Sylvia didn’t expect her father until at least noon, so after breakfast she decided to take a walk around town. Although the elevation of Los Luna was four thousand and eight hundred feet, it was relatively flat. To the west, though, the Navajo Mountains rose high into the sky, and Sylvia felt a twinge of nostalgia at seeing them again.
She had been here ten years earlier and she remembered, vividly, the day she had climbed onto the train to leave home and head east to live with an aunt she had only seen one time in her entire life. How frightening that trip east had been. She had wondered and worried about her aunt and uncle. How would they receive her? Would they treat her kindly, or would they consider her an imposition?
As it turned out, her aunt and uncle had been wonderful to her, treating her as if she were their own daughter. It had been a very good ten years, and she, and they, had cried when she’d left to come back west. Now, she was as apprehensive about coming back to New Mexico as she had been about leaving it.
Stepping into the Railroad Saloon, which was a different saloon from the one he had been in the night before, Matt made a careful scrutiny of the place. A card game was in progress near the back, and at one of the front tables, there was some earnest conversation. Three men stood at the bar, each complete within themselves, concentrating only on their drink and private thoughts. A heavily made-up soiled dove stood at the far end of the bar. She smiled at Matt, but getting no encouragement, stayed put.
“What’ll it be, mister?” the bartender asked, making a swipe across the bar with a sour-smelling cloth.
“Whiskey,” Matt said.
“You’re Matt Jensen, aren’t you? You’re the one that killed Fox.”
“With a beer chaser,” Matt added, without a direct answer.
The whiskey was set before him and Matt raised it to his lips, then tossed it down. He could feel its raw burn all the way to his stomach. When the beer was served, he picked it up, then turned his back to the bar for a more leisurely survey of the room. He listened in on the conversation.
“From what I he’erd, they didn’t nobody even suspect that the bank had been robbed. Nobody even went inside for a long time, ’cause there was a sign that said the bank was closed. Then, when they went inside, they found the teller ’n’ a woman, dead, both of ’em pretty much carved up, they was.”
“How much money was took?”
“Somethin’ over a thousand dollars, is what I he’erd,” the man who was telling the story said.
“And there didn’t nobody see nothin’ at all?”
“Nope, not a thing. It’s a pure mystery who done it.”
Matt walked over to the table and pointed to an empty chair. “I wonder if you folks would mind if I joined in with the jawboning?”
“No sir, we wouldn’t mind at all,” one of the men said. “I heard the bartender call you Matt Jensen. Is that who you are?”
“Yes.”
“Well, Mr. Jensen, you are mighty welcome.”
“Here, have a seat,” one of the other men invited.
“Thanks,” Matt said.
Oftentimes, a good talk session would break out in a saloon, and when it did, it could be more entertaining than a card game. And with the introduction of Matt Jensen, a name nearly everyone recognized, if few recognized him in person, the conversation could be even more interesting.
“What brings you to Los Luna, Mr. Jensen?”
“I’m looking for someone.”
“Ha! From what I heard, you found him back in Santa Domingo. They left him standin’ up in front of the hardware store for three days,” someone said. “What was his name?”
“Fox, Norman Fox,” one of the others said. “Is that who you were looking for?”
“Actually, it turns out that Fox was looking for me. The man I’m looking for paid Fox to kill me.”
“How do you know that?”
“The sheriff found this note in his pocket.” He showed the note to the others around the table.
“I know Rufus Draco,” one of them said. “I just seen ’im not more ’n a couple of weeks ago.”
“What? You saw him?”
“Yep. Right here in town,” the man said. “He was standin’ outside the livery, just as big as you please. I ’most didn’t recognize him, seein’ as he ain’t wearing that big red beard of his’n. But that nose, being crushed up against his face like it is . . . well, you can’t change that.”
“How is that you know Draco?” Matt asked. “I’m only asking, because I want to make certain that the man you saw is him.”
