“You can count on us,” Pat said. “The wagon people will tell of the three of us coming to their rescue, so everyone will know that we ride together. We can talk freely in public, but not of the ranch. As far as everyone knows, we are just mountain men waiting to go back into the mountains to trap beaver.”
* * *
The people in the wagon train were excited as they wound their way down a well-worn road through the western slopes of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains into the pueblo of Santa Fe, New Mexico.
A lodging house large enough to accommodate many people was visible, but the wagon master guided them to the banks of the Santa Fe where they had access to the river. The valley was lush and green. The river would provide water and, just as important, grass for the animals. The travelers set up camp about half hour out of the pueblo where neither they nor their animals would be cramped or crowded.
The campsite had been used many times; it had corrals for the animals and houses for the people. The land belonged to Señor Mendoza, and they paid him a fee for the use of the houses. The houses were called adobes because they had been built from straw and mud. The appearance of the mud houses dismayed the eastern women when they first saw them, but they found the dwellings were more than adequate. They were warm in the winter and cool in the summer. Fireplaces heated them, and they cooked their food in pots hanging from iron hangers over an open fire and baked their bread in earthen ovens.
The Mexicans made of a mixture of cornmeal and flour and called it tortillas. The eastern women found it difficult to adjust, but in time, they managed quite well. The windows had no glass. They lit their homes with oil lamps or candles. Their children played with the Mexican children in the dirt courtyards and quickly learned to speak their language. The adults learned the language from their children.
Catholic priests welcomed them to attend religious services, and some of them did. Most of the time, they held their own services in their homes. The Mexicans had few opportunities to earn pesos, so their labor was cheap. The people quickly learned to exchange dollars for pesos. Businessmen in Santa Fe made a profit from these exchanges.
Some of the people liked their life in Santa Fe so well that they decided to stay and not continue across the great desert to California. They were told that the California Trail was arduous, and many travelers died along the rugged trail. It was not a journey for the weak at heart, but the reward was great for those who reached California. The land in the valleys of California was fertile, the climate mild, and life could be wonderful.
* * *
Sage and his friends found lodging in Santa Fe and placed their horses in the care of the stable master. The stable was close by, so they could get their horses whenever they needed them. Sage paid the stable owner to keep their horses ready. One of Sage’s gold coins was exchanged for enough pesos to last all three of them for several months. Pat made the exchange for pesos with a man he knew he could trust—a man who would not divulge the source of the gold. Pat and Joe had money from the sale of their firs, but since they were helping him, Sage paid for everything.
They purchased the best garments they could find. Sage looked dashing in his, but he had to adjust to wearing boots. They felt heavy and cumbersome. He changed back to his buckskin and moccasins when he went into the mountains.
Pat and Joe led Sage on exploring trips. They traveled north to the thriving pueblo of Taos, and south to the sleepy little settlement of Albuquerque. They rode wide sweeps through the land both east and west of the Rio Grande. They explored El Rancho Diego, taking care not to allow it to be known why they were riding the range, or to give anyone reason to question their purpose. The Diego Ranch covered a large area indeed. The cattle and sheep were in poor condition. It was obvious the ranch was having trouble.
Now that they knew the land and the animals, they would discreetly get to know the people—the ones who managed the ranch and the ones who worked it. They attended the places where the vaqueros and the miners went to drink. They also went to the high-quality establishments where the owners and managers went to dine.
These places were gaily lighted and decorated, with bands playing Mexican and Spanish music. Attractive young Mexican women sang, danced, and entertained. Sage, Pat, and Joe had no shortage of money, so they dressed to fit the occasions.
* * *
One night, while they were dining in one of these finer cantinas, three men and two beautiful women came in. The owner escorted them to a very special table, and treated them as important guests. The señorita was a woman of astonishing beauty. She was, without a doubt, a woman of high breeding. Her hair was long, straight, and black as the night; the lights of the cantina reflected in its luster. Her nose was high and well shaped. Her eyes were dark brown, large, soft, and expressive. Her breasts were not large, but they were high and full. She wore a black, tight-fitted skirt that accentuated her small waist and round hips. The skirt hung to just below her knees and exposed her long, shapely legs. Her walk was regal. She wore high-topped, shiny boots. She was magnificent. She looked neither left nor right, but Sage was sure that she was seeing everything. Sage took careful notice of the other people in her party.
