Chance Reilly

by Patrick Lindsay

  I stopped to water the horses at a stream and glanced around at the increasingly thick stands of bristlecone pines and spruce trees as the horses drank. It was a beautiful countryside around me, but I reminded myself that I needed to be aware of dangers besides the Apaches. There were mountain lions in the area, and although I knew they feed mainly on deer, I didn’t want to come up on one unexpectedly. And speaking of deer, I was counting on venison as a primary source of food on this trip, but I knew I had to be careful about announcing my presence with a rifle shot. Maybe if I came upon a deer before reaching my destination, it would be good to kill and dress it, then pack it in on Fred. There was always something to keep in mind when you were on your own out here.

  I decided to pull off into a small clearing and have something to eat. The sun still felt good on my shoulders as I leaned up against a rock and ate some jerky. I thought about some things Tim had told me concerning mining in the Sangre de Cristo Mountains. He’d said there were some miners working on the western slopes, and I should decide whether I wanted some safety in numbers, or whether I wanted to be a lone wolf and work on my own. I’d not had much luck trusting total strangers before, and where gold was involved, I’d decided that went double. I would trust no one else and work on my own.

  Concerning the rumors of a ledge of gold running the length of the mountains, I put little stock in that one. There were people who stood to profit just from gold miners showing up the area, whether or not any gold was found. There were the restaurants and hotels in the bigger cities, liveries selling horses and places selling supplies. Not to mention the thieves who were happy to relieve any would-be miners of their savings before they ever made it out to the gold fields. I decided to discount that rumor altogether and work the western slopes.

  Tim had also told me a story about miners showing up with gold “float”, as they called it. It seems they were talking about gold ore lying on the surface of the western foothills of the Sangre de Cristo. I wasn’t inclined to believe that one either, but Tim seemed to think it was true in some cases, and said the ore had proved to be very rich. I leaned back a little farther and pulled my hat down over my eyes. Well, I needed to have my senses about me and be checking the ground for tracks, if nothing else. I might as well keep an eye out for gold “float”, if such a thing really existed.

  There was one last tip Tim had given me, which I figured was probably by far the most valuable one. He’d advised on what to look for when choosing an area to begin mining. He told me to look for reddish-purple colored soil in the area, and formations that showed a lot of quartz. I’d decided that was what I’d be looking for. I wondered idly for a moment why Tim didn’t go mining for the gold himself, since he seemed to know so much about it. I finally decided that it just wasn’t in his nature to take the chances. If there were good strikes in the Colorado Mountains and Tim had a successful mining store in Denver, he could make plenty of money without risking his neck out here. Takes all kinds, and I wasn’t sure but what Tim was the smart one. I sighed and got up, climbing back on Archie and heading north again. I wanted to make camp close to the pass I’d decided to go over to get to the western slopes. I didn’t want to camp out in the snow, which Tim had assured was still there on the pass. I pulled out my map and took a look. Sangre de Cristo pass was what it said on the map. I didn’t much care what they called it if I could pass over and get to the western slopes. I headed Archie north, gave Fred a tug to follow along, and started back out.

  … Sam polished the bar absently while watching the two men who had come into his saloon. They were drifters, by the look of them, and he expected they would just pass on through town. It was the fragment of conversation he’d picked up when he delivered their beer that had gotten his attention. He’d picked up the name Carson. When he’d hesitated after setting the bottles down, they’d buttoned up and stopped talking. He polished some more and watched from the corner of his eyes while they lowered the levels on the beer. After a while, he motioned his nephew Mike to come over. He gestured toward the table with the two drifters. “Go over and see if they want another beer. If you hear any of their conversation, I want to know about it.” Mike looked at him quizzically. Sam shrugged. “Just do it” he advised. “I especially want to know if you hear any names. Don’t come back and talk to me until you’re done serving them.”

  Mike nodded and walked over to the table. Sam turned and walked to the end of the bar, watching the reflection in the saloon window as Mike walked over and talked to the strangers. He returned, picked up two more bottles of beer and carried them back to the table. After he had left the beer, taken their money, and come back to the register, Sam walked over to him. “Well?” he asked. Mike put the money in the register, then turned his back on the center of the saloon as he answered. “I couldn’t make much of the conversation. Maybe a few names, though.” Sam waited. “One name sounded like Red, and the other might have been Santos. Plus they mentioned the two remaining Carson brothers.”

  Sam stared at the bar and let that one sink in. It sounded like the worst possible news. He’d half expected that Red would come back to see the other two Carson brothers. Red probably liked stealing money better than earning it, and the setup for cattle rustling with the Carsons had been too good to leave. The name Santos was also a concern. He was known in the territory as a small time gunfighter, probably bigger in his own mind than anyone else’s, but he wouldn’t object to bushwhacking a man, as Red had tried to do. That made him dangerous. Sam absently served another whiskey at the bar and considered his options. They would find out soon enough that Chance had left the area. Sam still disagreed with that decision by the sheriff. Certain people would never make the peace lawfully and willfully, and the Carson brothers were among those, especially after their brother died. Better to face them and have it out now than wait for them to pick the time and place… too late for that.

