Slocum and the Widow's Range Wars

by Jake Logan

  After lunch they left for the rancheria, with the blasting sticks in sacks tied behind Slocum’s cantle.

  They arrived at Jeminez’s place by supper time, and ate hurriedly to get ready for the meeting in the town square. Jeminez acted concerned, and Slocum finally asked if it would be better if he didn’t go to the meeting since he was an outsider.

  “No, I will need all the help I can get.”

  Slocum kissed Belle on the forehead and followed Jeminez out when it was time to go. The sun was down and twilight had set in across New Mexico. They went to the square. Several men had already taken seats on the benches or squatted in a semicircle.

  Raul Mendoza, the leader, spoke first. “We have a big problem. These cattle are eating all our feed. Twice”—he held up two fingers—“I have ridden to talk to the Texans, but they only scoff at our claims and say there is no fence.

  “I know we are not pistoleros, but the sheriff says he does not have enough men to stop them.” Mendoza shook his head and looked down at the ground.

  “What can we do?” another man asked. “We are herders and farmers. These tejanos have many gunhands and will kill us.” He shook his head in defeat. “I have a family. If I am dead, who will care for my wife and little ones?”

  “You say give them the grass and let our own stock starve this winter?” Jeminez asked, then sat down in disgust.

  “We can sell them this fall and buy back more when the tejanos are gone.”

  “Yes, we can do that,” several others agreed.

  Slocum rose and waited until Mendoza asked him to speak. “I know these Texans. You do that and they will stay forever on your land.”

  “We can get the judge to tell them to leave. He told us this was our land.”

  Slocum shook his head. “No, then they will fight you in court for years, and that will cost thousands in fees and you could even lose.”

  “Señor, what should we do?” one older man asked.

  “Tie a tin can on their tails and send them home.”

  “No. No. They will kill us!” someone shouted. Many joined in.

  “I won’t die like a dog in my bed,” Jeminez said. “I won’t cower from these mangy curs. Do as you wish.”

  “You will bring their wrath down upon us,” one man shouted.

  The meeting broke up with Mendoza pleading for more time. Slocum and his friend walked back.

  “What do you wish to do?” Slocum asked softly, realizing Jeminez’s disappointment over the failure of the community to rise up and help run the Texans off.

  “Go ahead with our plans.”

  “You’re certain?”

  “Yes. We can ride tonight and begin.”

  “Then we will.” Slocum clapped him on the shoulder. “It would have been easier to have had the help.”

  “I have failed you. I thought I could get them to help us.”

  “No problem, my friend. We can whip these Texans,” Slocum said. “You seen a dead snake around here?”

  “Why?”

  “I want it to spice their water barrel.”

  “There’s a big rattler hung on the fence by the bean patch. I saw it yesterday.”

  “Good, we’ll get it riding out.”

  They loaded the scarecrow on pack mules and saddled their own animals. Belle wanted to go too, not convinced that she should do as he’d suggested—stay behind. Finally she agreed to stay, and the two men rode out. Slocum gathered the rattler, which already smelled bad. With the snake in a sack, he booted his nervous horse on. It would be a long night.

  They found the cowboys’ camp and crept close. Slocum found no guard when he crept on his belly near the scattered bedrolls and the wagon. He went back for Jeminez, and they quietly put the explosive wood on top of the cowboys’ woodpile, then drew back to the wagon. Slocum lifted the wooden lid on the water barrel as quietly as he could and slipped the stinking serpent into the liquid. Then the two men eased away from the snoring cowboys for their own horses and the mule hitched in a wash.

  Slocum had figured that the cowboys would have a nighthawk with the horses, but there was no sign of him. In a grove of mesquite, they set up the scarecrow about thirty feet from the wagon tracks and less than a quarter mile from camp. When the night wind ruffled him, the dummy looked a little spooky in the starlight.

