Arizona (Shad Cain Book 4) Read online

  Arizona

  By Lou Bradshaw

  Copyright © 2016 LE Bradshaw

  Cover Design © 2016 LE Bradshaw

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be copied or reproduced in any way without written permission from the author or his designated spokesperson, except for small portions to be used for review purposes.

  “Arizona” is a work of fiction and does not depict any person or event. It is solely a product of the author’s imagination.

  Dedication

  I would like to humbly dedicate this work to the men and women, who make up the staff of St. Jude’s Children’s Research Hospital of Memphis, Tennessee. The wonderful dedicated work they do, the lives they save, and the heart aches they face cannot be imagined by those of us who can only pray that our loved ones never need their services.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 1

  I’d come to the City of Angels to have a look at some Angels… And sure enough there was a bunch of them here, but somehow, they just didn’t seem to be the way I had them pictured. For instance, the one hanging on my arm at that moment might be a little ways off from getting her halo and wings. But she sure was a pretty thing.

  She wanted me to get her another drink, and I was tempted to get her a coffee instead. I’m no pilgrim, so I know these gals make their living by pushing drinks. The fella on the other side had taken a serious interest in what she was wearing…especially the front. Now I can understand a man admiring a woman’s clothes, but he should admire it a little more discretely and farther back than four inches.

  So I ordered her another drink and told the barman to put it where I was standing. I went ahead and paid the tab because I wasn’t sure how long they’d let me stay. He set the drink in front of me and gave me my change. I left the change and moved that barroom girl to the left, and I took the space she had been using. The fella that had been doing the chest inspection drew back and looked up at me.

  “Mister,” I said, “if you’re that interested in breasts, then have a gander at this one.”

  With that I took a hand full of shirt and yanked his face right into my chest. Then I shoved him back to where he started from. He didn’t know what had just happened.

  While he was trying to get his nose back in its proper place and stop the bleeding at the same time I told him, “This town is crammed full of Angels, and some of them may be a little bit sullied. But that don’t mean you can be disrespectful… otherwise you might be hearing Gabriel’s horn before your time… and that messes up all their paperwork… They’d probably just send you some other place… Some day you’ll thank me for this.”

  His senses and the pain of a broken nose were starting to clear away the whiskey cloud. He wasn’t sober by any means because he started pawing for the Colt stuck in his belt. I’d heard that the Lord watches over fools and drunks. Well, He must have whispered in my ear because instead of finishing off that nose, I just gave him an eye that wouldn’t be opened for a week. He crashed back into a couple of fellas, who shoved him back at me. I held him up for a second and let him drop.

  Turning back to my tarnished Angel, I wrapped a good left arm around her and bent her back in a long and welcomed kiss. When I brought her up, she was fanning her face and smiling.

  “Sweet little Angel,” I said, “it’s high time I went on back to the high up mountains… But it’s been a real pleasure makin’ your acquaintance. If you ever get to Colorado, look me up… I’ll be the one livin’ on the side of a mountain.”

  As I walked to the door she called after me, “Who are you… what name should I ask for?”

  “Cain… Shad Cain.”

  Dog was waiting for me as I cleared the door, so we quickly slipped into the next doorway we came to. I wasn’t too worried about that fella on the floor, but if he had friends in there, I didn’t want to give them any idea where I was.

  Some folks just don’t know when they’ve stretched their luck as far as it would go… If that fella had just backed away and left that gal alone; he could have gone home without a tender nose. But he felt sure he needed to pull that hog leg. That sort of thinking can get a fella dead.

  Then again, if I’d a kept to my own business, none of that would have happened. I didn’t regret the trouble though. That barroom girl was someone’s daughter, or she could even be someone’s mother. I didn’t know her story, or how she wound up doing that kind of work, but I’d bet my last penny, it wasn’t what she’d dreamed about when she was a little girl. And there was probably some man behind it all.

  Dog and me waited for a few minutes and went on to the little Mexican hotel and cantina where we’d spent the last week and a half.

  “Dog, old boy,” I said, “I’ve seen enough cities to last me a while. I’m ‘bout ready to head home. We’ve missed most of the winter, and the wildflowers will be bloomin’ when we get back….Unless of course, you were wantin’ to stay a while longer.” He didn’t say anything, so I took that to mean he was ready to go.

  The cantina was full to the brim when we got there. It was mostly a Mexican crowd, but there were a few whites mixed in here and there. I told Señor Sanchez, the proprietor, I’d be leaving in the morning and to have my bill tallied. I spent the rest of the evening getting my gear ready and giving, Bud my horse, a look over to make sure he was ready to travel.

  By the time the sun was clearing the mountains we had left the city of Los Angeles and its lovely Angels far behind, and we’d seen our last of that big ocean they had. The three of us all seemed to be eager to be on the trail and away from so many people. There must have been four or five thousand souls all clustered together back there.

