by F. M. Worden
He told Bob to toss his old shirt and drawers away. With that he bid them all good bye. He walked out and went west on Congress Street and crossed Stone Street and stopped at Alameda Street. Looking north he could see a Marshals star on a sign hanging from a building, farther on he could see the county court house.
He walked to the Marshals Office and entered. No one there. Laying on a desk was a paper. The heading read, SHOOTING REPORT. It had yesterday’s date, with a space, that read shooting at Rail Road Depot. There were blanks to fill in, Sam filled them in. He put the paper back on the desk and walked out.
He walked on down to the court house and entered the Sheriff’s Office. A young gent in his early twenties sat with his feet on the desk, his hat pulled down over his face. Without moving he said, “What-da want?”
“I want to see the Sheriff.”
Without moving again the man asked, “I’m his deputy, right now I’M in charge. What the hell you want?”
Sam not saying a word reached and with a mighty jerk pulled his dirty boots off the desk, spinning him around in the swivel chair. The young man sat up startled. Looking at Sam, he saw the badge and got up. “You the new Marshal?”
“Yeah, where’s the sheriff?”
“He, he, he’ll be around shortly, can I help ya?”
“Just wanted to know if I can use the jail?”
“Are ya gonna bring someone in?” he asked all excited.
Sam shook his head, “No, just wanted to know if I can use the jail if I need to.” Then he turned to leave.
The young gent in a sharp voice said, “My name is Clinton, Clint for short.” Then he really smarted off saying, “You the bad shot that shot the SOB Greek? I’d kill the little bastard if it was me.”
Sam looked at the six-shooter on his hip. An 1851 re-chambered colt Navy and said nothing. He walked out the door.
The deputy followed him out onto the side walk and called loud and clear, almost yelling as Sam walked away, “I’m the best fu—g shot in town, I’d killed the fu—g bastard, damned old fu—g men like you shouldn’t be allowed to be a law man.”
Sam shrugged his shoulders said nothing in return and walked on up the street. The deputy was still yelling something as Sam reached the next cross street. He walked on up to Congress Street.
Seeing the telegraph office, he crossed over and went in. The man at the keys didn’t look up. “What you want?” he said in a very unfriendly way.
“I need to send a telegraph.”
Without looking the man tossed a pad on the counter. “Write it up.” He went back to his keys.
Sam started to write. The man finished with the keys and turned his attention to Sam. Seeing the badge, he said, “You the new U.S. marshal?”
“Yeah, that’s right.”
“You Sam Duncan?”
“Yeah.”
“Got a telegraph for you, just came over the wire a few minutes ago.”
He handed an envelope to Sam. He opened it, it read, “Shipped horses. Stop. Should be there sixth of May. Stop. Good luck Sam. Stop. Signed Tom.”
Sam asked, “When is the sixth?”
“Monday.”
“Send this wire.”
The man looked at Sam in a harsh tone said, “Write it up.”
Sam didn’t like the tone in his voice. “Hell, you can send it now, your key is open.” Sam pointed to the key, anger was in his words.
“OK, ok, what’s the message?” This little man wanted no trouble with a marshal.
Sam told him, “To Tom Gilman. Care of the Texas Rangers. San Antonio Texas. Many thanks for your help. Stop. Be waiting for horses. Stop. Come see me some time. Stop. Sign it Your old pardner, Sam.” He told the operator, “Send it! I’m in no mood to screw with you.” Sam’s face showed he was a little mad at this man.
The operator set to working the keys, not saying another word. Sam tossed a quarter of a dollar on the counter. He walked out of the office and said to himself, “I sure don’t like to get mad. Makes me feel bad but that deputy and asshole telegraph man sure pissed me off! My belly is telling me it’s empty, I need something to eat.” He looked at his watch, it read a little past twelve noon. He headed to the Shu- Fly Café on Broadway. This was the first Saturday in May 1880.
Walking toward the Shu-Fly, he stopped at the corner of Alameda and Congress Street. There he could look four ways. All the buildings were built of adobe with false wood fronts except the court house. It was made of red brick and native stone. A lot like some of the buildings in San Antonio.
