by Peter Grant
“Sounds good. Do you have any contacts in New Mexico who might be able to help me?”
“No, an’ you gotta be real careful which New Mexico lawmen you trust. If you think Colorado politicians are corrupt, you ain’t met theirs yet! There’s talk of something called the ‘Santa Fe Ring’, a group of politicians an’ the men who bribe them. Some say it goes all the way up to the Territorial Governor’s office. It controls a lot of what goes on there, ’specially concernin’ the old Spanish land grants. They cover millions of acres.”
“What about the United States Marshal for the territory?”
“He’s Federal law, not local. I don’t know him, so I can’t say.”
“Thanks for the warning. I’ll be real careful. Now, I need your help to disappear.”
Dunnett stared. “Come again?”
Walt told him about the false report concerning his health. “I reckon Parsons is bound to still have people here in Denver, reporting to him about anything of interest. If he asks them to confirm that I’ve gone, I want them to be able to find evidence. I’m going to buy a return train ticket to New York on the transcontinental railroad. I need you to find me someone of about my size and age. He’s got to be reliable and trustworthy, and able to keep his mouth shut. I want him to clench his left fist, then bandage it up real well, so it looks as if he’s lost his left hand. He’ll put that in a sling, then board the train using my name, with a scarf wrapped around his head so he won’t be easily recognized, and acting like he’s in pain. That way, anyone looking into it later will assume he was me.
“I’ll pay him five hundred dollars in advance. He’s to go to New York City, then stop using my name and disappear for a few months. He mustn’t come back here until at least February. That’ll give me time to get out to New Mexico and find Parsons.”
Dunnett frowned. “You’re spendin’ an awful lot of money on this.”
Walt laughed, a short, sharp, bitter sound. “You don’t know the half of it. Between wages and promised bonuses for my men, guns, ammunition, supplies, horses, travel expenses and legal costs, as well as what my business will lose by my not being there to run it, I reckon I’m already in the hole for near on twenty thousand dollars. I may spend as much again by the time I’m through. That don’t matter to me. I’ll gladly spend every cent Rose and I saved between us, if I can get the man responsible for her death.”
“I… I guess I can understand that.” The Ranger shook his head. “It’s just that you’re talkin’ about more money than I’ve made in my entire life. Not many men would go all-in like that, ’specially when they couldn’t be sure they’ll succeed.”
“I’ll succeed. Even if I go stone cold broke, and have to beg from the gutter for a crust of bread, I’ll still keep looking for Parsons. One day, I’ll find him.”
Dunnett shivered at the implacable coldness in Walt’s voice. “I guess maybe you will, at that. You asked me once about what to do with all Parsons had stolen, if you could recover any of it. From what you’ve just told me, I’d say you’ve more than earned the right to keep at least some of it. I know the Rangers couldn’t afford to spend even a tenth as much on finding him.”
Walt shrugged. “Let’s not count our chickens, as the saying goes.”
“Yeah. I think I know a man who can help you. He lost his left arm at the elbow in the Civil War, so if we make a few adjustments, he can look the part. He works at a mining store in town, but the owner’s a friend of mine. If I tell him I need to borrow one of his clerks for a few months, to help with an investigation, I know he won’t object; and five hundred dollars is probably a year’s salary for the clerk. He’ll likely jump at it. He can have a paid holiday for a couple o’ months, an’ maybe even come back with some money left over.”
“I’m grateful to you. If you’ll talk to him and his boss tomorrow, I’ll buy those buffalo robe dusters and the mittens you talked about, as well as some last-minute supplies. D’you know a store that sells military-style binoculars?”
“Yeah, there’s a couple of places that stock them.”
“Good. I’d like to have everything done within three days, so I can get back to Pueblo.”
* * *
Walt brought back with him an assistant manager for his transport business. David Cook had been warmly recommended by Matt Grolier. “He worked for me for several years as a teamster and wagonmaster,” Matt had explained. “He got the mining bug a few years ago, an’ quit to try his luck. He had some at first, placer minin’ for gold, but not enough. He gave up a few months back, an’ came back to town. I reckon he’ll be just right for what you want—someone to go out with the wagon trains, an’ whip up business from the mining towns near Pueblo. I’d hire him to do that for me here, except that I already got someone.”
