The four shook hands all around. “Thank you both for what you have done,” Sid finally said. “The two of us could not have dreamed of causing this much damage up here tonight.”
“Like I said,” Curtis answered. “It’s what this man does best.”
Bardwell climbed aboard taking the lead rope for the spare horse. “Godspeed, gentlemen,” he said. “Make your way safely home on the morrow. I wish you all the best and thank your extended family for the both of us.”
“Godspeed,” Sid said as he turned to follow. There was still a little mischief to cause up here in the eastern mountains, but they would all soon be traveling in opposite directions.
The lawmen urged their nervous animals across the high trestle. “Just don’t look down,” Curtis said to his mount.
Bardwell dismounted once across the span and led his horses behind a small rise that would protect them all from the coming blast.
“You got one of them firecrackers?” Bardwell asked, spitting in the dirt. Well to the north, a morning star struggled its way into a pink dawn sky.
“Right here,” Curtis said, smiling and holding one of the red sticks the clansmen had provided. “One of these ain’t going to do very much damage though?” the young lawman questioned.
“Stick it in the rock,” Bardwell said. “Let’s bring this wall down on top of it?”
The boy held the fuse to his cigar, pushed it deep into the rock and ran like hell to catch his superior already halfway back up the hill.
Both ducking for cover, the lawmen waited for the blast, nothing. They continued to wait it out.
“The fuse went out,” Curtis said.
“Go check it,” Bardwell replied.
“Fuck you,” Curtis answered. “You go check it if it means that much to you.”
“I ain’t got any matches.”
“Here,” Curtis said. “You can use mine?”
After what seemed a long delay, the dynamite blew taking out the entire side of the rock face overhead.
“That should just about do it, huh?” Curtis said, standing now.
Bardwell got up from where he lay behind the rock, “It should?”
Loose rock and gravel from the blast now covered the approach to the low side of the span.
As the lawmen spoke, the first of the blasts were heard across the gorge. White-hot light flashed as the explosions came close on the heels of each other, spotting the lawmen’s vision temporarily in the darkness.
“That will do it for sure,” Curtis added.
Timbers creaked and groaned under the load as they began to topple into the river gorge below.
In the dim morning light, the lawmen could see one of the clansmen walking the iron rail out toward the center of the span.
“What’s that crazy old fool doing out there?” Curtis asked, drawing hard on the stub of a cigar in his mouth.
“Doesn’t look like they caused enough damage to be satisfied?” Bardwell said, watching.
Midspan, flame took to the creosote and oil that had been spilled over the ages. The clansman started back, he bent stuffing more of the dynamite—the clan was known for—under the rails before running for all that he was worth.
Another explosion sent iron far out into the gorge. Flames now licked at what remained of the antiquated span.
The lawmen mounted up and started down the line for the next stop in their journey. If luck favored Bardwell, the lawmen would find Maddox, Holderman, and Deville taking rest there. If not, he’d continue on across the deserts of the New Mexico territories and find them one way or another.
As the lawmen rode away, faint explosions could be heard for a time as the clansmen made their way down the other side of the mountain to their low walled adobe homes.
“Sounds like they’re using up the last of that dynamite they got, Sir?” Curtis said, riding into the coming morning.
“Yep,” Bardwell said, negotiating the dark path along the roadbed.
“How far do you reckon it is to this Yaqui Gulch, Sir?” Curtis asked, following along in the dark. The orange glow of the cigar in his mouth marked his progress as he traveled.
“Maybe a day’s ride,” Bardwell said. “From what I gathered from Stewart, I reckon that we should probably ride on through the cool of the morning and search out a place to rest before high median?”
“That sounds good,” Curtis said. “Joining you on these late night rides is taking its toll, man.”
Bardwell laughed. “You’re an officer of the law now Son, remember that.”
“Oh,” the young lawman said. “I don’t reckon that you’re going to let me forget it?”
“I won’t.”
The daystar was climbing its way higher into the flat, gray morning sky to the north. In a short while, it would be high overhead and cast its blazing heat to the desert floor below.
Up here in the highlands, the morning temperatures were still cool enough that a man could ride without fear of stressing his mount. Water ran here and there from springs in the rock. The horses had been rested well and the journey would not tax either for the effort.
Two hours and more than a full rod from where the trestle had been set afire, Bardwell dismounted to lead the horses for a spell. The lawman reached into the worn leather saddlebags to retrieve the last of the biscuits and bacon. He offered some to his partner.
“I got some left too,” Curtis said, with a hand in one of the bags behind his saddle.
“You think that you can hold up for another hour or two?” Bardwell asked. “If you think that you can, we’ll push on another rod or so and take cover for a few hours?”
“Yeah,” the younger lawman said. “My horse is good. Let’s go on.”
Walking a hundred paces further, Bardwell mounted up finished with his breakfast and leading the unsaddled horse behind.
Neither lawman said much from there on as tired as they were now. They had each done a lot of walking the previous night, not to mention, a little running.
Bardwell’s knee had come up sore after jumping from the moving locomotive up on the mountain.