  Sam considered a few avenues in his mind while he picked up some dirty glasses and carried them back over to the bar. He thought about paying a visit to Sheriff Stanton, but dismissed that almost immediately. The sheriff wouldn’t move unless there was an imminent danger to the peace in the town. At the least, he needed to pay a visit to the Randolphs and let them know the other two Carsons were back in town. It would have to be in the morning. He didn’t have enough light to find his way tonight.

  … I rode on to the north, lifting my jacket collar against the chill and noting how the trail was now rising up into more mountainous country. I’d made good progress throughout the afternoon, and if I was reading my map correctly, was close to finding a place to camp for the night. I wanted to be through the Sangre de Cristo Pass and down out of snow country tomorrow, if that was at all possible.

  Archie seemed to follow the trail without much guidance from me, and Fred seemed happy enough to follow along behind us. There were cliff walls rising up now on my right. In the setting sun, the rocks seemed to glow a deep maroon color. I wondered idly what would cause that red color. Tim could probably tell me, if I remembered to ask. We came around a corner that offered a surprisingly good view for quite a ways ahead of me, before the trail veered to the left. I scanned the country ahead, sizing it up for a camping spot off the trail. I heard a slight rumbling noise and looked overhead, wondering where the thunder was coming from. The sky was cloudless, and I frowned in confusion. A couple hundred yards ahead, a bit of dust and some small rocks began to tumble across the trail. Landslide! I sprang into action as soon as the word formed in my mind.

  I wheeled Archie and went back the way I’d come, swinging Fred around as we went and pulling him after us. There was an overhang on the trail about fifty yards back, and I would have to hope there was enough shelter. I was dismounting as I rode Archie in, and I grabbed a halter in each hand, pulling all of us under the overhang. I looped Archie’s lead rope around one hand and lifted the collar of my jacket to cover my mouth. Up ahead, the rumbling sound was now growing extremely loud. Larger and larger rocks be
gan to bounce across the path, until there were boulders crashing across, tearing through the underbrush below and uprooting small trees in their path. The slide area seemed to be building back toward us slowly. I didn’t have many illusions at this point that the overhang could hold up to those boulders. I could only hope we were, as a result of pure dumb luck, far enough back. I pulled the horses close and talked as soothingly as I could. Archie was surprisingly calm, but Fred was skittish and trembling. That made two of us.

  The noise seemed deafening at this point, and the dust was almost chokingly thick. I concentrated on breathing through my jacket and hoped the horses could hold up to it. The dust was so thick it was difficult to see anything, but I glanced up once in a while to see what I could. There seemed to still be some room between us and the edge of the slide, and I could only hope it wouldn’t extend this far. I stood for some time with my head down, jacket pulled across my mouth and nose, and my eyes closed. I decided that if one or more of those boulders was headed for us, I didn’t need to see it. After some time, it seemed that the noise level was decidedly less than before. Finally I looked up at the path in front of me. The dust still hung very thick in the air, and while there were still rocks, tree branches and debris falling across the path, I didn’t see the huge boulders any more. While I watched, in a surprisingly short period of time, the noise dropped away and the slide seemed to stop.

  I continued to soothe the horses, then splashed some water from my canteen onto an old pair of socks and used them to help clear their nostrils. I spoke soothingly and continued to pat them until the fear seemed to leave them. When that was done, I looked at the trail ahead of me and took stock of our situation.

  It seemed to me there were really only two choices—I could keep moving ahead and look for a place to sleep for the night, or I could stay where I was and do the same. I thought about the landslide we had just come through and the possibility of some unstable rocks still up on those mountains after the slide, and opted for choice number two. I walked Archie and Fred back down the path for a couple hundred yards, then located a spot under some trees back off the trail a bit. I decided I could get happy with that as a spot to sleep tonight.

  After tying Archie and Fred to a couple of limbs, I stripped off their saddles and rubbed them down as best I could with an old rag. I decided to camp without a fire and made do for dinner with some more jerky and some cold beans. After that I pulled together some pine needles and laid my bedroll across them. It had been more adventure than I wanted today, but I was still alive. That certainly counted for something. I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep.

  I eased Archie down the steep winding path, with Sangre de Cristo pass behind me, for which I was thankful. I had made camp after the landslide, and then got an early start to put the pass behind me and get far enough down the mountain to camp out of the snow. I’d managed to do that, but last night had been colder than I’d bargained for. The morning sun was beginning to thaw me a little. Archie picked his way carefully down the trail and I gave him his head. He might be glad for a warmer camping spot too.

  After we had descended a little farther I found a trail and struck that one back to the north. I kept one wary eye out for both Apaches and other miners. I had in mind a spot I was looking for to set up operations, I just didn’t know if I could find something to fit the bill. The map I had from Tim showed the Rio Grande River winding through the area, hopefully just north of where I was now and there appeared to be several tributaries feeding into it. It would be a convenient source of fresh water if I could find a cave on a hillside near one of those tributaries. I didn’t want to be right on the water—too much chance of running into someone else. A dugout area or cave near some promising mountainsides or cave walls with rich quartz formations and close to the water. Now that was what I needed.

