The Old Spanish Trail

by Ralph Compton

  “I wish you didn’t have to go,” said Mike. “It’ll be a rotten break if you get there, and before you can return, the Federals close the Texas ports.”

  “We can’t help thinking about the possibility of that,” Felton said, “but it’s a chance we’ll have to take. You gents left Texas with nothing but the clothes on your backs, your saddles, and the horses you were ridin’. Now you got money in your pockets, a pile more comin’, and a handsome woman by your side. A man don’t often see a run of luck like that. All of you just say some words to the big boss up yonder that Don and me will go there and back without a Federal blockade of Texas ports.”

  It was a sobering thought, and despite the good fortune they had enjoyed, some of the hilarity had gone out of them. Los Angeles, with its sailing ships from many ports, had much more to offer than a mercantile or general store. There were stores devoted to the sale of clothing for men and women, and it was to one of the most prestigious of these that the Texans were attracted. They were met at the door by a handsomely dressed salesman, who looked at them with some disapproval. Don took notice and spoke immediately.

  “We have ladies with us.”

  “Ah, yes,” said the salesman smoothly. “In their . . . ah . . . attire, I might have overlooked them.”

  “Take the time to find a lady to see to their needs,” Don said, “and then we’ll talk to you about ours. If you’re concerned about the money, then don’t be. We’re prepared to pay for their clothing and ours.”

  The look of relief that passed over the man’s face was obvious, and as he rushed away, the Texans laughed.

  “I don’t like him,” Ellie Andrews said.

  “Neither do I,” said Don, “but we have money to pay. He’ll respect that.”

  When the uppity salesman returned, he had a gray-haired woman with him. When he spoke, his entire attitude had changed.

  “I am Mr. Billington,” he said, “and this is Mrs. Maxwell. She will see to the needs of the ladies.”

  With a friendly smile, Mrs. Maxwell took charge of the women, and they followed her up the stairs to a second floor. Billington raised his eyebrows and seemed about to speak, but Don beat him to it.

  “Go about your business, Billington. When we find what we want, we’ll holler at you.”

  At a loss for words, Billington nodded. The Texans wandered among the racks, choosing dark pinstriped trousers with matching frock coats. White ruffled shirts and red or black ties completed their outfits.

  “I want some new boots,” said Red, “but I ain’t sure Billington would know a Texas boot from a busted calk horseshoe.”

  “Let’s make do with what we have from here,” Don said. “We’ll find a boot-maker for our boots. I want a new hat too.

  Billington had been lurking about like a buzzard waiting to swoop down once he was certain the carcass was his. When Don nodded to him, he came in a lope.

  “Are you sure the sizes . . . ?”

  “The sizes are right,” Don said. “We made sure of that. Tally it all up, a total for each of us.”

  One by one, they paid, and while they waited for Billington to wrap their purchases, Mrs. Maxwell came down the stairs. Her concern was plain, and when Don looked at her, she spoke.

  “The ladies have made their choices, and I must warn you, the bill is quite large.”

  “Tally up a bill for each of them, and send them down here,” said Don. “Their bills will be paid.”

  They came timidly down the stairs, their arms loaded with parcels. Molly was first, and she seemed almost afraid when Red took the bill from her. If he was startled, he failed to show it. He handed Billington the piece of paper and counted out a hundred and fifty-five dollars. The rest of the riders settled their bills with equal calm. They then left the place, ignoring Billington’s profuse thanks and an invitation to come again.

  “Dear Lord,” Sarah said, “I had no idea it was going to cost so much. I’m ashamed of myself.”

  “Hush,” said Bob. “You’re worth it.”

  Dismayed at the expense, the others began protesting, but were quickly hushed, just as Bob had quieted Sarah.

  “I still need some boots and a hat,” Don said, “but I think both can wait for another day. By the time we get all this stuff back to the hotel, it’ll be time for me to ride back to Ellerbee’s.”

  “We’ll all set tight until you get back,” said Bob. “By then it’ll be suppertime.”

