Blue (Ben Blue Book 2) Page 6

  So I set my cup on a remnant of a table and pulled the deputy’s badge from the inside pocket of my vest. I showed it to him, and told him that I would need his strictest confidence. I told him that if this was made known to the wrong people my life would be in serious jeopardy. I went on to explain that the rustling had cost the life of a Deputy Sheriff in Taos County, and that it had gotten so bad that the US Marshal’s office had sent me to Rio Arriba County to see what I could find out.

  He looked at the badge for a long half minute and said, “You can depend on my silence, Benito. I’ll not even tell my father. He grieves long into the night for my brother. If you can bring those who have done this to justice, perhaps he may find peace. Maybe peace for my father and Bernardo.”

  “I’ll do everything I can to make that happen, Filipe, but I’ll need your help. I need to know who you suspect of killing your brother and anything you can tell me about the rustlers. I don’t care if you can prove it or not. I’m looking for a place to start. I’ve already found a nest of those who are dealing in stolen cattle, but I think there are more. I don’t care if it’s just a suspicion or a rumor; I need a place to begin. Now, who do you think killed your brother and why do you think it.”

  He refilled our cups and sat for a bit swirling his coffee and looking into the cup then said, “I believe that Peter Williams shot Bernardo, my brother… Bernardo was trailing a small herd of cattle that had been driven north, off our range, when he was killed from ambush. When the vaqueros following him found him, he was already dead. But he wasn’t killed by the first bullet. He must have been knocked from the saddle and badly hurt. When his attacker came to make sure he was dead, Bernardo got off one shot.”

  “The vaquero’s found him with many bullets in him. They also found where the killer stood close and emptied his pistol into him. Not far away they found a rifle with the action smashed by Bernardo’s bullet. That rifle was well known because of the fine silver work on the butt. That rifle belonged to Peter Williams.”

  “Did anyone see Williams there?” I asked. He told me that the vaqueros were too late to see anyone but close enough to hear the shots.

  “Did they tell the sheriff what they suspected?”

  “Si. The sheriff said that Peter had lost his rifle, and he couldn’t do anything about it without a witness.”

  “What’s your opinion of the sheriff? Do you think he’s involved, or do you think he’s just trying to keep his nephews out of trouble?”

  “Many of the New Mexicans don’t trust him, and would paint him with the same brush as the Williams brothers. So far, he has done nothing to make me think he’s not honest.”

  “What about a man named Russell, do you know a man named Russell? He may be involved in the rustling.”

  Filipe told me that he didn’t know of anyone named Russell. He may be using another name, I thought, or he may not be known in Tierra Amarilla. I’ll have to dig a little deeper. I had distinctly heard Rank Williams say that Russell wouldn’t accept my deal.

  I asked him about local brands, so that I’d know what to look for when the cattle were delivered. He drew them in the dirt and I copied them into a little tally book. That sort of information would come in handy when we took delivery.

  After Filipe left, I unsaddled that Jake horse and made camp under the partial roof of that old adobe. It wasn’t like sleeping in the hotel room, but with the mood I’d left three fourths of the Williams crowd in, I figured it was a lot safer.

  The following morning, I rode back into town and had breakfast at the little cafe. Then I put my horse in the corral and went to find my perch on the porch of the hotel. I figured that I’d spend the next day or so sitting there watching the world of Rio Arriba go by.

  I took the opportunity to walk down to the general store and buy a few things. I got a new writing tablet and a pencil. I figured that to get a letter off to Elizabeth back in Missouri. She and her pa were mighty good to us after Andy’s folks were killed. She took it hard when I wrote her about Andy; she was special fond of him. That was one of the hardest things I’d ever done, writing that letter. I always felt that she had appointed me to watch out for him, and I’d failed. I could look at it in a thousand different ways to show that I had no control over his dying, but I’d still feel like I had missed the half second that he was in danger.

  When I’d got as far as Dear Elizabeth, I realized that I couldn’t send a letter from here and not expect it to be opened, just as the letter I’d gotten from Nelson had been opened. So I put my new pencil and paper away. I guessed that I wouldn’t write anybody, I would have liked to have written to Patty, but she hadn’t given any sign that there was anything I had to say that she wanted to hear. Life can sure get confusing to a big old redheaded goober.

  I found a couple of old newspapers in the hotel lobby, one was four weeks old from Santa Fe, and the other was several months old from Kansas City. I guess Kansas City was becoming the biggest town in that part of Missouri. Independence used to be, but now it was just a town near Kansas City. Anyway, it didn’t matter that those papers were old; I wouldn’t know anything about what was going on there anyway. I saw the Don’s name mentioned in the Santa Fe paper. He had brought in some Italian masons to work on the Cathedral. At least those newspapers helped me pass the time.

