Blue (Ben Blue Book 2) Read online

  A slight nod of my head let her know that it was done. “Father Paul can tell you about it. I need to get back to the ranch, but I’d like to see Nino for a few minutes, if I may.”

  Within minutes the sister returned with Nino in tow. He must have thought he was in trouble, but brightened when he saw me, but a shadow of apprehension crossed his face. “Senior, Benito, my grandfather is well?”

  Ruffling his long black hair, I told him in Spanish, “Rubio is very well, do not worry. I only came to make sure you haven’t eaten that horse yet.”

  Laughing with a slight tinge to his dark cheeks, he said that I was joking with him, and I admitted that I was. “I must get back to the ranch, but I wanted to see how much you have grown since you’ve been here. I think Rubio will soon have to change your name to Hombre.” He beamed and stood taller. “The next time I come, we will speak in Ingles… si?” He nodded and smiled.

  Riding back to the valley, I thought about what the Padre had said. If we were meant to be together, we would be. Only time would tell, which means there were some hard times and sleepless nights ahead, but I can’t be something that I cannot be.

  Rafe was brush poppin steers out of one of the canyons along the south wall when I found him. We spent the rest of the day pushing and chasing those cows out of the canyons and breaks.

  They held Dunk’s funeral two days later. It was a pretty sad affair, as could be expected. There was a lot of weeping and a lot of grumbling about the lawlessness on the fringes of the plateau. Patty stayed right on my arm through the whole service and burial, but she was distant. I took that to be mostly due to the occasion. When everything had ended and we were walking back to the buggy, where Sam was waiting, I asked her if it would be alright if I came by later. She replied, “Maybe not, Ben. I need a little time to think.” I heard the words, but I felt the grip on my arm. She was holding it like it was gold. Talk about mixed signals.

  I told her to take all the time she needed, and that I’d still be there when she got it all figured out. I helped her into the buggy and she held onto my hand until Sam said, “Gid-up!”

  Standing there watching the buggy roll down the hill, the only answer I could come up with was a question… What the hell was that all about?

  Fortunately, Nelson came up behind me and said, “Blue, you got time to drop by the office for a few minutes?” I said I did and we rode there together.

  Seated in the Sheriff’s Office with a fresh cup of warmed over coffee. “Don’t suppose I could interest you in a job, could I?”

  “Did you see how that young lady was treating me? And that was just because I even talk to you… Wearing that badge would shut the door on me good.”

  “Wal, I figured as much… what with the ranch and all. But I sure could use a deputy with your knowhow and savvy.”

  “But that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about… I sent a message over to the new sheriff of Rio Arriba County, Sheriff Milo Rafferty, and got my answer today. He essentially told me to go to hell. He said that if anyone was going to do any arrestin there, he was gonna be the one to do it. He said that the shootin of my deputy was just an isolated affair… probably something personal, and he’d look into it.”

  “Sheriff,” I said, “that stinks to high heaven… I don’t even know this clown, but I’d sure be writin a letter to the Attorney General in Santa Fe, and rounding up a posse.”

  “I’ve already sent a letter to the Attorney General and one to Jasper Stewart at the US Marshal’s Office. Don’t know if anything will come of it, but that’s all I can do without invading a neighboring county.”

  “When Rubio and I were up scouting out those canyons, lookin’ for cattle, saw a lot of wild horse tracks. I just think I’ll take me a ride up that way and look around for some promising breeding stock. You never know what might show up… I might just find me some big old firey eyed stud.”

  “Hold on a minute.” He said, and went to a file cabinet. “Here they are… take these with you…they might help.” He handed me a pair of field glasses. “Those are the ones we took off that feller who tried to shoot you back a year or so ago. You know the one; you made him walk all the way into town, and threatened to walk him all the way to Santa Fe. What was his name?”

  “Martin,” I told him, “Thad Martin, but his real name was Thad Tanger… dumber than a box of rocks.”

  I took the glasses and promised to take care of them, but he said I could make more use of them than just sittin in a file drawer.