Still high enough in the mountains the weary lawmen could see the sand of the desert floor below. Neither looked forward to having to cross the vast Mojave Desert in which both the state of Sacramento and the New Mexico territories could claim as their own.
Down there on the dry valley floor, a man couldn’t expect to find anything more than searing heat and hardship. Death was always a possibility if a man were not careful. The constantly shifting sand of the Mojave was no place for a man ill-prepared.
Chapter Eleven
Smoke from several small fires drifted up from the foliage just over the next range of rolling hills. Curtis pointed it out.
Bardwell removed his timepiece––it was just before high median. He nodded back to his partner.
“Let’s strike off the trail here and search us out a place to spend the day,” Bardwell said, turning along an animal path leading up the hill through the trees.
“Why don’t we just camp here?” Curtis asked.
Bardwell dismounted and led his horses along a small rapid running stream. “With all of the hell that was raised up in the mountains,” he said. “I’d hate to be caught lying on the rails if anyone were to come along behind.”
“Good point,” Curtis said.
The horses were unsaddled and hobbled along the stream to graze for the afternoon. The lawmen got into the jerked beef and fruit the clansmen had packed for the first time since riding away three days previous.
“You think they’ll have a proper town ahead at this station?” Curtis asked, striking a sulfur match to light a cigar.
“I couldn’t tell you,” Bardwell said, laying back to rest his eyes. “Why’s that?” he asked.
“Man,” Curtis said. “I could use some more smokes.”
“Yeah,” Bardwell said. “I’d like to stuff my bag with some good tobacco before we start for home.”
“I’m st
arting to believe that we ain’t ever going home,” Curtis said, leaning on an arm in the grass under a stand of ancient trees.
A smile turned up the corners of the senior lawman’s mouth. “It does seem that way at times doesn’t it?” he asked.
“It does,” Curtis said. He paused, thinking back over the lazy conversation here in the shade before asking, “How long you been doing this, Sir?”
Bardwell thought long and hard about the right answer, one that wouldn’t shake the boy too much. “Too long it seems?” he said.
The lawmen quieted thinking of what had been done and said. It was a hell of a life they were living just then.
Before long, both dozed in the shade under trees that had started up from the ground ages ago, when the world was a less hostile place.
***
Bardwell reined in cresting the last hill. Ahead lay the railroad station of Yaqui Gulch. The lawmen stood off taking in the little town. A late day sun was settling in a dirty sky just over their shoulders and behind the range, they had ridden over the past few days.
“It kind of reminds me of Sweetwater,” Curtis said, sitting his gray mount and smoking the last of his cigars.
The tiny hamlet tucked away here in the hills somewhere between the state of Sacramento, the borderlands, and the New Mexico territories was reminiscent of Sweetwater with its one dusty lane and a scattering of shops. From this distance, the lawmen could see a two-story boarding house, a livery, a mercantile, and maybe a saloon or two.
Straight to the livery they rode. It had been some time since the horses had been boarded properly.
“Got room for three horses, Mister?” Bardwell asked, stepping to the ground after a long day in the saddle.
“Yes, Sir,” the stableman said. “It’ll be two pieces of silver for the three of them, separate stalls and all of the good hay they can eat.”
The lawman removed his saddle, the guns, and saddlebags. The saddle would remain in the barn, the guns and baggage he slung over his shoulder for the walk into town. Bardwell paid the man three pieces of the silver that he asked for. “You see that they’re well cared for,” he said.
“I will, Mister,” the stableman said. “Are you gentlemen staying here in town long?”
“Don’t know,” Bardwell answered, in a tired voice. “We’ll just have to see what the little town can offer us?”
“The boarding house is just the next street over,” the stableman continued, stuffing the coins down in the pocket of his trousers. “The food is good and the rooms are clean.”
“Thank you,” the lawman said, nodding before starting off in search of a room for the night and a hot bath.
“It’ll cost you a dollar for two beds,” the boarding house manager said, smiling from behind his desk, “You gentlemen be staying on long?”
“Maybe,” Bardwell said, paying the man in silver.
The friendly gentleman went on. “We got a bathhouse just around the corner, a saloon right next door and we even got a whorehouse above that, if you gentlemen are wondering,” he said.
Bardwell thanked the desk clerk and started for the stairs leading to their room for the night. The sun wasn’t down yet and folks walked along the raised boards as they made their way through the little town.
The lawman raised the window looking out over the main street and had a look out across Yaqui Gulch.
“What are you planning, Sir?” Curtis asked.
“I think that I’d like a bath and some hot food,” Bardwell said. “Then a bottle of good whiskey. Someone over in the saloon should be talking about those three if they’ve ridden through recently?”
After a shave, a hot bath, and an ever hotter meal, the lawmen sat at the bar of the town’s only saloon.
Folks were in a festive mood, it seemed, drinking and carrying on like they were.
“What’ll you gentlemen be having?” the barkeep asked.
“Whiskey for me,” Bardwell said.
Curtis smiled, “The same.”
The barkeep reached for two clean glasses and poured them full. Bardwell slid a large piece of silver across.
“What is it that has you gentlemen in Yaqui Gulch,” the barkeep asked. “It isn’t every day that we get strangers here in town.”