“It was him all right.” The man looked around the table at the others.
“Tell ’im, Hank. A man like Matt Jensen ain’t goin’ to hold it agin’ you. None of us do,” one of the others said.
Hank nodded, and cleared his throat. “I ain’t proud of it, Mr. Jensen, but the truth is, I spent some time in prison oncet . . . and Draco . . . he was in there too. And like I said, he had shaved his beard.”
“Yes, I heard that he had shaved his beard,” Matt said.
“Why are you looking for him?” one of the other men asked.
Matt told them about what had happened with the Lewis family, as well as with Michelle, back in Lorenzo.
“Yeah, I heard about that. They said whoever kilt her cut off her titties. What kind of lowlife son of a bitch would do somethin’ like that?”
“A lowlife son of a bitch like Rufus Draco,” Matt replied.
Chapter Sixteen
Tome, New Mexico
Bodine sat at a table in the back corner of the Vaquero Cantina talking with Tully Cates, Poke Gillespie, and Emmett Shardeen. The subject of their conversation was Morgan Poindexter.
“He’s gone to pick up his daughter. He took a buckboard to Los Luna this morning, and will be coming back this afternoon,” Bodine said. “The best place for you to intercept him would be at the Loter Mesa.”
“All right,” Shardeen said.
“Take the girl, but don’t hurt Poindexter. We need to keep him and Ross both alive.”
“What are we going to do with the girl, once we have her?” Tully asked.
Bodine smiled. “Once you get her away from him, you can do anything you want with her. She’s not important. What is important is that Poindexter thinks that Ross is behind it. We need this feud to turn into a real shootin’ war.”
“I thought killin’ one of someone from each ranch was supposed to do that,” Poke said.
“Yeah, I thought so too,” Bodine said. “But I guess that wasn’t close enough. We’re goin’ to have to make ’em hurt, if we want this thing to work.”
“We’ll make ’em hurt,” Shardeen said.
“Wear hoods,” Bodine said. “I’ve purposely kept you three away from the others, because I don’t want anyone to see you and attach you to one ranch or the other. This way we can use you where we need you.”
“Anything we want, huh?” Poke said.
“What?”
“The girl,” he said. “We can do anything with her that we want?”
“Yes, after you get her away from Poindexter. He needs to think that she is still alive, and he needs to think that Ross has her.”
Los Luna
Sylvia saw her father step into the hotel lobby, and smiled as she watched him peruse the room, looking for her. Rising from the chair where she had been waiting for him, she started toward him.
“Papa, don’t you recognize your own daughter?” she asked.
A huge smile spread across Morgan’s face. “Sylvia,” he said. “Yes, I recognized you at once. I was just thinking how much you look like your mother.”
Morgan opened his arms and Sylvia stepped into them as they hugged. “Welcome home, daughter.”
“It’s good to be home. How is Nate?”
“Nate is doing well, and anxious to see you again.”
Morgan and the hotel bellboy gathered up Sylvia’s baggage and put it in the back of the buckboard.
“I guess I co
uld have come to fetch you in somethin’ a bit fancier,” Morgan said. “But I figured you’d have a lot of luggage, so this was the best for that.”
Sylvia laughed. “A buckboard is fine, Papa. It makes me feel like I’m really back home again.”
“So, how did you enjoy your stay in Illinois?” Morgan asked as they started back.
“I hated it when I first got there,” Sylvia said. “You might remember, Papa, I didn’t want to leave.”
“Oh, I remember, all right,” Morgan said with a chuckle. “You really made me feel bad, but honey, I only did what I thought was best for you.”
Sylvia reached over to put her hand on Morgan’s arm. “I know you did, Papa, and it didn’t take me too long to realize that. Aunt Emma and Uncle Wendell were wonderful to me. Aunt Emma cried when I left.”
“Your Aunt Emma is a good woman,” Morgan said. “She always has been.”