  Back at the MB connected, I told Rafe that I wanted to go scoutin for some wild horses up in the foot hills of the San Juan’s, and I’d probably be gone three or four days. “If you need anything, just put it on my bill at the Mercantile, and if you get scared of the boogerman just go over and stay with Rubio. But watch your scalp.”

  “I’d rather deal with the boogerman than deal with that old savage.” He said with a scowl.

  The next morning I was in the saddle riding Dusty my wild country horse. He was a line back dun about the same color as dust, which made him hard to see if he wasn’t moving. On my way to the western part of the county, I stopped at Juan Domingo’s D– ranch.

  I found Juan and Enrique in conference on the veranda. After a little small talk, one of the household girls brought coffee and some pastries. She was cute and saucy, but not near as pretty as the last young lady who served me coffee on that veranda. That had been Maria, Juan’s daughter and now married to some lucky Hidalgo in Santa Fe. Juan told me that the rancho ran much more efficient now that the vaqueros weren’t so distracted.

  I told them where I was going and for what purpose. Juan asked, “You will be looking for more than wild horses, si?”

  “Yes. I’m pretty sure those rustlers have abandoned their original route, but I doubt that they have given up easy pickings.”

  “Would you like someone to keep you company on your wild horse… hunt?” Enrique asked.

  “Of course,” I said, “could she bring along some of these pastries?”

  They both had a good laugh but Juan said, “Unfortunately, I doubt if she knows the difference between a wild horse and an armadillo. But Pablo might be a little more helpful on the trail. I think he would jump at the chance.”

  Pablo was an excellent vaquero, but I was unaware that he had trail skills. I don’t know why I was surprised but I shouldn’t have been. Most of the vaqueros I knew were good cattlemen and good horsemen. We North Americans often took them at face value as fine horsemen without looking any deeper. Juan told me that Pablo had lived as a Yaqui captive when a boy for four years in Mexico. Well, those are pretty good credentials.

  With Pablo at my side and some tortillas wrapped in oilcloth and a good supply of peppers, we headed for the river where I had first found the crossing. I didn’t think there would be a likelihood of rustlers making an attempted crossing to the south. That would bring them closer to populated areas, and besides the wild horse tracks had been farther north. We crossed what they called a river about ten miles north of where the rustlers had been before. Within an hour we had picked up sign of unshod horses.

  We spent the next few days trying to get close enough to get a look at them. When we did spot them, I pulled out the field glasses and got a closer view. “Son of a…gun!” was my only comment. I handed the glasses to Pablo.

  After a little teaching session on how to use them, he put them to his eyes. “Ay Carrumba!” and that said it all.

  “Pablo, I want that horse. He could be my future.”

  “But, Benito, he is well past his prime. He is magnifico to be sure, but he is only a challenge away from being dethroned.”

  “Oh,” I replied, “not the black. I was looking at the buckskin on the far side. He would be the challenger.” I handed the glasses back to him.

  He looked again and found the one I’d been looking at, and with a gasp, he rattled off something in Spanish that was too quick for me to make out, but I got his message.

 
The buckskin was undoubtedly sired by the black, even though he was a different color. He had the same carriage, arched neck, short trunk, and on and on. There was a lot of Arab blood in both of them.

  We were on a ridge looking down on a small valley that led between two towering mesas, and we had a perfect view of the herd. For about a half hour we watched them, and we picked out several likely mares. One in particular was the same coloring and markings as the young stallion, so I deduced that she was his dam. She also had the look of Arabia. We scouted the area from our vantage point looking for places where we could drive them in and block their escape. We’d have to come back at another time with extra horses and be prepared to spend more time.

  Still looking for the best place to set up a corral, I was looking in all directions. I turned and looked back to the east, toward the river about five or six miles back. Dust in the air… a lot of dust between us and the river. It could be another herd of wild horses, but I doubted it. I’d put my chips on a herd of cattle. I got Pablo’s attention and pointed to the dust.

  “Cattle.” He said. “Many cows… maybe fifty or more.” I agreed.

