marshal, Santa Fe, New Mexico
“It means Paul Cravens is Dan Cope, and he’s in the wind. He and three others lit out last night sometime and they’re on the run. They’ve got a good start and we need to get a posse on their trail as soon as you can get ‘em started.”
Nels looked at me with surprise, as if to ask… aren’t you going with them. But he bit back the question, and instead he asked, “Who are the other three men?”
“All I know are their last names, bu
t you know two of them, I’m sure. Collins, Kade, and a man named Rivera. Rivera is said to be Cope’s partner… Cope… or Cravens ran this end, and Rivera was in charge of stashing the horses and selling them… most likely in California.”
Baca had come in and was standing behind me listening. Don Carlos and Juan were off to my right. At the mention of Rivera, the Don’s head came up and he asked, “Are you speaking of Miguel Rivera?”
“I believe that’s his name… yes, I’m sure it was. You know him?”
“I knew his father. A family from my home city in Spain. His father, Don Antonio Rivera, was a wealthy Californio, but when he died the younger Rivera wasted the family fortune and amassed a great debt. It is said he has gone bad.”
“Several of the prisoners said he was from California, so I’d say that’d be a safe bet.” I told him. “It’s a shame to see a family fall apart that way.” I’d known Don Carlos a long time, and he knew how I felt about family, so he knew I meant it.
“Nels,” I said changing the subject, “I’ve got to go to the ranch before I can take off anywhere. I’ve got a hunch where they may be, but if I’m wrong I don’t want to lose the trail. So I’d like to have the posse follow them… If I’m wrong, I’ll catch up to the posse.”
“But, Ben, you’re our tracker now that Rubio has more or less retired… Who we gonna get?”
“Pedro, can do that for you as well as any man.” Angel Baca said, “He was raised in a Yaqui village, and he has taken me many places where there should not have been a place.”
“Good,” Nelson replied, “and you will lead the posse?”
Baca smiled and said, “No… I think I will ride along with my friend Señor Blu. I have a feeling he may be right, and we would get there sooner…if he would care for my company.”
“I can think of none I would rather ride with.” I told him
Chapter 22
After loading up with enough supplies to last five days and enough weapons and ammunition to start an uprising, we rode out in the early afternoon. I’d used Dusty pretty hard over the past couple of weeks, so I saddled my big gray, Smoke, and then I picked out a fresh horse for Baca. It was of good mustang stock and was preferred by Delgado, which was as much of a recommendation as I needed.