  I didn’t know exactly how far it was to Agues Calientes in miles but everyone told me it was a three day ride if you didn’t lollygag. If I’m not in a hurry, I can lollygag with the best to them, so I didn’t know when I’d get there… As it turned out, it took three days.

  From there we went more south than east and along the Salton Sea, which wasn’t a regular sea like the big one west of here. But at one time it was hooked onto the Gulf of California and would have been a part of that big ocean.

  We wanted to pick up what they were calling the post road, and I’d heard some call it the mail road, but those were pretty much the same thing. But at Agues Calientes, I heard them calling it the Bradshaw Trail. Back home in Tennessee, there was a family of Bradshaws, and a tough bunch they were. I had butted heads with one of them time and again. We both had whooped each other every other time. And if I remembered right, I whooped him the last time we met…. I sure hoped I didn’t run into him on that trail because it would be his turn to do the whoopin’.

  I wouldn’t say the ride through the desert was as pleasant as a stroll in a park, but it had its own beauty. It would take a smarter man than me to explain it. But a body can sit there on a horse or walk ahead and lead it through some of the roughest and meanest country on Earth, and get a thrill just looking at it. It don’t make no sense at all
.

  The trail was well marked, and there was water every thirty miles or so. It was still early spring, so the heat wasn’t what it would be in a few months. Maybe if it had been August instead of March, I wouldn’t get quite as big a thrill from looking at the landscape.

  Not being one who cares much for towns, I surprised myself, by smiling, when the town of Blythe came into view. It didn’t mean I was becoming a city slicker or anything of the kind, but it meant, water, food, and shade. I figured I’d have at least two or three more weeks of sand and sun before I reached green country.

  My plan was to spend the night in Blythe, get a good meal, and cross the river in the morning. So I found the best and only place in town to take care of those needs and got a room. Dog camped outside the kitchen door and feasted on whatever they tossed him. I saw to it my horse got plenty of grain and a good rest. We were three happy critters.

  I gave the gal who took my supper order four bits extra to make sure there was plenty of fresh scrap meat to be tossed to Dog. He can usually take care of his own needs in wild country, but in town game gets a little scarce. And I didn’t want him depriving any little old ladies of their tabby cats.

  After supper, I leaned my elbows on the bar of the only saloon in town. The beer wasn’t cold, but it wasn’t bad. And I’ve had enough bad beer to know the difference. I was just about to push the empty glass back and go up to my room, when a fella moved up next to me and asked, “Got time for another, Cain?”

  I was a bit taken back when I heard my name spoke in a place I’d never been before. The only one way to find out who was offering me a drink was to turn and look at him. So I did, and it didn’t help any because I’d never seen the man in my life.

  “Friend, I reckon you’ve got the advantage of me, or else I’m gettin’ so old I don’t know faces I’m suppose to remember.”

  He chuckled as he picked up the two beers and motioned me to a table.

  “There’s no reason you should remember me, since we’ve not met… But I had a good description of you… tall, sandy hair, droopy mustache, buckskins, and eyes that say ‘Keep your distance, stranger.’ And… I took a look at the hotel register… Oh by the way, I’m Cal Bailey”

  Cal Bailey looked like any other cattle country young fella. He was clean cut and well set up, and he wore range clothes like he was born to them. By the way he talked, I guessed he had some education, but he was no city fella.

  “Sounds like someone put you on my trail… You a bounty hunter or some kind of regular lawdog?”

  “I’ve been paid to find you, but not for bounty or any kind of trouble… All I know is a man wants you to do a job of work for him, and he’s willin’ to pay plenty… he got word you were in California and headin’ this way, so he sent three of us to cover all the better crossings and watch for you.”

  “Well… What kind of job of work are we talkin’ about because I’m sort of retired… you know… The mountain man business has sort of run out of business… I’m workin’ on being a country gentleman. The gentleman part still needs some work.”

  “As to that, I couldn’t say, but I can tell you he’s a very important man, and he must want to see you pretty bad, if he’d send out three men to meet you.”

  “Is he here? We can talk now… if it’s that important to him.”

  He chuckled again and said, “No… I’m afraid he’s somewhere between Fort Worth and El Paso… But if I send him word, he’ll meet us at the end of tracks… just east of Tucson.”

  “Just one question… Who is this important man that wants to hire me?”

  “I can’t tell you that until I get your word that you’ll come to Tucson to listen to what he has to say. If you decide not to accept his offer, you’ll be paid for your trouble.”

  If that Cal fella knew how little I cared for money, he’d have never said that last part. But all he knew about me was what I looked like. “What line of work does this fella do? Because if he’s a rancher lookin’ for a wolfer… I ain’t interested.”

  “No… He’s… I guess I can tell you this much… He’s a railroad man.”

  Well that made more sense. A lot of railroad men buy my wood carvings. He maybe wanted to buy one, and I happened to have a couple in my bedroll.

  “You can tell him, I’m on my way…I never been to Tucson… and this seems as good a time as any.”