  Their work completed, they chose a ridge east of the camp to observe what happened. They were high enough to see things at a distance with Slocum’s glasses. The horses and mule were hobbled behind them in a draw. Then the two men bellied down and waited. Slocum slept a few winks until Jeminez woke him.

  “Horses are coming in.”

  Slocum rolled over and took a look. To the ringing of the bell mare, the pounding of hooves, and the sound of horses snorting in the dust, the wrangler brought the herd in. Then someone lit a lantern at the tailgate of the wagon where a canvas cover shaded things. Even their voices carried in the night.

  “—start a fire.”

  Slocum smiled. Yeah, a big one.

  Kettles clanged. From the tinny sound, it was obvious that the coffeepot was being filled, and there was the clang of a Dutch oven lid as it was moved to the work area.

  “Fire’s going….”

  “Better get them up.”

  “Yeah.” The ring of the triangle carried across the land. Dark forms in the faint predawn light staggered to the perimeter of the camp and pissed long streams off into the shadowy bunchgrass. As they shook their peckers off and put them away, their sleep-graveled voices began to carry.

  Two squatting cowboys mooned the prairie dogs and grunted in their bowel movements. But they jerked up when the first charged stick went off in the campfire. The clap came with a sharp flare, and then things became quiet.

  “What the fuck was that?”

  “Who’s been screwing with my wood?” an angry voice demanded.

  “None of us.”

  “Well, if I have any more—”

  The wood began to explode. A large red flare went up in the air higher than the wagon top and exploded. Others sticks began spewing fire at the men close by. They all ran and hit the ground. They must have lit every loaded stick in the camp. The explosions stampeded their horses, and even the nighthawk’s pony left too.

  The nighthawk ran after them screaming, “Come back, damn you!”

  The air was blue with cursing. Both Jeminez and Slocum ducked back under the hill suppressing their own laughter to snickers.

  “Let’s go,” Slocum said. “Their horses ran north. We can skirt south and they’ll miss us.”

  “What about the scarecrow?”

  “They may find him while chasing down their horses.” Slocum chuckled. The outfit was going to find out things weren’t all roses in New Mexico. There would be some thorns.

  They short-loped back to the ranch as the first rays of sun came up over the horizon. Shots in the distance made Slocum smile and turn to Jeminez. “They’ve shot the scarecrow.”

  They both laughed and pushed their mounts on.

  In the late afternoon they rode through the gate. Belle came running with a six-gun in her hand. No one was in the square. Slocum searched around with his hand on his gun butt, then dismounted.

  She swept the hair from her face. “The enforcers were here at sunup. The leader and several of his hard cases.”

  “What did they do?”

  “Made everyone come down here and told them if anyone drove any MC steer even one foot, they’d shoot them and then come back here and rape every woman and child in this village.”

  A wave of rage swept over Slocum. “What’s the leader’s name?”

  “Jerry Booth.”

  The name meant nothing to him. “What happened?”

  “Everyone went and hid in their houses when the enforcers rode out.”

  “Like cowards,” Jeminez said in disgust.

  “No, they are just afraid, and I would be too.”

  “But—”

  “I know,” Slocum s
aid. “They are farmers and herders, not gunfighters. We need to shut Booth and his rannies off.”

  Jeminez agreed and they headed for his house leading their horses. Slocum looked back over the deserted square—it would be a long fight.

  7

  Slocum lay on his belly in the grass under the tan blanket. He could hear the two cowboys talking as they rode up to the water hole.

  “You seen anything?”

  “Nothing, but a damned ole slinking coyote since we left camp this morning.”

  “Boss said be on the lookout.”

  “For what—”

  “Get your hands high,” Slocum ordered emerging from under his cover with a gun in his fist. Jeminez came from the other side and covered the shocked-looking pair as Slocum disarmed them.

  One was an older man with gray hair, the other a kid.

  “Now get your money out and put it on the ground.”

  “You—you robbing us?” the kid asked looking like a cornered animal.

