by R. B. Conroy
Arturo rode up later that afternoon. “Sorry to interrupt you lovebirds,” he shouted as he rode up to the front of the house, “but the boys caught many fish today. My Bonita and I would like to invite you to enjoy the fish with us this evening at our place. The whole village is invited. We hope you will join us, boss.”
Maria looked up and smiled at her man. “It’s okay. I would like to go.”
“When, Arturo?”
“Just before sunset. We will build a big bonfire and fellowship together.”
“We will be there!” Paco replied.
Arturo waved his sombrero in the air and rode quickly away.
- - - - -
The light from the flames shone brightly on the happy faces as the celebration began that evening. Paco stood near the fire, his arm firmly around Maria’s waist. The tequila was flowing freely, and much laughter could be heard.
“You throw a good party, mi amigo. I have never seen my people so happy, Arturo,” Paco shouted.
“Thank you, boss. Felipe has been hard at work preparing the fish, our dinner should be ready soon. We will celebrate into the wee hours!” He raised his cup of tequila to Paco; several others around the fire joined in. “I prepare a toast to the great Paco Delgado, a hero to us all!” he shouted.
“To Paco! To Paco!” the others shouted to their leader.
Paco smiled nervously and nodded at the chanting crowd. Maria looked up at her man and smiled politely, bravely hiding her feelings. Paco’s expression changed as he looked down at his Maria. He slid his arm off her waist and took a step toward the fire. He took a sip of his tequila. Flames shot skyward as he emptied his cup in the fire. The folks screamed their approval at the antics of their dashing leader. Paco raised his hand to quiet them down as the light from the fire shone brightly on his square, weathered face.
“My friends, I have something to say to you that will come as a surprise. I want you to hear me out, for I will not say it again.” He lifted his sombrero off and held it in his hands. “As I look around our village, I see our children growing. Many of our young boys are growing into manhood—my son Lope is one of them. The old men and women in the village are growing older. Many have passed away. More rangers are coming, and more will continue to come. People are moving here in great numbers. It is getting harder and harder to do our job. We have lost several good men lately, and we will lose more. The people of California still fear us, but times are changing. Maria and I have talked, and I have decided that it is time to settle down. I will ride no—”
“No! No!” the men shouted over him.
“We must not give up!” one of them yelled.
Paco raised his sombrero above his head for quiet once again. “Look around at the women and children, my brothers. Look at their eyes, and look into their hearts. They are not yelling for us to go. They worry for us. They need us here to help farm the land and fish the lakes in this beautiful valley. No, my friends, our families want us here.”
The men grumbled, but with less gusto as they looked into the sullen eyes of their wives and children.
“But Paco, you make a promise to Pedro Rubios, and you always keep your promises,” a disappointed Arturo barked.
“Yes, you are right, Arturo. I did make a promise to ride to El Cabrera, and I am a man of my word. We will ride to El Cabrera in the morning.”
The men cheered and raised their cups. “Long live—”
Paco interrupted the men. “But this will be the last trip. When we return from El Cabrera, I will ride no more.”
There were grumblings in the crowd; the men had long faces as they mumbled their disapproval. They could not believe what they were hearing. Maria moved over and put her arm around Paco’s waist.
A smile broke out on Paco’s face as he looked back at the crowd. “We have fought the good fight, mis amigos. But there comes a time to fight no more. We have much to be thankful for. Our cups are full. We must continue to celebrate—this night belongs to us. We will leave tomorrow for our long ride to El Cabrera. Then we will return home and reunite with our families. And please don’t fret, my friends, for the Mexican people will always remember Paco Delgado and his brave band of freedom fighters!”
It was quiet for a moment as the men absorbed Paco’s words. After a short pause, one of them shouted, “Hey! Hey! Long live Paco!”
The men smiled as they hugged their women and children. They raised their cups and began chanting “Long live Paco Delgado! Long live Paco Delgado!” Some of the old folks began to dance by the fire as the raucous celebration resumed and carried well into the early morning hours.
