by R. B. Conroy
“There’s your damn money.”
Delgado nodded, counted the money and stuffed it in the leather bag on his waist sash.
George sat down. “You seem to know so much, Delgado. What’s your plan?”
Paco fiddled playfully with the string on his sombrero. “Like I tell you out at the goldfields, Señor Stanton, if we cut off the head, the snake will die. Señor Stoudenmire is giving them more courage than they would have otherwise. After I keel him and he is dead and in the ground, the other men will fight with less gusto. Most of them will quit. A few might fight. If so, we will clean up the scraps, and your problem will be over.”
“Sounds like a cozy little plan, Delgado, but what if most of them don’t quit?”
An ugly smile broke out on the man’s dark face. “If it doesn’t work, then we go to plan B.”
“Which is?”
“We kill all of them,” Paco sneered as he and his men broke out in laughter.
George seemed intrigued as he watched Paco and his banditos celebrate the ugly thought.
“You are indeed a wicked man, my friend, but I like your plan. Shall we drink?” he raised his cup to the vicious killer.
Delgado did the same. “Here’s to you, Governor,” he roared.
Stanton’s expression suddenly changed. He knew what Paco meant; it sobered him to think that he might have to appease this horrid man if he someday became governor. He grimaced at the thought as he drank his tequila.
Paco set his cup on the table. “May I explain my plan further?”
George looked intently at Delgado. “Go ahead.”
“We have to be very careful how we keel Señor Stoudenmire,” Paco laughed nervously. “You want him dead, but you don’t want us to be, how you say?”
“Careless,” Stanton barked.
“Yes, that’s it. You do not want to be careless. Is that right, señor?”
“Why yes, yes, of course. We have to be careful,” Stanton replied.
“Well then, señor, on the day we keel him, we need to be sure that you and your men have a good alibi. You need to be somewhere in town where everybody can see you. That way no one suspect you.”
“Hmmm…good point, Delgado. Where could we be that day? Let me think,” George mused as he rubbed his chin. “Ah yes, that will be easy.”
Paco’s eyebrows raised.
“Most Saturday nights me and the boys go into town for dinner. My brother Lou owns the Dead End Saloon, and he stuck a big table in the corner that’s more or less reserved for us. We gather there, have dinner, and get all roostered up. The whores love it—we’re big spenders.”
“Very good, very good, amigo,” Paco replied. “Everyone will see you at the saloon. So we will plan to keel your Señor Stoudenmire while you and your men are in town playing with those little whores.” Paco and the men roared once again.
Annoyed, Stanton laughed halfheartedly.
Paco stopped laughing and continued, “Mi muchachos and I will come up with a plan to get Stoudenmire alone that night. It will be easier if we get him alone so nobody see him get keeled. After we take care of him, we will put the body someplace where nobody will ever find it. Stoudenmire will be dead, and then we can wait and see what happens with the others. If they continue to fight, we will keel more. If the resistance ends, you will pay us, and we will ride out of town and return to our families.”
“Hmmm…sounds like a good enough plan. But don’t be surprised if the other boys fight on,” George exclaimed. “They’re no pushovers. They are plenty tough men in their own right.” He glanced over at Delgado.
“We shall see, amigo, but first we must take care of Señor Stoudenmire.”
“Well, we can talk more at breakfast in the morning,” George replied. “I must be going.”
“Sí, we will talk again in the morning,” Paco replied as he stood and grabbed a full bottle of tequila off of the table. He raised the green bottle above his head. “Mañana!” he shouted to the other men.
“Mañana!” the men shouted. They pushed behind their leader as he waved the bottle in the air and hustled from the room.
George winced at the gall of the Mexican bandito for taking his tequila. “That arrogant son-of-a-bitch,” he murmured.
Chapter 19
“Hola, Jon!” Carlos shouted. He stepped back slightly as Jon jerked to a stop in front of him. Jon jumped off Babe and tied down.
“Let’s go inside, Carlos. We need to talk.”
Carlos turned to shout some orders at a nearby worker. “Take over, Ignacio. I need to talk with Señor Stoudenmire.”
