Vigilance Committee War

by Bill Sheehy

  Buck shook his head. ‘Afraid not. Not by name, anyhow. We have learned a few things, though. Bits and pieces of things. I figure we get a few more and we’ll have something to work with. But for now, nothing taking us to naming any of them.’

  ‘So what can I help you with then? Didn’t the youngster tell you all about what he’d found?’

  ‘Oh, yeah,’ said Buck, ‘he told us all about it there in town. The sheriff and a couple other men heard too. Then the three of us rode out to where he’d made his grisly discovery. Left the body for the undertaker to take care of. Sheriff McDonald said he thought he could get the business owners to share the cost of burying the man.’

  ‘Yeah, guess Smokey thought I’d want to plant him up in the ranch burying ground. But I thought it was better to take him into town.’

  ‘No, what we wanted to do was get to know a bit more about Smokey. Young – but from what he said we got the idea he was a good hand. Said he’d hired on only a few years ago.’

  Jacobson nodded. ‘Yeah. Came riding in one morning. Green as grass, he was. Knew how to sit a saddle but didn’t know beans about cattle. I put him onto working with another fella, Ivan Espinosa. Another youngster. His pa was a German settler from down around the border country. Ma was Mexican. Anyway Ivan has a good touch with our riding stock. Smokey, he was known as Horace Grant then. Changed his name one day after buying a six-gun in a slick holster. Ah, the pie!’ he exclaimed as Mirella brought out the sweet-smelling pie, forks and plates.

  All talk ceased as the three men ate large pieces of the still-warm apple pie. Washing it down with more coffee, they sat back satisfied.

  ‘Now that,’ said Louie wiping a crumb from his lower lip, ‘was enough to make me think about changing jobs. But then if I was to have as much as I’d like, for sure I’d get too big for any horse to carry me. That was a wonderful treat. She ducked back into the house before I could tell her how great it was. Let her know, will you?’

  Jacobson chuckled proudly. ‘I sure will. And you’re right. Getting fat here is a worry, what with Mirella’s cooking.’

  Nothing was said for a moment, then the rancher nodded. ‘Yeah, soon as he strapped on that fancy gun rig he somehow changed. Don’t know what it was, but, well, it was like he suddenly grew up. Only,’ he hesitated, ‘he didn’t really. You know what I mean?’

  ‘What was there about the six-gun that caused that?’ asked Buck.

  ‘Don’t know for sure. He bought the rig, a wide leather gunbelt and holster all carved with curlicues and things, and a Colt Dragoon like that one you’re wearing. Saved his money and bought it in town. Story was a half-dozen soldiers came riding in with two bodies draped over a couple horses. Asked if the two could be buried. Offered to pay for it with the horses and gear owned by the two dead men. The pair had been wanted up in Colorado Territory and the US Army was sent to bring them in. Anyhow, it was one of the dead men who’d owned the fancy gun rig that Horace bought. Wasn’t long before he told everyone he was changing his name to Smokey. Seemed like a kid thing to do, but it’s what he wanted. Musta been something bad about the gun rig, you reckon?’

  Chapter 34

  Louie frowned and shook his head. ‘I have never heard about a gun causing trouble. The person pulling the trigger, yeah. Lots of times. But not the gun.’

  ‘What had the two dead men done to get the army to chase them down? Did the soldier boys say?’ asked Buck.

  ‘Well, according to what one of those fellers said after a few drinks in the saloon, they were the leaders of a gang up north. Felipe and Guillermo Jimenez by name. Brothers, originally from Vera Cruz, Mexico. According to the story, they had apparently seen their family killed when the town was shelled during the Mexican–American War. After the end of that war the Spanish land grant their family had had was not honoured by the Americans, who sold the land off to white settlers. The brothers were young and had lost everything. They and others like them took to stealing and rustling from the settlers.

  ‘Chased north, the gang robbed and murdered all along the way, ending up in Bent’s Fort, a small town in the Colorado Territory. Things got so bad with the gang nearly taking over the town the US Cavalry was called in. In a big gun battle, most of the gang members were caught with only the brothers escaping. The army turned the men they’d captured over to the folks in Bent’s Fort and they were quickly hung. The brothers were tracked down by the cavalry, finally caught outside of Auburn. The gun belt and Colt Horace bought had belonged to one of the brothers.’