“She sends her love to her little brother, by the way,” Sylvia said with a smile.
“Ha! I guess I’ll always be Emma’s little brother,” Morgan said with a chuckle.
“How long will it take us to get home?” Sylvia asked.
“No more than two hours. It’ll be a nice, pleasant drive. And we’ll be able to catch each other up on things,” Morgan said.
As Morgan Poindexter and his daughter were just starting back to the ranch, Matt, now convinced that Rufus Draco was nowhere in town, was saddling Spirit. Hank came out to the stable to talk to him.
“Mr. Jensen?”
“Yes, Hank.”
“Uh, I hope you don’t think bad of me ’cause I was in prison oncet. But I was a lot younger then.” Hank chuckled self-deprecatingly. “I was a lot dumber too. What I done was, I stoled a horse.”
“You were lucky you went to prison,” Matt said. “Sometimes people can be real harsh to someone who steals a horse.”
“Yes, sir, don’t think I don’t know that. I was lucky in another way too, ’cause while I was there, I made up my mind never to do nothin’ like that ever again.”
“A good decision,” Matt said as he tightened the girth strap.
“That’s why I come out here to see you,” Hank said. He looked around cautiously to make certain there was no one close enough to overhear him.
“The truth is, I done more than just seen Rufus Draco. I talked to him. He tried to get me to come with him. He said he had a plan to make a lot of money.”
“Really?” Matt said, his interest now aroused. “What is the plan?”
“I don’t know. He wouldn’t tell me. But it might have something to do with Risco.”
“Risco?”
“Yes, sir. It’s a town about twenty miles west of here. You go like you’re goin’ to Thirty Four Corners, but just the other side of the Loter Mesa you turn south for about five miles.”
“What about Risco?”
Hank shook his head. “I don’t really know nothin’ more ’n that,” he said. “The only think I know is that Draco said that if I changed my mind and decided I wanted to come in with ’im, I could meet with him there.”
“Thanks.”
“I’m sorry I can’t be no more help than that. Most especially after I heard what all Draco had done, I mean, what with your friends and all that.”
Matt reached out to shake Hank’s hand. “You’ve been a big help, Hank. Thank you, very much.”
Mounting Spirit, Matt rode out of town, this time heading west. The information from Hank had given him a new direction. He would go to Risco. He knew, with absolute certainty, that he would find Draco one day. By heading toward Risco, Matt was riding in the same direction that had been taken a short time earlier by Morgan and Sylvia Poindexter, but of course, he didn’t know that.
Morgan and Sylvia were about ten miles west of Los Luna, and approaching the Loter Mesa, when three masked men jumped out in front of the buckboard, pointing pistols at the two occupants.
“Hold it right there!” one of them shouted.
The team was startled by their sudden appearance and they reared up so that Morgan had to fight to get them under control.
“What is this? Are you crazy? What do you want?” Morgan asked.
“What do you think we want?” one of the men said. “We want money.”
Morgan took out his billfold and removed ten dollars. “This is all the money I have,” he said.
“Ha! We know who you are, Poindexter. You are a big ranch owner, and you expect to buy us off with ten dollars?”
“Good Lord, man, you don’t expect me to travel with a lot of money, do you?”
“It isn’t the money you have with you,” the masked man said. So far, he was the only one who had spoken. “It’s the money you can raise.”
“Why should I raise money for you?”
“You didn’t let me finish my comment. It’s the money you can raise to get your daughter back.”
“What?”
The spokesman for the three masked men pointed his pistol toward Sylvia. “Get down from there.”
“You leave my daughter alone. She has nothing to do with this.”
“If you want your daughter back, it’s goin’ to cost you five thousand dollars,” one of the men said.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Sylvia said resolutely.
“Oh, I think you will,” the spokesman said. He pointed his pistol toward Morgan. “If you don’t step down from that rig right now, I’m going to shoot your old man . . . and get the money from your brother.”
