Blue (Ben Blue Book 2) Page 17

  “Anything else, Sergeant? I haven’t had that many orders thrown at me since I was in the army.” The both thought that was pretty funny and started calling me “Sarge”.

  They started to leave, as the supper was ready to dish up. “Just a second please, Father.” He sat back down with a look of concern.

  “On the way back down, we’ll come to a sheep camp where those men slaughtered a Navajo family. I’d like it if you’d to take the time to bless them or whatever it is you need to do.”

  “Certainly,” he said, “I remember when three of them went up to a shepherd’s camp. They were gone or some time and came back laughing with mutton… How bad was it?”

  “They killed the father, raped and killed the mother, then the bashed in the skulls of two tiny angels about two and four years old… We buried them and said words over them, but they deserve proper words… so if you would.”

  “You’re a caring man, Sarge, You would have made a fine priest.” That was funny enough to make me laugh, which I did.

  Sister Valentina scolded him away and brought a bowl of broth for my supper. I begged for a slice of that venison, but my pleas fell on deaf ears. Then she bathed my wounds and pronounced me still not ready to get up.

  I woke again just after sundown, someone had moved close and sat down beside me. I felt for my gun, but all I could find under that blanket was me. Peeking out between closed eyelids I saw the familiar face of Rubio about an inch from my own.

  “Rubio thought you dead… ready to take scalp and count coup.” He gave a tug on my hair and said, “Don’t need anyway.” Then he pulled from his shirt a fresh scalp that looked to be the color of a carrot and grinned. Next he showed me his second new rifle and sixgun in as many days.

  “Put that scalp away before the marshal sees it. Him city fella… no savvy scalps.” Then I called out to Claybrook and told him that he could cross Russell Rafferty off his list.

  He came over and asked Rubio if he was sure he was dead. Rubio told him that he’d put a bullet in his chest. Then he flopped back on the grass with his arms flung out, head tilted, eyes rolled back, and his tongue hanging out. “Him dead.”

  Then he showed Claybrook Russell’s rifle and rig. Claybrook looked at me, and I nodded. “The deal Rubio has with the sheriff is a dollar a day and plunder… he’ll probably take one of their horses.”

  “Fine with me.” Claybrook said. “He earned whatever he gets.”

  “When do you think you’ll be ready to ride?” he asked.

  “I was figurin on leavin in the morning. If somebody can get me my clothes. I sure don’t want to ride into town wearing this blanket.”

  Claybrook went back to the fire and told the party that we’d be leaving in the morning, as soon as we could get loaded up and bring down the horses that belong at the school. I heard Sister Valentina object to moving her patients so soon.

  Then Linda told her, “Sister, a couple of years ago, Ben was shot in the head, he came within an eggshell’s thickness of being killed. He only spent one day in bed, and was on the trail after a bunch of killers within three days. I know it’s not best, but that’s the way life is out here. A man can’t be down for very long. If he can get into the saddle… he’ll stay.”

  She didn’t like it, but she agreed as long as I didn’t get too rowdy. I promised that I wouldn’t get too rowdy.

  Chapter 21

  After two days on the trail, Claybrook sent the deputy and Jesse ahead to let folks know that the hostages were safe and coming home. We moved much slower than the two men could go. The women were worn to a nub, and although I was feeling pretty fit, aside from just being tired and sore, I still didn’t get too rowdy. Poor old Spider was worse off than anyone else. He’d gotten a deep thigh wound, and the bullet was still in there. I knew he had to be uncomfortable and in pain just from sitting in the saddle.

  He never complained, but he was feverish. Rubio used some Navajo medicine on him, much to Sister Valentina’s disapproval, but it did seem to help. Rubio said he’d be willing to go after the lead if we had some whiskey to help control the man. The good sister kept a constant vigil over him and made sure the wound was kept clean.

  We stopped at the Navajo sheep camp and Father Paul gave the little family a fine send off and blessed the grave. He said he wished he knew if they had been baptized. I said, “I don’t think it matters much to God. These were good and simple people. They probably worshipped with a mixture of Navajo Spirits and Christianity. I’m sure they gave God his due respects, no matter what they called Him, and I’ll bet that’s what really matters.”

  “You may be right, Ben. But I’ll not say that in public.”

  I laughed and told him, “I never suspected that you would, and I’ll never even hint that I ever heard it.”

  On the fourth day, we encountered a formidable party of riders. Among them were such notables as Juan Domingo, Sheriff Nelson, Don Carlos, the town doctor, and Patricia Ann Stellars. There were three vaqueros, Charlie, a scout, and two loaded packhorses. The reunion was magnificent.

  Patty was so busy with hugging, kissing, and crying over the hugging, kissing, and crying Linda, that I busied myself filling Nelson in on what had happened and how it happened. He said the rest of the outlaws got stupid and tried to shoot it out with a fourteen member posse. There wouldn’t be a trial or a hanging.

  Don Carlos told his son that the Dona Elena was waiting for him at the school, where she was helping with the meals and teaching an etiquette and manners class. The children were awed by her. They thought she was the Queen of Mexico. I thought she was the queen of something.

  The Don sought out Rubio and thanked him for helping save the hostages, and brought the news that Nino was mending and would be completely well in no time. Then he slipped the old scalp hunter a small but heavy pouch. Rubio smelled it. I didn’t understand that part.

  After a fine meal, the doctor took up his bag, and he and Sister Valentina, with the help of two of the vaqueros removed the troublesome piece of lead from the Spider’s leg. Next, it was my turn. He told me to quit malingering because the sister had done her job well, and I’d just be a little sore for a while. I told him that was pretty much the way I saw it.

