Along the Trail to Freedom

by John Duncklee

  "They gave me more because they felt guilty paying you off."

  "Well, Mike, if it's all right, I'll get a night's sleep and head out in the morning after breakfast."

  "That's fine with me, Billy. I won't be at breakfast because I have to ride out early to see about paying off a man in Vail. So, I'll have to say good-bye now and wish you well. Let me know where you end up and I might come asking you for a job."

  They shook hands. Billy saw Mike's eyes get a bit misty before he turned and went to his small foreman's house next to the large, sprawling ranch house.

  The following morning, Billy saddled the grey and mounted without looking back at what he had thought would have been his home forever.

  Chapter Nine

  Homer Crane rode his newly acquired sorrel gelding up to the hitch rail in front of Cantina Suarez in the mining town of Mammoth. Before dismounting he took the dodger out of his jacket pocket, unfolded it and glanced again at the faded photograph of Loren Dooley, a man with a mean look on his face. The picture showed his open mouth with several teeth missing in front, both upper and lower. He was hatless, and had a thick mop of black hair with a two weeks growth of black whiskers covering his face. The dodger announced that Dooley was wanted for murder and robbery of the Solomonville Bank and the bank was offering a $1000 reward for his capture, dead or alive. Homer re-folded the dodger and stuffed it back into his jacket pocket.

  He had ridden into Mammoth the afternoon before. After setting up his camp close to the San Pedro River, he had gone into the town to ask questions of the mostly Mexican populace. He asked if anyone had seen or heard about Dooley being in town recently. For the most part blank faces stared at him when he asked questions. He figured that the people who owned those faces spoke little or no English. However, after approaching an old man sitting on his front porch on a chair with a wooden doweled back, he asked again about Loren Dooley.

  "He stays with his sister who is married to Pedro Gomez, but you will probably find him at Cantina Suarez," the old man said. "Do you know where that is?"

  "Thanks," Homer said. "I saw Cantina Suarez on my way into town."

  With that information so easily gotten from the unsuspecting old man, Homer returned to his camp. He decided that it would be best to wait until the following day to make his attempt at capturing the bank robber rather than making a move toward him at his sister's house. This was to avoid anyone else getting hurt or killed should there be a gunfight in the process of subduing his target.

  Homer felt confident that his mission at hand would be successful because since he had chosen to become a bounty hunter he had captured two fugitives and had earned close to a thousand dollars, part of which he had spent on the sorrel gelding that had proven to be an excellent saddle horse. There were four horses standing hip shot in front of Cantina Suarez. He dismounted and gave the reins a single wrap around the hitch rail. Patting his Navy Colt with his right hand, he made sure it was in place. He stepped to the door and opened it. Stepping inside the bar room, he glanced around quickly to see what the inside looked like and who might be familiar among the customers. There were four men standing at the bar; three Mexican cowboys and another man. From the rear the other man looked like he could be Loren Dooley. He had thick black hair with specks of gray hanging down the back of his neck. He wore a sweated up brown felt hat with the horsehair hatband. Homer made his way to the bar and stood waiting for the bartender to approach. When the Mexican wearing a stained and wrinkled apron came up to where he stood, Homer ordered tequila. The bartender turned around to the row of bottles on the shelf under the large mirror, took one and removed the cork. Then he grabbed a ceramic shot cup, turned and placed the cup on the bar in front of Homer and poured it full with the clear liquid from the bottle. Homer put several coins on the bar, lifted the cup, and drained it into his mouth. As he put the cup back down on the bar he glanced into the mirror quickly and saw what he had been looking for, a mean looking face with the same length of whiskers and strands of gray in the otherwise near jet black hair. The man fit the picture on the dodger, but it was obvious to Homer that the picture on the dodger was an old one taken before the man's hair had started to gray.

  The bartender looked at Homer with the question in his eyes if Homer wanted a refill in the cup. "Buy these men a round," Homer said, looking straight ahead.

  The bartender scurried over to the shelf, grabbed the bottle of tequila, and stepped over to fill the shot cups. One of the cowboys took his cup and tossed the remnants into his mouth before the bartender filled it. After refilling all the shot cups the bartender returned to Homer and asked if he wanted another drink. Homer nodded and the man tipped the bottle up and filled Homer's shot cup. The four men at the bar lifted their cups and in a chorus said, "Salud!" Homer lifted his cup and looked over at them. He gestured with his shot cup and then drank the tequila in a single gulp.