“Do you men work for Ben Ross?” Morgan asked, angrily.
“Well now, you ain’t so dumb after all, are you?” He looked back at Sylvia. “I said get down! Now!”
Matt Jensen had just reached the top of a rise in the road when, looking ahead, he saw the three men and the buckboard. He saw, too, that the men were masked and armed. Dismounting, he walked Spirit back over the other side of the rise so that he couldn’t be seen against the skyline. Then he pulled his rifle and, staying low, climbed back to the top of the rise. That was when he saw that they were forcing the girl down from the buckboard.
Jacking a shell into the chamber, he aimed at the man who was holding his pistol pointed toward the girl, and fired.
“Uhh!” the armed road agent grunted, as a little spray of blood squirted from the hole that appeared in the middle of his shirt. Dropping his pistol, he slapped his hand over the bullet wound, which pumped blood through his spread fingers.
“Where did that shot come from?” one of the two remaining outlaws asked.
“I don’t know, but let’s get the hell out of here!” the other outlaw shouted. They turned and ran up the hill on the opposite side of the road from Matt. Matt aimed at them, but he didn’t shoot again.
Matt watched as the driver of the buckboard slapped the reins against the back of the team. The horses started forward at a gallop . . . moving quickly up the road, leaving behind a billowing rooster tail of dust. For a moment he thought about trying to catch up with it, but decided that the danger was over, so he let the driver and the woman go on alone.
Morgan kept the team at a gallop for at least two miles before he slowed them down. Turning in his seat, he studied the road behind him and saw that it was clear.
“I think they’re gone,” he said.
“Who were they, Papa? Did you know those men?”
“I didn’t know them, but you heard what they said. They said they were Ben Ross’s men.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why this . . . this war between you and Mr. Ross? Aunt Emma told me that you and Mr. Ross were once very good friends. She said you grew up together, and that you saved his life during the war.”
“That was my mistake,” Morgan said.
“I know that Mama was supposed to marry Mr. Ross, but that you and she ran off together. But why has the feud lasted this long?”
Morgan put his arm around his daughter’s shoulder and pulled her closer to him.
“
Darlin’, there are some things that are best not to talk about. Please accept that.”
Sylvia kissed her father on the cheek.
“All right, Papa. I’ll respect your wishes.”
“What I’m wondering is, who is it that came to our rescue? And why?” Morgan asked.
Matt didn’t follow the rapidly retreating buckboard because he figured that they would think he was after them, and might drive so recklessly as to have a wreck. Instead, he bent down to look at the body of the man he had shot. The man was dead; it didn’t even take a second look to ascertain that.
“Who the hell are you?” he asked quietly.
The outlaw was still wearing his hood, and Matt reached down to pull it off. Exposing the man’s face didn’t help.... Matt still had no idea who it was.
He heard a sound behind him and, pulling his pistol, he spun around. The sound had been made by a saddled horse that had no rider. The horse came all the way up, then bent his head down toward the dead outlaw.
“Sorry, horse,” Matt said, rubbing the horse behind his ears. “It’s not your fault you had a rider who was about to take a young woman at gunpoint. I’m afraid he left me no choice.”
Matt picked the body up and draped it, belly down, across the horse. The horse offered no resistance. Then, taking a coil of rope from the saddle of the outlaw’s horse, Matt tied the body, hands and feet, so it wouldn’t slide off.
“All right,” he said. “Let’s go on into town and see what we can find out.”
Tumbling P Ranch
Night had fallen by the time Morgan and Sylvia turned onto the long, curving, gravel-covered drive at the ranch. The “big house” was glowing with light at nearly every window, and as Morgan pulled the team to a halt, Nate came out the front door and bounding down the porch steps.
“Well, well, little sister!” Nate said, greeting Sylvia, and helping her down from the buckboard. “I swear, I wouldn’t recognize you. What happened to the ugly little tomboy that used to follow me around?”
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