by Edson, J. T.
‘I’ve got a real fine future ahead of me!’ Smith growled, gesturing with his hands.
‘What do you mean?’
‘What use is a peace officer without a trigger finger on either hand?’
‘I don’t follow you.’
‘How can I handle a gun?’
‘I don’t see why you shouldn’t be able to,’ Freddie claimed. ‘A friend of my family back in England, old Lord Maidstone, lost an arm during the Crimean War; xli but he had Purdey’s fit him out with a gadget and a gun so he could keep on shooting. The last time I saw him, he was bringing down pheasants and partridges as well as he had before it happened. What was more, he was talking about having Hardy’s make him a similar kind of aid so that he could start fly fishing again. xlii Surely you’re not going to tell me a Texan can’t do something that a Limey can.’
‘That Lord gent had him a special gun and rig made so’s he could do it,’ Smith pointed out, but Besgrove could see he was very interested in what he had been told.
‘He did,’ the Englishwoman admitted. ‘And so can you. I don’t know what kind of “gun and rig” would best suit your needs. But, if you’ll come and be our guest at the OD Connected, I’m willing to bet we can get together the best men to help you find out.’
Chapter Fourteen – He’s A Driven Man
‘Now this is what I call a real fine rig,’ Sergeant Waxahachie Smith claimed, strapping on the gunbelt which he had just received.
‘Why sure,’ Kiowa Cotton agreed. ‘While he’s not the man his pappy was, young Elvis handles leather ‘most as well’ s Old Joe used to.’
‘Day I hear one of you mossyhorned old timers allow anybody is as good as his pappy,’ the sergeant asserted, having come to be on excellent terms with the Indian dark member of the OD Connected ranch’s floating outfit. xliii ‘That’s the day I start to vote Republican.’
A month had gone by since Smith was rescued from his abductors!
Because of the lingering after effects of the drug he had had forced upon him, the sergeant had not been able to travel to Rio Hondo County for over a week. However, in one respect, he had not considered the time was wasted. On the third day of his stay at the Union Jack’s ranch house, Mrs. Freddie Fog had brought a haggard looking and clearly distressed Sheriff Daniel Tobin to see him.
It had soon become apparent what was causing the local peace officer to show perturbation!
Furthermore, clearly the beautiful Englishwoman had remained in the room to act as mediator!
Tobin had stated frankly that, in one respect, he had been responsible for the injuries inflicted upon Smith. Despite his having acquired a reputation for being a very competent peace officer, he was also a member of the United States’ Secret Service. While he had hoped to remain as Sheriff of Bonham County after his mission was concluded, being close to the retirement age for his Agency, he was holding the office as an aid to carrying out an investigation. News had reached his superiors that a group of radicals as yet unidentified were plotting to cause strife between the United States and Mexico, with Flamingo as the centre for their activities. Unfortunately, the conspirators had been informed of the true reason for his appointment. Hearing that the man responsible was a government clerk foisted upon the Secret Service, Freddie had remarked sardonically that what she termed ‘Civil Servants’ in the United States appeared to be just as untrustworthy and liable to betray their country as some of those with whom she had had dealings prior to leaving Great Britain. xliv
As a result of having had what a later generation would term ‘his cover blown’, it had been decided by Tobin’s superiors that he should remain in Flamingo to hold the attention of the plotters while another agent was sent to continue the work unsuspected. However, they had been given reason to assume that whoever was selected would also be betrayed by other as yet undiscovered traitors amongst the clerks. Therefore, they had arranged— through the office of the State’s Attorney General—to have the Texas Rangers supply the assistance they required. Regrettably, as it had turned out, they had refrained from explaining the true facts and Tobin was instructed to go along with the pretence that the aid was summoned to help deal with the cow thieves. Therefore, when discussing the situation in the woodland outside Flamingo, he had not mentioned his suspicions with regards to Teodoro Fuentes. All the available evidence indicated that the rancher was a victim rather than a perpetrator of the thefts and to have suggested otherwise could have caused Smith to wonder whether there was some other reason for his having been summoned to help with the search for those responsible.