Pat spoke up. “That’s Señorita Juanita Montoya Diego, the granddaughter of Señor Don Diego, and she’s the owner of the largest ranch in New Mexico. Correction, half-owner.”
“You mean that’s my partner?” Sage asked. “That’s the woman Don Diego asked my father to help? I had no idea she was so beautiful. This obligation may not be as troublesome as I thought. But how can I tell her that she’s only half-owner of her ranch? She’s bound to question my motives. Now that I’ve seen her, I have no idea how tell her who I am, and why I’m here. I’m sure glad I have the letter from her grandfather.”
“The tall, thin man on her left is her uncle,” Pat continued. “His name is Jose Alvarez. He is the half-brother of Señor Francisco Diego, Juanita’s father. Alvarez is a child of Don Antonio Diego’s first wife. She was first married to a man named Alvarez in Mexico City; they had one son, Jose Alvarez. His father died when he was about six. Don Antonio married his mother, and Jose has always resented his stepfather. Some say he feels that he should have been the heir to the ranch. But it went to Juanita’s father, Francisco. Francisco and his wife, Juanita’s mother, were killed by Apaches while on a journey to Mexico City. The land then passed on to Juanita. Jose manages the ranch, but he’s not managing it well. The bills are piling up, and the señorita is in danger of losing everything.”
“He looks like a capable man. Why is he allowing Juanita to lose the ranch?” Sage asked.
“I don’t know,” Pat answered, “but that’s what we’ve got to find out. The two men with them are the foremen of the ranch. The ranch is engaged in two ventures: one is raising cattle, and the other is mining gold and silver. The older, gray-haired Mexican is in charge of the cattle operations. I know him. He’s a good man. His name is Carlos Viejo, a long-time friend and employee of the Diego family. The other woman is Carlos’s wife. The other foreman is Pedro Vacca. He’s in charge of the mining. He has a bad reputation. Alvarez brought him here from Mexico. The miners don’t like him. They’re afraid of him because they say he’s cruel and mean. Several miners have died since he’s been managing the mines. As you can see, you have your work cut out for you.”
Pat continued. “The cattle operation isn’t profitable right now because rustlers are stealing the herd. The ranch doesn’t have enough money to hire and maintain enough vaqueros to move the herd to the high meadows in the summer, and then drive them back to the rich grassland along the river in the winter. There have been attempts to kill Carlos Viejo. Someone fired at him from ambush. The miners say they’re bringing out some high-grade ore, but the records don’t indicate that. The records indicate that they’re selling only small amounts of gold and silver.”
Sage asked, “Do you think someone might be rat-holing the rest?”
“It’s a reasonable conclusion, and it�
�s worth looking into,” Pat answered.
Sage studied the faces of the men at the table, and his eyes kept wandering to the black-haired young woman. She sensed him looking at her; their eyes met and held for just an instant, and then she looked away.
“If you’re finished with your drinks,” Sage said, “let’s get outta here.” They walked out into the brisk, cool night. “Pat, you seem to know a lot of people. Could you take me to a cantina where I can sit among the common people? I want to get to know them, and I want to learn their language as quickly as possible.”
“Sure. Let’s go to Margarita’s Cantina. They serve food and drinks, and there’s always a crowd there. You’ll meet the local people, and I think you’ll have a good time.”
Margarita’s Cantina was jumping. Men from all over the frontier were there drinking and talking. Mountain men, miners, cattlemen, Indians, Mexicans, and even people from the wagon train were there. The wagon master, with a Spanish couple, invited Sage and the two mountain men to join them. Many men wanted to buy drinks for Pat and Joe—everybody seemed to know them.
