Along The Fortune Trail

by Harvey Goodman

  “She tied them bandages on good and tight, that's for sure. I don't reckon any blood could get outta there if it wanted to.”

  “You need to get ‘em loosened?”

  “Naw. They's better off tight.”

  “We oughta be there in a couple more hours … Emily's place. Then I think you and me should head into Abiquiu for the night. It'll be a tender reunion. I don't wanna be a crowd.”

  “What about them other gals?”

  “Well, they can stay with her or go with us. We'll ask ‘em in just a minute. Tell ‘em our plans. I gotta hunch Emily will insist they stay with her. She may insist we all stay, but I'm not stayin’. Too personal.”

  “Yeah, could be a mite uncomfortable. If that town don't have a hotel or a boarding house or something, we'll bunk for the stars.”

  “Yep. That may help Claire and Margaret make up their minds. I'm sure they've had enough of sleepin’ on the ground if they can avoid it. I'm gonna stake ‘em the gold I pulled off that Indian.”

  “Gold?”

  “Yeah, maybe a thousand dollars or so. If you've got no objection, I'll give it all to them and they can split it up, or whatever.”

  “Hell no, I got no objection. Those gals been through it.”

  They stood in a circle with a half-foot of snow on the ground and ate biscuits and elk, and passed two canteens around. The sun grew warmer by the minute in the brilliant blue sky. “We'll be headin’ in to Abiquiu for the night after we reach your place, ma'am,” Sammy announced as they ate.

  Emily frowned. “Oh no, you must stay with us.”

  “Thank you, ma'am … but no. We'll be back in the mornin’. Is there a hotel in town?”

  She shook her head. “No, not a proper hotel. There's a saloon, Tomingo's, that has some rooms they rent.”

  “That'll be fine,” Sammy replied.

  Margaret and Claire looked at one another, suddenly unsure of the situation. Emily instantly sensed it. “We have the room—an extra bed. You girls will stay with me … please.”

  “That would be best,” Sammy interjected.

  “Thank you, Emily. We'd like that,” Claire said.

  “Good. It's settled then,” Emily replied.

  As they prepared to mount up, Margaret suddenly rushed to Blaine and hugged him tightly. “Thank you for saving us,” she cried. Blaine stood surprised and uncertain with his arms out, but then brought them around her and patted her reassuringly, looking slightly uncomfortable. “I'm sorry about your leg,” she said. “It's all right. Don't you worry. I'm just real glad we happened on that cave.”

  Then she let go and ran to Sammy and hugged him.

  As if taken by the moment and the need to acknowledge their saviors, Claire and Emily followed Margaret's lead and hugged Blaine, both at once. “We prayed for help,” Emily whispered as Blaine held both women.

  “Yes! We did!” Claire followed. “God sent you!”

  “Uhh, I'm just a cowboy, ma'am. I reckon God woulda sent an army. We're sure glad we could help, though.”

  Then Emily and Claire went to Sammy and hugged him. “Thank you. Thank you,” they said as they all held each other.

  “Like Blaine said, we're happy we could help.”

  Chapter 35

  The log cabin had a covered porch across the front with two rockers on it. There was a small barn adjacent with a chicken coop along the side and a corral in the back. The modest spread sat on a rise backed by elm and cottonwood trees and was fronted with an easy slope that gave view to the southwest across good grassland. A creek meandered close by. It hadn't snowed much there. Most of it had already melted as the temperature soared to nearly seventy degrees by eleven in the morning.

  Grayson Evans had his little brother on his back, running around the front yard playing ride the wild stallion, when he noticed the riders. He stopped and looked for a moment, then ran up on the front porch with his little brother still aboard. “Paw, there's somebody coming!” He yelled in the front door in a strange, muted tone, brought on from being choked by his brother, who held on to the stallion for all he was worth. “Let go! You're chokin’ me!” Grayson yelled hoarsely as he ripped at his little brother's throat grip and shook his body to get loose.

  The boy slid off. “Sorry. I was gonna fall when you jumped on the porch.”

