by Lou Bradshaw
Chapter 17
Ben and the marshal came back in time to save me from my musing and get me out of the middle of the ocean, for which I am grateful. The paper work was all done and Slack, Bagley, and Nolan were officially fugitives. The judge estimated the trial on the four in custody would take about a week to get cleared up and then a couple of days for the hangings, if those were the verdicts. I planned to stick around for the trial, but the other men would most likely just give their depositions to the judge.
Ben and I went on out to the Railroad Town, which is what the locals had started calling the settlement that had sprouted up around the stock pens. On the way out, I asked if he’d had any trouble with the Cheyenne. He said that they hadn’t seen hide, hair, or feather of them and it was a baffle, Ol’ Crazy Jim used to say, “Injuns is notional… You just don’t never know which way that rabbit’s gonna jump.”
“I suspect, those raids may have put ‘em off some. By the time we got shut of those rustlers, we were gettin’ pretty close to civilization and the militia.”
The men were still working when we got there, but they weren’t working too hard. Mostly they were just keeping an eye on the herd or hanging around the chuck wagon drinking coffee.
Later that afternoon, the count was made and the bill of sale was written. Both buyer and seller were satisfied. When evening came the men were all freshly bathed and standing in the pay line in the lobby of the Drover’s Lodge. Most of the men hadn’t started with the herd in Taos, but all had done a stellar job and most got a little something extra. Jesus and Delgado and the cook were the only ones who had ridden every mile.
The first night off the trail, the men were looking for a good time, but Ben and I settled for a cold beer and a cigar on the lodge’s front porch. We sat there tilted back against the wall in those cane bottom chairs, just talking but not saying much of any importance. We talked of the future in generalities, with him going back and rebuilding his herd and pressing that gal to set a date. He wanted to try moving some of those white faced Herefords on to his range, but wanted to know more about them.
I, on the other hand, really didn’t have definite plans to speak of besides meeting Izzy in Denver. The life I led now suited now, but what about ten or twenty years down the road.
I was sinking into deep dark bottomless hole thinking about the future. I was having enough trouble managing the present. The future is somewhere out there, and I’d have to play the cards as they were dealt. It wouldn’t matter what profession a man might be in, he’s still got to take things as they come. Now that’s not to say a man shouldn’t have goals because he needs something to work toward…. Right now, I’m working toward getting that bank account in California fattened up so when the right opportunity comes along I’d be ready to go.
There we sat spinning fancies like a spider spins a web, when Delgado came running up from the saloon a few doors down. He slid to a stop and started yammering in broken English, which neither of us could make heads or tails of. “Spanish!” Ben shouted.
The upshot of what he was trying to say was that five men had Tate and Jesus backed into a corner. It didn’t take us two seconds to get out of those chairs and start legging in down to the saloon.
Going through the bat wings, we eased up a bit to get the lay of the land, so to speak. Sure enough, there in the back of the room, a crowd had gathered and most of the noise was coming from the crowd. There wasn’t much noise from the seven men in the middle of things. They stood there, two facing five and each man had a gun in his hand. That there hadn’t already been blood on the floor was nothing short of a miracle. They stood like rattlers ready to strike.
Tate and Jesus stood side by side with their backs against the wall, while three men in railroad garb and two men in town clothes faced them. Ben was grabbing onlookers by the back of their collars and yanking them out of the way and striding on through. Delgado and I followed in his wake.
When we got free of the crowd and into the inner circle, Ben turned and faced one of the railroad men saying, “You look to be the toughest of this lot.”
The railroad man grinned and said, “I reckon.” And drew himself up to his full height, which was just about a match for Blue. Before he could say another word, Ben had planted a hard left to the man’s wind. As the fella’s head came forward, Ben brought both knotted fists down on the back of his head. That combination of blows sent the gandy dancer to dreamland. He’d dream, but he wouldn’t remember them due to the aching in his head when he woke up.
Next, Ben addressed the other two railroaders, “That evens the odds a bit… You boys mind tellin me what’s goin’ on here.” His voice carried enough authority and confidence that the other two just naturally replied. Of course they’d seen what had just happened to one of their group.
“Wal,” one of them started, “We was all playin’ cards over hyere, and that kid called arr friend there a cheater… an we been playin’ cards with ‘em all week, and we ain’t seen no cheatin’.” The other railroad man grunted in agreement.
“Been playin’ for a week, huh? How much have you won?”
“Wal, I ain’t exactly wun nuthin’, but I come mighty closet.”
“You know those boys, Max? Have you seen ‘em before?”
I was standing slightly behind Ben and off to his left. “Oh yeah, I’ve seen the miserable pair before, and they know me too…. The older one is the poor excuse for a card sharp that we ran out of Cimarron just ahead of a tar and feather party. The other one is his shill.”
The shill just looked at me like he’d been kicked in the stomach by a mule. The other one turned red faced and yelled, “That’s a lie!” I shot him through the body.
Some men just don’t know when to talk or when to shut up. He was standing there with his gun in his hand and didn’t have the sense to even point it in my direction when he let his mouth do his thinking for him. You call a man a liar in this country, you’d better be shooting when you do it.