Although Smith had been furious when told of the arrangement, despite knowing at the back of his mind that it was not entirely to blame for the mutilation of his hands, Freddie had succeeded in calming him down by pointing out that Tobin was obeying orders and he would have done the same if it was required by Captain Frank Thornton. Being basically fair minded and seeing the obvious regret that the sheriff was showing, the sergeant had conceded the validity of the statement. He had been further mollified by learning why Tobin had been absent from Flamingo over the fatal weekend. Having disliked being compelled to keep the sergeant in ignorance of the true state of affairs, he had been determined to rectify the omission. He had gone to warn his immediate superior that he either was allowed to tell Smith the truth officially, or he would tender his resignation and tell him. Knowing he would carry out the threat, his superior had given him permission to do as he wished.
However, the events which occurred had changed the situation drastically and, in addition to making his apologies for what had happened to Smith, Tobin had described the latest developments!
In addition to the horse and Winchester Model of 1873 carbine Javier Fuentes had left behind serving as evidence of his presence, the men who had been taken prisoner by Sir John Besgrove had established that he was the instigator and a participant in the ambush of the party from the Rancho Mariposa. However, aided by his brother, he had made good his escape. Fearing his own life could be put in jeopardy by his sibling’s folly, Teodoro had also returned to Mexico. Doctor Otto Grantz and Don Jose Lorenzo Rabena— whose implication had been established—had accompanied the brothers and their hired hands, realizing no more pay would be forthcoming from the Rancho Miraflores, had scattered before any action could be taken against them. Sharing the sergeant’s supposition that ‘Cousin Cyrus’ had been an agent provocateur for the conspirators and having ascertained he had not returned to collect his belongings from the B Bar D, Tobin had assumed he had taken flight with the others until—having learned of the peace officers’ interest in him—the man who had disposed of his body clarified the situation. xlv While the crossing of the Rio Grande had put the main conspirators beyond the jurisdiction of the Texas Rangers, the sheriff had assured Freddie and Smith that the Secret Service would have agents keeping track of them no matter where they went in Mexico, or elsewhere, so they could be located should the authorities below the border agree to return them for trial.
In addition to what he had learned from Tobin, Smith had discovered why Freddie had arrived so fortuitously. Seeking to reduce the tension between himself and Bradford Drexell, being aware of her ability as a diplomat—and not unmindful of her influential family connections—Besgrove had written to ask if she and her husband could act as mediators. As was proven by the spirit of cooperation which had arisen and was now even stronger, although Captain Dustine Edward Marsden ‘Dusty’ Fog had not been available, she had justified her cousin’s faith in her capability. Satisfied she was no longer needed, she had set out for home as soon as the sergeant was in a condition to travel.
On arriving in Rio Hondo County, Smith had found his hostess had not forgotten his problem. In fact, she had already started to help him solve it. While still at the Union Jack, experimenting with his Colt Civilian Model Peacemaker revolver—which had been retrieved by his rescuers when he was liberated—he had learned he could handle it, albeit awkwardly, in spite of his hands being e
ncumbered by the bandages. Firing, with what had been the second finger operating the trigger and the other two wrapped around the butt, had proved very difficult. In fact, attaining accuracy of any kind was impossible. However, the means to hopefully counteract—or, at worse, reduce—the deficiencies were set into motion shortly after he had been settled in at the OD Connected ranch’s house.
Over his first breakfast, the sergeant had been introduced to the local gunsmith, whose name was Abel Smith and who had been collected from Polveroso City by the younger of the Blaze twins. They were not related, but the sergeant had asked whether the other experienced a similar suggestion of dubious acceptance as he did when meeting people or signing a hotel’s register. Having admitted this was the case, having been telegraphed from Flamingo by Freddie and told of the problem, Abel had produced what he claimed could help Waxahachie to solve it.