Chapter 18
Jon locked the door to his room and dropped the key in his vest pocket. He tossed his felt hat on the bed and sat down at a small desk in the corner. He slid the desk drawer open and pulled out some parchment, laying it on the table. Carefully removing the black pen from its holder, he dipped it in the glass ink bottle and began to write.
My dearest Elizabeth:
Arrived safely and unexpectedly met up with cousin Cliff Stone in El Cabrera, a few miles from winery. Cliff asked me to stay and help with a business matter. Will be at the vineyard soon.
I am of good health, my dearest. I miss you sorely. You are in my dreams often. I long to hold you in my arms again!
Your faithful lover,
Jon
Jon’s eyes glistened as he carefully placed the pen back in its holder and folded the letter in half. He picked up his hat, hurried out of the room and quickly locked the door behind him. He jumped down the stairs past an empty front desk and went out the front door to the street.
Main Street was buzzing with activity as Jon wove his way between the many wagons and buggies in the bustling mining town. He hurried down the dusty street, leapt up on the boardwalk and pushed the door open to the telegraph office. The aging operator looked out from under his black visor as the bell on the top of the door jingled, announcing Jon’s arrival.
“Can you get me a line to Logan’s Crossing up Arizona way?” the anxious Jon blurted out.
“Just hold on there, young feller,” the aging operator barked. “I’m in the middle of one right now. I’ll be right with ya.”
Jon grinned at the old timer as he plopped down in a wooden chair next to the operator’s desk. He was surprised at how quick and nimble the old cuss was as he tapped out the message on the sounder.
Suddenly the clicking stopped, the old man ripped off the tape for that message, quickly rolled it up and set it on the desk. He turned toward Jon. “Okay, feller, what can I do fer ya today?”
“I need to send a wire down Arizona way.”
“Arizona way, huh?” The old man rubbed his chin. “Been havin’ a little trouble getting through to some places in Arizona lately. Seems like the Comanche down there are madder’n hornets about somethin’, and they keep cuttin’ the lines. What town are ya aimin’ for?”
“Logan’s Crossing,” Jon replied, eyebrows raised.
“Hmmm…Logan’s Crossing. I’ll send ’em a test and see what happens.” The old timer clicked the sounder several times as Jon waited in great anticipation.
“Hmmm…well, I’ll be,” the man mumbled.
“Well, what is it? Can ya get through or not?” Jon asked impatiently.
“Looks like it’s your lucky day. They got my signal. Ya better give me that message ’fore somethin’ goes wrong.”
Jon quickly unfolded his letter to Elizabeth and handed it to the old codger. “It’s, uh…to, uh…Miss Elizabeth Thompson,” Jon murmured, slightly embarrassed to give the intimate letter to the gnarly old operator.
“Well, give it here!” the old man hollered. “Ya think I ain’t never seen a love letter before?” A grin broke out on his wrinkly face as a red-faced Jon handed him the letter.
The old man’s bony fingers maneuvered the keys with great skill as Jon sat watching. Suddenly, he stopped and leaned back in his chair. “Well, that’s it. I can’t go no further.” He f
rowned as tobacco juices dribbled down his chin.
Wide-eyed, Jon jumped up out of his seat. “That’s it?” he shouted. “What happened?”
“I can’t go no further.”
“Why not?” a frustrated Jon demanded.
The old timer leaned to his left and hocked one in the metal spittoon on the floor. Smiling from ear to ear, he looked up at Jon. “‘Cause I’m all done. Your letter’s in Logan’s Crossin’ just the way you wrote it.”
“Why, you old geezer, I oughta whup you a good one!” Jon laughed out loud. “You really got me!” Jon threw a five dollar gold piece on the desk. “Keep the change,” he shouted as he walked out of the office, still chuckling at the old timer’s gag.
“Hey, Jon!” Jon turned quickly at the sound of his name as he stepped down from the boardwalk in front of the telegraph office. He saw Cliff approaching. “Morning, Cliff. What are you doing in town this time of day?”
