Hickory Jack (Ben Blue Book 1)

by Lou Bradshaw

  He smiled and said, “As long as it is not a gift, then I can take it because I have no gift for you.” I told him that it was worth a lot to me just knowing that he was down here in the canyons to keep the wild animals at bay.

  I led the roan around and said, “I’ll leave this horse and bridle. So that Nino can ride up and look over my herd every now and then. But it’s not a gift. It’s his to keep but it isn’t a gift. Teach him to take good care of it, and make sure he doesn’t eat it.” Rubio laughed.

  I told him that I would be leaving tomorrow and would be gone five or six days. Digging into my saddle bag I pulled out that bag of tobacco and some 44 shells and said, “Not a gift.”

  As I rode away he yelled, “Hey! Benblue. White people very strange!”

  I thought… Rubio, you have no idea how strange.

  Chapter 37

  After feasting on four big enchiladas, I wrapped the other three for the trail. The next morning I turned three of my horses out to graze. The grass in the corral was getting mighty thin. I left plenty of hay for that Jake horse, mounted Bob, and I rode off.

  Two days later I rode into Santa Fe, and went straight to the US Marshal’s office. The young clerk, whose name I disremembered, said, “Good afternoon, Mr. Blue.” I’ll see if the marshal is busy and disappeared through a door. Then he reappeared and motioned me inside.

  “Well, Mr. Blue, what brings you to the city? You got something we can sink our teeth in?” He asked, as he was trying to crush my hand, something I was doing my best not to let happen.

  “I’ve got some news, whether or not it will give us something we can chew is still anybody’s guess.” I told him. “A couple of nights ago, some hombre tried to ambush me when I was coming in from the barn… He didn’t get it done, but I got lead in him. He took a long time dying, and I sat with him till he went.”

  “That’s real considerate of you, Ben. Most folks would have finished him off or just walked away.”

  I let that slide and went on, “We talked off and on till almost daylight, and he wasn’t a bad person, just in a bad line of work. I asked him why he wanted to shoot me and he said he’d been paid a hundred dollars to fetch me. When I asked him who gave him the money, he said it was Clyde Gentry.”

  Stewart’s head jerked up and he said, “That means that, Gentry’s there, and he ain’t usually far from Poke.” He sat back in his chair and rubbed his chin for a few seconds then he asked, “Any ideas on who or where he might be?” I said I hadn’t a clue.

  “I met Barkley at a church social, and to be frank with you, I can’t see him as a cold blooded killer. I wrote you that. He may be a rustler and a cheap crook, but he’s a jolly sort. I haven’t met his foreman yet, so I couldn’t say if he was Gentry or not. But Jake Mason distinctly said that Clyde Gentry had hired him to kill me.”

  “Jake Mason you say? Know of him. He’s been around Santa Fe doin whatever he could to buy a drink. He did five years in a Kansas prison… been out a couple years now. We don’t have any warrants on him that I know of. Probably tryin’ to make connections to get back in the business.”

  “I guess he made a connection with Gentry and got back into the business. One of the small ranchers, Avery by name was shot in the back a day or so before I was ambushed. He had a hardscrabble outfit that was barely keeping him alive. But Mason did say that Gentry had made a two birds with one stone comment to him, but I can’t imagine why Gentry would want him shot. Although, Mason had a hundred and fifty dollars on him in gold eagles.”

  Jasper did a little more chin rubbing and let out with a couple of “Hmmms”.

  I told him that neither Andy nor I felt confident that we could identify Gentry after all this time, and we never saw Poke. So we were kinda feelin’ around in the dark. I asked if he had any old picture flyers on either one of them that might help us or jog our memories a little.

  He went to the door and asked the clerk without a name to pull everything they had on Clyde Gentry and Amos Poke. Within two minutes we had two small stacks of wanted posters laid neatly on the desk. There was only one with a drawing of Gentry and none of Amos Poke. It wasn’t a very good drawing, as those drawings are apt to be. There was a hint of familiarity about it, but I passed that off as one of those things that were made to just drive you crazy. I studied it and asked if I could take it along, and he said that I could.