  I didn’t need to pull out my watch to know that it was well past noon, and time to put some food in this growing boy, so I sauntered over to the cafe. The same cute little button of a gal was serving dinner that served me breakfast. I figured, she was at least a match for the senorita who would serve me supper but maybe not quite as much spice. But she was mighty cute anyway.

  She smiled when she came in and said, “There’s a place up here, Red.” indicating an empty table near the door to the kitchen. I removed my hat and thanked her and sat down. She took my order and disappeared into the kitchen. When the food was brought, it was tasty and filling. The place was emptying out after the noon rush, so I took my time over coffee and a big slab of pie. With the help of a younger male version of herself, who could only be her brother, they soon got the dishes collected and the tables cleared. There were only a few customers left, and none of them needed her at the moment. So she stopped by my table and said, “Pardon me for being nosey, but aren’t you Ben Blue?”

  I was a little surprised, and had to admit that I was indeed the guilty party. “And I am terribly sorry that I don’t know your name. I’m afraid that my memory must be getting worn pretty thin if I can’t remember someone as pretty as you, Miss.” She was all of thirteen or fourteen and simply glowed at the compliment.

  “Oh, you never saw me, but I saw you when you bought some cattle from my pa. I’m Kate Simpson… You and that little Indian boy were in the ranch yard that day.”

  “Why sure, that was me and Nino… Your daddy would be Bill Simpson. How’s he doing? What are you doing in Rio Arriba?”

  “Pa caught a fever and died last fall. Ma sold the ranch to the people who bought Avery’s place, we moved here to be near kinfolk, and she opened this cafe.”

  “I’m sure sorry to hear about you pa. I didn’t know him real well, but he had grit. He was doing everything he could to stick it out, even with the pressure from the Pickering ranch.”

  “I just wanted to thank you for buying those cattle.” She told me. “Pa said if you hadn’t that we would have lost the most of the herd. I never saw him so happy as when he heard how you and your brother took care of those men. So thank you, Mister Ben Blue.”

  “Kate,” I said, “I’m going to ask you to do something that may sound strange. I’m going to ask that you don’t tell anyone about the Judge Poke or Pickering affair. I was wearing a US Deputy Marshal’s badge at the time, and if that got out it could be very bad for me… I can’t explain now, but I promise I will in due time. I’ll be leaving in the next few days, but I’ll be coming back soon… I’ll tell you about it then.”

  She said that her ma was the only other one around here
who knew anything about it and that she’d caution her too. I left and went back to my post guarding the front door of the hotel. I found a chunk of wood between the hotel and the building next to it. With my Bowie, I went to work on that foot and a half by three inch diameter chunk, with every intention of making a tooth pick out of it. At about half past three, I took a break from my wood sculpture and walked over to the Noah Count Saloon for a beer and a change of scenery.

  I walked in and howdied the bartender and ordered a beer. There weren’t many in the place at that hour so I settled down to talk to the barkeep. We talked mostly about nothing for a while, and I finally had to ask him a personal question, “Noah, is Count really your last name?”

  He laughed long and hard and told me, “Friend, do you know that you’re the onliest person in Tierra Amarilla who’s had the nerve to ask that question.” Now Noah was almost as tall as me, but he had at least forty pounds of pure beef more than I carried. So I can imagine that very few would venture a personal question. I just didn’t know no better.

  “Yep.” He said. “My old pappy had him a fine sense of humor, he did. So when I had taken all the schoolboy joshin and bloody noses… both mine and theirs. I just figured I’d have to live with it and make it work for me. Pretty catchy don’t you think?”

  I agreed that it was, and that I liked his attitude about it.

  “The reason I laughed so hard when you asked,” he told me, “was the way you laid Rank Williams out so slick and smooth, I just figured that you’d be the one who would ask.”

  We talked for a while, I finished my beer, and as I was getting ready to leave I said, “Noah, I heard that there was a fella named Russell in these parts who might have some cattle to buy. You have any idea where I might find him?” He told me that he didn’t know of anyone in these parts named Russell. I thanked him anyway and left.

  Back on my observation deck of the Tierra Arriba Hotel porch, I took up the question of why nobody knows this Russell hombre. Could it be that he lived outside the county or in some remote area? Could it be that Russell was his first name? But even if it was his first name, just asking about him should have triggered someone’s memory. There were a lot of possible reasons why nobody knew him. Well, I had all the questions… but darned few answers.

  I sat there contemplating until I began to feel bad about that six inches of wood shavins on the boardwalk and went in to get a broom. Then I sat there a while longer, till I had to sweep it again. I was just getting ready to sheath the Bowie and take out my clasp knife for the fine work when I heard boots on the boardwalk.

  Looking up, I saw the sheriff heading my way with a purpose. “Blue,” he said, “now, you told me that you made them boys an offer, but you didn’t tell me that it wasn’t much of an offer… I can’t in good conscience let them seriously consider four dollars a head… Why, they’d be losing money on a deal like that.”