“I need to talk to you, Jon, right away. There’s been some goings on out at the camp this morning,” Cliff said fretfully.
“Okay, cus. Let’s go down to the Crown and have a cup a coffee. The breakfast crowd is probably out of there by now, so we’ll have some privacy.”
“I have to stop at the bank for a minute, and then I’ll be down pronto.”
“Sounds good,” Jon replied as Cliff reined his horse around and headed for the bank.
- - - - -
Cliff entered the Crown and smiled as he spotted Jon in the corner. He carefully maneuvered between the empty tables, pulled a chair out and sat down across from Jon. Anita hurried over and poured him a hot cup of coffee.
“Thank you,” Cliff said.
“What’s up?” Jon asked, anxious to get on with it.
“Stanton had some visitors this morning.” Cliff carefully took a sip of coffee.
“Anybody I know?”
“Not sure. Ever heard the name Paco Delgado?”
“Who hasn’t?” Jon grimaced. “He’s a cold-blooded killer if there ever was one.”
“Yep, he sure is. He rode up to Stanton’s office out at the mines earlier this morning. I could tell it was him from a mile away with his famous white sombrero, red poncho and beautiful white quarter horse. He stands out like a sore thumb. It’s like he’s invitin’ someone to take a shot at him or somethin’.”
“Could ya hear anything?”
“I stopped diggin’ and listened real close. Like I told you, I’m workin’ the ridge right above Stanton’s office, so I could hear some of the convesation.”
“What’d they say?” Jon asked.
“They didn’t say much. They just shook hands and stuff, but I did hear one thing that set me back a little.”
“What was that?”
“As they were walking to George’s office, I heard Paco laugh out loud and shout, ‘Don’t worry, George—you cut off the head, and the snake will die.’”
“Really!”
“Yes, so be careful, Jon.”
“How many men were with him?”
“Four.”
“Hmmm…,” Jon mused. “This is costing George a little money. He’ll want me dead for sure.”
“Looks that way.” Cliff stared down at his coffee. “Jon, I did a lot of thinkin’ on the way into town and—”
Jon interrupted. “That’s somethin’ new and different?”
“Just shut up and listen, smart aleck.”
Jon grinned.
“I’ve known of a lot of bad hombres in my day, but this Delgado is a horse of a different color. He’s pure evil. When I asked you to help out, Jon, I didn’t know this thing would end up like this. You been duckin’ lead ever since ya got here, and now Delgado’s got you in his sights. I wouldn’t blame ya a bit if you just—”
“Just what?” Jon quickly interrupted. “Rolled on down the road and left my good cousin and the good people of El Cabrera to fight these nasty hombres alone?” Jon sat up in his chair. “This thing’s personal for me now, Cliff. I’ve seen too much. This ole saddle bum ain’t goin’ anywhere til Stanton, Delgado, and the rest of his gang are cold and in the ground. You understand, bucko?”
Cliff smiled. “Sure enough do, cus.”
Jon sank back in his chair. “I ‘preciate the thought, though, I really do, but we got us a job to do, partner.”
Cliff nodded. “What’s our next move?”
“We can’t wait, Cliff—we gotta hit them before they hit us. I want you to ride out to the mines in the morning and round up Sloan and Malone for a meeting. Have Red stay and guard the camps. On your way out, check out Stanton’s place and see if Delgado and the boys are there. There should be fresh tracks. I’m sure they just met up out at the mines, but they got plenty of planning to do. My guess is they rode to Stanton’s place—it’s more private. They’re probably gonna hang out there in some of those empty bunkhouses in the back of the compound and wait for their chance to take me out.”
“Where do you want to meet me and the boys?”
“This is your town, Cliff. Where’s a good place?”
“There’s an old abandoned cabin a few miles north of town. Just follow the trail until you pass the second bend in the road. You’ll see a crack in some big rocks to your left. It looks a little tight, but your horse will fit through okay. After ya clear the rocks, you’ll drop down a steep hill into an opening by a little pond. The cabin’s on the other side. An old man and his wife lived there for years. She up and died of consumption a few years ago, and it was more than the old man could handle. One night he stuck his six gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger. Ain’t nobody lived there since the poor old bastard shot himself.”
