by Lou Bradshaw
“No thank ya, darlin’… I’m bone tired and my friend is fresh married to my sister.” That would keep her from bothering us again.
“Now, Ben, I was thinkin’ of comin’ back to see her after you turned in. Well, there goes that plan.”
“I figured as much, but business first.” I said, “Besides, you’ll thank me in the morning or in a few weeks fur sure.”
I went on to tell him what I’d found out since I’d sent the letter. I told about trailing Banks and his meeting with the Indians.
“What do you suppose he has for trade goods?”
“From what I saw signs of, it seemed to be mostly rifles of all description, and in good numbers. Oh they’re moving whiskey, but that’s to be expected these days. From marks in the dirt, he probably had three or four kegs. They’re probably making the fire water right there on the ranch. Every trading post in the west makes trade whiskey of some kind…. And they’re tradin’ horses. He went in that canyon with six horses total and came out with two.”
“What are they trading for?” he asked.
“I would guess, it would be anything of value. Whatever the Indians could take in a raid. Jewelry, gold, silver, currency…. I’d think Banks would take anything he could get that he could turn into cash…. They don’t seem to be raiding in this area. Chances are these bronco Comanche are making raids farther south or west and trading it to Banks.”
“What are your thoughts, Ben? You’ve seen the operation. What kind of fire power do they have?”
“At least a dozen guns and men to shoot them…. And Banks is recruiting men…. I would guess that there are at least two raiding parties out hitting travelers and such; they’re mostly interested in weapons and ammunition. Sam and I ran into two different parties. The second one was on the run and looking for horses….. That’s the bunch that shot Sam.”
“I’ve sent a telegraph message to a Ranger Captain friend of mine. I don’t know if he can send some help or not.” Ethan told me. “Two against twelve doesn’t seem to give us much of an advantage does it?”
“Well, my friend, you just go get us a couple more beers, and I’ll tell you what I’ve got in mind.”
When Claybrook-Woodcock returned with two more mugs of beer and got settled in I said, “I ran into a situation last spring, where the odds were stacked against me, so I had to improvise…. You be ready to ride right after breakfast tomorrow and we’ll take a look at that operation.”
Ethan told me that he had also sent a message to Stewart, but that was only to keep him informed of what was going on. “Normally, I work with the local officers and their deputies or civilian possies, but you say this marshal keeps his business close to home.”
“I don’t completely trust him to be a dedicated lawman. I get the impression that he doesn’t want to get the wrong people upset.”
We sat and finished our less than average beers and watched the worn out young old gal convince some cowboy that she was in love with him as long as he had the key to her heart which was probably a dollar.
“You still thinkin’ bout comin’ back later?” He just snorted.
The next morning found us on a rocky little knoll about a quarter mile south of the Chambers ranch headquarters. From that distance, we wouldn’t be able to recognize faces, but we had a good view of the layout. We just lay there and watched, not knowing what we were watching for or looking at. I’d use the field glasses for a while then Ethan would use them.
“Ben,” he said, “what do you suppose is in that shed there? The one set back from the barn…. It looks like smoke coming out of the stove pipe on the other side. I can’t imagine they’d have their kitchen so far away.”
“No.” I said. “The kitchen and dining hall are in the main house… It might be a smoke house, but it would be a real big smokehouse. That’s four times bigger than mine, and I smoke meat to sell.
We watched for a while longer, taking special interest in that building. Before too long a man wearing an apron came from the main house, walked past the outhouse and toward the object of our interest. He went to the front door and we lost sight of him. Then in a few minutes, he came back out and went to a small stack of wood, picking up an arm load he went back in. A few minutes later, he came out and went back to the house.
“Pee-yew!” Claybrook said sniffing the air. “What’s that smell?”
I took a sniff and told him, “That, Marshal, is a poor man’s mountain dew… except they’re not usin’ corn. They’re probably usin’ wheat or oats. They may be even using acorns… They got themselves a still. Why, they’re making their own trade whiskey…. That Banks sure is a cheap bastard.” I went on to tell him how they made Injun whiskey or trade whiskey with grain alcohol and some flavoring.
“Be ready to come back out here tonight, and we can have us some fun.” I told him. “It might not be a bad idea to get a little nap in this afternoon…. We may be out a little late.”
Chapter 13
We rode on back into town by our circuitous route. I left Claybrook at the boarding house, and then I walked on down three blocks to the general store to pick up a few things, and luckily they had what I wanted…. Almost.
After supper, Ethan and I saddled up and retraced our earlier trip out to that rocky ridge and waited for dark. I pointed to a dry creek below us and about half way between us and the shed. When it was dark enough, we were going down to that creek and get some business done.
As we waited, I told what I planned to do. His reaction was, “WHAT! Are you out of your mind? I can’t be a part of that, man. I’m a Deputy US Marshal… I can’t be going around BREAKING the law.” Which was pretty much what I figured he’d say… more or less.
When he simmered down a bit I said, “We’re gonna have to tackle twelve or more men by our ownselves, so we need to keep them a little off balance, otherwise we’ll be toes up before this thing even gets started.”