  Their father came out holding a Winchester at his side and looked appraisingly at the riders who were a quarter mile off, approaching from the west. He could see two women doubled up on one of the horses and one woman on another horse. Two men flanked the women. They were coming on at a walk when the horse mounted double began to trot. Then he heard it faintly. “Daniel! Daniel!” It was instantly familiar, but he wasn't sure if it could be real. He strained to sort out any imperfections in his hearing and thinking. Then it came again. “Daniel! Grayson! Torbin!”

  The little boy stepped forward. “Mama?”

  Daniel began running toward the approaching riders. His boys began running after him. “Emmy! Is that you? Is it really you?” He could see her red hair now, and she had put the horse to a gallop with Claire clutching onto her.

  The distance quickly fell away. She reined the horse up next to where Daniel had stopped and dropped his rifle. She put her arms out and fell from the horse into his. “Daniel! Daniel!” She cried as they held each other and kissed every inch of each other's faces.

  “Emmy! Oh Emmy! I thought I'd lost you.”

  The boys arrived and began hugging their mother, and she kissed them wildly. Then they all melted to the ground in a heap and held each other and kissed each other.

  Chapter 36

  Tomingo Saloon sat in the middle of the long row of adobe buildings that made up the one-sided street of Abiquiu. A fifty-foot oak tree grew directly in front of the saloon, throwing a shadow that slowly moved like an eclipse from building to building, one end of the street to the other, as the sun moved across the sky. Sammy and Blaine tied their horses to the hitching post and made for the archway entrance with Blaine moving in more of a hop than a walk.

  The wall behind the bar had a long mural painting of vaqueros driving a herd of cattle. “Buenos tardes. Good afternoon,” came the greeting from the short, portly Mexican bartender. He was middle aged with thinning hair and a well-manicured, waxed mustache that was twisted into points on each end. His white cotton shirt was collared, accented by an ivory bola shaped like a bull's head with inlaid turquoise eyes.

  “Hello,” Blaine said as he made his way to a table against the wall by the front window. He sat down and set his injured leg up on another chair.

  Sammy walked to the bar. “Hola, señor. You have rooms for rent?”

  The bartender slapped his hands on the bar. “I can do that, se ñor. One or two?”

  “How much for each room?”

  “One night?”

  “Yes.”

  “One dollar each room. Is less if you stay longer.”

  “Just one night,” Sammy said as he put the silver dollars on the bar.

  “Hey there partner, I could use a little pain relief,” Blaine said from the table. “How ‘bout pickin’ a bottle of somethin’ good. I'll pay the man when he brings it.”

  “Mescal, señor? Is the best I have,” the bartender replied to Blaine.

  “I reckon you oughta know. Bring it on.”

  “I will bring it, señor. Go and sit,” he said to Sammy.

  Sammy walked over to the table and sat down. “Pain relief, huh?”

  “Yeah, she's throbbin’ pretty good. Plus, I could just use a drink. Gunnin’ down half a tribe of Apaches in close quarters ain't exactly a everyday thing.”

  “No, it ain't.”

  The bartender came with a bottle and two glasses. “You want to eat?” he asked.

  “Later. I wanna drink for now,” Blaine said.

  “Yeah, I'll wait for a while,” Sammy followed.

  The bartender looked at Blaine's leg. Blaine saw him looking. “Is there a laundry house here … wash my
pants?”

  “I can do that, señor. Wash and fix: one dollar. You want a bath?”

  “A hot bath? Caliente?”

  “Si, señor. Hot. Big tub. One dollar.”

  “Maybe later. I'll get you my pants in a minute. I gotta get my other pair to put on.” Blaine poured two fingers worth in his glass and drained it.

  “I didn't see a livery when we rode in. Is there one around?” Sammy asked.

  “What do you want, señor?”

  “I wanna get my horse fed, watered, brushed, and stabled for the night.”

  “I can do that, señor.”

  “One dollar?”

  “Si … I have a barn around back. I am Enrique Tomingo. Anything you want, I can do that. Okay señors?”

  “Alright, Enrique. I'm Blaine Corker and this here's Sammy Winds. You can take my horse, too, but I'll stow my own gear. Everything but my saddle will stay in my room with me. Okay?”

  “Si, Señor Blaine. You want your things in your room now?”