Hunger was now on his mind. He hurried on to the Shu- Fly and entered the café. He saw plank tables with white oil cloth covers on them, benches lined both sides. He went to a table in the back of the room and sat down in a chair with his back to the wall. The walls were white washed adobe with muslin cloth covering the ceiling. Young Mexican boys in white jackets with fly swatters were swatting at and killing the flies as much as they could.
Sam ordered a jerked beef stew, a buttered flour tortilla and black coffee. Before the food came he saw Stein enter the front door. He called and motioned for him to come over. Stein said, “Sam I didn’t expect to see you here. I eat here often, it’s not far from the bank, but this is Saturday and it’s my religious day. I don’t work on Saturdays.”
Sam asked, “You don’t go to church on Sunday?”
“No,” Stein replied, “I’m Jewish, our Temple day is from Friday sun down to Saturday sun down, I just came from my Synagogue. I want to tell someone, I’m going to ask a girl to be my wife to night at the dance.”
“That’s wonderful Stein, is she Jewish too?”
“Oh yes Sam. She’s the most beautiful girl in the whole wide world.”
“What’s your chances?”
“I think she’ll say yes, oh my Lord help her to say yes.” Stein seemed to be talking to himself.
“I don’t want you to think I’m dumb but I don’t know what a Jew is. Don’t reckon I ever met one before. You don’t look no different than any body else.”
“Sam do you read the Bible?”
“No,” replied Sam, “My Ma did read it to us, my Pa, brother and me when I was a young boy.”
“Do you remember her reading about Hebrews?”
“I think I do, that’s a long time ago.”
Stein started telling him about Jews. “We’re the oldest religion know to man.”
Sam interrupted, “Are there many Jews here in Tucson?”
“About one hundred families.”
They finished their meals at the same time. After paying they walked out on the wood sidewalk, Sam looked at his watch. “It’s almost two o’clock, I Think I’ll go home and take a nap, I’m sleepy all the time since I’ve come here.”
“I was the same way when I first came to Tucson, it’s the heat I guess.”
Sam told him, “Good luck with your girl.” They parted ways.
At home Sam went straight to his room. No one was around. He took off his clothes and boots, lay down and was soon fast asleep. He slept for a couple hours. When he woke up he dressed and went to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. Rosa was there.
“Sam how handsome you are with a shave and hair cut.”
“Had a bath too and I smell good, the barber slopped some kind of good smelling water on me.”
She leaned over, put her head on his chest and sniffed. “You do smell good to me.”
He pushed her away. “I need some coffee, is there some in the pot?”
“Yes, it’s hot.” She poured a cup. He took it.
“I’ll go drink on the patio.” He went there and sat in his favorite tub chair. Rosa followed and pulled a chair in front of him. She set down and kicked off her huaraches. She put her feet in his lap and asked, “Rub my feet, they feel so tired, will you Sam? Please?”
Sam remembered his Fawn used to ask him the same thing. Rosa snapped him back by pulling her skirt up over her knees to the middle of her legs. Sam looked away, tried to pay no attent
ion, she pulled her skirt higher and asked, “Do I have pretty legs Sam?”
He let out a silent whistle and replied, “Yes, your legs are very pretty.”
Just then Dolores called, “Rosa where are you?”
Rosa called back, “I’m here on the patio with Sam.”
“Come, I want you to go to the market, it’s getting late, we must fix supper.”
Dolores had anger in her voice. Rosa pulled on her huaraches and started to leave. Sam laughed at her. She stuck her tongue out at him and disappeared into the hall.
He sat a few minutes more. Then went to get another cup of coffee in the kitchen. Rosa was going out the front door. He whistled at her. Again she stuck her tongue out at him. He repeated his whistle and laughed. She shut the door hard. Laughing he asked Dolores for another cup of coffee and told her, “That’s some girl you have.”
“Sam I have been wanting to talk to you.”
“What about Dolores?”
“My Rosa and Louise.”
“Louise, Rosa?” he was puzzled.