  “Pablo, I’m going to try and bust up their little drive. There will probably be shooting, so it’s my game, and you don’t have to get involved unless you want to. I’ll understand.”

  “They may be driving Senor Domingo’s cattle… but surely one of his neighbor’s. I will stand.”

  “Appreciate that,” I told him, “but we can’t just shoot them down. From the way they’re coming, I’d think they were coming right through this valley. I’ll get down there among those boulders, and when they come through, I’ll fire into the air and try to stop them. You get on the other side of the draw and if they start shooting… open fire.”

  “I’ll not be shootin to kill, but you do what you have to do. My guess is they’ll break and run for it. If that’s the case, then let them go. We can collect the cattle and drive them back to their range. If I can, I’ll try to turn the herd and stampede them back.”

  Pablo crossed the draw and took up a position in the rocks on the opposite side. I went back to the top of the ridge and could make out the herd coming just the way I thought they would. It looked to be about a hundred head with four riders. There were two men on each side front and back. I signaled to Pablo that there were four. He returned my signal. As they started to funnel those cows through the draw, I was able to see the brands on the leaders… Johnston’s J over bar.

  I crawled back down to my boulders and waited. When the leaders showed, instead of shooting into the air, I just stepped out with rifle in hand and yelled, “Hold it right there and drop em!” Of the two I could see, one was in the lead on the side opposite from me. The other was about a hundred yards back and on my side of the draw. The man on my side was grabbing for his rifle out of his saddle boot, for a split second I hesitated. Thankfully, Pablo wasn’t as picky as I was about giving them a chance to give up, and burned that rustler across the shoulder. The rider grabbed his shoulder and must have jammed spurs into the horse because his horse reared and the rustler left the saddle. Pablo shot again in about the time it would take to jack a new shell into the chamber. The herd turned as one animal, taking horse rider and everything else with it.

  One man was down; the one on Pablo’s side broke and ran past us and into the valley. The two in the rear were never seen by either of us. I didn’t want to think what might have happened to them in the close confines of that draw. I could only hope that they made it out ahead or the cattle.

  When the herd had gone back the way it had come and the dust settled. Pablo came out of his rocks and met me in the middle. We couldn’t see the horse, but we saw the rider in the middle of the draw. There wasn’t much there to look at. I figured that when he lost his seat, he was thrown into the midst of it… Wages of sin.

  After dragging what was left of him to the side, and piling rocks on him, I said the Lord’s Prayer and Pablo crossed himself. We rode with caution back through the draw and out into open country. There was no sign of the other two or the dead man’s horse. We had broken up the theft, and that was enough. I didn’t want to go chasing them nor did Pablo.

  Within a mile we had bunched the cattle and most of the stragglers had caught up. As far as I could tell, they all wore Johnston’s brand. I would have to have a talk with him. We started them moving toward the river. They’d be all right, so we headed for home.

  Shortly after we crossed the river, we ran into one of Johnston’s riders looking for missing stock. We told him where the cattle were and that they were headed this way. He fired three times into the air to signal Dave that he’d found them. So we waited for him.

  When Johnston arrived, I told him what we had seen and what we’d done. He thanked both Pablo and me, and started off with his men to collect the herd. I said, “Hang on a second, Dave. Why do you suppose those rustlers have set their caps on your cattle? There are a couple of other ranches along this stretch that should be easy pickins.”

  “Well, the number one reason is I don’t have enough men to keep watch on the place. These two here are it. I just can’t keep punchers. I don’t know why. The foods good, I’ve even offered to pay more, but they just won’t stick around.”

  I motioned for him to follow me, and we rode off a couple of rods. When we were out of earshot I said, “Dave, you know why those men aren’t willing to stay. Hell, man, the whole county knows. You could hire the head chef from a fanciest restaurant in St. Louis and they still wouldn’t put up with being blistered by Mrs. Johnston for every little mistake or perceived mistake.”

