by Lou Bradshaw
By the time I got to the ranch, unloaded my stuff and got Bob unsaddled, it was getting on toward evening. The nights were getting cooler and the days were getting shorter. I’d have to start getting in some firewood before long. The cabin, which was what it really was, even if the Clements boys considered them ranch houses, backed up to the western rim of the surrounding ridges, and there was plenty of timber in those hills. And plenty of deadfall close at hand. So fuel wouldn’t be a problem.
The Clements boys told me that the snow in winter would sometimes get to about six or eight inches, but the rim kept the wind from piling it up. I wasn’t too worried about the cattle surviving. I’d have to talk to Juan Domingo about it though, since he had more to worry about than I did. I’d just follow his lead. I really didn’t know what the hell I was doing with a ranch.
The next morning I saddled up and rode over to see Mr. Stellers to try to do some horse buying. I was going to need three or four more, or wear poor old Bob down to a frazzle. After my talk with him yesterday, it dawned on me that he was getting up in years. And he had served me well, even if he had been an outlaw’s horse.
When I rode into the Esses ranch yard, Sam was sitting on the top step of the front porch smoking his pipe with a mug of coffee beside him. “Howdy neighbor.” He said, “Climb down and grab a step. Patty raises so much hell about my pipe smellin up the place, I have to do most of my smokin out here in the cold.”
“Hey you, Patty girl,” he yelled toward the door, “we got company… bring us out another cup and the pot. Would ya please, little Sugar Pie?”
Presently, she came through the door with a coffee pot and two more mugs. “Well I declare, if it ain’t our new neighbor Mr. Blue, the wealthy rancher.”
She freshened her grandfather’s cup and poured one for me and herself, and then squeezed her way between us. Of course, my ears were feeling pretty warm by then. We talked a little about the house and what I’d done getting everything ready to move in. Mostly she fussed with her grandpa about his pipe. I told him that I was looking to buy a few horses for working stock.
Patty said, “Hmph. If you ranchers are going to talk business and ignore a lady, then I’ve got more important things that need my attention.” With that she got up and left… with the coffee pot.
I felt a lot more comfortable when she had gone, but I sort of wished she hadn’t. That didn’t make any kind of sense to me, but what did I know about such things. I’d have to give that some thought sometime when I had some time.
Sam Stellers and I talked a bit about what kind of horseflesh I was looking for and this and that. Then presently, he tapped his pipe on the end of the step and said, “Ben, let’s take us a little ride down to the south pasture and see if there’s anything to your likin.”
Then he got up and walked to the door and yelled, “Patty Baby, me and this red haired rancher are goin down to look at some horse critters. Be back directly.”
She yelled back from somewhere in the depths of the house, “You better be back for noonin because I saw Rosa picking chili peppers this morning and that’s a good sign.” We promised not to disappoint Rosa and went to saddle Sam’s horse.
We spent about an hour in the south pasture, looking over his extra stock, and I picked out four that I liked a lot, and then we found a shady spot to start the tradin. We both knew what those horses were worth. I also knew that he wasn’t going to gouge me, nor was he going to give those critters away. I suspect he figured the same about me in reverse. So he started high and I countered low, and we met in the middle at a fair market price. When all the horse tradin, posturing and the just plain bull shitting was over, he admitted that I knew a good horse when I saw one.
I told him that I’d been riding a dead outlaw’s horse for eight years and old Bob was my measuring stick. These horses were not made of the same stuff as Bob, but they had some pretty good stuff in em. Since these critters were not more than rough broke, we had to do a little rope work, which to my surprise Sam was an expert. He made me look like a poor relation with a riata, and I was as good as most. After we got them started there wasn’t a bit of problem, and we just ran them into the coral. Sam said he’d get one of the boys to top them off for me, but I told him that I’d better do it myself. He thought that was best, no matter how many bones I broke.
Rosa was banging on the dinner bell when I closed the coral gate. So we washed up along with three of the hands who were either working at the ranch or close by that day. Andy wasn’t one of them; he was off doing cowboy stuff. Sam said he’d be back about mid afternoon. Just in time to watch me get tossed off one those broncs.