“Yes, Sam you know Louise is not well. She’s much better than when she first came here, she coughed all the time.”
“You think she has TB?”
“No she would have to live out in the tent town if she had that. I’ve come to love her Sam. I don’t want her hurt.”
“I won’t hurt her Dolores. Not if I can help it.”
“Good. I knew I could count on you. Now about my Rosa. She really has taken a like-n to you. I know when that girl falls in love with a man it will be forever. I don’t want her hurt either.”
“Dolores, she’s just a young girl.” Sam was perplexed by her talk of Rosa.
“You know Sam, there are older men who have their eyes on her, they ask about her all the time, how old are you Sam?”
“I’ll be fifty next December, some days I feel like a hundred,” Sam laughed.
“I’m older than you Sam.”
He tried to kid her. “You don’t look very old at all to me Dolores. I’ll tell you, I would never hurt Rosa. At least not on purpose. I promise you that.”
Dolores came and hugged him and said, “I know you couldn’t, I know you’re a good man. You know, there are men that have asked for Rosa. Mexican men like younger women, one man in his late seventies, he has daughters older than Rosa. There are several more who have offered mucho dinero for my Rosa.”
Sam shook his head. “That’s like selling her as a slave, you couldn’t do that to her.”
“No, No I wouldn’t, I chased those son-of-a-guns from my house. Sam. I must ask, do you have any feelings for my Rosa?”
“I like her but not that way, she’s just a young girl, I like older women, like you Dolores.” They both laughed.
Sam asked as gentle as he could, “I would like to ask you, where is Rosa’s papa?”
Dolores shaking her head said, “That son of a gun ran off with a young Senorita. He went to Mexico, Rosa was just a baby.”
“That’s too bad.” Sam felt sympathy for her. “You’re doin a good job of raising her.”
“It’s not too bad. I have this house, it was his papa’s. I get thirty five American dollars from you boarders each month. Rosa and I live good on that.”
Rosa came thru the door saying, “We must hurry Momma, or we won’t get a good table at the dance.”
Dolores said to her, “Call the people supper is ready.”
The little group of boarders after supper walked together on the way to the dance. They walked to Congress Street then turned west. Sam was wearing his blue suit, white shirt, black string tie, a matching vest with the U.S. Marshal badge pinned on it, a black hat cocked on his head, he was carrying his coat over his left arm, the trusty Schofield hung at his right side. Louise and Rosa walked in the front, Louise in a blue skirt, a white high necked blouse, she carried a white silk wrap. Her hair was done up in the latest style. Rosa wore a white silk blouse ,a full red skirt, black patent leather shoes, her long shiny black hair was covering her shoulders and down to her waist. Both women were a beautiful sight to behold, Sam was impressed with their good looks. The other women were dressed typical of the day with their long dresses down to their shoes. Leon , the big one, was smoking a long black cigar, he walked beside Mrs. Martinez, Hilda and Sam followed along, Stein was not with the party.
They crossed the Rio Santa Cruz river on a rickety wooden bridge. The Pavilion was just south of Congress street on the bank of the river. Sam could see a large wooden dance floor, a foot or so off the ground, smoothed from thousands of dancing feet. A man was tossing corn starch on the floor as they walked on to the platform. At the far south end was a raised platform where musicians, both Mexican and American were tuning their instruments. Tables with benches lined both east and west sides. Tall posts along the sides of the dance floor held ropes that were strung post to post and across the floor. Colorful lanterns hung from the ropes. There must have been several dozen. The north end was open. A lake doglegged around the south and west side of the pavilion. The only table left was at the far north end, the group sat at it. Hilda, Louise and Dolores sat on the far side, the men took the bench next to the dance floor.
Rosa, all the time complaining, she wished they had come sooner to get a better table, no one else complained. Old Sol was setting over the west mountains. Men started to light the lanterns as darkness set in, the music started.
The dancers took the floor, what a colorful sight. The dancers in their colorful dress, the Arizona sunset streaming over their heads, with all the colors of the rainbow, no one could have painted a more magnificent picture.