“He sounds like just the man I need. Thanks, Matt.”
Grolier had looked at him curiously. “Why d’you need a manager, anyway? You’ve been doin’ all right down there, from what I hear.”
“Yes, but I’ve got to take a long trip. I’ll be away for most of the winter, maybe into the spring. Samson’s doing a great job managing the freight yard and the warehouse, but he isn’t too comfortable with the rest of it. I need someone to expand the business to new customers.”
“Uh-huh. Seriously, if you’re ever lookin’ for a partner, or to sell out, talk to me. I like what you’ve done with your outfit, and as the territory grows, it’d be good to expand down that way. I’m not gonna compete with you right now, ’cause there’s not enough trade for two big outfits, an’ we’d cut each other’s throats; but an alliance might work.”
“Thanks, Matt. I’ll keep that in mind. Remember, Samson owns a quarter of my business. He’d have to agree, too.”
“That’s no problem. Heck, if I bought you out, I’ll prob’ly bring him back to Denver, to do here what he’s doin’ for you there. That’d be a big weight off my mind. He’s a good man.”
“That he is.”
Walt had interviewed David, and decided he liked him. He introduced him to Samson on his return, and made sure both understood how responsibilities would be divided. The new arrival nodded eagerly. “Sure, Mr. Ames. Samson handles everything in here, I handle everything out there.”
“That’s it. Just remember, I’m still the boss. What I say goes, but I’m not going to ride herd on you all day, every day. I expect you to know your business, an’ take routine decisions without me. That’s why I hired you. Also, the two of you must agree on anything that crosses the line between inside and outside. One of you can’t override the other, or put any burdens on him.”
“We won’t, suh,” Samson assured him. “I heard good things about Mr. Cook when I was runnin’ our livery stable an’ freight yard up in Denver. I reckon he an’ I will get along.”
“Good. Samson, you’ll have signing powers on the business account while I’m gone. David, you’ll have to ask him to make any payments or deposits you need. If you do well over the next half-year or so, I’ll give you signing powers too.”
That night, Walt joined the seven gunmen at the farmhouse for a final planning session. He distributed the warm, heavy buffalo robe dusters and fur-lined mittens, to universal approval. He’d had to guess everyone’s sizes, but from their pleased remarks, he figured he’d done a good job. “They’re mighty heavy,” he warned, “but in freezing cold they make a heck of a difference. We had some of that on the way back from Denver, so we tested them for real. You can spread them on top of your blankets, too. That makes for a warm bed, even in the snow.”
“These will be very good going through the mountains, señor,” Pablo agreed.
They discussed their impending departure, and made plans. “I want one pack horse per two people,” Walt said firmly. “No more than that, or we’ll take too much and weigh ourselves down. Take a hundred rounds per gun, except for shotguns—I reckon twenty or thirty rounds of buckshot should be enough. Each man will carry a day’s food in his saddlebags, and a canteen of wat
er. There’ll be another three days’ food for two men on each pack horse, including oats and nosebags. The horses will need that, to help them cope with the cold.
“I want twenty sticks of dynamite on each pack horse, along with slow and quick match. You’ve all learned to use it, so you know how to pack it safely. Each man will carry twelve blasting caps, in a hard box padded with cloth. Put them in your saddlebags. I don’t ever want to see blasting caps and dynamite on the same horse, unless we’re about to use it.”
“You can sho’ say that again, boss, as many times as you like!” Isom said fervently. A ripple of laughter ran around the room. “The dynamite’ll get cold on a pack hoss, though.”
“That’s all right. I reckon we’ll have time to thaw it out under our coats before we need to use it. It’s not like a gun, that you might need in a real hurry.” Another rumble of agreement.