Rosa had cooked up a kettle full of some of the best chili I’d eaten since we’d left Rivertown. I don’t know what she put in there besides plenty of beef, beans, onions, and peppers, but it was wonderful. If I hadn’t shaved before coming over this morning, it would have surely singed any whiskers within three inches of my mouth. Being an old bachelor, and having to do for myself, I figured to get close to Rosa and maybe learn a thing or two about cooking.
After putting away three helpings of Rosa’s cooking and a big slab of Patty’s apple pie, I was in no shape to jump on a half broke horse, so I took myself out to the front porch sort of let it all settle in to a more comfortable position. Sam had gone up for a little siesta, so I sat on the porch swing and reveled in my bliss and discomfort. In a short while, Patty came out and found a seat on the swing, which was a little too close to mine.
We just sat there swinging for a while, with me doing the swinging, since her feet didn’t touch the floor. After a bit, she asked, “Ben, have you got a girl?” I laughed, and she said, “Seriously, do you have a sweetheart somewhere?”
I said, “Why that’s plumb silly, Patty. No girl ever looked twice at me. I’m just a big overgrown clumsy footed boy with a mop of red hair.”
“You mean you’ve never had a girl… a sweetheart.”
“Well there was one.” I told her. “I was about thirteen or fourteen, and she must have been twenty or maybe twenty two. But she up and got married to a farmer…. it near broke my heart.”
“Well, that doesn’t count because that was puppy love.” She said.
“No Patty, with Andy around, girls and women just seem to see him and look no farther. That Andy’s a good lookin boy; I’m just his tagalong sidekick.”
She said, “Ben, have you looked in a mirror lately?”
“Nope.” I told her. “I don’t believe in them. I’m afraid if I look in a mirror, the boogie man will capture my soul with my image, and it’ll be stuck in that glass forever and ever.”
“Oh be serious you clown. It’s true, Andy is a good looking boy with beautiful curly black hair, but that’s exactly what he is… a good looking boy. But you’re more than that, Ben, you’re a fine looking man. You’re tall, well set up, I’m sure you’re strong as a horse; you’ve got strong features, and a lot of character. But more than all of that, you have your head on your shoulders right; you’ve got plans and you’re sinking roots. You’re responsible.”
I almost got choked up, and was at a loss for words for about a minute, and then I told her, “Mis… Patty, I don’t think anyone has ever said anything that nice to me before. I just don’t know what to say.”
“That means I got the last word.” She stated, then she got up and marched back into the house.
I was more than ready to tackle all four of those broncs… all at the same time.
Chapter 27
And tackle them, I did. I had an audience sitting on the rail or leaning on it. All seven of the hands were there cheering, but I wasn’t sure if they were cheering for me or the ponies. Andy came in on the second ride of the third horse, so he didn’t miss much. Those boys all knew me and were giving me some doubtful advice from the fence. Patty and Sam came out to watch the fun. It seemed to be fun for everyone except me. I finally got those critters to the point that they would hump up and act like they wanted to be bad boys, but as s
oon as I put my foot into the stirrup, I was the boss. It made for a long but satisfying afternoon.
I told Andy, that he could stay here and have some of Rosa’s famous chili and frijoles or he could ride into town with me, and I’d treat him to a eatin house steak and a beer or two. I wanted to celebrate my next step in life.
He asked me if Rosa had made the chili in a pot or in a kettle. And I told him a kettle. He said, “Good. When she makes a kettle full, then we have it for two or three days.” We went to town.
I told Sam that I’d pick up the horses in the morning. He understood that we had some family business to attend to, aside from just a little time together.
Over a couple of steaks and smashed potatoes with brown gravy, I told Andy that the money from Missouri had been deposited into our banks, and I’d paid Juan Domingo for the three hundred head, so I was out of debt. And he had two hundred dollars in the Taos Bank, and I gave him the receipt.
He looked up smiling like a monkey and said, “You mean, I’ve got near to four thousand dollars in that Santa Fe bank?”