  “Ben,” we may be going about this all backward. There’s another angle I want to look into, but I don’t want to get your hopes up until I get confirmation.” And he left it at that.

  I got to my feet and started to go, but he motioned me back down and said. “Ben, I’ve got an authority that I have never used, but I’m gonna use it now. I’m going to appoint you as a special kind of US Deputy Marshal. It’s kind of an auxiliary position. The deputy has all the rights and responsibilities as a regular deputy, but he’s temporary.” With that he opened the desk drawer and pulled out a leather cased badge. “Can I swear you in?”

  He went on to say that it wouldn’t take away from any of my regular time on the ranch or whatever, and I would only be paid for the days that I was working at it… and not much… and would probably take a year to get anything at all. “But it will give you the protection of the US Marshal’s office, and the authority to act on what you find out. Ben, I know that you’re going to forge ahead with this hunt with or without a badge. I want your butt covered.”

  “I’ll give you a letter to Sheriff Nelson, but if I were you, I’d keep this to yourself. You can get messages to me through the sheriff’s office. It takes about two days. Whatta ya say?”

  “Let’s do her.” I said and he called in the clerk to hold the bible while he swore me in. He gave me some instructions for getting paid and some dos and don’ts, and I went to find a room. I’d be leaving in the morning and wanted a good night’s sleep.

  Stretching out on the hotel bed, I remembered the letters I had picked up on my way out of Taos, so I retrieved them from my coat pocket and laid back to read them. The first one was from Elizabeth, all was well, the kids were growing faster than she could make enough clothes to keep them covered. Her pa was poorly and getting up in age, but that was to be expected. They had taken over much of the work and combined the farms, so now she could be handy to take care of him. She was happy.

  The second letter was from Don Carlos, telling me that he had great news, and asking me to come to the hacienda the next time I was in Santa Fe.

  The last letter was from Father Paul. He also said that he had great news to share with me. He was being reassigned to San Francis of Assisi in Santa Fe. He was coming home before Christmas, and hoped to see me in mass. He added “ha ha” to that last part.

  It would be great to see him. I just might show up at mass even if I didn’t understand most of it. I’m sure his family was very excited.

  The following morning I rode out to see Don Carlos, but he was away from the hacienda. The Dona Elena was in, and left orders to show me in anytime I came. So I met with the senora, and as I had expected, their news was that Father Paul would soon be home. After tea and cakes, I left to go back to Taos. I left behind a very happy lady.

  Three days later, I was back on the MB, where I stayed and worked for a week fencing off a horse pasture, after having spent one whole morning running down my strayed horses. I guess there was just too much temptation to roam. I found a well watered place close by that could be fenced on two sides easily enough to keep about thirty acres secured. Two sides were shear bluff, which was too steep for a horse to climb out of. I gave Brownie and the little sorrel a good workout hitched to that buckboard hauling rails.

  I got another pig while I was up gathering poles. This one, I was determined to smoke good and proper. I got him butchered and started him smokin.

  Now that I could leave the place without my horses roaming over God knew where, that I’d go into town and check in with Andy and the sheriff. That Jake horse hadn’t been ridden for about two weeks and never
by me, so I saddled him and left.

  He was a good horse. Maybe not as good as Bob, but he was pretty darned good. I guess old Jake Mason must have found his way back into the business because this was a real outlaw’s horse.

  The sheriff wasn’t in, but the jailor said he’d be back shortly, so I moseyed up the street to the eatin’ house for a mid-day meal. I left that Jake horse at the rail and went in. I had me a good meal that I didn’t have to cook. I talked to the lady who ran the place for a few minutes, and told her that I may soon have hams and bacon for sale if she was interested. She was, and after a bit I went back out.

  As I was getting ready to mount up, a fella who’d been lounging against a porch post a few doors down walked up to me.

  “That your horse mister?” he asked. I gave him a Yep and went about getting ready to climb in the saddle. “Friend of mine say’s he knows the gent that owns this horse, and you ain’t him.” He was a disagreeable looking soul. Oh he wasn’t dressed any worse than most, and all his features were in the right place and within acceptable proportion. But he just looked bad.

