The Rocky Mountains were a purple shadow far to the northeast of him, while the Jemez Mountains, a wild and ragged range, lay to his immediate west, dotted with aspen, pine, cottonwood, and willow. There were bare spots on the mountains in between the trees. These bare spots of rock and dirt were sometimes gray and sometimes red, but always distant and foreboding.
Late in the afternoon, a rabbit hopped up in front of Matt and bounded down the trail ahead of him. Matt stopped his horse, pulled his rifle from the saddle scabbard, looped his leg around the pommel, raised the rifle to his shoulder, rested his elbow on his knee, and squeezed the trigger. He saw a puff of fur and spray of blood fly up from the rabbit. The rabbit made a head-first somersault, then lay perfectly still.
Matt stopped for the day, and making camp under a growth of cottonwoods on the bank of the Rio Grande, he started a fire, skinned and cleaned the rabbit, then skewered it on a green willow branch and suspended it over the fire between two forked limbs. When it was golden brown he seasoned it with his dwindling supply of salt and began eating, pulling the meat away with his teeth even when it was almost too hot to hold.
After his supper, Matt stirred the fire, then lay down alongside it, using his saddle as a pillow. He stared into the coals, watching while the red sparks rode a heated column of air high up into the night sky. There, the still-glowing red and orange sparks joined the jewel-like scattering of stars.
In the distance he could hear the sound of a train whistle, a long, lonesome howl. Lying on his bed-roll, he heard the chugging sound gradually build until it was rolling out across the plains in loud, rhythmic puffs. Then he saw the beam of the headlamp, and finally the locomotive itself, rushing through the night, the escaping white steam almost luminescent, a dull orange from the cab window, then the brightly lighted windows of the passenger cars as they hurried by like a string of shining beads.
He watched the train go by, separated from it only by the river itself. Then, he saw green marker light as the caboose approached, and the red rear light as the train proceeded on its way.
Matt had a full belly, a good fire, a good horse, and a nearby supply of water. Ordinarily, such a condition would leave him content. But as long as Rufus Draco was free, Matt could not be content.
Nambe, New Mexico
Draco needed money and the only way he knew how to get money was to steal it. He rode into the town of Nambe slowly, sizing it up as he did so. The north end of the town was the American side. It was made up of no more than a dozen whipsawed lumber shacks with unpainted, splitting wood turning gray. The south end of town was the Mexican side, and it was dominated by sand-colored, adobe buildings.
Draco was thinking about robbing a store, when he saw a building with a sign over the door that identified it as the Bank of Nambe. Draco didn’t think the bank had much money, but then, since he didn’t have anything except for the twenty-dollar gold pieces he had stolen from the whore’s room, it didn’t really matter how much the bank had. Anything would have to be an improvement over his current economic status. Besides, he was certain that in a town this small, the bank would be an easy target.
Draco dismounted, then looked up and down the street. Except for a few Mexicans at the far end of the street, he saw nobody outside, everyone tending to stay inside, out of the hot sun. Walking around to the side of the bank, he looked out beyond the town. As he stood there looking around, he worked out his escape. When he left, instead of following the road out of town, he would strike due east toward an arroyo, which would give him cover from anyone who might shoot at him.
He walked his horse between the bank building and the apothecary that was next door, then tied his horse to a low scrub bush out back. This would give him a head start when he made his getaway.
Pulling his pistol and checking the loads, he walked back to the front of the bank, stood there for a moment looking toward each end of the street, and seeing that it was still clear, stepped inside.
There were only two people in the bank, the teller and a young woman were standing at the teller window. Making a quick perusal of the bank, he saw that there was a back door, which was locked by means of a cross bar.
Unobserved by the teller and the woman customer, Draco locked the door behind him, then turned the sign around in the door window so that it read CLOSED.
This was going to be easier than he’d thought. Instead of drawing his pistol, he took out his knife, the same knife that had so recently done a carving job on the whore back in Lorenzo. Stepping up behind the woman, he grabbed her, then held his knife to her throat.
The woman gasped in shock and fear.
“If you scream, I’ll cut your throat,” Draco said in a low, guttural growl.
“Who are you? What do you want?” the teller asked in a quivering voice.
“I want all the money this bank has,” Draco said.
“What? You’re robbing the bank?”
“No, I’m just making a withdrawal,” Draco said sarcastically. “Now, if you don’t want to see this woman’s blood all over, you’ll hand over the money like I said.”
“We’re a small bank. We don’t have very much money.”
“How much do you have?”
“As of this morning, we have one thousand, six hundred, and fifty-seven dollars,” the teller said.
Draco smiled. “Then I’ll take one thousand, six hundred, and fifty-seven dollars.”
Draco watched as, with shaking hands, the teller put the money in a cloth bag.
Then, Draco, still holding on to the woman, moved to the back door.
“Bring me the money,” Draco said.
The teller brought the bag, then held it out toward Draco.
In a quick, slashing motion, Draco drew the knife across the woman’s throat and, as blood gushed from her wound, she fell to the floor without a sound.
“No!” the teller said, but before he could make another sound, Draco thrust his knife into the teller’s heart and he, too, fell to the floor, dead.