  Blaine looked surprised. “How's that gonna happen?”

  “I can do that, señor.”

  “One dollar?”

  “No charge, señor. But you can give the boys something if you want.”

  “They can get my gear too,” Sammy chimed in. “You better get his stuff. He's not in the best of shape on his feet at the moment.”

  “Si, señor. Right away.” Enrique turned and yelled at the doorway behind the bar. “Juan! Ernesto! Come here!”

  Two boys about ten years old walked quickly from the doorway and came to attention before Enrique Tomingo. “Yes, Papa,” one of them said.

  “Go and get everything but the saddles off the two horses in front, and put it in rooms one and two. Now.”

  “Si, Papa.” The boys wore harachi shoes with brown homespun pants and white blouses. They hurried out the front of the saloon. Sammy and Blaine watched through the window as the boys quickly and expertly removed the saddlebags and other gear from Dobe and Seesaw.

  “Your sons?” Sammy asked.

  “The taller one is my son. His friend Ernesto works for me on Saturdays. They are good boys, señor.”

  “Yeah, it is Saturday. I reckon I'd be drinkin’ ‘bout now anyways,” Blaine said as he poured another one and threw it back.

  “Yes, señors. The piano player will be here soon and many people will come tonight. There will be card games too, if you like.” Blaine shifted his leg slightly on the chair and grimaced. “We do not have a regular doctor, Señor Blaine, but there is a old medicine woman I can get if you want for your leg. She is very good with dressings and healing paste. She knows all the plants and how to make the paste from them.”

  “Thanks, Enrique. My amigo here and a good woman did a nice job already. It's just sore is all. Could I see her in the morning if I wanted?

  “Si … I think so. I will inquire of her.”

  “Okay. How much for the mescal?”

  “One dollar.”

  Blaine put five dollars on the table. “Here's for the mescal and my pants and extry good care for our horses. You can give any leftover to your boy and the other young man.”

  “Gracias, Señor Blaine.”

  The boys came back in the saloon carrying the gear and walked through to a back hallway. Blaine gingerly pulled his leg down from the chair it was propped up on and stood up, pausing momentarily before beginning to hobble after the boys. “I better change these pants while I'm still sober enough to do it.”

  “Give a holler if you can't manage it,” Sammy said.

  “Oh I can manage ‘er now. I got mescal management in charge,” Blaine replied as he disappeared into the hallway.

  Sammy poured himself a drink and took a sip. He knew from the bottle that it was homemade, but was surprised at the quality. Most of the homemade stuff he'd tried tasted more like turpentine or kerosene than alcohol, except for the whiskey that the Taylor brothers brewed at he Twin T. They knew how to make it right. He drank the rest in one swallow and felt the wave of warm calm descend on him. Sammy poured another and drank it, then another. The ordeal of the previous day kept entering his mind as something that needed to be recognized, and then released to burn in the fire of the spirit he now consumed.

  He relaxed and looked around the saloon, taking it in and appreciating the atmosphere. An upright mahogany piano resided at the back near a pot-bellied stove, and a dozen tables with chairs filled sat on the multi-colored tile floor. The plaster walls were adorned with brightly colored serapes, spread and affixed at intervals. Three old men occupied a table at the other end of the room and were presently eating.

  Blaine limped back into the room and over to the bar holding his wadded-up bloody pants and his right boot. “Here ya go, Enrique.”

  “They will be ready first thing in the morning, Señor Blaine.” Enrique took Blaine's pants and disappeared into the room behind the bar.

  Blaine made his way to the table and sat down breathing hard. “I couldn't get my damn boot back on. Leg's too swollen to bend enough. How ‘bout a hand.”

  “I can do that, señor. One dollar,” Sammy smiled, his eyes glazed and half open.

  Blaine looked from Sammy to the bottle on the table, which held noticeably less than when he'd left. “Are ya sure?”

  Sammy got up and grabbed the boot from Blaine who extended his leg up as Sammy pushed the boot on. “Forget the dollar—give me some makins,” Sammy said.

  “I'll go ya one better. I'll roll it for ya. You pour.”