Carlos waved his hand toward the cabin. Jon followed him inside.
“Glass of wine?” Carlos asked as he hurried in.
“No thanks, Carlos. I can’t stay long.”
“If you don’t mind, señor, before you say why you come, I must tell you something. You may need to know this before you say what you have to say.” Pedro smiled nervously, hesitant to interrupt his boss.
Jon’s eyebrows rose. “That’s okay, my friend. Fire away,” he replied as the two men sat down at the table.
“Remember the other day when you were here, and I told you that Buck Johnson and his men had been out to see us?”
Jon nodded.
“Well, I just find out that one of the owners may have sold out to Stanton that very day. His name is Harter, and he had been losing a lot of money gambling in Vinegar Bend. We think he needed the money, and so he sold out to Señor Stanton. Not sure, but we think so. Harter’s men are still working the vineyard, but their leader has been replaced by a new man—one of Stanton’s men.”
“Damn, that’s not good at all.” Jon was concerned. “I’ll check the court records when I get back to town and see if it’s true—if it is, we’ve got big problems.”
“How so?” Carlos asked. “It is only one small vineyard.”
“You’re right, but it will be much easier for Stanton now. This gives him a foothold in the wine country as well as in the goldfields. He will be able to watch the goings on around here more closely. He will sniff out the weak sisters, and his hired guns will move in and force ‘em out. He will gain more and more control and have greater influence over the wine fields. He has to be stopped!”
“I see, señor,” Carlos replied.
“I’m afraid I have some bad news of my own.” Jon’s eyes narrowed.
“Oh?”
“After the loss of Injun Joe and Dave Barton, Stanton has brought in some new guns. They just arrived in town.”
“New guns?”
“Yes, and deadly ones—Paco Delgado and his gang.”
“Oh my, mi amigo! He is a legend in Mexico and a very, very bad man. I would be careful with him—he play very rough.”
“Sounds like you know of him.”
“Oh yes. All of my people know of Paco Delgado.”
“Tell me, what do you know, Carlos?”
“I will do my best.” Carlos hesitated and then went on, “Many years ago, some renegade rangers began riding into small villages and terrorizing my people near the border. They were ruthless and cruel. One of the families they attacked was that of Paco Delgado. He was just a boy at the time. They shot his father while he lay sleeping and then they rape and kill his mother in front of the children. Then they burnt his house to the ground. They were very bad men. Paco vowed to get revenge. After a few years in an orphanage, he left and formed a gang of his own to pay back the gringos.”
“Why did the rangers attack the villagers?”
“They say that Santa Anna sent some soldiers over the border to raid the gold mines in California. They say Santa Anna needed the gold for his fight with Texas. There was no proof of that, but that’s what they say. They said the Mexican soldiers killed many innocent people, and the rangers were getting revenge.”
“Hmmm…so Paco has been at it ever since?”
“Yes, and he is still a hero with the Mexican people because he stood up to the gringos. But the g
ringos quit fighting many years ago, and Paco has continued to rape and murder near the border. Now he steal from everyone—his own people as well as the gringos. He has become an evil man.”
“That’s quite a story, Carlos. Better keep your guard up, my friend. I don’t know where this thing is going. Do you have a weapon out here?”
“Oh yes. My rifle is in the cabinet.” Carlos nodded toward a tall cabinet in the corner of the room.
“Good. Keep it loaded. Also, warn your men that there might be trouble coming.” Jon turned to leave.
Carlos grabbed his arm. “One more thing, Jon.”
“Yes, Carlos?” Jon looked back at his friend.
“Hate does not die easy, mi amigo. My people know that Paco does many bad things, but they still remember what the rangers did to their families.”
“And?”
“I will warn my workers, and I will ride out and tell all of the other owners in this area about the possible trouble. But I want you to know that in a fight with Paco Delgado, I am not sure what they will do.”
“I understand, Carlos. Let’s hope the fight doesn’t come here,” Jon replied. He hurried out and mounted up as Carlos was stepping out of the cabin. “Keep safe,” he shouted.
“Gracias, mi amigo.”