  “No, but you’ll need it where you’re going.”

  The older man frowned. “Where we going?”

  “Get your clothes off and we’ll tell you.”

  “Huh?”

  Slocum pointed the Colt at him. “I said get undressed and now.”

  “My Gawd, this is stupid—”

  “Just undress or I’ll bust you over the head and jerk them off.”

  The two disgruntled cowboys undressed down to their underwear. Jeminez bundled up their clothing and boots.

  “Now pick up your money,” Slocum ordered.

  “I never—”

  “Shut up. You two start walking to Campo and get a ride out of this country if you know what’s good for you.”

  “In our socks?”

  “Don’t make him mad, Tom,” the kid said, tugging on his sleeve.

  “Right, and if we catch you punching for the MC again, I don’t have to tell you what we’ll do to you.”

  “What the hell you want our damn clothes for?”

  Slocum shook his head and motioned them on with his gun barrel. “Head for Campo.”

  “Come on, Tom, least he didn’t shoot us,” the kid said.

  Gingerly they made high steps headed northwest. With the cowboys’ clothes bundled and tied on their horses, Slocum and Jeminez headed for their camp. The women were busy stuffing some clothing with dry grass when they reached the canvas shade strung between some cottonwoods. In fact, the first dummy looked real enough as it leaned against a tree trunk.

  “You tied a can on two more?” Belle asked looking up.

  “That’s four less punchers they’ve got.”

  “That last one, might go back to the cow camp,” Jeminez said, tossing down the men’s clothing.

  Slocum agreed and joined in with Belle stuffing the hay inside the next set of clothes. “He acted about half cranky over this deal.”

  “Again, how do you plan to use these scarecrows?” Belle asked.

  “We’ll strap them on their horses and stampede them right into their camp.”

  “Will that scare them?” Bell asked with a flannel shirt half full in her lap.

  “Combined with blasting sticks and not knowing where the missing hands are, it will all help.”

  “When do we do it?”

  “In the morning.”

  “Well, then, you two better get to stuffing or it won’t be done,” Juanita said.

  By sundown, the four stuffed dummies were completed, with sack and hats stitched on their white cloth faces. Slocum and the others sat on the ground cross-legged and ate frijoles and beef wrapped in Juanita’s flour tortillas.

  “Why do this in such a hurry?” Juanita asked, ready to take a bite of her burrito.

  “If they don’t know where those four cowboys are at, then they’ll be upset about them not coming in. Then a raid on their camp at daybreak will make some of them upset enough to clear out.”

  Juanita nodded. “I better go home in the morning and check on things, unless you three need me.”

  “We’ll be all right. But be careful that Booth hasn’t got some men posted there.”

  “I can go in the back way.”

  “She knows how to sneak in,” Jeminez said, and gave her a friendly push. Everyone laughed.

  They set everything up in the dark of night. Slocum arranged the blasting sticks in a row on the north side of the camp. Jeminez and Belle were in the south ready to stampede the horses and their dummies into camp.

  The cook rang the triangle in the predawn darkness and Slocum prepared the first charge, then lit the long fuses for the others. He was on his horse, riding hard to the west when the first blast occurred. The exposion drew shouts and swear words as he set the horse down and waited for the next ones. It had spooked their remuda and men were trying to head the horses off when the series of blasts went off. Then, thundering out of the south, came four horses and riders—they were met with many gunshots and shouts of “Raid! Raid!”

  Slocum loped his pony westward. Booth would have to think about this for a while. With four punchers gone, he’d have to convince the rest to stay. It would be a disease that worked on the mind until some of his gunmen would ease away in the night. It would work in time.

  “They sure wasted lots of lead on those dummies,” Belle said when she and Jeminez joined him.

  “Adds to the idea that they have an unseen enemy,” Slocum said as the sun began to emerge.

  “What next?” Jeminez asked.

  “They get supplies out of Texas?” Slocum asked.