  “We’d better decide pretty quick what we’re goin’ to do with all them extra horses and the mules,” Mike Horton said. “Keepin’ ’em in a corral at the livery and feedin’ ’em hay will be the rain of us.”

  “We can afford it through tomorrow,” said Don. “We’ll decide what to do about them before Felton and me have to leave.”

  Don arrived a few minutes before four and was quickly shown into Dwight Ellerbee’s office.

  “Our talley is five thousand, two hundred,” Ellerbee said. “Is that satisfactory?”

  “Completely,” said Don.

  “Good,” Ellerbee said. “Like you said, they’re prime, and I’m standing behind my offer of sixty-five dollars a head. Here’s your receipt and a check. You may present it the day after tomorrow at the First National Bank.”

  “Get me some paper, a quill, and some ink, and I’ll write you a bill of sale,” said Don.

  The items were brought. Don quickly wrote and signed a bill of sale. Unaware that he was being watched, he left the Ellerbee offices and rode toward the distant dock.

  “He ain’t had time to get the money,” Curt Pickford said.

  “He’ll have to get it from a bank, and it’s too late in the day.”

  “I can wait,” said Ben. “I don’t aim to make my move until I know Roussel’s got his share, and I got him away from the others. We know the hotel where they’re stayin’, and we’ll follow Roussel when he leaves there.”

  “The banks will likely be closed tomorrow,” Curt said. “It’s July fourth.”

  “No matter,” said Ben. “I can wait another day.”

  Quando had watched the longhorns being driven into the Ellerbee stock pens, and he knew the hotel where the Texans were staying. He would wait until he knew they had their money. Then he would choose a time and place to make some of it his own . . .

  There was only one office that handled all the commerce into and out of Los Angeles, and it was there that Don made his inquiry about booking passage on a sailing ship bound for New Orleans that would take him and Felton to Houston.

  “There’s a sailing ship bound for New Orleans, leaving three days from now,” Don told his companions, “and I just booked passage for Felton and me as far as Houston. As far as anybody knows, a week after we arrive in Houston, we can board another ship bound for Los Angeles. We’ll have a week to tend to our business in Texas. Will that be enough for you, Felton?”

  “More than enough,” said Felton. “I got a feelin’ we’d better go there and get out just as quick as we can. I went down to the hotel’s dining room and bought a newspaper while you was gone, and it’s full of nothin’ but the war.”

  “I’ll read it some other time,” Don said. “I don’t want to spoil my supper.”

  Despite the grim news of war, the outfit went to supper in the hotel’s dining room. It was far more fancy than the cafe in Saugus, where Don and Red at eaten before. There was a huge table that would seat twenty, and it was to this that the outfit was taken. The waiters were dressed in fancy red jackets that bore the embroidered name of the hotel on the breast pocket, and three of them brought baskets of fruit to the table.

  “We’ll make this as easy as we can,” said Don. “We’re havin’ steak with whatever kind of fixings you can serve with it. Make mine well-done. You can ask the others how they want theirs.”

  The order was taken quickly, and they began sampling the different kinds of fruit that overflowed the baskets. There were small printed notices on every table, announcing that the hotel would sponsor a fire
works display on July fourth.

  “I’ve never seen fireworks,” Millie Nettles said.

  “None of us has,” said Rose. “We never saw much of anything at the mission school, except whippings and hard work.”

  “We could ask around and see what happened to the place,” Bob said. “That is, if anybody cares.”

  “I don’t care,” Sarah said. “I wish I could put it out of my mind and never think of it again.”

  The rest of the women quickly expressed the same sentiments.

  “Enough of that,” said Don. “Let’s talk about what we’ll do tomorrow.”

  “I think we oughta look for a place to pitch camp for as long as we plan to stay here in California,” Charlie said. “This hotel will gobble up all my money in three months.”

  “Yeah,” said Jim Roussel. “Dominique and Roberto had the right idea. They’re bunkin’ down at the livery, with the horses and mules.”

  “Oh hell,” Red growled, “we can do better than that. We been bunking with the horses and mules all the way from San Antone.”