  It was mid afternoon when Patty and I had time for more than a quick hug and were able to sit together and talk. “Ben,” she said, “I’m sorry, I haven’t meant to ignore you today, but I’m just so excited that Linda and the others are safe, and she needed to talk.”

  “Oh, don’t give it a thought. I’ve had my share of busy myself. What with all the sheriff’s questions and Don Carlos’s thank yous. And then the doctor pokin and proddin, well I’ve had a full day.”

  “It was enough to see you and Linda together… There was a time or two over the last week, when I wasn’t at all sure that you would ever be together again.”

  “Was it bad, Ben?”

  “About as bad as I could ever imagine.”

  “Linda said you saved them all, and she felt bad about trying to knife you in the dark that way.”

  “Well, I was a might surprised when I saw that frog sticker comin at me. I don’t know how she got it, and she clammed up when I asked her where she had it hid.”

  “If I ever get to know you really really well. I’ll tell you where it was…Maybe.” She was blushing, and the thought occurred to me, How many times has she made me blush and then made fun of me. This is my revenge, but I ain’t takin it.

  “Ben,” she said with tears in her eyes, “I was so worried. I was worried to death about Linda and the others… I was more worried about you. I felt that I had pushed you into this, and if you’d been killed or badly hurt, I’d never have been able to forgive myself.”

  “Patty, nobody pushed me into it. If it had been some girl you didn’t even know, I would have been hot after them. The only thing you did was save me several hours of wasted time by not having to go into town first.”

  “As it turned out, that extra time saved Sister Vale
ntina from… well you know what could have happened. Those few extra hours made a difference that will stay with her for the rest of her life.”

  We talked the sun down over the back slope of the mountains to the west. Then I kissed her good night, and we each went to our respective places to lie awake and think about the other… or at least one of us did, and I suspect that the other one did as well.

  It was decided that the sheriff, the doctor, Charlie and two of the vaqueros would leave in the morning, and the rest of the party would return at our slower pace. The sheriff paid Rubio off for the full number of days he claimed, and he promised a box of cartridges would be waiting at the office.

  Two days later we rode into the school compound and received a joyous welcome from about forty or so Mexican and Navajo youngsters. One of the happiest, of course was Nino. The nun who’s name had slipped my mind was also pretty excited to see that Linda, the padre, and her sister sister were all safe and had been returned to her. She was just plain giddy.

  Rubio became an instant success with the youngsters and the last I saw of him he was the center piece in a ring of large brown or nearly black eyes staring out of shining young faces.

  Don Carlos suggested that he and the dona escort Linda into town to see her returned to her family. And a Don Carlos suggestion is as good as an order in most quarters in these parts. The beautiful travel coach that he and his lady were accustomed to using was readied and their fine horses hitched. Father Paul, Dona Elena, Linda, and Patty rode in the coach, while the rest of us pretended to be guarding a queen, two princesses, and a cardinal.

  As we rode into the center of town, people were crowding the boardwalk and lining the street. There were cheers accompanied with pistols being shot into the air. I don’t know how he did it but Don Carlos triggered his fine Arabian mare into a prancing trot. I asked Dusty if he could do that, and he just snorted. Dusty didn’t go in for foolishness.

  There must have been two hundred people waiting at the courthouse When Linda was helped from the coach. I could see kerchiefs waving, hats flying and a whole lot of eye wiping. The Tuckers were there waiting to get their arms around her. When the padre stepped from the coach another cheer went up to match the first. I don’t think he had expected that kind of welcome. The Dona Elena and Patty slipped out of the coach on the far side, so as not to intrude on the moment.

  The story of the shootout and rescue had already been printed in the town newspaper a day or so earlier, so there was a lot of back slapping and hand shaking all around. A few speeches were made and accolades were thrown all over the place. All the while my right hand was being shook, Patty had a firm grip on my left.

  Claybrook tracked me down in the crowd to tell me that he was being recalled to Santa Fe due to the trouble in Lincoln County and thanked me for getting the job done. I told him, that there were a lot of men up on that mountain who could be proud of what they had done there. Then he said, “Marshal Stewart, told me to ask you to hang on to that badge for a while longer.” He was speaking to me, but he was looking at Patty.

  She gave him a tolerant smile and said, “You tell Jasper Stewart that he has an extra grace period, but don’t push his luck.”

  Claybrook smiled and told her that he would be sure to tell the marshal what she said but maybe not in her exact words.

  The last I saw of Spider, he was loaded in the back of the Tuckers buckboard and being pampered by Maggie Tucker.

  Suddenly, I was tired. It had been almost two weeks of riding, fighting, killing, and worry. The worry was the hardest part. I told Patty that I’d better head on to the ranch and get some rest. She suggested, “Why don’t you ride out to the Esses with Grampa and me for supper and spend the night… in the bunkhouse. Then you can go on to the MB after a good breakfast… because you’ve got a house to build, big boy.”

  The End

  About the Author

  Lou Bradshaw is a retired illustrator, cartoonist, and graphic designer who had spent more than 40 years in the graphic arts field. A lifelong storyteller he didn’t venture into serious writing until the age of 64. He now has three finished novels and is working on the fourth.

  One of the more fascinating aspects of his writing is that until he was nearly forty years old he would have been considered a functional illiterate; he could barely read, and still struggles. Lou has no idea what the problem was, but he worked his way through it. He has since become an avid reader and a collector of old books with some 500 vintage titles in his personal library.

  He lives in the Missouri Ozarks with his wife, Avon, where they enjoy their grandchildren, golf, kayaking, and the great outdoors.

  When I start on a story, I have an idea how I want it to end, but through the tale itself, I let the story have a life of its own. Many of my favorite characters just sort of happened. I liked them and developed them. lb