  Homer could see that the cowboys were not acquainted with Dooley because Dooley stood apart from them at the bar. Homer decided that it was time to make his move. He pushed himself away from the bar, and with his shot cup in his left hand, walked casually over to stand next to the man he was sure was Loren Dooley. Homer put his shot cup down on the bar. Dooley motioned to the bartender to refill Homer's cup. The bartender hurried over with the tequila bottle and poured the cup full again. Homer turned to Dooley. "Thanks, Mister Dooley," Homer said.

  "I don't think I know you," Dooley said. "How come you know my name?"

  Quickly, Homer pulled his Colt from its holster, leveling it at Dooley's side. With his left hand Homer dug out the dodger and dropped it on the bar. "Open that dodger up and you'll see your picture on it," Homer said. "I'll be taking you into the Sheriff in Tucson. I'm a bounty hunter."

  Dooley glared at Homer with the meanest look Homer had ever seen on a man's face. "You think you will get to Tucson with me?" Homer said. "You'll be lucky if you get me out this door."

  "We'll see about that, Mister Dooley," Homer said. "Put your weapon on the bar and start walking. Don't stop until you are outside. Then stop and don't turn around or I might have to waste ammunition."

  Dooley pulled his revolver from its holster, put it on the bar and started for the door to Cantina Suarez. Homer grabbed the still folded dodger and Dooley's revolver and followed him with the Colt no more than two feet from his back. Once outside Homer ordered Dooley to face the outside wall of the cantina. Then Homer told Dooley to put his hands behind his back close together. That done, Homer reached into the back pocket on his Levis and took out a pair of Bean Patrolman handcuffs as he held the Colt in his left hand. "Mister Dooley, I must warn you that you need to stay just as you are while I put these cuffs on you or I will do whatever I find necessary to make sure you don't get away from me."

  Dooley grunted, but did not move. Homer, still holding his Colt in his left hand, put the handcuffs on Dooley's wrists. "Now, Mister Dooley, go over to your horse and mount while I hold the reins."

  Dooley obeyed. He had some trouble mounting with his hands cuffed behind his back, and almost fell over the right side. Once Homer was satisfied that his prisoner was seated in his saddle, Homer led the horse over to where his sorrel stood patiently. He unwrapped the reins from the hitch rail, arranged them for mounting and then mounted the horse without dropping the reins by which he would lead Dooley's horse toward Tucson.

  Relieved that he had accomplished the capture, Homer began the journey leading his prize. He didn't bother to break and pack up his camp because he didn't want any distractions or possibilities for Loren Dooley to escape his control. He chose to travel the main trail over the foothills of the Catalina Mountains and down Cañon del Oro rather than following the San Pedro River because he knew of a ranch along the Cañon del Oro where he could spend the night and be able to lock up his prisoner securely in a room connected to a barn. The rancher had invited him to use the building whenever he needed it. That was after he had captured his first robber by one of the rancher's water
holes.

  They were finally over the foothills that extended from the San Pedro upslope to some small mining claim twelve miles west of Mammoth. Neither Homer nor Dooley spoke until they were halfway up the steep trail. It was Dooley who broke the silence calling forward, "How the hell did you find me, Bounty Hunter?"

  Homer turned his head to the rear. "I have some contacts that figured you might hole up with your sister. So, that's where I started."

  "Who are these contacts of yours?"

  "I am not at liberty to say, Mister Dooley," Homer said. "But it looks to me like they knew what they were talking about."

  Dooley grunted.

  Arriving at the Bowstring Ranch close to dark, Homer took advantage of the rancher's hospitality, locked Dooley safely away and went to the main house for a supper of beefsteak and beans. The rancher offered to feed the prisoner as well, so Homer took Dooley a plate to the makeshift cell, uncuffed him, and waited until Dooley had finished before putting the cuffs back on his wrists, and returning to the main house. A short time later, Homer retired to the barn where he slept in the hay as soundly as he had ever slept in his lifetime. The entire day had tired him considerably in spite of his comparative youth.