Jon spurred Babe to a gallop and started back to El Cabrera for his meeting with the miners at the dead man’s cabin. Jon rode quickly and was soon on the outskirts of town. He dropped down the final incline and rode into town. He glanced to his left and saw Buck Johnson sitting on his horse and talking to one of his men as the man chucked supplies into the back of a wagon.
“Mornin’, Buck,” Jon called out to Stanton’s loyal foreman.
A surprised Buck glimpsed over at Jon, said nothing and looked back at his men.
Jon pulled up and tied down in front of the assayer’s office next to the small courthouse in the center of town. He glanced back to be sure Buck wasn’t looking and hurried into the courthouse. The wooden steps creaked as he jumped up onto the boardwalk. He pushed the door open and stepped inside. A sign reading “Recorder’s Office” hung above one of the doorways. He walked over to the doorway and looked through the smoked glass window; he could see someone moving around behind the counter inside. Removing his hat, he hurried in.
“Howdy,” Jon said to the well-dressed clerk.
“Hello to you, sir, and what can I do for you on this fine day?”
Slightly uncomfortable in front of the business-like clerk, Jon was ill at ease. “Well…uh, I…uh, own a winery out by Vinegar Bend, and I heard there’d been a recent sale of land in that area. As you can see, I have a vested interest in the goings on around there, so I was wondering if that information was available to the public.”
“I believe I do remember a recent sale out that way, and yes, my dear man, any sale of land is of public record,” the clerk lectured. Small round glasses on a thin gold chain dangled around his neck. He lifted them and set them carefully on the end of his nose, strolled over to a large drawer in the counter and pulled it open. He began thumbing through the long files.
“Here it is,” he said to himself. His thin fingers pinched the file as he pulled it from the drawer. Looking satisfied, he walked over and set the file on the counter. He flipped the file open, his bony finger pointed toward the entry. Jon leaned forward and read:
Claude A. Harter and wife Constance Harter did willfully and without duress convey a warranty deed of trust to George S. Stanton for the considerations of $2,000.00 on April 10, 1881, recorded April 22, 1881. Thirty-seven acres more or less in the plat of Section #30 in Township #28 North of Range #7 East, as copied from Page 365, of Surveyor’s Record #2, of Santa Cruz County, California.
Jon frowned as the impatient clerk fiddled nervously with his pocket watch. “Thank you, sir. That’s what I needed to know.” As Jon hurried to leave, he glanced through the clear glass panes on the front door and saw Buck Johnson riding by with a wagon full of supplies. Stocking up for his new guests, Jon thought as he stepped out onto the street and mounted up. He spun around and headed out of town for his meeting with the men.
- - - - -
“He shoulda been here by now.” Cliff was concerned as he pushed his wooden chair back and walked over to the front window. Through the broken panes, he saw a dark figure moving in the rocks near the road.
“Think he’s coming,” Cliff shouted.
Jack Malone jumped up from the table and stepped over for a look. Ned Sloan leaned forward on the table.
“Yeah, it’s him,” Malone announced. “Ain’t another palomino like that one around here.”
Cliff hurried over and pulled the rusty lever up on the front door; it creaked open. He watched as Jon approached and dismounted. “We’re all here, Jon. Come on in.”
“Thanks, Cliff. I’d been here a little sooner, but I had to stop by the courthouse and check somethin’ out,” he said as his cousin motioned him in.
Jon ambled in and plopped down in an empty chair next to the table.
Ned Sloan’s eyes narrowed as he looked over at Jon. “Cliff tells me we got some unexpected visitors down at Stanton’s place.”
“Yeah. Looks like he means business.”
“You’re right, Jon. That Delgado’s as bad as they come,” Ned replied. “His name sends chills up my spine, but he’s always stayed down around the border. Never been much of a problem around here. Til now, I guess.”
“My hunch is Stanton paid him a pretty penny to get him up here. And if we ever had any doubts about how far Stanton would go to take over your claims, we know now,” Jon replied.
The men grumbled and shook their heads.