The first item was a pair of specially made black leather gloves, with padded forefingers which could have their curves adjusted. These were to serve the dual purpose of concealing the deformity of the sergeant’s hands and, by entering the trigger guard, to lend a modicum of extra support when he was holding his revolver. Next, he was handed a Colt of the same model as his own, but modified in a way he had heard was given the name ‘slip gun’. There was no trigger and, instead of the normal fitment, the hammer had its smoothed and shortened spur set on low. Internally, he discovered, the bolt spring had been removed and the bolt-cam on the hammer reduced in length. He did not need to have the advantages offered by the alterations explained. Having no trigger to depress, drawing back and releasing the hammer with his thumb being all that was required to operate the mechanism, he could use the three remaining fingers to hold the butt as previously. However, as an aid to counteracting the way in which it would be held and fired, the rifling of the barrel had been removed and he was advised to load with rounds discharging three balls instead of a single bullet.
On remarking that he had heard multi-ball cartridges did not offer accuracy at anything other than a short distance, Waxahachie had been offered a solution. Reminding him that he had only relied upon the revolver at close quarters before losing his trigger fingers, Abel had displayed a rifle. At first glance, it could have been mistaken for a Winchester Model of 1873. There was an exposed hammer and the same kind of magazine tube running the full length beneath the octagonal twenty-six inch barrel. However, it had only a small wooden fore grip and lacked the trigger guard-cum-loading lever which characterized the products of the Winchester Repeating Army Company since the predecessors of the ‘Gun Which Won The West’ were being sold as the ‘Volcanic’ and ‘Henry’. xlvi A closer examination informed Waxahachie that it also lacked a trigger and the aperture caused by the removal was covered with a thin steel sheet.
‘It’s a Colt New Lightning,’ Abel had explained. ‘Forty-Forty caliber. Takes a load of fifteen and, although I wouldn’t advise it with this ‘n’, one in the chamber. Works by what they call a “trombone slide” slide action. Instead of there being a lever, you pull back on that itty-bitty fore grip, which feeds the bullet into the chamber from the magazine and cocks the hammer. Only there’s one big difference. Seeing as you’re fixed as you are, I’ve taken out the trigger and rigged it so’s shoving the slide forward fires the shot.’
Appreciating how the modifications to both weapons could make them more suitable for his purposes, the sergeant had bought them and handed over his own Peacemaker for conversion into a slip gun. He had also purchased an adequate supply of ammunition to allow him to carry out the training which he realized would be necessary to not only accustom him to the vastly different modes of handling required by the new type of weapons, but to return to something like his former expertise. He was helped in covering the cost by a large sum of money which Besgrove, Drexell and, being equally relieved to know the danger of a range war had departed, the businessmen of Flamingo, had donated to him.
Expending many bullets through the Peacemaker and the Lightning, Waxahachie had found mastery of the new technique called for by the differences between the latter’s ‘trombone slide’ and absence of a trigger and the Winchester Model of 1876 was helped by the lighter caliber cartridges he was using. He had also satisfied himself that he was developing competence in using the former, despite being compelled to operate the mechanism by the thumb and without the assistance of the forefinger. Furthermore, the multi-ball loads compensated for the slight loss of accuracy caused by having the support of only three digits when shooting at close quarters and, when firing at longer range, his double handed grip still produced an acceptable number of hits despite their mutilated condition.
In spite of the anxiety which the sergeant had felt, once he had resumed the exercises with the springs to strengthen them, he had found his hands caused far less trouble than he had envisaged. Such was the care with which Grantz had performed the amputations that the pads of skin he used to replace the digits he removed had healed perfectly. However, the sergeant had discovered that they tended to start throbbing painfully whenever a storm was taking place and they continued to do so for the rest of his life.