  The men sat quiet for a time, thinking about the story.

  Finally Buck broke the silence. ‘I’ve heard a lot of stories of terrible things happening in that war and in the one right after it, the War of Rebellion or Civil War, as some call it. Like Louie said though, never heard anyone blaming the bad things on guns. Or about guns changing a man’s behaviour.’

  ‘Maybe,’ said Jacobson. ‘He’d had a pistol before getting old Samuel Colt’s pride and joy. Was an old cap-and-ball Navy. He said it’d belonged to his pa. In all the time he’s been on the place that’s about all what’s ever been said about his past. When he came riding in hunting work, he had a pair of worn saddlebags hanging from an old scratched saddle. Everything he owned was packed in those bags, and let me tell you, they weren’t packing a lot. The horse? Well, poor animal was turned out and died some little bit later. But that pistol he carried in his pocket. You know how most hands carry a rifle and lots a hand gun. Never know when you gotta kill a varmint or an injured animal. That’s what happened with Smokey back before he changed his name. Was out somewhere by hisself when his horse stepped in a gopher hole. Broke a leg. He said the bone was white, showing through the hide. Well, the horse couldn’t walk and there wasn’t nothing to do but he had to shoot it. His pistol was a smaller caliber and it took three shots to the head to do her. Tore the youngster up, it did.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Louie quietly, ‘I knew a man carried an old Navy Colt. Think it was only a .36 caliber. That’s not a very big piece of lead.’

  ‘Well, that’s his story. Bought a bigger Colt, changed his name and has grown into being a pretty good hand. Now, what exactly happened that made you want to know about him?’

  Buck thought about it then nodded. ‘His story is he was riding out to some line shack when a bunch of crows making a racket somewhere off in the bush caught his attention. He rode into a little ravine and found the man hanging. Ashes from a small fire and a blackened cinch ring nearby. Obviously a rustler. Except when we rode out there looking, we noticed there was no sign of any cattle having been penned up waiting to be branded. No cattle anywhere, no cow pats, no nothing. Makes us wonder.’

  Jacobson looked down at the porch floor. ‘I don’t know,’ he said, ‘the kid’s been a good worker. Rarely causes any trouble, least ways didn’t until he got that damn gun rig. I still don’t have any real reason to think differently. Just don’t know what to tell you.’

  ‘Well,’ said Buck, ‘I guess there isn’t really much to say. It just didn’t look right. Guess there could be good reason for it to be like that, but,’ he shrugged, ‘don’t know what it’d be.’

  ‘So what do you want me to do?’

  ‘Nothing. He did a good job, bringing in the dead man. And with other than that little bit of bother, his story makes sense. I wouldn’t trouble him about it.’

  Thanking the rancher for his time and the pie, the two rode on, wanting to make it to town before dark.

  Riding over the bridge just outside of town, the two pulled up and sat for a moment looking down into the moving water. The sun had just gone down and the surface of the river was dark, broken only when a fish jumped for some insect.

  ‘Well, at least there aren’t any bodies hanging around waiting for us,’ said Louie.

  ‘Didn’t someone say the Committee had used this bridge a couple times? You know, that was something else missing on the man Smokey brought in, the Committee hadn’t left a note pinned to his shirt.�
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  ‘Ya don’t think there could be more’n one bunch of hangmen wandering around, do ya?’

  ‘No reason to think so. Darn it, don’t mention anything like that to the sheriff or Winterbottom. They’ve got enough to worry about.’

  ‘Yeah. OK, let’s get going. Might still be able to get some supper before the cook closes up for the night.’

  Chapter 35

  Breakfast the next morning was beef steak and eggs. Buck looked at the inch-thick steak taking up most of the plate in front of Louie and snorted.

  ‘You sure like to make it easy on the cook back there, don’t you?’

  ‘What do ya mean?’

  ‘Look at that piece of dead cow you’ve got. Cookie only had to cut it off the carcass hanging in the cool room, wave it over the fire and slap it onto the plate. Quick and easy. Why, it isn’t far from still breathing.’