“I bought four sets of army-style binoculars in Denver.” He passed them around. “I reckon we may split up now and then. If we do, each pair will have one of these. Use them when you’re searching the country, but watch out that the sun doesn’t reflect off them and give away your own position. I think you’ll find they’re real useful.”
Walt looked around the room. “I want to thank you all for the hard work you’ve done over the past couple of months. I know some of you got bored, just sitting around waiting for me to say we’re ready. That was necessary. I’ve got a lot better idea now of where to look for Parsons an’ his men. There are three places to check out, and also the address we got from Smith. Isom, tell them what you learned from Rosalva up in Fairplay.”
“Yessuh.” The former sergeant shifted position. “She knows a woman in Albuquerque, who runs a cantina there—more like a saloon, she says. She’s got fingers in a lot o’ pies in New Mexico. Rosalva says that if Mr. Walt asks her for help, an’ he’s willin’ to pay for it, she can find out a lot. She’s written to her, an’ given Mr. Walt a letter for her too.”
“That’s right,” Walt agreed. “We’ll ride to Albuquerque first, and I’ll ask for her help. While she’s asking around, we’ll check out the first place. It’s in northern New Mexico, south of Animas City, near the Navajo reservation. I reckon, if Parsons owns it, he’ll have one or two of his trusted men keeping an eye on it over the winter. He’ll figure I might find out that he owns it, based on what I already learned about how he buys property. He’ll have told them to see if anyone asks questions about the land, and if so, to deal with them. Of course, they don’t know we’re coming to deal with them.” Laughter. “They might tell us something useful.
“After we’ve done that, and depending on what this woman can tell us, we’ll check out the second and third properties. One’s in New Mexico, north of Taos; the other’s in Colorado. I reckon the property near Taos is real promising, because Parsons gets his mail in that town, but I don’t know for sure. The main thing is, I don’t want him getting even a whisper that we’re coming. I want him to relax more and more every day, thinkin’ I’m back east.”
Walt stood and stretched. “Get a good night’s sleep, boys. It’ll be your last in these comfortable beds for a long time. The next few weeks, we’ll be either getting fleabit, sleeping in cheap hotels, or freezing our asses off camping in the snow.” A groan ran around the room. “What? You think I’m paying you fighting wages to sit in this nice warm farmhouse all winter?”
More laughter followed him as he went out to his horse.
Back at the freight depot, Samson was waiting for a final briefing. Walt told him his plans. “If you need to contact me before I reach Albuquerque, wire me care of general delivery at the post offices along the way. I’ll wire you as I come to each town, so you’ll know roughly where I am. If you hear anything from Dunnett, or Rosalva, or anyone else, write to me care of general delivery, a couple of towns ahead. I’ll check for mail whenever I reach them. If it’s real urgent, send a wire, but be careful what you say. Too many eyes see telegraph messages.”
“I understand, suh. I’ll be careful.”
“When we’ve gone, clean out the farmhouse, then give it back to the owner. Don’t forget the rest of the dynamite underneath that shack. Bring everything back here and store it in the warehouse—all except the dynamite. Send that up to the mines in our next shipment, and give it to one of them for free. They can use it, and that’ll get it out of your hair. If I need more when I get back, I can buy it.”
“I’ll do that, suh. Bella will be a whole lot happier if it ain’t stored here, that’s for sure!”
“Yeah, women are funny like that, aren’t they?”
The buildings of Cimarron, New Mexico, loomed ahead from out of the drifting flakes of snow in the fading light. Walt wiped them from his eyebrows, looked up, stared, and yelled, “We made it, boys! Warm, soft beds and hot food tonight!”
There was a chorus of tired, cold, but enthusiastic cheers from the men behind him. The column of horses trotted forward with renewed energy.
Walt called back, “Nate, you spent some time around here. What’s a good hotel?”
“If the Maxwell House is still open, I’d say that’s best, but I heard it was sold last year. The Cosgrove House ain’t bad, either, but it’s kinda rowdy sometimes.”
“Heck, we can be rowdy enough ourselves if we have to,” young Jack Moultrie whooped from the rear, to general laughter.
