“Hatred and revenge are powerful emotions.” I told him. “I know how deadly they can be.” I was thinking how obsessed my foster brother Andy had been with finding the killers of his family.

  “I presume that an outgoing fella like you gets around and probably know a lot of folks up there in the Patchwork area… can you think of anyone at all who might stand out as someone hard enough to go around killin’ folks in cold blood.”

  “Off hand, I really can’t think of anyone who might fit that bill… course you know I’m only up there two or three days every couple of weeks… Cal takes care of things pretty well without me.”

  “What about Deputy Connors?” I asked.

  “What about him?”

  “I’ve missed him a couple of times… I was just wondering if you thought it would be worth another ride up there to have a talk with him.”

  “I barely know the man,” he said, “but I’d expect him to come down and make a report to the sheriff, if he knew anything.”

  I asked about the brand changing going on up there, and he told me that Cal was kept busy trying to keep them off his range. Beyond that, there hadn’t been any real problems for him. He had no idea who was behind it or where the cattle were going. “Cal says there seems to be a bunch of them out on the scrub land, and then they are suddenly moved off without a trace. He suspects they are being moved at night, but he won’t go out at night to see.”

  “Can’t say that I blame him any,” I told him, “and, Lord knows Cal can use his beauty sleep.”

  He chuckled and walked me out to the stairs. We shook hands, and I left. That really didn’t tell me anything, but if he knew anything, he may not even know what he knew. I walked on back to the Sheriff’s office with my mind thirty miles away at the tail end of Taos County.

  Nelson, Carson and Deputy Hagan were up to their noses in Army records when I walked through the door. Hagan had just come in with a prisoner who had assaulted a saloon girl at the Silver Dollar. He’d beat her up pretty bad, and then stole two bottles of whiskey from the bar and rode out. The Silver Dollar had filed charges for the whiskey. From the way he was yelling and carrying on, I’d say, there wasn’t much of that whiskey left.

  I didn’t know how my friends could even know what they were looking at with all that noise coming from the cell block. I reached over and picked the jail keys from the peg. Then I walked back into the cell block and unlocked his cell.

  “Who the hell are you?” He yelled as I stepped in.

  “I’m the hombre that’s gonna get you outa here.” I told him.

  “Why the Sam Hill would you do that? I don’t even know you.”

  “But I know you, Mister… I’m gonna pay for that whiskey and get the charges dropped.”

  “W.. what for would you do that for.. huh… what for?” He looked up at me. He was a smallish man… probably wouldn’t come any higher than my chin, and he’d be a damned site lighter.

  “Because that saloon gal you beat up last night, was my mother, and me and you are goin’ to take a little ride out of town, so we can… eh… talk. Now come on… get on your feet so we can get this done with.”

  I left him trying to make himself small enough to crawl into a crack in the wall, but he was quiet and extremely sober.

  On the way back to the MB, we stopped at the Esses to let Charlie know that we had seen some S – S and some Rocking J stock up in the scrub land. “I wouldn’t advise sending anyone out there alone.” I told him. “In fact it would be smart to get several ranches together and make it a round up.”

  Chapter 13

  After supper, I walked out to the bunkhouse to have a word with Carson and Tate, if he was even speaking to me after a day of cleaning out water holes. “I’m expectin’ a horse buyer from Santa Fe tomorrow, but the next day I’d like to go back up north and get deeper into the hills. There’s a lot of ground up there that I don’t know anything about. I still believe that the answer is north of Patchwork… You fellas are welcome to come along unless you got something better to do… like cleaning out water holes.”

  “Well you better believe those water holes will be all cleaned out, if I have to work all night to do it.”

  “As long as the job has Jesus’s stamp of approval.”

  “I can sure use a day off.” Carson said. “And I’d kinda like to get a look at those horses I’ve been hearing so much about… Ben, you’ve got a mighty fine cook here, but I kinda liked the food and the service at that Wooden Spoon café… especially the service, so I might just take my dinner and supper there tomorrow.” He grinned and said something about a daisy being the sweetest flower that grows.