  “I’ll bet he does.” I said, looking at him across the saddle. “This is my horse now… I bought him from that gent.”

  “Yeah? What’d you have to give for him?”

  I told him, “About an ounce of lead and a few lines from the Good Book… Bought his whole outfit, I did… Tell your friend ‘He missed, but I didn’t.” Then I swung into the saddle and as I was turning I said, “If your friend is so curious, maybe he ought to look me up, and we can talk about it.

  I let Jake horse jog on down to the jail without turning back to look. I wanted that hombre to report that I wasn’t one damned bit scared, no matter how I really felt.

  The sheriff was back when I went in, but Andy was off somewhere doing something that deputy sheriffs do. So I told Nelson that I had gotten a drawing of Gentry, but it didn’t really tell me anything, except that he had two eyes, a nose and a mouth. He looked at it and agreed. I also said that Stewart was going to try something else, but wouldn’t say what it was. Then I gave him the letter from Jasper, which authorized me to make arrests and apprehend evil doers. I showed him the badge and the federal warrants for the arrests, dead or alive, for Clyde Gentry and Amos Poke.

  Nelson didn’t look too happy, until I explained that, “Stewart knew that I was going to chase this coon until I got it treed, and that sooner or later it would turn to violence. He wanted to make sure that everything was legal, since there hadn’t been any New Mexico laws broken. You have really no reason to arrest them no matter how bad you want to. My only jurisdiction will be these two bad actors. I can’t even break up a fist fight as a special US Deputy Marshal… only as a private citizen.”

  “As far as anyone but you, Andy and me are concerned, this badge doesn’t even exist. It stays in my pocket until I’m ready to serve these warrants.”

  I went on to tell him about the hombre who had just stopped me outside the eatin’ place. “Gentry is gettin’ bolder and bolder. Mason hasn’t been around for some time, and then I show up ridin’ his horse. Gentry knows that Mason failed, so he’ll have to try again. The only problem is, he knows who I am, but I don’t know who he is.”

  “Boy, you be real careful. You hear me. We got us a real shortage of red haird ranchers in this county and I don’t want to lose none.” I told him that I had an old Indian living back in the canyons, and I thought he might give me some pointers on how to keep my scalp.

  “You mean that old hellion, Rubio? They say he was the scourge of the Paches and Ute’s. Had him more than thirty scalps before they finally convinced him to give up the warpath. If anyone can keep you alive, he can.”

  I asked the sheriff to stress to Andy, that he may be in danger also. I didn’t know if Gentry had made the connection, or if he thought I had showed up alone. Sooner or later, though he would hear that we were brothers.

  Riding back to the ranch that afternoon I thought about what I could do to keep from being ambushed again. One thing I needed to do was find another trail in and out of my valley. Coming and going the same way, makes it pretty easy for someone to just sit and wait. I needed to talk to Rubio, and I needed to talk to Juan Domingo. I had been lucky so far. I couldn’t keep trusting to luck.

  When I got back to the house, I found a note on the table in the kitchen from Pablo. It was in Spanish. I can speak and understand Spanish pretty well, but to read it was another wrinkle all together. I worked my way through it, and the gist of it was that they had come across a strange rider between the gap and the house. He ran and they chased him to the gap.

  Chapter 38

  As I rode over to see Rubio, I took a brief swing through the canyon country to visit my cows. They were already looking better. I could see tracks leading in and out of those canyons, so they were doing some exploring. I had a feeling they’d be okay come spring.

  I told Rubio that I was in a war with men who had the means and money to hire killers. I didn’t want to kill, but I would. Then I said, “I also didn’t want to die. What I wanted to do was see these killers before the saw me.

  “Always look at what you see, and always see what you look at. A turned over stone could mean that someone has been on your path not long before you. Expect trouble, and be ready for it. Use all your senses; learn even to smell your enemy. Respect your enemy… he may be a fool, but even a fool can kill.” He went on for about an hour with little tidbits of knowledge meant to keep a person alive when he was out of doors.