Now, with a cloth bag full of money, Draco opened the back door, walked, unobserved, to his horse, mounted, and rode off.
It was another hour before the robbery and the two dead bodies in the bank were discovered.
Chapter Six
Tesuque, New Mexico
When Draco stepped into Max’s Barbershop, he saw that the barber chair was tipped all the way back and someone was in it, his face covered by the barber cape. Whoever was under the cape was asleep, as Draco could hear him snoring.
“Where’s the barber?” Draco asked loudly.
The sleeping man snorted once, jerked the cape off, sat up, and stroked his chin.
“I’m Max. I’m the barber.”
“I need your services.”
“What for? You ain’t got a hair on your head.”
“I want my beard shaved.”
“Trimmed, or shaved?”
“Shaved. I want it taken completely off.”
“Are you sure? That’s a damn fine-looking beard, if you ask me.”
“I’m not askin’.”
“All right.” Max stood up. “Get in the chair.”
Draco got into the chair and the barber began stropping his straight razor.
“I don’t know why you are wantin’ to get rid of your beard,” Max said. “Seeing as you have no hair on top of your head, you’d think you’d at least want some on the bottom.” The barber laughed at his own joke.
“Just do it,” Draco said with a growl.
“Yes, sir, whatever you say.”
The barber worked up a lather in the shaving cup, then began laying it onto the beard.
“Have me ’n’ you ever met before?” Max asked.
“No.”
“Are you sure? There’s somethin’ awful familiar about you. I’m sure we’ve met somewhere.”
“Do you always talk this much?”
“Sorry.”
Max began drawing his razor across Draco’s cheeks and chin as clumps of
red beard fell to the floor. After a few minutes he finished, then he wiped Draco’s now bare chin with a warm, damp towel.
“How’s that look for you?” the barber asked with a broad smile. “Yes, sir, you don’t look nothin’ at all like you did when you first come in.” Max chuckled. “Except for the nose, and you’ve had that ever since . . . uh, that is, I can’t do nothin’ about that you’re just goin’ to have to . . .” The barber stopped in midsentence, and the smile left his face, to be replaced by a look of fear.
“Uh, that’ll be a quarter,” he said.
“You remember now, where we met, don’t you?” Draco said.
“No, no, I was mistaken. I ain’t never seen you nowhere before.”
“You’re lying, Max. You know who I am, don’t you?”
“No, I . . . I don’t have any idea.”
“Then why are you so nervous?”
A few minutes later, a clean-shaven Draco shut the door behind him, untied his horse, mounted, and rode out of town at a leisurely pace, even exchanging waves with a wagon driver who was just coming into town. In the barbershop he had just left, Max was once again lying in the supine position, in his chair, under the barber’s cape. But this time he wasn’t sleeping. He was dead, from a stab wound to the chest.
Draco knew that it would likely be an hour or more before anyone grew curious enough to check on Max, and if he rode hard, he could be ten miles south of there by then.
Thirty Four Corners
Jimmy Patterson had just carried a load of wet clothes out into the backyard, where his mother was hanging out the wash.
“Here’s the next load, Ma,” Jimmy said, setting the basket down. The laundry wasn’t just the family wash—it was the wash for a dozen or more people. Jimmy’s father had been killed in a wagon accident six months earlier, and Jimmy’s mother had taken in wash in order to bring in enough money to support herself and Jimmy.
“I’m goin’ to go get a job,” Jimmy said.
“Jimmy, no, you have to finish school.”
“Why do I need any more schoolin’, Ma?” Jimmy said. “I can read, and I can cipher. What else do I need?”
“But your pa wanted you to have more of an education than he had.”
“I’ve already got more schoolin’ than Pa had,” Jimmy said. “And for me to sit around and let you do all the work . . . it just isn’t right, Ma. It isn’t right at all.”
“Where you are going to go to work?”
“I’m goin’ to the Tumbling P. I know some of their cowboys, and they’re all good guys.”
“Oh, Jimmy . . .”
“Ma, I’m goin’ to do it whether you approve or not,” Jimmy said, resolutely. “But I’d feel a lot better about it if I thought I had your blessing.”
Jimmy’s mother stared at him for a moment, then tears came to her eyes. She opened her arms and he came to her embrace.
“Of course you have my blessing,” she said. “You are a wonderful son, Jimmy, and I am so proud of you.”
Tumbling P Ranch
“How old are you, boy?” Gabe Mathis asked a couple of hours later, after Jimmy showed up to ask for work.
“I’m eighteen.”
“Eighteen?” The expression on Gabe’s face indicated that he didn’t believe Jimmy.
“Sixteen.”
“I don’t know, boy. That’s still awfully young,” Gabe said.
“I can ride and rope. I can string barbed wire. What is it you think I can’t do? Mr. Mathis, you know my pa died. My ma is takin’ in washin’, but that don’t hardly pay enough to keep us both fed. I’ve got to make some money.”
Gabe chuckled. “All right, boy, if you’re that determined, I’ll give you some work.”
“Thanks!” Jimmy said with a big smile.
“You can start now,” Gabe said, pointing to a corral. “We’re branding calves today. Go over there and make yourself useful.”