  As soon as he had awakened to early morning light Homer went immediately to the room where he had left Dooley the night before. He opened the door and found his prisoner sitting with his back against a wall.

  "How do you expect me to sleep with these damned handcuffs on my wrists?" Dooley asked.

  "I never tried that myself," Homer said. "But I'll bet it wouldn't be easy."

  Homer locked the door again and went to the main house for breakfast. When he was ready to leave he handed the rancher a gold coin for his trouble.

  "Naw," the rancher said. "I'm happy to be here for you. If it wasn't for you bounty hunters these jaspers would be free to do as they please."

  Homer brought Dooley a plate of food and waited for him to finish. The rancher came out to the barn offering his help to get Dooley mounted and back on the trail. Homer let him hold the reins, but made Dooley get into the saddle as best he could with the handcuffs binding his wrists.

  "Much obliged," Homer said to the rancher. "If I see you in Tucson, I'll buy you a drink."

  "That would be a pleasure, Mister Crane. I'll look for you."

  The Cañon del Oro carried an ample stream of water from which both horses drank deeply after the strenuous climb up the foothills on the other side of the mountains. From time to time Dooley rattled on about his life beginning in Missouri and how he got to Arizona driving a team of mules for a man who sold hardware. By the time they neared the outskirts of Tucson, Homer had learned a lot about Loren Dooley without having to reveal anything about his own history.

  Arriving at the office of the Sheriff of Pima County, Homer escorted Dooley inside and within a few minutes, the Sheriff, a tall slender man with a white mustache and angular face, came out from the rear of the office spaces and congratulated Homer on his capture of Loren Dooley. He ordered two of his deputies to take charge of the prisoner and make sure he was locked in a cell. Homer handed one of the deputies the key to the handcuffs. Within an hour, the Sheriff had done all the paperwork involved with getting the reward to Homer as soon as possible from the Bank of Solomonville near Safford. The Sheriff informed Homer that he could probably expect payment within two weeks at the most. He also said that if Homer wanted his reward sooner he could go to Solomonville with the Sheriff's warrant and he would be accommodated promptly.

  Homer decided that a long ride to Solomonville, while worth the time, would not be necessary because he still had plenty of funds to live on while he waited. The deputy came into the office and handed Homer his handcuffs and the key. Before getting up from his chair to leave the Sheriff's office Homer spotted a small stack of dodgers on the Sheriff's desk. He reached over to the stack and asked, "Do you mind if I take a look at these?"

  "Help yourself," the Sheriff said. "Feel free to take any you might be interested in. I have duplicates of all of them."

  "Thank you, Sheriff," Homer said. "If you don't mind, I would like to take them all and have a good look when I get to my hotel room."

  "That is fine with me. I just hope you can find some of those jaspers and bring them in like you did Dooley."

  Homer straightened the stack of dodgers, put them all under his arm and shook the Sheriff's hand. "Dooley's horse is outside," Homer said.

  "You can have his horse if you want," the Sheriff said.

  "No thanks," Homer said. "That would be one more mouth to feed, and I don't need that."

  Chapter Ten

  Billy rode for two days arriving at Hacienda De La Canoa in the early afternoon on the second day out from the Empire Ranch. The ranch dogs came barking and running out of the barnyard to meet him. He spotted three cowboys leading their horses toward a large corral situated fifty yards from the large adobe barn. The ranch dogs followed him as he rode toward the men. He reined up and waited for them to turn loose their horses and leave the corral. They were Mexican cowboys and by the way they walked away from him, Billy knew that they probably did not speak much English. Nevertheless, he asked them where he could find the foreman.

  One of the cowboys looked up at Billy, stopped walking, and pointed to an adobe house that was on the other side of the barnyard from the adobe barn. "Por allá," the man said. "Over there."

  "Gracias," Billy said, and reined his horse toward the house. He dismounted at the hitch rail in front of the small yard fenced in by mesquite poles. Before he could enter the yard, a man came out of the door with a coffee cup in his hand. He, too, like the cowboys, was Mexican.

  "Can I help you?" the man asked in accented English.

  Billy put his hand on the gate opening into the yard. "I am looking for work," he said.

  "I cannot help you with work," the foreman said. "The Canoa has a full crew."