  ‘Well, I do like my beef cooked right, black on the outside and red inside. All the flavour of the one you’re cutting up has been burned out.’

  Buck chuckled. ‘I gotta admit, your breakfast is colourful – blood red beef, white and yellow eggs. Almost patriotic.’

  Louie slapped the bottom of the ketchup bottle, trying to get the sauce to pour. ‘Well, maybe,’ he said, not looking up from his meal, ‘for sure it’s enough to keep me going through the first half of the day. Colourful or not.’ Wiping the bit of grease from his chin, he looked up at his partner. ‘What’re we up to today? Far as I can see we aren’t much closer to earning the money than we were riding into this town.’

  ‘Well, yes, I have to admit there’s a lot we don’t know. But I’ve got a hunch something will break directly. All that riding around just might have stirred something up.’

  ‘Uh huh. Might. But then again might not.’

  The same questions came up again a little later. Sitting in the chairs on the hotel porch, to let their breakfast settle according to Louie, they watched the town mayor and sheriff come down the street.

  ‘Well, Buck,’ said Louie quietly, ‘here come the paymasters, wanting to know what we’ve found out. Hope they can handle disappointment.’

  ‘Old son, you sure are depressing today. Must be that hunk of raw meat setting in your stomach.’ Looking up he greeted the two officials. ‘Good morning gents. Out checking to see how the town is fairing this morning?’

  ‘Nope,’ said Mayor Winterbottom, ‘just wondering what you found out on your ride yesterday.’

  Buck smiled. ‘Not much, really. It was much like that rider, Smokey, said. The tree he’d found the rustler hanging from was a bit down in a shallow ravine. Ashes from a small fire and right close by a fire-blackened cinch ring. Everything just as he said. Came away with a couple questions, though. I haven’t figured it out yet, but a few things about the set-up bothered me.’

  Sheriff McDonald settled in a chair and turned to face the two men. ‘Something didn’t look right? That young cowboy miss something?’

  ‘No, from what we could see he told it about right. But there’s something. How about the jasper he brought in, find out anything about who he was?’

  ‘Nope. Nothing in his pockets. Hell, he was wearing just about what everyone riding around on horseback would have. Run-down boots, denim pants and threadbare shirt. Now what did you find out there that bothers you?’

  Buck frowned. ‘Not much really, just a couple things that don’t feel right. For instance, we didn’t find a hat anywhere near where he’d been strung up. How many men riding anywhere are going bareheaded? Look at us sitting here, all four of us have hats of one kind or another. Smokey didn’t bring one in with the body and we didn’t find one out there either. So, where is it and what happened to it?’

  Winterbottom and the sheriff both looked serious.

  ‘And no gun belt,’ said Buck. ‘Fact is, no sign the fellow had even been armed. Can’t say he didn’t have a rifle shoved in a saddle rig cause there was no sign of his even having a horse. Smokey used his ranch pack horse to bring him in, remember?’

  ‘Yeah, I didn’t think of that,’ said McDonald. ‘Never crossed my mind.’

  ‘What are you saying?’ asked Winterbottom. ‘That Smokey’s got something to do with it? You think he’s part of the Committee?’

  ‘Not saying anything. I just don’t know. As I said, a couple things bother me. On the way back to town we stopped at the Frying Pan to have another talk with Jacobson. Smokey had gone on, taking the supplies out to one of the ranch line shacks. I wanted to know more about the young hand. According to the rancher, Smokey is a good man. Does his job and doesn’t cause much trouble with the rest of the hands. Right now all I can say is, I just don’t know.’

  The four men were silent, thinking. Finally Winterbottom, shaking his head, grunted. ‘Well, I certainly don’t have any answers. We got us a dead man to bury, a man who could have been a rustler or maybe not. I had that young newspaper fellow asking me about the dead one and didn’t have any answers for him. That’s going to look good in the paper, isn’t it? The only positive he’d been able to report is that we hired someone to come in and investigate. Since then there’s been two more hangings, one right outside town, for God’s sake. Those folks back there considering the statehood deal must be having second thoughts. I don’t know what to do.’ After another minute with no one having anything to offer, he stood up. ‘Guess I’ll open up the store. Matty’s sleeping in this morning. Haven’t seen much of her the last couple days. Don’t know what’s keeping her busy, but, well, guess that’s part of growing up. Ah, well, not much else to do, sweep out the place and hope nobody brings in any more dead men.’