  The men sat and drank and smoked and talked of all that had happened in such a short time. And they talked of the women and their tribulation and of the detour to Santa Fe and of what was ahead. They drank and smoked as the late afternoon faded into evening.

  They didn't pay any mind to the medium-height thin man with the sombrero, who floated easily by them like a breeze toward the back of the saloon. Then the alluring melody of a Mexican folk tune lifted from the piano keys as his fingers danced with precision. Juan and Ernesto appeared from the back and lit wall lamps and two overhead chandeliers that had previously been wagon wheels, and people began to drift in.

  Out of nowhere, she stood before them. Her thick, black hair was long and tumbled over her bare shoulders with the lustrous sheen of misted silk. Her skin was pure like almond ivory, and her large brown eyes peered at them from an angelic face with refined features. She wore a blouse and long skirt that fit loosely but could not hide the rare and sensuous figure that generated instant heat in men. She was beautiful and completely voluptuous. “Do you want to eat now?” she asked.

  Sammy and Blaine both sat transfixed, staring at her with mouths slightly open as if observing one of the world's wonders. Her eyes widened and her eyebrows rose slightly, signaling that she was in search of an answer. Sammy regained some semblance of awareness and smiled as his head fell back a little. “Yes, ma'am. The mescal appears to be all gone, and I believe we're hungry. What do you have to eat?”

  “Carnitas, beans, and tortillas. Very good.”

  “Yes, ma'am. We'll have it! And a pitcher of water too, por favor.”

  She smiled at them, then turned, and was gone. “Did I just see that?” Blaine asked. “Did I just see the most beautiful woman I ever seen … right here in whatever the hell the name of this town is?”

  “Yep, you surely did.”

  They ate like drunk, ravenous men, each having a second plate. Soon after their meal, the mescal and fatigue took its toll. The evening was festive at Tomingo Saloon, with music and card games and dancing as the piano player played to a large crowd. But Sammy and Blaine were not there to see it. They had turned in and slept soundly through the noise of the night.

  Chapter 37

  After breakfast the next morning, Sammy bought two old saddles and tack from Enrique Tomingo for a small piece of Ten Loco's gold. The cowboys packed on their gear and the extra saddles, and were down the trail toward Emily and Daniel's place before eight. Smoke came from the chimney,
rising against the blue sky of morning, as they reined up in front. “Hellooo the cabin,” Blaine yelled as they prepared to dismount. The door opened and Emily and Daniel stepped out on the porch. Their boys came out just behind them and closely flanked their parents, the youngster's eyes wide with interest and curiosity about the cowboys’ every move. “Good morning,” Daniel said.

  “Mornin’,” came the almost simultaneous reply from Blaine and Sammy.

  “Come in and have breakfast,” Emily said.

  “Thank you, ma'am, but we just ate. We're gonna saddle up those Indian ponies and we'll be in,” Sammy replied.

  “They're in the corral around back. I can help,” Daniel said.

  “No need.”

  “Can I show ‘em, Paw?” Grayson eagerly asked.

  “Me too!” His little brother pleaded instantly. Daniel looked at Sammy and Blaine, trying to detect whether or not they wanted the company, knowing that his boys would be full of talk and questions.

  Sammy sensed it. “We'll take all the help we can get,” he said.

  Daniel looked down at his sons. “Okay boys, but don't be meddlesome, and stand clear of those horses while they're saddling them.”

  The boys jumped off the porch and stood in front of the cowboys, awaiting further instruction. “How is your leg this morning, Mister Corker?” Emily asked.

  “About the same, ma'am. Not any worse I don't think. So that's good.” Blaine's answer sounded more like a question.

  “I can change those bandages for you,” she said.

  “Changed ‘em out this mornin’, ma'am. Poured some whiskey on too ta kill any germs. But thank you. I would favor a cup of coffee, though, if ya have any made.”

  “I do.”

  “Well, we'll be there in two shakes.”

  “Which way men?” Sammy asked of the boys.

  “Follow me,” Grayson said, and he began to march off toward the corral. He noticed his brother wasn't in proper formation. “Get in line!” he ordered.

  Little Torbin quickly fell in behind his older brother and marched in-step as they had practiced many times before while playing soldier.