  Molly laughed. “Don’t forget the cows.”

  A well-dressed, gray-haired man approached their table, tipping his hat.

  “I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation,” he said. “I’m Jeffries Butler, and I’ve a piece of property that may interest you.”

  “We’re not interested in buying property,” said Don. “We don’t aim to be here more than a few months.”

  “A sale isn’t what I have in mind,” Butler said. “I have three hundred acres, with a twelve-room house. It used to be a horse ranch till the old gent that owned it died. Now his kin want to sell the place, but it’s been on the market for a year with no offers. They are willing to rent it very reasonably, just to keep it all from going to seed, or possibly to prevent having the house burned.”

  “On that basis, we might be interested,” said Don. “What’s your idea of reasonable?”

  “A hundred dollars a month,” Butler said. “There’s a barn large enough for as many as fifty horses. There’s plenty of graze and water too.”

  “Tell us how to find the place, and where we can find you,” said Don. “Tomorrow we’ll ride out and look at it.”

  “Here’s a map I had printed,” Butler replied, “and my office is here, just off the lobby of the hotel.”

  When Butler had returned to his table, the riders all looked at one another.

  “With all of us payin’ a little, that ain’t much over ten dollars a month,” said Bob.

  “That’s why we’re ridin’ out for a look at this old horse ranch,” Don said. “We don’t know how long this war between North and South will last.”

  The supper was an event to be remembered, and long after the food was consumed, they lingered over coffee, considering the possibilities of Butler’s proposal.

  “Suppose we rent the place, and he sells it?” said Mike Horton. “If he’s willing to rent it for a hundred a month, maybe we could all just pitch in and buy it. Then we couldn’t be put out of it. I’m bettin’ we can hire Dominique and Roberto pretty reasonable too.”

  “You’re forgettin’ one thing,” Red said. “Charlie, Arch, Felton, and me won’t have the kind of dinero the rest of you will have.”

  “I think we’re gettin’ the cart considerably ahead of the horse,” said Don. “Just wait until we’ve had a look at the place. Then if we think it’s worth buying, maybe we can set it up so we can all afford a piece of it.”

  “The fireworks display won’t be until tonight,” Don said, as they sat down to breakfast. “I asked the desk clerk.”

  “Then let’s ride out for a look at that house Butler told us about,” said Bob.

  “That would be so exciting, having our own place,” Molly Rivers said.

  When they went to the livery, saddled their horses and rode out, several observers were more than a little surprised.

  “Damn it,” Ben Pickford said, “they’re leaving. Where can they be going?”

  “They’ll be back,” said Curt. “We been watching, and they ain’t been to a bank. They still got to get their money for the cows.”

  But Quando wasn’t so sure. He mounted his horse and followed at a safe distance.

  The ranch was all that Butler had promised and more. Besides the ranch house, there was a bunk house. All the buildings were in good repair, and there were three fast-flowing creeks that ran across the property.

  “That barn’s plenty big enough for some serious horse ranching,” Les Brown said.

  “Let’s look at the house,” said Rose.

  The doors were unlocked, as Butler had said they would be. The place had a natural stone foundation and was constructed from skinned logs, which had been painted a dark brown. The windows were large, with glass panes.

  “That’s the first log house I ever saw that was painted and had glass in the windows,” Mike Horton observed.

  They inspected every room, finding nothing amiss. Adjoining the kitchen, the dining room had a huge T-frame wooden table that was long enough to seat thirty. Finally, in the kitchen there was an enormous iron cook stove. Along one wall there was a series of iron sinks, apparently for dish washing. Mounted behind them was a pump. Don worked the handle a few times and was rewarded with a rush of clear, cold water.

  “Water in the house,” said Arch Danson. “I never seen that before.”

  “It’s generally so dry in Texas, we was lucky to have a waterhole within walking distance of the house,” Charlie said.

  “I’ve seen enough,” said Don. “Anxious as Butler is to sell this place, let’s see what he has in mind, price-wise.”