The fight was over; the card sharp was out of it. He’d live, but he wouldn’t get any smarter. The railroad men were starting to see error of too much cheap whiskey, and the shill had dropped his gun and wet himself. Furthermore, Delgado had rounded up about six more MB riders.
Since this was an unincorporated part of the county, there wasn’t any law, nor was there any doctor except for the railroad doc, which as I understand the position is about the end of the line for a sawbones. The bartender started pouring coffee down him, and they laid the patient on a table in the back room.
Ben helped the big railroader up, sat him in a chair and put a beer in front of him. Then he said to the man, “Friend, you did look to be the toughest, and I didn’t want to have to deal with you… Sorry about the cheap shot, but you boys need to choose your fights and friends more carefully.”
The crowd dispersed and went back to doing whatever it is a crowd does when they get dispersed. Ben bought a round for the boys and I took Tate off for a little chat. “Boy,” I said, “I don’t know what you were thinking in there, but don’t be thinking that way again. You came within a cat’s whisker of getting yourself killed.”
“I just caught him cheating and called him out… I didn’t know that the whole damned table would join in.”
“In other words, you didn’t know about the shill, and I’ll bet you didn’t have a clue that they had made friends with some of the locals…. That’s the first thing I try to do when I come into town… make a friend, the dumber the better”
“Is that how you picked me for a friend… lookin for a dumb one?”
“If you remember right, you were planning to shoot me for a hundred dollars.” I reminded him.
“Oh yeah… I almost forgot about that.”
“When there’s money on the table,” I went on,” and there’s a professional dealing the cards, it’s a good idea to see how the politics of the players lines up. If you see something suspicious give it a chance to prove your suspicions. If you’ve got
a better than even chance… take it. If it’s a hostile crowd… cut your losses and git.”
“But, that was pure ol’ dee cheatin’, Max.”
“Some things are hard to swallow, my friend, but sometimes you just gotta do it.” I promised to give him some pointers the following day. I figured to sit him and a few of the others down and give a lesson on how not to go broke in a card game.”
The boys were paid up for three nights and they would most likely stick around long enough to blow all they had earned on the drive. There were two saloons in Railroad Town and each sold cheap whiskey and beer. There were at least three ladies of the evening working in each of the saloons. Since most of the trade was transient, and there were few permanent residents in the town, it was wide open. There were locals, who came out now and then to sample the delights of the fallen angels, but they didn’t linger.
Occasionally a railroad bull would crack a skull he caught sleeping in a boxcar, but they were only concerned with railroad property. Beyond that there was no visible law in town. The county sheriff made a special effort not to find a reason to show up there.
I didn’t know what to expect from Slack. I figured he was up to something, but what. Was he still trying to get his hooks into me? I figured he was carrying a grudge, but was it enough of a grudge to cause him to hang around Pueblo trying to get a shot at me. And he didn’t just want to get a shot at me… he wanted to kill me and gloat while he did it.
Or did he have designs on the money from the sale of the MB herd. Now that was a distinct possibility. So I went up to the bar and pulled Ben away from all his new friends… he’d bought a round of drinks and that makes new friends in a hurry. He was glad for the excuse to leave the crowd.
We sat down at an empty table and I said, “Ben, I’ve been giving this John Slack a good deal of thought, and I’m wondering what he’s up to. The way I figure it, he’s either hanging around to do one or more of three things. One, would be to spring Ralls from jail. Two, would be to get me in his sights. And the third would be to get the sale money from you. Or he may be hoping to do em all.”
“Well, the money is in the form of a bank draft with a little cash.” Ben remarked. “I suppose he could find someone who could discount it and turn it into cash, but that would be way above his thinking level. I’d put my bet on vengeance. He has butted heads with us three or four times, and he’s come out with a sore head each time.”
“Yeah,” I said, “hate is a sure ‘nuff strong motivator.”
Ben scratched his chin and started to say something, when the big railroad man came up to the table. He cleared his throat and said, “Mr. Blue, I just wanted to say that there ain’t no hard feelin’s on my part. We didn’t know them gamblers very good, but they always acted like they was glad to see us. We shoulda just stayed out of it.”
Ben stood and shook his hand, and the big railroad man moved toward the door, a little unsteadily. Ben watched him totter a little and sat back down saying, “Sure glad I didn’t have to go toe to toe with that boy. Sober, I’d bet he’d sure be handful.”
I started to form a sentence, but all I got out was, “You know, Ben…” when all hell broke loose. Three rifle shots ripped the night as fast as they could be levered. One bullet broke the glass in the little window over the door. The other two knocked the big man back through the door, where he landed spread eagle one the floor. The room was suddenly silent.
Ben made a crouching run to the left side of the door and, went through the bat wings and dove into the shadows on the right. I came up just in time to see a figure leap into the saddle and take off with a jump that would make a jackrabbit jealous. Raising up, I watched the figure and the horse turn from barely visible in the gloom to completely lost in the moonless night.
Stepping back through the door, I watched heads come up from behind tables and other forms of shelter. “He’s gone.” I said to Ben. “All I could see was a mighty quick road out of town on a pretty good horse…. But I think we’ve answered our first question.”