I told him, “Well, Mr. Thompson had bought and sold some hogs and cows using our money. Investing it for us. He was trying to get us ahead, you know. It’s not exactly four thousand dollars…. It’s closer to a little over five thousand for each of us. I sent him a letter thankin him from both of us. I hope you don’t mind.”
“I think I’ve really underrated that old man.” He said, and he meant it. I told him that I had too in the beginning and revised my thinking some time ago.
When it was time to go get a beer or two, I laid a dollar and a half on the table, leaving a pretty good tip because I felt pretty good. Andy was sweet talking the waitress, and she was listening with both ears. I guess he was spending his new found riches. So I just walked out the front door thinking to wait for him out there. But as I stepped out on the boardwalk, I ran face to face with the stupid twins from back down the trail.
I said, “Excuse me.” And stepped back out of their way.
The younger one looked up at my face and then at my hat and yelled, “Look it…look it… look it who’s here, and he’s still a wearin your hat.” With that the older meaner one looked up and jerked back, then he poked his head forward for a second look.
The old lady’s lap dog started yappin and hoppin about, so I just went ahead and slapped the snot out of him. He picked himself up slowly, while his partner just stood there looking every bit as stupid as he was. Then the younger one said, “Turkey, he ain’t carrying that shotgun. Let’s shoot him.”
I just had my six gun and it was belted high, so they figured I wasn’t a gunfighter. But I wasn’t too concerned because they both had their right hands hovering over their holstered and rawhide thonged weapons. Before they could get those guns into action, I could stomp both of them into piles of dog poop. A crowd was starting to gather, and I noticed that Andy had come out and was at my right hand.
Andy broke the tension by saying, “Gus… Turkey, what’s going on here?”
Turkey, who was obviously the older meaner one said, “This feller stole my hat and tied us up and made fools out of us. Now we gonna shoot him.”
Andy asked me, “Ben, did you steal this man’s hat?” I told him that it was an even trade, that I had given him my crushed crown sombrero for it. That almost made Andy choke trying not to laugh.
Then he said to Turkey, “Is this the man who tied you up and took your bridles and put a note on your back?”
“That’s him, now you just stand aside, Moore, this ain’t no concern of your’n”
I saw a light go on in one of the onlookers eyes when Turkey said “Moore”, but I wasn’t sure what it meant.
Andy held up his hand and said, “Just a minute Turkey and you too Gus. You boys know me and you know I ride for the brand, so I can’t let you fellas just shoot this man, so I’m goin to have to side him, and if you shoot him, I’m goin’ to put one between the eyes of the one that’s still standing. And you know I can do it.”
Gus piped up and said, “Why are you siden him? He don’t work for your outfit. He’s just a low down cruel hearted muleskinner.”
Andy replied, “No… he don’t ride for the Esses, in fact he’s got one of the biggest ranches in this part of the country…. And, he’s my little brother, so if you pull those guns, you’d better miss.”
Turkey and Gus had both heard about Andy and the three rustlers, so they decided on the better part of valor and retreated.
Gus wasn’t quite finished. “But we should get some kind of apology.”
“Gus, Turkey, I’m sorry I misspelled liquor on that note.”
That seemed to satisfy them, and as they turned to leave, I saw the “light in the eyes” onlooker take hold of Turkey’s sleeve and pull him aside. I heard him say to Turkey, “I know that Andy fella. That’s Hickory Jack Moore, the Texas gunfighter.” Then I saw Turkey’s knees buckle and he fell in a heap. It would have been funny if it hadn’t been so serious. Hickory Jack had come to New Mexico.
We turned to go get those beers and found ourselves facing the sheriff.
“You boys want to walk on down to the office with me?”
Chapter 28
All the way to the office, I kept thinking – here we go again. We’re getting our walking papers, but this time we’re not going. We’ve broken no laws in New Mexico or Taos… or anywhere. We’re substantial citizens, one with a steady job, and the other a property owner, and both with money in the bank. Well we just weren’t going to be run out.