“There’s more, fellas. I stopped at the courthouse a while ago for a reason. When I was out at the vineyard today, Carlos told me that he and some of the owners had suspicions that Stanton might have bought one of the nearby vineyards. So I stopped at the recorder’s office in the courthouse to check it out.”
“And?” Ned asked.
“Carlos’s fears were warranted. It was all recorded there in the courthouse, bigger than life. On April 10, a plot of land in that area was deeded over to Stanton. It was recorded on April 22. Now he has a foothold in the wine country. Once he gets control of the goldfields, he’ll try to strong arm the other vineyard owners into selling. If the owners refuse, he’ll threaten them—if they still refuse, he’ll kill them. If he’s not stopped, it won’t be long before he controls all of the vineyards along with the goldfields. It’s not good.”
“What can we do?” Malone asked.
“Things are heating up fast around here, so we need to stick around town and keep an eye on Stanton and Delgado. I want you boys to ride back to the camps and get somebody to work your claims for a couple of days and then hightail it back into town first thing in the morning. When the trouble starts, we need to be ready to move in fast—that’s the only way to deal with these men.”
“Okay, Jon,” Sloan replied. “Let’s get going.”
“Let’s not leave together. Might tip ‘em off,” Jon said.
“Malone and I will take the back way to the camps so nobody will see us,” Sloan replied.
“Sounds good. Cliff and I will take the main road, and then he can head on out to the camps later. See ya in the morning.” The men shared a quick handshake and left.
Chapter 20
“Come in, Paco.” Stanton smiled and pointed to a chair in front of his desk.
Delgado walked over and sank into the large leather chair; the brown handles of his long guns protruded from his sash. “Good afternoon, señor.”
“Tomorrow is Saturday, my friend. We need to come up with a plan to get our friend Stoudenmire alone. Do you have any ideas?”
“Sí, señor, I think we do. It kind of happened by accident.”
George’s eyebrows lifted as he glanced over at the wily bandit.
“Last night Arturo and I sipped our tequila and talked into the wee hours, and we both remembe
red we had an old friend who works near El Cabrera at a winery. We thought he might join us in the fight. He’s good with a gun, and he knows us well. He would also know a lot about the local area.”
“Yes, yes, man—go ahead,” Stanton replied.
“Arturo rode out there early this morning when the dew was still on the grass and spoke with him.” Paco paused for a moment.
“And?”
“Arturo found our old friend working at a nearby vineyard, just like we thought.”
George gave an impatient snort as he shuffled through the papers on his desk.
“Well, it looks like we hit the, uh…how you say?”
“Jackpot?” George barked, looking up.
“Sí…sí, the jackpot, that’s the word. It seems our old friend does work at J S Winery.”
“J S, yes, I’ve heard of that one,” Stanton mumbled and returned to his work.
“I think you know the owner of J S Winery, Señor Stanton.”
“I do?” George replied, still somewhat preoccupied with his paperwork.
“I think so.” The corners of Paco’s mouth turned up into a grin.
“Okay, okay, who the hell is it?”
“Jon Stoudenmire.” A wide-eyed Paco waited for Stanton’s reaction.
Stanton’s mouth dropped open. “What?” he exclaimed. “J S Winery is owned by who?”
“You heard me right, señor.” Paco seemed delighted by the shocked look on the wealthy mogul’s face.
“Why that son-of-a-bitch. I guess I never put two and two together. J S, yes…yes,” George laughed out loud. “And I thought he was just passing through.”
Delgado smiled broadly. “Ignacio said that a man named Carlos run the winery for Jon. He say that Carlos and Jon are very close and have been friends for years. He say that Jon own the vineyard for many years.”
“Well, I’ll be damned!” Stanton stood and pushed back from his desk. He paced the floor as he attempted to fully absorb the startling news.
Paco paused for a moment and went on. “Arturo and Ignacio put their heads together and came up with a plan. Ignacio will ride into town tomorrow just before sundown with a message for Mr. Stoudenmire. He will tell him there has been some trouble out at the vineyard and that Carlos needs Jon to come out right away. On his way out of town, we will set a trap and kill him.”