  He started to puff up, and I figured that I had stepped over the line… and maybe I had. But I didn’t want to see a good rancher go down for something like that.

  He took a deep breath and let it out slowly then dropped his gaze to his saddle horn. “Ben, you’re right and I know it. But even if I can keep her away from the men, the reputation is already set. They just won’t come take the job. These two I got here ain’t much. Oh they do their jobs, but neither of them has any backbone. She just rides roughshod and they seem to like it.”

  “I’ll tell you, Dave, exactly what I’d do if I was in your place. I’d ride over to Juan Domingo’s and see if he knows of any vaqueros lookin’ for riding jobs. You won’t find any better cattlemen on the planet.”

  “But I don’t speak no Mex, so how am I goin’ to tell ‘em their jobs.”

  “Most of them speak enough English to get by. Believe me, if they think they are catching thunder and lightning from the Misses, they will suddenly not understand a word of Ingles. As far as how you handle the little lady is something I can’t even begin to advise you on. I’m having enough trouble with women, and I’m not even married.”

  “By God, I’ll do ‘er! I ain’t got nothin’ to lose. If I don’t get some riders on this range I won’t have enough cattle to worry about. I’m down about five hundred head, not countin the thousand… now eleven hundred that you brought back…. Boy she’ll be spittin’ fire when she finds out I’m hiren Godless idol worshipen foreigners.” I didn’t even try to set him straight on those last few points. I figured one victory was enough.

  Pablo and I rode on toward home. I told him before we went our separate ways that I’d like to go after some of those horses in June or July, when many of the waterholes and streams would be running dry. That way we could fewer places to try to cover. He thought that was best.

  It was almost dark when I arrived home. Rafe was just finishing up his supper. “You got any of that left?” I asked. “I’m so hungry I could eat a saddle blanket off a mule.”

  “Man that’s hungry… but about the best I can offer is venison stew, but there’s plenty of it. So wash up and I’ll dish it up.

  “What’s this?” I asked, picking up a folded piece of paper on the table.

  “Don’t know… It had your name on it, so I didn’t open it… besides it didn’t smell purdy like it come from a gal, so I was
n’t interested.”

  I opened the note and read:

  Come see me first chance you get. Herd from the Attorney General and Stewart.

  Nelson

  Now what’s all that got to do with me?

  Chapter 5

  Going through the office door the next morning, I had a funny feeling that I wasn’t going to like this visit. Seeing the cocky smile on Nelson’s face, confirmed my dread.

  “What’s up, Sheriff?” I asked. “Is the Attorney General sending the state militia up here to shut down the rustlers?”

  He just brushed that off with a “Pshhhh! Lotta good that politician’s gonna do us. He said that if we could come up with solid proof that the sheriff over there wasn’t doing his job or was doing something illegal he’d take measures. Whatever those might be.”

  “But.. our friend… yours and mine… from the United States Marshal’s Service has come up with a pretty good idea. At least I like it.” With that he held out an envelope addressed to him from the US Marshal’s Office in Santa Fe. I took it and he said with a grin, “Go ahead read it.”

  I cautiously pulled the contents from the envelope and started reading.

  Dear Sheriff Nelson:

  Blah blah…….blah… I’ll send a deputy as soon as one is available. (I was feeling better) Blah blah blah…blah blah…In the meantime tell Ben Blue to dust off his badge.

  Yours Respectfully,

  Jasper Stewart, US Marshal

  Santa Fe, New Mexico

  U.S. of America

  “Is there any way this letter could have gotten lost in the mail? He shook his head emphatically no. “I didn’t think so.” I mumbled.

  “Of course, you know, this couldn’t have happened at a worse time. I’ve got a gal out there on the Esses wondering if she can put up with a man who goes off to trouble every time it calls.”

  “Kinder figured as much.” He said. “But, Red, this outfit may be a lot bigger and better organized than we thought… The Box M got hit the other night and lost about two hundred head… They’re gettin’ bolder and bolder… It won’t be long before some innocent cowboy is gonna find himself in the wrong place at the wrong time.”