The sheriff didn’t say anything during the block and a half walk. He opened the door and ushered us inside, and there sat none other than Jasper Stewart himself.
“Andy, it’s good to see you alive and well”. He said as he stuck out his hand. “I spoke to your little brother several months back, so I knew you were at least alive.”
“Sheriff, you wouldn’t believe what these two hillbillies accomplished before either one of them was shavin’ more than once a month.”
The sheriff looked distracted and forced a smile but said, “Marshal, did you know that this one,” indicating Andy. “is a known gunfighter? One Hickory Jack Moore.”
Stewart said that he’d been aware of it for some time. He didn’t say how long or short a time. That Jasper had polish.
“I just don’t know what to do about it.” The sheriff whined, “I can’t have a gunfighter runnin loose in Taos County. Why it’ll bring gunnies from all over the country to try him out.”
“I’ll tell you what I’d do sheriff.” Jasper told him. “I’d pin a badge on him and that way you get two things. You legitimize a gunfighter; nobody in his right mind comes into a settled town gunning for a peace officer. They stand too great a chance of hanging, even for a fair shooting. And… you get yourself a top notch deputy, one who has judgment, good sense, and learned his basics from me.”
“But I can’t be hiring deputies all willy nilly. Pickin up every Tom, Dick, and George and pinnin badges on em.”
“Tell me, sheriff, do you have all the deputies you need? All that you’re allowed to have, and are any of them better candidates to keep the peace than Andy here? Have you got any deputies capable of single handedly capturing a gang of rustlers?”
The sheriff had to admit that all four answers were no. “But,” he said. “he didn’t capture em, he killed em. Except for one, and his boys hung that one.”
Stewart didn’t let up one bit. “Do you think those rustlers would have tried to draw on Hickory Jack like they would some bunkhouse cowboy? No by God, they wouldn’t and you know it.”
The sheriff finally gave in and admitted that it really would be a good idea to have a deputy with some man hunting background and bit of a reputation. That sort of thing can stop trouble before it starts. Plus in the past three or four years, Andy hasn’t been a bit of trouble. So after considerable arguing and stubbornness, the sheriff decided that having Andy as a deputy was a great idea. And of course, it was his thi
nking all along.
Andy said, “Hey, don’t I get any say in this thing?” They both agreed that he didn’t, which was okay because I think he liked the idea.
He would be making twice as much as he had punching cows, and for the most part he would be his own boss. Of course, he wouldn’t be able to go hoo-rawing on pay days. He’d have to buy his own food and pay for his own lodging, but he’d still come out money ahead. The worst part of the deal was he’d have to give up Rosa’s cooking.
When all that was settled, Jasper said, “Now I didn’t come all the way up here to get you a new job, Andy. That just sort of happened. What I come for was to tell you what I found out about the two men who could possibly be Amos Poke.
Abraham Pickering seems to be exactly what he says he is. He got a clean bill of health from the Federal and local law in Columbus, Ohio. He was a successful businessman in several ventures. I think we can rule him out as a possible. This Matthew Barkley has come up a complete blank. I’ve queried the US Marshal and every deputy in Virginia, and according to their sources, he never existed. Now that doesn’t mean that the rancher here in Taos County is Amos Poke. There are a thousand reasons why a person would take on a new name when he came west, and not all of them concern the law. It only means that Pickering definitely isn’t.”
“Nelson here has been filled in on the case, and he knows how sensitive the investigation is, so I think we can count on his discretion. The sheriff wants to know for sure if one of the most wanted and vilest criminals from Missouri, Kansas, and Texas is indeed living in his county… and if he is, the sheriff wants him brought to justice.”
“What should we do now?” I asked.
“Ben, you have the biggest job and the most difficult job. You’re in a good position to get to know your fellow ranchers and make friends. Friends seem to talk like a granny’s sewing circle. Don’t push it, but drop a simple question here and there seemingly out of pure curiosity or business interest. Don’t aim all your questions Barkley’s way. Spread them out, so’s you’ll look like a young man trying to get to know his neighbors. You think you can handle that?”