  It was all good advice, but it was too much to learn in one afternoon. I just couldn’t make habits become habits without practice and patience, both of which took years. I couldn’t just trust to luck though. I had to develop a few simple rules. I would try to avoid becoming a creature of habit, by varying my comings and goings. I had to start looking around before making a move or walking out of a building. Simple things like closing the curtains when a lamp was lit could save my life.

  He told me of a trail which would take me over a ridge in the canyons that would lead me down on the plateau. It was no good for cattle, but a horse could make it easy enough. That would get me in and out of the valley without using the gap. I needed to scout the comings and goings at the gap more carefully. I pretty much knew the tracks of the Domingo riders. Juan had his own smith and combination handyman, and his work I learned to know. I had known that for some time, but it didn’t register until now.

  I forced myself to be watchful, and never go around skyhootin’. I was no longer using the same route twice in a row. The trail out of the canyons actually save me time going to town, but it would be an easy habit to get into, so I had to use it sparingly.

  It was getting colder by the day. Winter was coming on and I still had a good deal to do to get ready for it. I could use more wood, and I wanted to get in some more meat. Another pig or an elk would be nice. I had plenty of pork smoked, and it turned out fine, but I’d like some to sell. If I could get an elk and smoke it, then I’d be set for a good long while. That’s what I was thinking about when I stepped out off the porch heading for the corral. My eye picked up a glint of something bright up on the ridge behind the house. It looked to be about a quarter mile or maybe farther away and up above the pines and cedars.

  It could have been a bit if mica or it could have been the sun reflecting off field glasses. I discounted the idea of the sun on a rifle barrel because of the distance. My guess was that someone was watching me. Well, I’d just have to give them something to watch. I went on into the barn and saddled Dusty. Luckily, I had brought him up to the corral the night before. His color was easily blended into the background. The same was true with the Jake horse, him being a gray. I guess those two would be my mounts for a while.

  I led Dusty out of the corral and across the yard to the little hitch rail. Then I went inside and drank a little more coffee, while he… whoever he was sat up on that slope in the chill. I took my time, for a fact. I even made my bed and sorted throu
gh some winter clothes.

  Finally I came back out and got ready to get into the saddle. I know how it is to have to wait on someone. Time just drags along like it was pullin a fifty foot log chain. Just for good measure, I took a little time fooling with the cinch. I wanted this hombre to be good and edgy. After I had stalled, all I could, I mounted up and trotted toward the gap.

  As soon as I was out of sight around a outcropping of boulders, I headed for the timber and circled back to a concealed place behind the house and waited. I was a fair to middlin waiter. So I just hunkered down in the brush and rocks and let him come to me.

  It took him about a half an hour to work his way down that ridge. He came out of the rocks and timber a hundred or so yards beyond the barn, and just walked up as calm as you please carrying a rifle and a canteen. I guess he figured to be here for a while. He probably didn’t know where or for how long I’d be gone, nor when I’d be back. You gotta admire a man who brings his own water. I’d give him some time to get settled in and get real cozy in that hay. It was my guess that he went up to the loft to have a better firing position. That meant I’d have to be a good injun to sneak up on him.

  That fella wasn’t going nowhere because I knew who he was waiting for, and I wasn’t coming home real soon. So I went back up into the brush to get my moccasins from my saddle bags and to loosen Dusty’s cinch.

  I waited for about an hour and then I snuck on back down to the back of the barn. I had Jake Mason’s gun in my hand and my own in my waistband. I was grateful to the Clements boys for fitting that side door real well and grateful to myself for greasin the hinges.

  Going through that door my eyes went to the ladder, and the ceiling. I was looking for any tell tale dust dropping down… there was none. If he was sitting still he wouldn’t cause any dust. The ladder showed a nice coating of dust. No one had been up there in weeks. So he must be on the ground floor – but where? There were six stalls between me and the big door, three on each side of the isle. There wasn’t anything behind me but more hay and sacks. On the other side there were some shelves and pegs with harness, tools, and hanging leather.