  Billy felt a little disappointed that the first ranch he had asked about work had no room for him. He wondered how many ranches had full crews. He lifted his right arm, waved slightly, and mounted his horse again. The Canoa headquarters was close to the road. Billy turned south and proceeded a little way to a building adjoined by corrals that held several horses. He tied the gray to the hitch rail and went to the door. A short man wearing a bowler hat answered Billy's knock. The hat seemed appropriate atop his round body. The man wore a handlebar mustache.

  "What can I do for you?" the man asked.

  "I'm looking for the Rancho Sopori," Billy said.

  "Just follow the Camino Real south until you see a wagon road going west. Take that wagon road about five miles and you will see the Sopori ranch road turning off to the south. The headquarters is across the arroyo."

  "Thanks," Billy said, and went back to mount the gray again. He didn't want to ask the man anything more. He wanted to talk to whoever was in charge of hiring cowboys for Rancho Sopori.

  He found the Sopori headquarters without any trouble. He met Hernán Soto, the foreman for the ranch and asked if he could be a Sopori cowboy.

  "You came around at just the right time," Soto said. "Gilberto Baca, one of the vaqueros got rolled on by a mean horse and broke both legs. He won't be working horseback for quite a while. You can have his bunk and begin work tomorrow."

  Soto took out a small pad of paper and pencil from his shirt pocket. "What is your name?"

  "Billy Peabody," Billy said.

  "Here," Soto said. "You write it down on this paper. I have to give your name to Señor Elias, the owner."

  Billy took the pad and pencil, wrote his name down and handed the pad and pencil back to the foreman, and thanked him.

  Billy walked over to the corrals and stood looking over the estacada fence made from mesquite laid horizontally between two side-by-side posts sunk deeply in the ground. The men inside the corrals were roping, ear-marking and branding calves. Billy had seen this operation many times at the Empire. He hoped he would somehow fit in with
the Sopori crew. His eyes were focused completely on the activities inside the corral so he didn't notice the girl ride up behind him and rein in her horse, a beautiful sorrel with a star on its forehead.

  "Are you the new man?" she asked.

  Billy whirled around to see where the musical voice came from. He stood speechless looking at the girl as she sat on the sorrel, a twinkle in her eyes.

  "I'm Billy Peabody," he said. "I'm the new man. I just got here today."

  "I am María Elinora Elias. Welcome to Rancho Sopori."

  "Thank you. M'am. It's a pleasure meetin' you."

  Billy stood looking at the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. He didn't see the man on horseback riding toward them until he spoke. "María, I think it is time for you to go to the stables and put up your horse. Your mother would like to talk with you," the man said.

  The man turned toward Billy. "Are you the new man?" he asked.

  "Yessir, I'm Billy Peabody."

  "I am Juan Elias. I own Rancho Sopori, so you are working with me."

  "Pleasure meeting you, Mister Elias," Billy said.

  "You might see if you can help the men working the cattle in the corrals."

  "Yessir," Billy said, and walked quickly to the gate and opened it. He was glad that he had escaped any further conversation with the owner of the ranch, but he was sorry that María Elinora had been ordered to go away.

  As he looked in at the other men working he couldn't forget María's face that seemed etched from alabaster and full of life and bubbling over with joy. He still pictured the twinkle in her eyes separated by her thin smoothly sculptured nose. He wondered what her black hair with the deep reddish tinge would look like falling off her shoulders instead of done up in the long braid that fell almost to the cantle of her saddle. He found himself tingling as he thought about her in his arms kissing one another with the passion of their youth.

  He walked over to where the men were branding a calf as its mother, a large brindle with white spots looked on shaking her head and snorting. Billy stood watching the operation, waiting until he could help with the work at hand, when a cowboy with his reata shook out in a broad loop swung it at the next calf. He watched the roper swing the loop and catch the big heifer calf around her neck and wrap the reata around the saddle horn several times before dragging the balking animal to within six feet of the fire. Billy stepped out toward the calf, following the reata with his left hand on it until he got to the calf's head. Then he jumped to the calf's side, put his left hand down in front of the foreleg and grabbed hair and hide as best he could. With his right hand he grabbed the right flank of the calf and lifted the animal up slightly until he could flip the heifer so that on the way to the corral floor it would land on its right side.