Jon stood up and slid his hand in his front jeans pocket; he tossed a silver dollar on the table. “I best be goin’, I’ll see ya at that old cabin tomorrow afternoon.”
“Sure thing.”
“I’m gonna make a quick trip out to the winery in the morning and warn Carlos and the others of the pending trouble. Hard tellin’ where this fight’s gonna end up. They need to be ready.” Jon stood to leave.
“Just one more thing, Jon.”
“Yes, Cliff—what is it?”
“If you get to the cabin first, sit still and listen close. The old man’s ghost likes to talk to his guests. It gets downright spooky at times.”
“Is that right?” Jon replied, wide-eyed.
“Yep, that’s what I’ve heard.”
“Hmmm…that’s scary all right, but ya know what?”
“What?” a grinning Cliff asked.
“He’ll probably be the smartest hombre I’ll talk to all day.”
“Damn, I thought I had ya there for a minute,” Cliff groaned as they left the cafe.
- - - - -
Stanton and Delgado and his gang were sitting on the veranda at Stanton’s compound. Their horses were safely tucked away in stables out back. The new arrivals had made homes in several of the empty cabins near the stables. George had invited them to join him and Buck Johnson for a drink.
“The finest tequila in California, my friends,” George bragged as Estela filled the porcelain cups for the gnarly banditos. She gingerly maneuvered around the table as several of the ruffians tried to pinch her backside. George grinned at the antics of the men.
George tipped his cup to Paco and the others. “Welcome to El Cabrera, my friends.”
“Thank you, Señor Stanton,” Delgado replied as he and the others raised their cups and sipped the tequila. “It is very good, señor.” Paco’s evil face broke into a smile.
“I trust you had a safe journey,” George said.
“Oh yes, señor. The journey was long, but very good.” Paco smiled and took another sip of tequila.
George leaned forward and dropped his elbows on the long oak table. “If I may have your attention for a moment, gentlemen, I would like to tell you why I have brought you here.”
He waited patiently for the men to stop giggling and groping at Estela’s backside. Annoyed, Georg
e motioned her away. She hurried off; soon all eyes were on him as he spoke. “I have controlled the goldfields in this area for some time now, gentlemen, but unfortunately, there has been a recent attempt by some of the local miners to take the fields away from me. Their leader is a new man in town name Jon Stoudenmire. He rode into town last week and met up with his miner cousin Cliff Stone. Stone talked him into staying here and helping them with their dastardly deed of forcing me out of the mine fields. A hardened gunman, Mr. Stoudenmire has already shot to death two of my best men. Your job will—”
Paco interrupted. “Yes, yes, with all due respect, Señor Stanton, we know all of this. Pedro tell us—you need not continue. We will kill your Mister Stoudenmire and the others. That’s no problem. But money is a problem. I tell Pedro we want our first week up front or no deal.”
An angry George sat up in his chair. “You’ll get your money, Delgado.”
“I want it now,” he shot back. “We are just poor boys from Mexico. We have no money, señor. We must be paid.” He and the others chuckled.
George’s face flushed with anger. “You’ll get your money when I’m damned good—”
Buck Johnson quickly interrupted his volatile boss. “Uh…pardon me, George, but why don’t we just pay the gentlemen as Pedro agreed so we can go ahead with our plans?” Buck smiled nervously at his angry boss.
George was incensed, his eyes wide, but he also realized that he needed these men very badly. This was no time to blow the deal. He controlled himself and spoke. “Excuse me,” he said as he stood slowly, “I will be right back.” His face still flushed with anger, George rose and walked deliberately to the den. Pushing the door closed behind him, he knelt down in front of the safe. After a couple of deep breaths, he reached in, pulled out a canvas bag and counted out six hundred dollars. He tossed the bag back in the safe, slammed the door shut, stood and walked back to the dining room. Still fuming, he dropped the money on the table in front of Delgado.