  The men sat for a while, watching a few riders and one wagon came into town. The horsemen, nodding to the sheriff as they rode by, stopped to tie up at Winterbottom’s store. The wagon went on down the street disappearing around the corner of the huge livery barn.

  ‘I could go fishing,’ said McDonald after a bit, ‘haven’t much else to do. You two have any plans for the day?’

  ‘No,’ said Buck, ‘all I’ve got are questions. Don’t know where to go to find answers, though. I hate to just do nothing, waiting for something to happen, someone to make a mistake. But to tell the truth, I don’t know what else to do. Like the mayor says, hope nobody finds another rustler to hang.’

  Chapter 36

  As the morning sun rose high enough to make the shadows of the buildings across the street stand out, Buck and Louie shifted their chairs down out of direct sunlight. Slowly traffic along the main street picked up a little, giving the two men something to focus on. After an hour or so even that was starting to pall.

  ‘As I recall,’ said Louie, ‘the last time I went to get coffee. Now I could be wrong, but. . . .’

  ‘Yeah, you could be. However, as I’m such a nice person, and because sitting here is getting boring, I’ll volunteer to do the heavy work.’

  Chuckling, he walked down the street to the restaurant. Coming back a few minutes later he saw that Louie was no longer on the porch. Must have gone to the outhouse, Buck thought, smiling. Making room for more coffee, I’ll wager.

  Settling down he sipped his coffee and propped his boot heels up on the porch railing. There had been times when he could take comfort in doing nothing but they were usually few and far between. Somehow, time to merely relax and enjoy the morning was rare.

  Thinking those thoughts and enjoying the moment, he was slightly annoyed when a boy came running up the boardwalk.

  ‘Hey mister, your big horse just tried to bite a man. He did. Wasn’t bit, though. The man jumped away and said some pretty bad words.’

  ‘Who was the man, son? The old fellow at the livery stable?’

  ‘No. I don’t know who he is. He and a couple others were helping your partner onto his own horse. Your partner looked like he was drunk. And it ain’t even noon yet.’

  Buck sat up. ‘Wait a minute. What are you saying? Someone was putting Louie on the back of his horse?’

  �
�Yeah. They were trying to put a saddle on your horse, that’s when it tried to bite the man. Couldn’t do that so they threw a saddle on another one. I was watching. Supposed to be at school but I was hiding behind a bale of hay.’

  ‘They put Louie on a horse? How many were there?’

  ‘Oh, three I think. Yeah. Three of them. Huh, maybe four. They rode out the back of the stable and went around that way.’ He pointed.

  Tossing his coffee into the street, Buck dropped the cup onto his chair. ‘Thanks, son. I’d better go see what’s happening.’

  It had to be the Committee. They had come in and got Louie. Had to be. Only thing that made sense. They were going to string him up.

  Wearing high-heeled riding boots, Buck didn’t like running. But not liking what the boy had said, he ran down the street. Inside the stable was dark and empty. No sign of anyone. Through to the corral in back, he looked in the direction the boy had indicated. Nothing.

  His stud horse had come to the railing when Buck came out. Buck pulled the horse inside and quickly threw on his saddle. Before climbing on board he dug into the saddlebag and pulled out his extra Colt. Sticking it behind his belt in back, he swung up.

  The big black horse must have caught the rider’s anxiety or maybe it was the heel drumming against its flanks but when the horse came out of the barn, it was running full out.

  The bridge. They’d taken Louie around back. The thoughts were going through Buck’s mind as fast as the horse was running. They’d go to the bridge. Bending low he raced down the street and out of town.

  Chapter 37

  Foamy sweat was flicked off the black’s neck when looking ahead, Buck saw men standing on the bridge close to one side. Not hesitating, he pulled his Colt and fired. Too far to hit anything, he just wanted them to know he was coming. Shooting high so as not to hit Louie, he fired off a couple more shots.