Grant Davis, the wagon master, introduced them to his friends and asked, “Would you like a drink? Tequila is the drink of choice here.”
Maggie, the owner, came by, gave Pat and Joe a big hug, and said, “The first drink is on me. I heard you fellows had a little trouble on the trail.”
Joe winked at the wagon master and said, “Nah, just a little skirmish.” Looking at Sage, he said, “This young man invited us to a real party. We had enough Indians around to start a new tribe. He invited us to join him under his sagebrush. That’s why we call him Sage.”
Maggie said, “So this is the wild man I’ve heard about. He sounds like a good man to have around in a scrap.” Looking at Sage, she said, “I’d consider it an honor if you’d let me buy you a drink.”
“Thank you; I’ll accept,” Sage smiled. “I’m not sure I’ll know what to do with an alcoholic drink, but I’m willing to learn if the effect is not too sudden.”
“We’ll keep it slowed down for you,” Maggie replied. “We don’t get too many beginners in here.”
Everybody had a good-natured laugh.
A prospector came staggering up to the table. “Yeah, I’ve heard about this wild man,” he said in a drunken slur. “If he’ll stand up, I’d like to introduce him to the place.”
Sage started to get up, but Pat put his hand on his shoulder, indicating he wanted Sage to remain seated.
“Listen, rooster,” Pat said to the drunken miner. “My advice to you is to find yourself a place to hunker down. This young fellow will trim your tail feathers if you mess with him.”
The drunk turned around and left. Everyone in the room knew Pat Connors and Joe Martin; no man in his right mind would challenge either of them.
“Thanks, Pat,” Sage murmured. “I’m not looking for trouble.”
“I know you’re not,” Pat replied. “I wasn’t doing you a favor; I was doing that drunken prospector a favor.”
Grant Davis said, “If he ever saw this young man in action, like I saw him in action, he would give him a wide path.”
The man with the wagon master smiled. “Now, let’s have that drink,” he said.
Joe said, “Sage, when you get a reputation, there’s always some damn fool who wants to challenge you. If they’re drunk, avoid them. If they’re not drunk, put them down hard, and they won’t be so anxious to try you next time.”
“Sounds like good counsel. I’ll remember it.” Sage just sipped his tequila, not knowing what to expect of the drink. He listened carefully to the talk, picking up words and expressions quickly. Everyone was amazed at how fast he was learning the language.
After a couple of hours, Sage had finished his second drink. He said to Pat and Joe, “Let’s get back to our hotel; we’ve got a big day tomorrow.”
On the way back, Sage said, “I want to take a look at that mine tomorrow, so I can get the lay of the land. I have a feeling that’s where the trouble is coming from. I want to learn as much about that mine as I can, without entering it.”
Joe replied, “Okay, the mine is on the west slope of the Sangre de Cristo Range. We can ride out there in a few hours, but they won’t let us in unless you tell them you’re part owner, and they won’t believe you even if you tell them.”
“I don’t want to go into the mine,” Sage explained. “I don’t want anyone to know we’re there. I just want to get the lay of the land. I want to know what we’ll be up against should we want to look in.”
* * *
They got up early as usual. Sage and Joe had breakfast and then started up the valley to explore the land around the mine. The morning was cool and crisp, with frost on the grass. In the distance, magnificent mountain peaks stood white with snow, silhouetted against a clear, blue sky. It looked as though there had been a quick sweep of an artist’s brush across a canvas of pale blue. The high, thin clouds over the Sangre de Cristo reflected the light of the rising sun leaving streaks of white, pink, and gold. The semiarid land didn’t have as many animals and trees as his prairie home, but the magnificence was like a balm to his soul. Sage understood why those who had spent time here were reluctant to leave.