“But, Ben, that’s not in the book… and… furthermore ….” I had him. He knew we’d have to take some extreme measures, if we wanted to rout this bunch. If we could convince enough of them to move on to less troublesome pastures, we may stand half a chance.
“So,” I asked, “are you with me?”
“Hell yes I’m with you, I just had to make a protest for the record and style. But Jasper Stewart can never hear about this.”
“The only way he’ll ever hear about it is if you tell him because I’m not.”
We waited until it was good and dark, then we went down to that dry creek bed and waited some more. The lights in the kitchen were turned down, and other lights were put out until there was only one light left on at the far end of the bunkhouse. I figured there was a card game going on there, so they’d be minding what they were doing and not be out looking for prowlers.
Ethan stayed with the horses, and I went in to wake ‘em up. There was enough of a moon to make out the buildings, but that was about all I could see as I crept toward the back of that out building. I was careful to keep the building between me and the bunkhouse. Coming to the back of the shed, I worked my way around the side away from the bunkhouse and the house.
Reaching the front undetected, I was relatively invisible in this light. I would have been a sitting duck in the daylight, but it wasn’t daylight, and I was no more than just another shadow. I opened the door and slipped in, closing it behind me. The only window was on the side away from the house and looking out over miles of open ground. There was a small bed of coals glowing under the cooker. That was the only light.
Striking a match, I sat my bundle down behind the tank where it would do the most good. Then I took a quick inventory of what was in that shed. Over in one corner, I found a half dozen Winchesters, a few Spencers, and a gunny sack of hand guns. I took those all over and laid them next to my bundle. I saw three barrels, two were empty, but one was almost full of alcohol ready to be put into kegs. It looked like they were getting their stock ready for another trading trip. I was going to do my
best to delay that trip.
Some time ago, I’d found that some genius had started packing blasting powder in little one pound cans. All you had to do was poke a hole in the can and stuff a fuse in there. Then you light the fuse and run like hell. The general store only had half pound cans, which would work just as well. I used a ten foot fuse, but I was still goin’ to run like hell.
Opening the door just a crack, I ran that fuse as close to it as I could. Then I took another peek outside, hoping I wouldn’t see anyone coming out to add wood to the fire, or one of the card players coming down here to get a little snort. Standing there for a few seconds, I strained to see and hear… nothing was moving.
Striking another match, I touched it to the end of the fuse, which flared up and moved at what seemed to be a foot a second. I was out the door and around the shed in a flash, running for all I was worth. My big old long legs were churning faster and with more urgency that they ever had before. The creek bed was about a hundred and fifty yards ahead. All I could see was the dark outline of the trees and I wasn’t sure I was running to the right spot.
Thank Heavens that Claybrook had the brains to strike a match, giving me direction to where he waited with the horses. I was hoping with every step that I had run far enough. I knew that one of those little cans could rip up a stump, and a couple of them would go a long way towards opening a rock slide enough to get a herd through. But I had no idea what they would do when they were combined with all that alcohol.
As I slid over the bank and into that creek bed I turned around to look at the beauty of my art work… and waited. Nothing happened. I was going to have to go back….Damn!
“I gotta go back.” I told Ethan. “Something went wrong…. I’ll build a little brushfire on the back side of the shed and hope that it takes hold before anyone spots it.”
“You be careful, Ben. That thing could go up in your face…. Wait a bit longer to make sure everyone’s tucked in for the nigh……”
I didn’t hear the rest because of the BA-WHOOMP! That little can went off blowing the tank right through the roof and shattering most of the back wall. I doubted that the other walls were in much better shape. Sheet iron, stove pipe and all sorts of other debris started falling, and by that time, that barrel of grain alcohol was blowing and sending sheets of flame in all directions. It was one of the most glorious sights I had ever beheld. There were more colors than a Kansas sunset, and those can be pretty colorful.
Within half a minute the whole shed was a pile of burning alcohol and shattered timbers. The walls were gone, and what was left of the roof was the top of that pile and doing a fair impression of what to expect in hell. Those alcohol fueled flames had started numerous fires, and men were running around like ants trying to beat them out.
The fire crawling up the near wall of the barn was their main concern, so much so, that they hadn’t even noticed the piece of burning timber laying on the roof of the bunkhouse. They were so busy getting horses and gear out of the barn; they didn’t have time to worry about their home and their possessions.
After a bit they were able to get the worst of the brush fires out, and they’d organized a bucket brigade to keep the barn wall from catching the whole barn afire. Men were milling around, yelling and cussin’…. There was a lot of cussin’. Some had shovels and were putting out some of the remaining brush fires.
Someone yelled, “The bunkhouse… the bunkhouse is a blazin’!” The ants were running again. We watched for a few minutes, and decided it was time for us to make our way back to town. So we turned away to mount up and get out of there. I untied my nervous big gray horse, and was ready to step into the stirrup when I looked up.
There in the glow of the burning bunkhouse, sat a man on the opposite bank, with a rifle aimed in a way that he could get one of us before either of us could get into action. “You boys sure played hell here tonight…. Hope you got a good reason for what you just did, elsewise I’m just gonna put you in jail.”