  “We’ll be leaving at sunup, the day after tomorrow… in case you have to spend the night in town. I’ll see to it that Antonio has a fresh horse for you, when you get here.” I grinned.

  “You’re a real gentleman, Ben Blue, even if you’re not from Texas.”

  When I got back to the main house, I found Charlie Clark there with Sam out on Sam’s little private porch. They were obviously talking ranch business, but I stopped by anyway and leaned both forearms on the rail facing them. “If I’d known you were comin’ up this way, I’d have saved myself a trip.”

  “I didn’t know I was comin’ or I’d a been here in time for supper.” He said with a Charlie grin.

  “Ben, two of my white faced cows are missin’.” Sam said. He looked worried. He dearly loved those reddish brown and white cows.

  “The boys, know them all by sight and markins and they been watchin’ for these two for over a week. They both got calves trailin’ along. And one of ‘em is a prime lookin’ bull calf that we got high hopes for.”

  “Don’t you worry, Sam, you’ll get your cattle back. If those rustlers are smart, they’ll turn ‘em around and send ‘em home. Those Herefords are like a lightning bolt at midnight… they kinda stand out.”

  “Sure hope so, Ben… I sure hope so.”

  “We’ll get ‘em, Sam. We’re gettin’ ready to make a sweep of that whole area. The ranchers are all sending a couple of men each. I sent riders out from both the Esses and the Rockin’ J with a message for as many ranchers as they could reach. Them that’s been told are spreadin’ the word.”

  “Good,” I said, “and I’ve alerted Sheriff Nelson. He’s sending out the word also, hopefully we’ll get most of the cattle back…. It might be a bigger job identifying the blotted up brands… Nelson told me that neither the 888 nor the Box 4X are registered in New Mexico, so they can be presumed as bogus.”

  I hopped the porch rail and used Sam’s quarters as a doorway to the main house. I just couldn’t see going all around to the front, when there was a perfectly good entrance for the using. As it turned out, both Sam and Charlie followed me through the inner door and onto the open patio, where the ladies were waiting. I knew that was where Charlie’s interests lay, and that was where there surely was a snack and a coffee pot to take care of Sam. That’s also where there was a little redheaded ankle biter and his pretty mama were.

  *

  True to his word, Spade Carson came riding into the ranch yard a little before sunup two mornings later. And true to my word, I had a fresh horse waiting for his saddle and rig. Maria had a bundle of take along breakfast waiting for him. Antonio had his horse read to go by the time he had swallowed a half pot of coffee. We had supplies for three days and Dusty was ready to go… We hit the trail.

  We spent the first day trying to work out trails where cattle had been driven north. They all seemed to be heading into the hills. Those were the foothills of the San Juan’s, and they were plenty rugged. What we had to deal with were the worn down tail end of a mountain range that may have been ten or more thousand feet higher at a much earlier time. But now they were a pine clad pile of rock and dirt reaching several thousand feet above the plateau floor.

  We spent the night up in the foothills, but not more than a few hundred feet up. We’d found a small steam flowing from somewhere above and followed it to the spring and made camp nearby. Our meal was fixed, and the fire was put out before dark.

  The next morning we were back in the saddle as soon as it was light enough to see, and we were down on the plateau shortly thereafter. I really didn’t think the rustlers and the knife killer were connected. But I knew that if we could get our hands on one or two of the rustlers, they may just have some knowledge of the killer… Often times the threat of a rope will give a man a loosening of the tongue.

  We were out in the open scrub land and had set our sights on what looked like a deep canyon running back into the hills. It looked like it ran all the way into the higher up mountains… Maybe it went all the way to Colorado for from what I could see. I didn’t like the looks of it and told my companions the same.

  “Fellas,” I said, “I’m not much in love with the looks of that canyon. I’d venture to say, that the cattle tracks through here are a pretty good indication that someone has been pushin’ cows in there. That’s probably where they hold the herds before the drive ‘em.”

  We’d been up in this part of the county for a day and a half, but we hadn’t seen a living soul since we passed through Patchwork. But just as I was thinking about that, things were beginning to change.