Ben looked at me curiously, and I motioned him back to our table. The big man’s friends were gathering around the body. Somebody yelled to the doctor to get out here and fix Murphy up, but I saw where those bullets went, and Murphy was done.
We sat back down and Ben waited for me to start. “I’m pretty sure,” I told him, “that was meant for you.” I got another curious look.
“A big man, walking out the door into the dark with the light behind him… Anyone across the street couldn’t tell if that silhouette wasn’t you… especially if he was the least bit anxious.” He wasn’t convinced, so I called one of the others who had sided the gamblers over.
“Did your big friend have any enemies… anybody you can think of who would want to kill him like that?”
“Nossir!” he stated flatly. “Sean Murphy was the salt of the earth. He was a hard worker and a friend to all. Never bothered anyone and always pitched in to do his part… The oney times he got rough was when he was drinkin, an then he took it out on me and Mike mostly… but he always apologized the next day.”
“Sean Murphy.” Ben muttered. “An Irishman doesn’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell with me around.”
“See what I mean, Ben? He was just a big ol’ good natured boy with lots of friends. There wasn’t any reason for anybody to want him dead, but we both know there’s someone with a grudge against you… and me.”
He had to admit that it made more sense than just a random shooting. Nothing random about it, whoever did the shooting was waiting for one or two men in particular. Those shots or at least two were grouped in Murphy’s chest. The other one was probably caused by nerves or haste.
“The crew will be here for another day, if they decide to stay that long, but most of them will be leaving day after tomorrow. I’m planning on moving into town when they do, and maybe get a line on Slack.” I told him. He nodded, and said that made sense.
“Jesus, and Delgado will leave day after tomorrow with the chuck wagon and the remuda. The vaqueros work for the MB connected and the chuck wagon belongs to Patty’s grandpa. The cook will probably move on to Denver… What about Tater…. He ridin’ with you?”
“No,” I told him, “don’t know what his plans are… I kinda like the kid, but Izzy and me… well we’ll see how that works out.”
“If he sticks around, I might be able to use him on the MB… Cain’s already gone up into those hills… probably never see him again…. Good man!”
Chapter 18
The next morning, Ben and I rode into Pueblo to have a little talk with the sheriff and stop by to make sure that Ralls wasn’t too comfortable… He wasn’t. It seems that they got tired of building scaffolds and then tearing them down and rebuilding them, so they’d build a nice big three man rig and the condemned could look out their cell window to look at it as a daily reminder.
We told the sheriff about the big railroad worker being shot from ambush and our thoughts as to who the real target probably was. He made some notes and said he’d send a deputy out to get the facts from the railroad bull.
“We just gave you the facts… we were just talking to the man and were sitting within ten feet of the door when it all happened.” Ben said leaning over the desk glaring.
I’ve still gotta get the facts from the railroad, since it was on their property.” The sheriff replied.
I thought Ben was going to explode, but he took a deep breath, turned, and walked out the door. “Damned fool.” was all he said as we turned to walk down to the marshal’s office. Marshal McCollum was more accommodating when we stopped in.
He told us that the trial would be starting the next day at ten o’clock in the morning, and that three of us would be called to testify… Ben, myself, and James L. Tate. Ben looked at me, and I looked at him. Neither one of knew that Tate was going to stay for the trial. All the other men had given their statements and signed or made their mark. Well, that was fine, if we couldn’t find a good place to
eat, we’d just set him to cooking for us.
Our next stop was to one of the regular hotels, we wanted nothing to do with that tent set up. I was afraid that given one more night like the last time, and I would be putting a loop over that main tent pole and drag the whole thing down myself. Besides that, I doubted that they’d even rent one to me.
The first one was part of a saloon, so we went to the one that was a real hotel and were able to get three rooms; Ben went ahead and got a room for Tate. We told the man that we’d be checking in the next day.
The following morning we were stashing our gear at the hotel and on our way to the court house, when I saw a man of middle years step out from between two buildings. He started to turn and come toward us, but turned and went back where he’d come from. I thought it peculiar, but figured that he’d forgotten something and went back to get it. I was going to mention it to Ben and Tate, who were walking behind me, but Tate was fussing at Ben because Ben had paid for his hotel room and his meals at the dining room until after the hanging, if that is the verdict.
The trial was fairly quick and to the point. With all the evidence against Ralls and the others, the jury spent less than an hour deliberating and found all four men guilty of murder and rustling… both were hanging offenses in most western towns. Pueblo was no exception. The four men were sentenced to hang in four days, which would give them time to write a letter or two, and their lawyer could make appeals to the judge. So we were footloose for the next four days.
We went back to the hotel and got our rooms squared away. The clerk gave us our keys and told us which rooms we’d be in. Ben was in 22, I was in 24 next door, and Tate was in 26 at the end of the hall. I went to open my door and it was locked, so I stuck the key in but it wouldn’t unlock the door. I looked at the key and it said 22.
Ben had been unlocked, and he pushed it open, and then he picked up his bedroll and was ready to tossed it in when I said, “Ben, he switched our keys, I’ve got yours.”