  “This being the Fourth of July, he may not be in his office,” Bob said.

  “Then we’ll see him tomorrow,” said Don. “We can’t cash our check until then.”

  To their surprise, Butler sat in the hotel lobby, reading a newspaper. Folding the newspaper, he got up.

  “We’re ready to talk to you about that horse ranch,” Don said.

  “Fine,” said Butler. “Let’s go to the hotel’s dining room for coffee.”

  They were seated at the same long table where they’d had supper the night before.

  “We don’t believe in beatin’ around the bush,” Don said. “What’s your askin’ price for the place?”

  “Fifteen thousand,” said Butler. “Five thousand in cash, and the rest through the bank, over twenty years.”

  “We have nothing against banks,” Don said, “but we don’t like debt. How much, if we pay you all of it in cash?”

  “Twelve thousand,” said Butler.

  “On those terms, I think we’ll take it,” Don said. “All of you have heard the offer. Is anybody unhappy with it?”

  Nobody said anything.

  “Draw up the papers then,” said Don, “and we’ll have the money for you tomorrow, when the bank opens.”

  “Fine,” Butler said. “It will be then before I can have you a copy of the deed drawn up. To whom shall I say it’s being sold?”

  “You can use all nine names,” said Don, “or just show it’s being sold to the Circle 9-T connected. By ten o’clock, we should be ready to do business with you.”

  When Butler had gone, everybody wanted to talk at once.

  “Why are we needin’ a brand?” Les Brown wanted to know.

  “When I get back from Texas with my woman, I might just buy the rest of you out, stay here and raise horses,” said Don.

  Mike Horton laughed. “Suppose the rest of us decide not to sell?”

  “Then I reckon the rest of you damn stubborn varmints will have to stay here and raise horses too,” Don said.

  “When the dust has all settled, I figure the nine of us will each owe thirteen hundred and forty dollars,” said Charlie. “I can afford that.”

  The following day, they were all waiting when the bank opened. Upon the suggestion of the banker, most of the money was left in an account from which they could draw as the need aro
se. They kept out enough to settle with Butler, and he was waiting in his office when they arrived.

  “Now,” said Jim Roussel, when the deal had been closed, “I aim to take Ellie for a walk around town before we ride to the ranch.”

  “I want to walk down to the ocean,” Ellie said.

  While the hotel overlooked the Pacific, it was still a good distance away. Jim and Ellie had to pass a vacant building, where Ben and Curt Pickford waited in the shadows.

  “Nobody with him but one of them females that’s been wearin’ britches,” said Ben. “I’ll cut him down, and you cover me while I grab the money he’s carryin’.”

  A single shot rang out, and Jim Roussel pitched to the ground, a growing patch of blood on the back of his shirt.

  “Jim!” Ellie cried, falling down beside him.

  Ben Pickford came on the run, his Colt in his hand. He seized the collar of the blouse Ellie wore, prepared to fling her aside, but the girl rolled away from him, gripping Jim’s Colt with both hands. On her back, she fired once, twice, three times. Three slugs in his chest, Ben Pickford died on his feet. The shots had been heard. Don, Bob, Charlie and Red came running.

  “That bastard, Ben Pickford,” Charlie said. “Where’s the other one?”

  “I only saw this one,” said Ellie, through tears.

  “Let’s get him back to the hotel,” Don said. “Red, find us a doc.”

  The doctor came, dressed Jim’s wound, and predicted he would recover. He had been hit high up.

  “All of us had better stay in town another day or two,” said Bob. “The doc will want to follow up on Jim’s wound. Besides, Don and Felton will be leaving for Texas sometime tomorrow.”

  “The landing is near enough for Felton and me to walk,” Don said, as he and Felton Juneau prepared to leave.

  “You want us to see you off?” Bob asked.

  “I don’t,” said Felton. “I’d like to ride out to the ranch with the rest of you, so don’t make it any harder for me to get on that ship.”

  “About the way I feel,” Don said. “I have the money for Eli’s kin, so I reckon we’re ready to go.”