  We were still a couple of miles away from the mouth of that canyon and out in the open. The hills formed something of a wall the way they seemed to run into each other and over take one another. There was a line of similar hills maybe four or five miles off to the left and we were only about a quarter of a mile away from the hills on our right.

  About a half mile off to the left a group of riders seemed to come up out of the ground. I suppose they came out of a gully or an arroyo. There were six in the bunch, and the direction they were riding was going to intersect with our line to travel just about at that canyon mouth…. By then I was really starting to dislike that canyon.

  It looked to me like they were going to try and force us into that canyon. Looking over my right shoulder confirmed my suspicions because there was another bunch of four riders coming up from behind us. They were indeed, planning to run us into that canyon, to who knew what kind of surprise waiting in there. I looked at Spade; he had his Winchester out and pointed it to the rear.

  We pulled to a stop, took aim and all three of us fired at once. At that range it was shooting ducks on a mill pond. There was a horse down, a horse running loose with stirrups flapping, and two men making a run for the rocks. “To hell with them,” Spade yelled, “let’s go get the rest of ‘em.”

  We turned and took a few wild shots at the six men to our left and kicked spurs to our horses. We were heading right at them. That was no doubt the last thing they expected. Riding hard, we were firing as fast as we could ratchet another shell in the chamber. There wasn’t much damage done to those worthy gentlemen, but they broke and ran. We let them go.

  Turning, we rode back to where the man had been shot and a horse had gone down. The horse with the empty saddle had gone off a ways and was just standing. We found the dead man. He had two holes in his chest… he was the one I was shooting, at… I’d give Carson a half credit. The downed horse had a bullet in the neck and wouldn’t last long, so Carson put it out of its misery.

  I found where the rider had fallen when his horse went down. The tracks showed that he was dragging his right leg… he wouldn’t get far. We spread out and walked our horses in the direction he had taken. There wasn’t any sign of blood, and we couldn’t tell if the leg was broken or just hurt. His sixgun was on the ground near where he landed, but we didn’t know if he had a saddle gun or not. There was an empty scabbard on his saddle, but that didn’t mean anything. We had to assume that he was armed and hurt… a bad combination.

  He had been moving from one clump of brush to the next. Carson and I were on the wings with Tate in the middle, and from my position, I could see that the tracks went into a large clump, but didn’t come out. Getting the attention of the others, I motioned to that clump.

  “You in the brush.” I called out. “Throw out your rifle and any other gun you might have, and then you crawl out of there with your hands empty.” I waited about a quarter minute and said louder. “Are you comin’ out in one piece or are you comin’ out full of holes?”

  I didn’t give him a chance to even answer; I pull the hammer back on my Colt and put three quick shot into the base of that bush, sending dirt and gravel flying. I was reloading before he could yell.

  “Hey! Just a damned minute!” He called out. “You ain’t got no reason to be actin’ like that!”

  “I’m tired of messin’ with this bushwacker…. Tate, start throwin’ dry sticks on that bush… we’ll just have to burn him out.”

  The rifle came flying out and he came crawdading out, right behind it. I don’t know what they call em out here, but back in Missouri we had little crayfish with pinchers that we called crawdads and this fella looked like a great big one coming out of there.

  “Did you ever crawl into a real tight crack and then find out that you couldn’t get out without losin’ some skin?” I asked him. “Well, mister you got yourself in one hell of a tight crack…. And you are highly likely to lose a bunch of skin.”

  “I didn’t do nuthin.” He wailed. “I was just ridin’ along and them three fellers came up to me and said ‘Why don’t you come along with us… we got whiskey.’ And I said ‘Sure.”

  “What do ya think, Spade?”

  “I think this boy must think we’re as stupid as he is, if he expects us to believe a pile of bull like that.”

  “Tate, would you go throw a loop on that horse over yonder? This hombre’s gonna need something to sit on for a few minutes.”

  “Wha… what you mean a few minutes?” he stammered.

  “Because that’s how long you’ll be sitting up there before that horse goes runnin’ off across the plateau… Unless you want to start talkin’ straight.”