While the means to let Waxahachie fire weapons despite his disability had presented no difficulty, due to the skill of his namesake, carrying the Colt so it could be drawn and handled with the requisite speed had also received attention. Coming in response to a telegraph message sent by Freddie, Elvis Gaylin had supplied the answer. Son of a man renowned for making gunbelts of high quality, he had learned much which now proved of use. The first thing he had announced was that carrying a slip gun in a conventional rig would not allow its special qualities to be fully utilized. Taking very careful measurements from his customer, he had returned to El Paso so he could set about his task. Having completed and delivered the gunbelt, he was called into the house by the Englishwoman before he could see it strapped on. However, knowing cowhands, he would not have taken offence if he had overheard the conversation which took place between the sergeant and Kiowa.
Regardless of the comment he had made on studying the gunbelt, Smith became aware of how greatly it differed from his previous rig the moment he buckled it into position. The fit was perfect, being sufficiently snug to avoid it slipping and would become even more immovable when he followed the advice he had received from Gaylin when being measured, and slid the belt through the enlarged loops he had had stitched around the waistband of his trousers. Nevertheless, it did not feel right. For one thing, it was higher than the one to which he was accustomed. Furthermore, while the holster was still on the right side, it was now of the form-fitting ‘Missouri Skin-Tite’ type and rode with an extreme forward tilt just behind his off hip. xlvii As if that was not enough, the position and design would mean his Colt was carried with its butt pointing forward instead of to the rear.
‘This’s going to take some getting used to, amigo,’ the sergeant assessed, accepting his now modified Colt which Kiowa had been holding and slipping it into the holster.
‘Young folks these days want everything easy,’ the cowhand replied, despite agreeing with the summation.
‘You’re not like us mossy-horned old timers—’ The comment ended due to his attention being diverted by seeing one of the Blaze twins approaching at a gallop. ‘Young Charlie, or is it Henry, looks like he’s in one hell of a hurry.’
‘It’s come, Wax!’ the red head announced, bringing his lathered mount to a rump-sliding halt and springing from the saddle to wave the bulky letter he was carrying.
‘Bueno,’ Smith replied, knowing the youngster—even though equally uncertain whether he was Charles or Henry —well enough to have realized only a matter of considerable importance would have made him push his horse so hard and dismount in .such a reckless fashion; particularly where he might be seen by his aunt, whose tongue could deliver a lashing to be avoided when necessary. ‘Let’s take it in to Miz Freddie and find out what it tells.’
‘You’re not going to like this, Wax,’ the beautiful Engli
shwoman warned, having donned a pair of gold rimmed spectacles and read both pieces of paper in the envelope which her nephew had brought into her husband’s study.
‘No, ma’am?’ the sergeant queried and, for once, he did not so much as glance at the extensive collection of firearms —including the magnificent matched brace of gold mounted Colt Cavalry Model Peacemakers won by Dusty Fog against very stiff competition at the First Cochise County Fair xlviii —which were mounted on the walls.
‘No!’ Freddie confirmed and waved the sheet of thick paper bearing an impressive looking official heading in her right hand. ‘The Federal Government have decided that no action is to be taken against the Fuentes brothers.’
‘God damn it!’ Smith ejaculated furiously. ‘Don’t they know what that young son-of-a-bi ?’
‘They do,’ the Englishwoman replied, noticing that her guest had not been so filled with rage that he completed a term regarded as an extremely bad obscenity on remembering he was in her presence. She made a gesture with the thinner sheet, which bore no printed heading. ‘According to my friend, the decision is a matter of political expediency. The Fuentes have powerful friends in Mexico and liber-rad soft-shells in Washington have helped them by bringing so much pressure to bear on Congress that it’s been decided to let the matter drop.’
‘Now that’s what some’d call real obliging of Congress,’ the sergeant said, his voice as quiet and yet latently menacing as the first whisper of a Texas blue norther storm.
‘It’s called “political expediency”, as I said,’ Freddie explained, her face showing none of the annoyance aroused by the news she had received. However, she had had sufficient experience in such matters to be able to see both sides of the issue. Her voice was gentle as she tried to soften what was clearly a great disappointment. ‘Relations with Mexico are quite good at the moment, Wax. So Congress don’t want to do anything which might rock the boat, as we say in “Merrie Old”.’