  We struck a stream I hoped was one of those tributaries and followed it north for a couple hours. The sun was getting pretty much high overhead when the sound of more water told me we may have reached the Rio Grande. I held the horses back under the trees and watched the water flowing by me, checking my map and feeling pretty sure we had found the Rio Grande. After a while I worked on to the west watching for a place to ford the river. After we had crossed over we doubled back a little to the east until I found another tributary and we followed that one north again. As we neared time to find a camping spot, there appeared to be some good quartz formations on the mountain walls, glowing a little red in the setting sun.

  Finally I saw what looked like a small recess or overhang on the side of the mountain and I pulled the horses over and climbed to the spot I’d seen. There was a small overhang and an opening beyond. I tied off the horses and stepped into the opening, following it into a small cave. I explored it briefly. The back of the cave narrowed into a farther opening. I followed that through and found an additional small room at the back of the cave. This one appeared to be enclosed on all sides, with one small opening in the ceiling. With any luck that would open to woods and underbrush above, allowing the smoke from a small fire to escape undetected. I was delighted with what I’d found. The back wall was too dark to see clearly, so I struck a match and my jaw dropped. There were two balls of what appeared to be roughly processed gold ore.

  Chapter 11

  Sam stopped halfway through his morning bar cleaning routine and motioned for Mike to come back over. “Can you cover for me this morning? I should be back before it gets too busy.” Mike nodded. “Good.” Sam slapped him on the shoulder and headed toward the back door. He stopped off in the storage room. He started to pick up his shotgun, thought better of it and picked up Red’s old rifle instead, along with a box of ammunition. “I’ll be at the Randolph’s place if you need me,” he tossed over his shoulder, and then he was gone through the back door.

  As Sam walked down the main street on his way to the livery stable, he passed the Cimarron jail and saw a light inside. He hesitated, wondering whether he should talk to Sheriff Stanton. He couldn’t really fault the sheriff for moving Chance Reilly on down the road in hopes of preserving the peace. But the nagging thought stayed with him that maybe at this point in his life the sheriff just didn’t have the stomach to take on the Carsons. Sam stood for several seconds, then finally walked over to the jail and pushed through the front door. Sheriff Stanton looked up as Sam came in, his face registering surprise when he saw the rifle.

  “I’m headed out to the Randolph’s place” Sam announced without delay. “There were a couple drifters in the saloon last night, and we heard the names Red and Santos. I think Jim and Kate might be in for some trouble.” Stanton studied Sam’s face, and in the light Sam saw how tired the sheriff looked. “I have some things I have to do here today” Stanton said eventually. “I’ll be out there one day this week, or you can come back for me tonight if you need me.” Sam stood unmoving for a while, thinking that timetable might be too late, but the sheriff seemed to have made up his mind. Finally, Sam just nodded and headed for the door. At the livery stable, he saddled his horse and started for the Randolph place.

  The morning sunshine and gentle mountain breeze did little to lift Sam’s spirits as he rode toward the Randolph spread. He conceded that the sheriff might be right about the urgency of the situation. Just because he’d heard the Carson name in the bar didn’t mean they were planning an immediate strike. Chances were, though, that word had reached them about their brother. That meant trouble, and Sam wasn’t a man who liked to take chances about when trouble might come. He’d always been one to face it immediately when he could. The future of this whole territory depended on having more people like the Randolphs and fewer people like the Carson brothers.

  Jim Randolph was out working with a horse in the corral when Sam rode into the yard. If Randolph was surprised, his expression didn’t show it. He tied off the horse, removed his gloves, and walked over to shake hands with Sam. “What brings you this way?” he asked. Sam swung down. “I wish I had a more cheerful reason” he be
gan. Jim nodded. “Come on into the house. I’m sure we have some coffee for you.”

  Sam trailed behind Randolph into the kitchen of the ranch house. Kate glanced up curiously when they came in. She brought some coffee and home baked bread to the table, then sat down with them. Sam took a minute to gather his thoughts, and then began: “So, we had a couple drifters in the saloon last night. Never saw them before and they didn’t seem to know anybody. They pretty much kept to themselves. I managed to pick bits and pieces of their conversation. They were talking about Jack and Caleb Carson. No mention of the youngest one. I’m assuming’ they know he’s dead. They also talked about Red and a gun hand name Santos. This could be pretty bad.” Sam paused and looked at the Randolphs. Both of them sat without much expression, but they were very much listening to him.

  Sam paused, and then continued. “You know they aren’t going to leave this alone. I stopped off to talk to Sheriff Stanton this morning, but he isn’t ready to get involved in this. If you ask me, he won’t get into it until it’s too late. I came to tell you two things: One, you need to be on the lookout all the time. And two, you can count on my help. You just tell me what you need.” Jim passed his hand quickly over his face. “Out here, a man kinda has to deal with his troubles himself,” he began. Sam interrupted. “Sometimes, a man needs a neighbor to help out. You’re good people and I’m here to help. I won’t take no for an answer.” Jim paused, glanced up at Sam, and nodded. Kate smiled and reached out to pat his hand. “You know how much danger you could be in?” asked Jim. Sam nodded.