“And what authority do you have to put us in jail,” Claybrook asked as he raised his hands, “other than that rifle, of course?”
“I got a Texas Ranger star on my vest, and if I was foolish enough to let you boys get close enough to see it…. you could.”
“In that case, you definitely do have the authority, but you may not want to.” Ethan unbuckled his gunbelt and lowered it to the ground. Then he turned around and walked backwards to the ranger keeping himself in the line of fire between me and the man with the rifle. “Ranger, if you will reach into my left hip pocket there’s a small leather pouch that will explain why you don’t want to put us in jail.”
“Mister, that pouch better not be full of money ‘cause I’m likely to shoot you for trying to bribe a ranger.” He pulled out the leather packet and flipped it open. What would be your name?” he asked.
“Claybrook… Ethan Claybrook, US Marshal’s office out of Amarillo…. And my friend over here is Special Deputy Marshal Ben Blue from Taos, New Mexico.”
“Well, let’s get the hell out of here, before them fellas spot us.” said the ranger.
We were out of that creek bed and on the far side of the ridge in a matter of minutes. The ranger, whose name turned out to be George Branchard aka Branch, told us, “I didn’t want to ride into town in the middle of the night, so I was just gettin’ ready to build a fire when I saw you fellas. I never saw such a suspicious pair in my life, so I just follered along.”
“I for one am damned glad to see you, Branch, I was afraid that Ben and I were gonna have to take on that whole crowd. I wasn’t much worried, but friend, Blue here doesn’t like to take chances.” Claybrook said with a wry grin.
“You that bounty hunter that used to run with Hickory Jack Moore?” The ranger asked.
“That was a long time ago… Branch, Andy Moore was my adopted brother and we weren’t huntin’ bounties, they just kept givin’ ‘em to us. We were huntin’ a pack of killers.”
“You boys never had any paper on you, but we knew your names… but like you say, that was a long time ago.”
Claybrook told Branchard what we knew so far. “We’re pretty certain that the hit and run raiders are based out of this ranch, and they seem to be mainly interested in guns and anything they can carry off that can be converted to money. They’re trading the guns to some Comanche renegades and making their own whiskey also. Well, they were until Ben blew their still up tonight.”
“Our plan is to keep them busy till we can thin them out a bit, there’s about a dozen of ‘em or maybe more.” I said. “You suppose there will be any more rangers comin’?”
“There’ll be three more comin’ up from Hale County. We’d just finished up some business, and I was free to go when we got orders to come up here, but the others had to wait a day or two. They have to testify at the trial. They won’t have to wait for the hangin’.”
“Good, now here’s how we’re goin’ to have to play it… Why don’t you ride on back down the trail a bit and meet up with the others. Take off all your badges and drift into town by ones and twos.” When you get settled in, look up this big red headed fella, Ben Blue. Most folks know him by now. I think things are about to get real lively around here.”
Chapter 14
The next morning at breakfast, the fire at the Chambers’ ranch was all that anyone was talking about. It seems that the cook overloaded the fire pit in the smokehouse, and it got out of control. It burned up half the barn and bunkhouse. No one at the table had even noticed those fierce winds the night before.
“It must have come up pretty late… I sure didn’t hear anything… but I sleep pretty sound… Clear conscience, don’t you know… Haw, haw, haw.” One of the other guests said, laughing at his own joke.
After breakfast, I met with Ethan and we took a walk up the street to have ourselves a little pow wow. “I figure there were about eight men out there workin’ on that fire last night. Plus there were probably a couple that I missed in the countin’.” I told hi
m. “That means there’s a pretty full crew on hand.”
“And?”
“And we pretty much wiped out their inventory last night. They’re bound to be sending another party out to restock. I’m thinking, about thinning the herd. If they send out five or six men to gather more guns and what not, that’ll leave five or six back at the ranch. That’s a manageable number.”
“I like what you’re saying, Ben, but why don’t we look at it from another angle? Why don’t we trail those who leave and catch them in the act? If we could take some prisoners, and had a few witnesses, we’d have everything we’d need to shut the rest of them down.”
“Makes as much sense as the other way… and we might keep some traveler from getting holes in his hide.” I told him.
We worked out a plan to keep watch for a group of riders heading north and west, since that was the direction they seemed to be working. I located a ridge a little north of the ranch, where a watcher could keep track of any party of riders leaving the ranch. It was too far away to see any details, but we didn’t need details. I would take the mornings and Claybrook would take the afternoon shift.
The following day, the rangers started drifting into town as two singles and a pair. The pair, Millburn and Jenkins, set up a camp outside of town, Branchard took a room at the boarding house, and Carson got a room at the hotel. We split up the watch on the ranch. On the third day after blowing up the still Millburn came riding up to the boarding house looking for one of us. He found three of us.
“They just rode out,” he said, “six men and a pack horse… headin’ northwest. They shouldn’t be too hard to track.”
“We’ll get Carson and some supplies, and meet you at your camp just after first light tomorrow. Ethan told him.
I paid up Mrs. Clancy and told her that if I wasn’t back in three days to dump my stuff in Sam’s room.