The men talked of the women dancers, the women of the men dancers. All the people were having a good time.
Manuel and his family sat at a table across the way, his little girls dressed in colorful Mexican dresses were on the floor trying to do all the dances.
Rosa danced every dance, most of the time with different partners, only stopping to get her breath, then she’d be back on the floor dancing.
“She’s a great dancer,” Louise remarked, everyone agreed with her.
Several men came to talk with Sam and the men. One was Doctor Fenn, the town doctor. He thanked Sam for the business he had made for him. He was taking care of the Greek Sam had shot. Sam asked how the little fella was doing and how sorry he was to have had to shoot him.
He asked how the Doctor was gonna get paid? The Doctor told him, “When the Sheriff cleaned out his room, he found over one thousand dollars in gold coin and green backs.” The man asked the Doctor to tell Sam, he was grateful that Sam had not killed him. The Doctor said the Sheriff was sending him to Los Angeles to rid Tucson of him. “See you boys later.” He returned to his table and his wife. She waved and smiled at the Mrs. Martinez group.
At the intermission Rosa came to Sam and asked him to dance the next dance with her.
Louise said, “Go Sam, dance with her.”
“I can’t dance these dances,” he flatly refused.
The music started again and Rosa was back on the floor dancing with a handsome young Mexican boy.
Sam saw the deputy Clint come up and lean against one of the light poles, a hand rolled cigarette dangling from his lips, he looked unsteady on his feet, a slough hat sat back on his head. He was wearing the same dirty white shirt and boots he had on this morning.
As Rosa came back to the table, he stepped over and grabbed her by an arm saying in a loud voice, “Dance with me bitch.”
She tried to pull away but couldn’t. “I don’t dance with drunks,” she said as she pulled harder.
“You dance with them greasers, I’m as good as them.” He pulled her to him, she tried to pull away again, he held her tight. She was struggling to get away.
Sam rose, his jaw was set, his fists clinched. Louise grabbed his arm. “He’s armed,” she said as she pointed to Clint’s pistol.
Sam had early taken his pistol belt off and laid it on the table. Sam could see the old colt han
ging from Clint’s belt. He pulled away from Louise and stepped to the deputy. “LET HER GO,” he said in a demanding voice.
Clint spoke back, “Get away old man, this is none of your affair.”
Sam asked again. Clint stepped back and reached for the colt with his right hand. A crashing right fist landed square on the Deputy’s left jaw, making a bone breaking sound, he hit the floor like a rock, out cold.
Two men who worked at the pavilion came and dragged him by his feet toward the river and pushed him off the bank. As they returned to the pavilion, smiles beamed all over their faces, one gave Sam a salute.
The music started again. Dolores said, “It’s the last Mexican dance, It’s always the Mexican hat dance.”
Rosa and her partner were so good the other dancers drew back to watch. When they finished the crowd clapped and cheered so hard the lanterns almost came down.
The last dance by the American musicians was a waltz. Memories flooded back into Sam’s mind, he and Little Fawn watched from the porch, thru the windows at Ft Laramie. The officers and their ladies glided around the dance floor, waltzing. Sam and Fawn were trying to do the same with much difficulty. The Captain’s wife Sue, saw them thru a window and came out and asked Fawn if she would like to learn the white mans dances. She shook her head violently, yes, yes.
Sue told them, “Come to our quarters, bring Sam, I’ll teach you both.”
They went many times and danced to her music box. The band was playing the same music now.
Louise came, she stood in front of Sam and asked, “Dance with me Sam, it’s a waltz, they’re playing the Blue Danube. Please Sam, dance with me,” she begged.
He stood and took her in his arms and in the best manner of a dancer, waltzed and whirled her around the floor so smoothly the other dancers stopped, stood back to watch. Around and around they danced and when the music finished the applause was so deafening, the cheers and bravos could be heard uptown.
The dance was over. As the group walked home, Louise was so out of breath, Sam and Rosa had to half carry her. They stopped several times to let her get her breath. She was so happy, she smiled all the time.