  “That’s great, Mister Cain, I’ll send a letter on the morning stage and Mister Banister… Alan Banister will meet us at the end of the track.”

  Chapter 2

  Alan Banister didn’t mean much to me, but I didn’t know many of the whittlings customers. That fella in Santa Fe takes care of that part of it. I just deliver him a bunch now and then, and he gives me some money for ‘em. I must have gave away a wagon load before those folks back east took a fancy to ‘em.

  We crossed the river the next morning and moved into some God awful dry country. But it was well traveled, and most of the watering places were pretty well known. There were others off the trail, but most folks weren’t eager to get off the trail in this country, unless they had a pretty good reason.

  The army liked to think they had most of the tribes controlled, but they knew as well as the rest of us… it wasn’t so. The Apaches run in small bunches and they can hide sittin’ at your kitchen table, and you’d not know it… Well you might notice that, but the point is they come and go from the reservations almost at will.

  The Apaches would get aggravated with the government over the food shortage. Or it might be just because they were in an ornery mood… then a bunch of ‘em would up and leave the reservation. They’d rip around the countryside for a while, and then they’d either go back to the reservation or go join up with some of those in the Sierra Madres. Our army couldn’t get to them there, and the Mexican Army didn’t seem inclined to go dig ‘em out.

  Traveling this trail wasn’t something one or two men wanted to do. So we’d hooked up with a group of eight other men heading for Tucson and points east. Some of them had made a little money in the gold fields and were heading home to buy a farm and find a wife. I tend to think a few of them were broke and just trying to get home. At least one kept looking over his shoulder… I didn’t say they were a bunch of good men, but they were all well armed, and that was important.

  It was close to three hundred miles from the Colorado River to Tucson, and that would take at least ten days. Ten days on the trail with a bunch of strangers is almost impossible. By that I mean, you’re going to know them pretty well when you get to where you’re going. You may not have a friend among ‘em, and they might not like a thing about you, but they ain’t strangers no more.

  There was one lad among the bunch that I’d reckon was going home busted. His horse was mustang stock and a dime a dozen on any Kansas or Texas spread. It was without a doubt, the best thing he owned. His heels were rundown, but his guns were well cared for. His saddle was old, but it was well mended and well cared for. His saddle bags looked to be pretty flat and his bedroll didn’t look all that full either.

  After the second day on the trail, it came to me that the boy was down to slim pickins. Come eating time and he would be chewing on jerky and cooking up some kind of mush in a little pan. All I knew about him was part of his given name… they just called him Tobe, which was only the first part of Tobias.

  The third morning, I cut some extra bacon in the skillet and dumped in some extra coffee and water in the pan. Then I went over to where he was rolling up his blankets and said,

  “Tobe… It’s come to me that you just might be runnin’ a little short on rations… And to be honest with you, we’re gonna need every man in this bunch at his best if the Paches hit us. So my partner and me would consider it a good investment to keep you well fed and alert. Till we get to Tucson, you’ll be eatin’ from our larder.”

  He started to get his pride up, so I told him, “Son, you’re hungry right now… I know because I’ve been so hungry, I’d have ate the business
end of a skunk if I’d a come across one. So we won’t have any more talk about it… You just fetch your cup and plate and come on over to the fire.”

  I just took him by the arm and led him to the fire where everyone was cooking their breakfast. When Bailey saw me steering him along, he just grinned and kept turning bacon. Nothing was said about it between us, but that boy was plumb hungry.

  Tobe Crocket became my shadow. The rest of the bunch were content to look at the trail ahead to see where they were going, but I’d never known of Apaches, Comanches, Sioux, or any of them to attack straight up from the front. The redman is a lot smarter than that. Most times they’ll come out of nowhere and be on you before you even know it.

  The Apaches were new to me, but I’d spent many an hour talking to my good friend, Rubio. That old Navajo knew more about ‘em than they knew about themselves, practically. He’d fought them his whole life… and survived. He had become a legend among his people.

  So I tried to teach young Crocket what to look for and what he shouldn’t take for granted. He had an old Henry, but it was in good shape, and he had plenty of ammunition. The boy may have been on a starvation diet, but his weapons and his horse were in good shape. I begun to enjoy his company, he wasn’t one to waste a lot of time talking just to be saying something.

  As luck would have it, we arrived in Tucson without a scratch and no blood lost. We’d faced a few days when the water we were counting on wasn’t there, and the next water hole wasn’t a guarantee. But we made it through, I don’t know about the others, but I learned a thing or two about surviving in the desert.

  Tucson was booming with wagons and riders everywhere. We planned to spend the night and head out early the next morning. We said so long to the rest of our bunch, and I pulled Tobe off to the side.

  “Crocket… you got any kind of plans?”

  “No, sir… I can’t see past tomorrow. Reckon I’ll try getting a job and save enough to get back home. There’s no place there for me either… Pa died three years ago, and ma married a man with two sons about my age. He took over the farm and I was kinda squeezed out.”