“Is that right?” Bardwell asked, sipping from his glass.
“We do have the train pulling through here every few days,” the barkeep continued. “But we all know most of the folks passing through?”
“Arroyo de las Vegas to Los Angeles and back?” the lawman asked.
“Yes, yes,” the barkeep said. “Just like clockwork, that train.”
Bardwell looked over at his partner who smiled and turned his head to keep the bartender from noticing.
“So what is it that has you gentlemen here in town?” the barkeep asked again. “Are you fellas just passing through?”
“Yeah,” Bardwell said, sliding his empty glass across the polished wood. “We’re just passing through.”
The barkeep poured both glasses full and slung a towel up and over his shoulder. He leaned on the bar.
“We’re looking for a couple of friends that might have passed this way in the last day or so?” the lawman said, in a low voice so none of the others nearby would hear. “Wyman Maddox, Marion Holderman, and Parle Deville, you ever heard of ‘em?”
The barkeep swallowed real hard, giving the lawman the answer that he was looking for no matter what the man said.
“I’m…” the barkeep said. His once calm voice cracked. “I’m sorry, Mister,” he said. “I ain’t ever heard of them.”
Bardwell nodded as he sipped whiskey. “No worries,” he said. “It was just a hunch that we might meet up with them out here.” The lawmen were careful to keep their arms low concealing the ink of the tin star that they wore.
The barkeep seemed to regain his composure. He wanted to step away to help the patrons at the far end.
Bardwell slid another large piece of silver across. “How about you leave that bottle here with us?”
“Sure, Mister,” the barkeep said, taking the coin, but leaving the liquor in front of the lawmen.
Curtis raised an eyebrow and leaned in close after the barkeep stepped away. “You expected that right?” he asked. “I know that I, for one, did.”
“Yeah,” Bardwell said. “I did.”
A redhead leaned in close to where the boy sat at the bar—one of the working gals, employed in the horizontal trades. “Buy a girl a drink, sweetheart?” she asked.
Curtis reached over the bar for a clean glass and sat it in front of the woman. “I will,” he said, pouring the glass full and sliding it to the gal.
“Why ain’t you precious?” she asked, licking her painted lips.
Bardwell poured himself another glass and smiled. There were others in the saloon tonight. Someone would be willing to talk before too long.
The soiled dove turned up her glass and whispered something in the boy’s ear. He stood looking back at his superior. The woman had Curtis by the hand.
“Go on,” Bardwell said, nodding to the stairwell. “I’ll keep for the night.”
Curtis smiled and followed the redhead real close as she made her way through the crowd.
“Your friend there should consider himself a lucky man,” a stranger said, moving a stool closer. “Abbey Dubois doesn’t take real well to strangers.”
The stranger nodded to the bottle. “Be my guest,” Bardwell said.
“I heard you talking with the bartender there,” the stranger said. “He’s afraid, that’s what he is. Holderman and Parle were here just two nights ago.”
“Is that right,” Bardwell asked, pouring the man’s glass full once again. From the smell of whiskey and long grass on his breath, the stranger had been drinking for some time.
“Yes, Sir,” the stranger said. “They were here drinking whiskey just like you and me. Your friend Maddox,” the stranger continued. “He wasn’t looking so good. Maybe the long grass ha
d gotten to him?”
“Were they smoking long grass the night they were here?” Bardwell asked.
The stranger laughed. “Oh, yes,” he said. “Just like it was going out of style. Folks can’t smoke too much of that before they go crazy, you know?”
Bardwell nodded his agreement and poured their glasses full. “Yeah,” he said. “I’ve run across a couple of fellows that have lost their mind due to that.”
“Terrible,” the stranger said. “I don’t know what would make a fella turn to smoking that shit?”
The lawman smiled.
“Did they ride east on the train?” Bardwell asked.
The stranger nodded. “Yes, Sir,” he said. “The train’s been there and back by now. Just pulled out of here for the city yesterday? Should be back day after tomorrow, if you’d like to wait for it. You can buy yourself one of them tickets at the station before high median.”
Bardwell smiled again reaching for the bottle. It was nearly finished. “Would you like another?” he asked the stranger.
“No, no,” the stranger said. “I couldn’t drink all of your whiskey. You go on and enjoy it yourself.”
The stranger got up stumbling for the door to the outside world. Bardwell watched as the stranger grabbed his hat and started into the night. He was sure that someone would talk, he just wasn’t so sure that it would happen so early in the night.
Some of the saloon patrons were smoking the long grass now that the hour was getting late. Bardwell didn’t care much for the smoke inside. The lawman placed his hat down on his head and walked outside for some fresh air. A few folks were out for a late stroll here and there. Whiskey spinning in his head, Bardwell took a seat on the raised boards out front of the saloon.
“What the hell are you doing out here?” Curtis asked, finding his partner out front.
“Just enjoying the night air,” Bardwell said. “It’s nice and cool up here, unlike where we’ve been…”
“And where we’re going,” Curtis said, interrupting.
“Right,” Bardwell said.
“Maddox was here, Sir,” Curtis said. “That redhead upstairs told me so. She said that his partners were too.”
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