  “Yes, they send two freight wagons in from there every three weeks or so. I found that out from Pedro. He saw them the last two times when he rode over to Texas to see his uncle who works on a ranch across the line.”

  “When would the next trip be due?”

  “I guess any day. Why?”

  “If they don’t have supplies, they might get hungry.”

  Jeminez nodded and smiled. “We stop the wagons.”

  Slocum nodded. “Belle and I’ll scout for them tomorrow.”

  “They could get supplies in Campo,” she said.

  “Yes, but that would cost more. I’m sure the MC head man sends the supplies so he can save money.”

  “So what do we do to the supplies?” she asked.

  “Make sure they don’t get to Booth.”

  “You think I can take some boys and start pushing some of their cattle back?” Jeminez asked.

  “Better wait till we get back. If we can cut down on Booth’s numbers, we can start doing that.”

  Jeminez nodded. “I’ll wait then.”

  The supply train, if they could find it in time, might be the best way to cut Booth off at the knees.

  They rode into the rancho after sundown. Raul Mendoza hurried out to intercept them.

  “Two Texas cowboys in their underwear came in to Campo today and said they had been robbed. Orando said they were the second pair who came in to town wearing only underwear.”

  “So?” Jeminez asked. “Who did such a thing?”

  “They said bandidos.” Raul spread out his hands.

  “Where did they go?” Slocum asked.

  “Back to Texas after they bought some clothes.”

  “They must have had money in their boots,” Jeminez said.

  “No, the bandidos stole them too. I think they went to the railroad. Someone took them in a buggy. The bartender said they told him they had enough of New Mexico.”

  Jeminez nodded his head in approval. “I would have too.”

  Slocum, Jeminez, and Belle rode on not daring to snicker until they were out of sight and hearing of the man.

  At the barn, Slocum dropped heavily off his horse. “Four gone.”

  “How many more do you suspect will leave after this morning’s raid?” Belle asked, and put her stirrup up on the seat to undo her girth.

  “We’ve cut into his force. But hired guns are cheap. MC could send reinforcements if Booth sends word.”
/>
  “Oh, you are back,” Juanita said, and joined them at the corral. “There is a fiesta tonight.”

  Slocum nodded. “Sounds wonderful.” They needed a break. He glanced back feeling that in this chess game between him and Booth, it was Booth’s turn to move. When and how he would was the question.

  The Chinese lanterns were lit and strung across the square. Men and women in their finest clothes came to the tables heaped with food to fill their plates. An oaken barrel of fine red wine was set up with a spigot and goblets were filled from it. Musicians tuned their fiddles and guitars and one man played the trumpet. The fiesta was for a young girl to celebrate her Confirmation.

  Slocum squatted in the shadows on his boot heels and watched the fiesta begin under the flickering lights. Belle soon returned from the crowd with a plate of food for him.

  “I hope you like it,” she said.

  “Anything you picked out I will love,” he said and thanked her.

  “They can sure party,” she said as couples shuffled to the music on the hard-packed ground.

  “That’s how they’ve survived for centuries in such remote places.”

  The music filled the night. Small children, dressed in their Sunday best and sitting on blankets spread on the ground, were busy eating tortilla-wrapped food and chattering. In their naive ways they acted isolated from worldly things—an innocence that buffered them from the worries of adults.

  “More cattle are drifting or being driven west. I heard them talking about it,” Belle said seated beside him.

  “Maybe they will finally realize what they are hiding from,” he said, chewing on the mesquite-browned meat, peppers, and brown beans in a flour tortilla.

  “They sounded upset.”

  He could only hope that they would be able to discourage the MC from continuing their push onto the ranch’s land. If any of his plans worked, perhaps they could.

  “I love this music and all but—” She looked over at him.

  “But you would rather escape to somewhere else like our room?” He smiled at her.

  “Yes.” She chewed on her lower lip.

  “I can eat on the way,” he said in a soft voice.

  “Wonderful.”

  8