“We’ll check them both out,” Walt agreed. “Jack, hold it down. We’re only stopping here to warm up for a day or two. If you get yourself thrown in jail, I’ll fire you and leave you there!”
Jack’s snort of disdain carried the whole length of the column. “I’ll be good, grandpappy.”
Walt had to grin as he faced forward again. The young man’s irrepressible liveliness had made the trip more entertaining for all of them.
They had to divide their horses between the hotel’s stable and a livery barn nearby, since neither had twelve stalls available. Walt paid for a rub-down and grain feed for them, and spoke to the stable hands to make sure they took good care of the animals. “If I find they haven’t been well looked after, you’ll answer for it,” he told them sternly. “They’ve got to carry us a long way yet.” He tipped them in advance, promising more if he was satisfied. The four pack-saddles were locked in the hotel storeroom, accompanied by dire warnings to the staff of what would happen if anything was missing when they left. The sight of eight hardened, gun-laden men was enough to produce loud affirmations of how safe their belongings would be. Another tip in advance helped to smooth the waters.
Walt paid for four double rooms, and they trooped upstairs with their saddlebags, bedrolls and weapons. The bathhouse did land office business as they washed off the dirt and body odor of two hard weeks on the road, pushing through freezing winter weather that had slowed their progress to a crawl, deterring changes of clothing and all but the simplest personal hygiene.
“I won’t bother washing the clothes I’ve been wearing,” Walt decided aloud as he soaked in a tub of hot water. “They stand up on their own now, and smell strong enough to curdle milk! I’ll throw them out, and buy new ones here.”
“What about that buffalo duster?” Tom called from his tub in the alcove next door.
“Oh, I’m keeping that for sure! I don’t care if it smells worse than when it was on the buffalo—it’s warm!” A chorus of laughter and vociferous agreement echoed his words.
They changed into clean clothes, then devoured a mammoth supper, astonishing the waitresses by eating a large, well-filled plate apiece, then demanding the same again. The cook came out to look, so astounded was he. “I never figured any one man, much less eight of ’em, could eat two of my specials at a sittin’. Either my portions have shrunk without my noticin’, or you’re the hungriest bunch o’ rannies I’ve ever seen!”
“That’s what two weeks of pushing through snow an’ freezin’ weather will do for you,” Jacob informed him cheerfully. “We ain’t had a decent meal in most of that time.”
“I’m buying the drinks before bed,” he announced, “but only one or two, mind! No getting drunk. I meant what I said to Jack. If anyone gets thrown in jail while we’re here, he’ll still be there when the rest of us leave!”
They trooped into a neighboring saloon. It was only half full, which Nate found surprising. “I guess it’s ’cause o’ the cold. Normally, this place’d be burstin’ at the seams.”
They pulled two tables together near the stove, and Walt ordered a bottle of the best whiskey available, plus eight glasses. He took a precautionary sip of the liquor when it arrived, and spat it out in disgust, glaring at the barkeep.
“I said the best you had, dammit—not this snakehead swill!”
The man shrugged. “Mister, we ain’t had a delivery in over a week, thanks to this snow an’ cold. Until we do, this is all we’ve got on hand. All the good stuff’s already been drunk.”
As he spoke, the batwing doors were pushed open, and three men came in. The leader listened, then said, “I hope that don’t mean you ain’t got my special bottle waitin’ for me.”
The bartender paled as he spun around. “N-no, Mr. Allison, I got yours set aside in the back—a whole case of it. I wouldn’t sell it to no-one else, honest!”
“I’m glad to hear it, otherwise I’d’ve had to shoot you.”
Nate jumped to his feet. “Clay, you old son-of-a-gun!”
“I don’t believe it! Nate Barger! What the hell are you doin’ here?” The two embraced, slapping each other on the back in warm, noisy camaraderie.
“I’m just passin’ through with my boss here, Walt Ames. We got slowed down so much by the cold an’ snow, we reckoned to spend a day here warmin’ up before goin’ on.”