Pat had been to the mine before and didn’t go with Sage and Joe. Instead, he went to Margarita’s Cantina to talk to some of the men who worked at the mine and get a sample of the ore they were taking out. He would have to know the quality of the ore in order to determine if the amount of gold being produced agreed with the quality of the ore. Pat and Ed had been mountain men together for many years. When Ed and Maggie got married, Ed settled down and became a miner. So Pat also did some prospecting and had a working knowledge of mining. However, Ed was killed in a cave-in, and after he died, Maggie opened the cantina. Her customers came from all over the western range—there wasn’t much going on in the Rio Grande Valley that she didn’t know about.
Pat walked into the cantina and called out, “Maggie, fix me some breakfast; I’m starving.”
The cook yelled, “Coming right up.”
Maggie called back, “No, Tony, I’ll cook for this customer. I know how he likes his eggs.”
“I can’t compete with that,” Tony chuckled.
Maggie brought Pat a breakfast of steak and eggs, tortillas, and coffee, placed it on the table and sat down beside him. “Now, what else do you want? You didn’t come in here just for eggs.”
Pat smiled and said, “You know me too well, Maggie.”
She patted him on the leg closest to her, smiled, and said, “Yeah, I know you, but not as well as I’d like to. Don’t you think you should give up climbing those damn mountains and help me keep order in this cantina? It gets a little rowdy in here at times.”
“A little rowdy, you say? I think climbing mountains is easier and a damn sight safer.” The smile left his face when he asked, “Maggie, what do you know about the Diego mines?”
“I don’t really know anything, Pat; I just overhear talk by some of the men who work there. They’re wondering why the bullion is being stored in one of the old mineshafts. It seems strange to them. Vacca keeps two armed guards on duty all the time. They say he could save himself some labor costs if he would just sell it down river like they used to. Are you onto something?”
“Nah, I’m just trying to help a friend.”
Maggie asked, “Is it that young man of the prairie? I was thinking there was something strange about him. He’s not a mountain man, but he sure has the savvy to become one. Is he as good as they say?”
Pat replied, “He’s a fine young man, Maggie. And he’s damn sure no one to cross if he doesn’t want to be crossed.”
“He’s a handsome fellow. All of the girls are competing to see which one can get him in bed first.”
“He’s a live one, all right, but he’s been hurt, Maggie, and getting him in a whore’s bed will take some doing. Tell them they’d better not count on it. This young man is from quality stock.”
; “That’ll just make ’them want him more.”
“Well, you tell them good luck. It won’t hurt him any, I guess, and it might even help him.” He chuckled. “Thanks Maggie. That was a good breakfast, and thanks for the information about what the miners are saying.” Looking around, Pat asked, “Do you know if any of these men work at the Diego mine?”
“Yeah, those two over there in the corner work at the Diego.”
“Tell them you’ll give them free breakfast for a week if they’ll bring you a couple of samples of ore from the mine. Here’s $20 to cover the cost of their breakfasts.”
Maggie exclaimed, “My goodness, Pat, I could feed them for a month for $20!”
“Will you do it for me?” Pat asked.
“Sure, they’d be glad to bring me samples of ore in exchange for free breakfasts for a week. What if they want to know why I want the ore?”
“Just tell them one of the people from the wagon train wants to see what gold ore looks like, and they’re willing to pay for a chance to look at it. If they ask who, tell them the man’s name is Grant Davis. I’ll set it up with Grant. Tell them you need it by tomorrow morning.”
“Okay, you got it. That’s a strange request, Pat. Do you want to tell me what this is all about?”
“Nah, I’m just curious.”
“But you don’t want me to tell anyone how curious, right?”
“Right! Thanks again, Maggie. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
“I’ll be looking forward to it. If you ever want more than breakfast, let me know.”
“I’m glad I have you for a friend, Maggie, and you never know what time may bring. Ye just never know.”
* * *
Joe and Sage had ridden for about an hour when Joe said, “The mine is another mile up that canyon on the north side of the draw.”
Sage said, “We’d better tie the horses here and walk the rest of the way. Let’s go up this side, so we can stay out of sight until we can get close enough to get a good look.”
They crept to the top of the ridge and looked down at the mine entrance. Two guards carrying rifles, with pistols in their belts, were standing near the entrance.
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