“Yes, sir!” Jimmy said happily.
Santa Domingo, New Mexico
The Horse Shoe Saloon had never seen a drop of paint, and the exterior was gray, weathered wood. It looked as if a good puff of wind could blow it down and was clearly the most rundown saloon, if not the most decrepit building, in the entire town. Because Draco was flush with money he had stolen from the bank in Nambe, he could have gone to the finest saloon, and eaten in the finest restaurant, but he was here, in the Horse Shoe Saloon, for a specific purpose.
Rufus Draco bought a beer and a plate of beans and tortillas, and sat in the corner reading a newspaper.
Barber Murdered in Tesuque
Max Dawson, the only barber in Tesuque, was found murdered in his barber chair, having been stabbed in the heart. Fourteen dollars was found in his cash box, so robbery has been ruled out. Why he was murdered is still a mystery, and the mystery as to who murdered him is an even greater mystery.
Max Dawson had, at one time, been a barber for the Colorado prison system at Cannon City, Colorado. Draco had recognized him the moment he’d seen him, though he’d thought, for a while, that Dawson had not recognized him. When he’d realized that Dawson had recognized him, Draco had known that he couldn’t leave him alive, for to do so would leave him in jeopardy.
Draco turned to the next story.
Feud Continues
Now Over Twenty Years Old
The town of Thirty Four Corners in Rio Arriba County is as divided as was this nation during the Civil War. The adversaries in this feud are Benjamin Ross and Morgan Poindexter. Once very good friends, the two men are now bitter enemies, each with their following.
Ross owns the BR Ranch, and Poindexter owns the Tumbling P. The ranches are very successful, and Ross and Poindexter are two of the wealthiest men in the entire territory of New Mexico. It has long been hoped that there would be a reconciliation between the two men, because if these two capable men would work in concert, Thirty Four Corners could not help but benefit.
“Draco?”
Looking up, Rufus Draco saw Norman Fox.
“Hello, Fox.”
“I damn near didn’t recognize you. I don’t know as I’ve ever seen you without your beard before. What are you doin’ in Santa Domingo?”
“I was lookin’ for you, and I thought I might find you here,” Draco said. “And, as you can see, I did.”
“What? You mean you were lookin’ for me?”
“Yes.”
Fox got a puzzled look on his face. “What are you lookin’ for me for? I ain’t done nothin’ to you.”
“I’m puttin’ together a plan that can make a lot of money, and you can be a part of it.”
“How much money?”
“A lot of money,” Draco said without being specific. “And some money for you, right away, if you are interested.”
“How soon is right away?”
“Is right now soon enough for you?”
Fox smiled. “Yeah, it is. What do you need me to do?”
“There’s someone on my trail that I need you to get rid of. Until he’s gone, I can’t put my plan into effect.”
“What do you mean by ‘get rid of ’?”
“I mean I want you to kill him. It ain’t like you’ve never kilt anyone before.”
“I’ve kilt before. What’s in for me?”
“I told you, money.”
“Who is on your trail?”
“A man by the name of Matt Jensen. You ever heard of him?”
“Yes, I’ve heard of him.”
“He’s the one I want you to kill,” Draco said, easily.
“Like I told you, I’ve heard of him,” Fox said. “And from what I’ve heard, killin’ him ain’t goin’ to be that easy.”
“Look, I ain’t expectin’ you to face the son of a bitch down,” Draco said. “All I’m askin’ you to do is kill ’im.”
“If you want him dead, how come you won’t do it yourself?”
“He knows me, which means I can’t get close to him. You’ve heard of him, but like as not, he’s never
heard of you, so you’ll have the advantage over him. He won’t be on the lookout for you. It shouldn’t be that hard.”
“What is this plan you’re talkin’ about, that will make a lot of money?” Fox asked.
“Huh-uh,” Draco said, shaking his head. “It’s not somethin’ I want to tell anyone until I’m ready.”
“You want me to kill Matt Jensen for you, but you won’t tell me what it’s for? What about the money that you said you’d give me right away?”
“I’ll give you a hunnert dollars now, and another four hunnert after you take care of him,” Draco said. “And the money you make now won’t come off your share of the money when I divide it up with the others.”
“What others?”
“There are no others, yet, but I’ll soon be putting them together for the plan.”
“A hunnert dollars now, and another four hunnert dollars after I kill Jensen? That’s your offer?”
“Yes.”
“I want an IOU for the four hunnert.”
“What? That would lead him right back to me. Why would I do that?”
“I thought you said he was after you, anyway.”
“Yes, he is.”
“Then, how would an IOU lead him back to you? I mean if he is already after you. And if it’s goin’ to be as easy for me to kill him as you say, he ain’t ever goin’ to see the IOU in the first place, because he’ll be dead.”
“Why do you want one, anyway?”
“It doesn’t make any difference why I want it,” Fox said. “If you want me to do this job for you, I want an IOU from you.”
“All right, all right,” Draco agreed. “Get me a piece of paper and a pen.”
Fox held up his finger as if signaling Draco to stay in place, and he walked over to the bar. A moment later he brought a piece of paper and a pen back to Draco.
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