  “I’m tellin’ the Lord’s own gospel truth… that’s exactly what happened.”

  All the while I was listening to him, I was watching all around for those others who had broke and run. I didn’t expect them to give up so easily. Carson must have had the same thoughts as I had because he rode off a short ways and stood watch. Tate came back with the horse and we got our prisoner tied and mounted.

  “Just for the record, boy, what’s your name?”

  “Curtis… Curtis Melborne, but you can call me Curt… everyone does.”

  “No.” I told him. “I’ll call you Mister Melborne…I never get too friendly with someone I’m fixin’ to hang.”

  “Now hold on… with that business… I made a mistake about that whiskey story, but we didn’t mean you no harm, we was just havin’ a little sport with you… Why I never even fired a shot.”

  “It don’t matter, Mister Melborne, we thought you were trying to shoot us and you probably been rustling cattle anyway…. So we just simply have to hang you.”

  Tate led off toward some trees along the hills to the east. Melborne was pleading his case with every step of the way.

  I dropped back beside Carson and said, “You know, Spade, I’m seein’ one common thread runnin’ through this whole business.”

  “How so?” he asked.

  “Whoever is runnin’ this operation is a pretty smart hombre, but he surrounds himself with the lowest or the lowdown when it comes to brains. From the first day, when we caught Turkey and that Mills fella brandin’ one of Sam’s steers, I should have known it was a low intelligence outfit.”

  “Those fellas at the trading post were just a notch above Turkey and Mills. And now this boy… Why if he was a goose, he’d be flyin’north for the winter.

  “I never met Turkey and Mills, but I haven’t seen much thinkin’ bein’ done by none of the rest of them. So you may be on to somethin’.”

  “He seems to be goin’ out of his way to find the dumbest hardcases he can find.” I went on. “It’s like he’s brand new at this outlaw business, and he’s just collected a bunch of knotheads to do his bidding for him…. I get the feelin’ he doesn’t want anyone from the pack tryin’ to take over the operation.”

  “But,” Carson started, “I always heard the best way to get ahead is to surround yourself with smart people.”

  “True,” I said, “but if this fella is new at the outlaw business and pretty smart otherwise, he may not want Good men until he had learned enough about the business to stay in power. Now, these boys seem to be well schooled in what to do if they get caught. Even old stupid Turkey knew not to say anything and start yellin’ for a lawyer…. But Turkey and Mills didn’t need a lawyer… they needed an undertaker. And it looks like the same man who killed Joe Tucker also killed Turkey and Mills from the tracks outside the jail.”

  “But they were shot, and the others were knifed.” Carson interrupted.

  “I believe, Turkey and Mills were business, and the others were pleasure… Some things a person has to do and other things he wants to do. It’s my opinion that those knife killings were highly personal, and in some way a ritual…. That war chief of the Sioux, Gall, swore off guns after his family was slaughtered by the cavalry. He swore that henceforth, he would only kill with a hatchet or a knife, and so far, that’s how it’s been.”

  Carson was pondering what I had been telling him. And I didn’t blame him for his doubt, the whole idea had just come to me, and I had started thinking out loud. JL had pulled up beneath a cottonwood and was looking back to me for instructions.

  I was running a bluff, and if it didn’t work, I was going to have to back off and take the prisoner in to jail. Of course, I should take him to jail anyway, but if he gave me the right information, I’d simply run him out of the territory rather than bother with him.

  I told JL to toss his rope over a good sturdy tree limb and fit the loop around Mr Melborne’s neck. Melborne was some upset at the prospect of leaving the good life for one which would not be quite so much fun.

  “All right, Mister Curtis Melborne, here’s your big chance to get out of this mess with your whole skin intact and a chance at a much longer and happier life. You lie to me and Tate here is gonna slap your horse’s butt, and you’re gonna be swingin’ like a church bell on a Sunday morning. You tell me what I want to know and young Tate is gonna take that loop off, untie your hands, and then slap your horse. Then you’re gonna be free to go anywhere you want to as long as it isn’t New Mexico.”

 

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