  “Sheriff, I’m a reasonable sort of fella, and I want everyone to make some money, but them boys have been downright mean spirited to me, and that’s no way to treat a customer. They ought to be taking me out to dinner and buying me drinks and fixin me up with the gals, not pikin fights and stealing my gear.” I was setting the stage to make myself look like a pretty fine fella. “Now if Rank and Tom want to meet me for a couple of beers over at the Noah Count after supper, I’d be proud to talk a serious deal with them… But I’m not goin to make a deal with them, when their leader won’t come out of the house or invite me in, but just yells through the door.”

  “I’ll be at the saloon at seven o’clock, and I’ll stay there till eight o’clock. If they don’t show up by then, I’ll be leavin’ town in the morning.”

  He huffed and snorted, but he knew I was right, and he had a pretty good idea that I would do just what I said I would. I figured that it would be easier if I could get the cattle across the county line, and let Nelson arrest the Williams boys in Taos County. Then whoever Stewart was sending could take Federal warrants and a posse over to collect what rustled cattle they could find. But I already had enough on the Williams’s to bring the US Deputy over here and pick them up with the same warrants. If we weren’t able to get the “partners” we would at least shut down the operation.

  “I’ll make sure they’re there at seven.” He said as he got up to leave.

  Chapter 8

  I had a nice meal at the Simpson’s Cafe. I spoke to Miz Simpson and offered my condolences. She thanked me and told me how selling those cattle had made it possible for them to survive the winter. I told her, it was a good deal for both of us and thanked her. Walking out on the boardwalk, I used my new toothpick for the first and last time due to splinters. I never could see how some folks could walk around all day with one of those in their mouths. I guess that’s what makes us all different.

  At seven o’clock, I walked through the batwing doors of Noah’s Noah Count Saloon, and found a grinning Tom and a scowling bruised Rankin Williams sitting at a table in the rear. I moved to the table and took an empty chair.

  “Tom, Rank,” I said, “you boys drinking? I’ll get the first round.” They both said they’d take a shot, so I flagged down the gal taking orders and asked for two whiskeys and a beer. While we waited, I made small talk. When the drinks arrived, we got down to the business at hand.

  “I take it you’re not too interested in my offer… Well, it was made in the heat of the moment, and I’ve had time to reconsider it.” Tom was nodding his head, but Rank just glared out of his one clear eye. The other one was pretty bloodshot. “So,” I went on, “what are you asking for those cattle?”

  “Eight dollars a head.” Said Rank Williams.

  “Now, Rank, you don’t seem to understand how this works. I’m willing to come up from where I started, but you’re supposed to be willing to come down some. Let’s try it again. What are you willing to take for ‘em?”

  Rank started to say something, but Tom cut him off with, “We’d like to get six fifty a head.” This time Rank turned his glare on his brother.

  “I’ll cut out all the back and forth yammering and give you six dollars a head delivered to my ranch.”

  “How bout we take ‘em to the as far as Tres Piedras?” Tom asked. “That’s on the county line.”

  “Deal.” I said, “I’ll have the money ready, and my boys to drive ‘em on in from there… You’re gonna give me stock as good as the stuff I saw, ain’t you?” I threw that last bit in there, just to keep them on their toes.

  “Oh, you betcha. They’ll be in fine shape when you git ‘em.” Tom replied.

  We worked out the details of the when, since we already knew the where, we didn’t have to worry about that part. It was finally agreed on that I’d meet them with my crew in two weeks at Tres Pierdras, with cash in hand.

  As we got ready to leave, I offered my hand to Tom, and he took it like it was made of gold, but Rank just turned and walked to the bar. That was just fine with me because I didn’t feel like being nice to him anyway. It was too bad that when that house of cards finally comes crashing down, Tom was going to be in the midst of all that rubble. Like I always say, You need to pick a better class of friends… or in Tom’s case…a better class of family.

  With that little piece of business out of the way, I decided that I needed to get me a piece of pie business put out of the way as well. So I headed back over to the cafe for some coffee and dessert. As I came in, the sheriff was sitting having coffee with another man. He was roughly the same age as the sheriff, close to forty give or take, but he was a smaller man… tall but thinner. I howdied the sheriff, and he asked if everything went okay. I said, “Fine as a frog’s hair, sheriff.”

  He smiled at that and went back to his conversation. The gent he was talking to, looked vaguely familiar, but I was sure I’d never met him. He was a little over medium height but a light weight. His hat was off and hung on a chair back. I could see that he was another redhead, but he had the brighter orange-ish shade. Folks with that coloring u
sually had fairer skin and disappearing eyebrows. He had started losing his hair in the back, but he still had a thick prominent widow’s peak in the front. Well, whoever he was, he and the sheriff were head to head in conversation.

  When they had gone, I asked Kate if she knew the man the sheriff was talking to. She said that she only knew him by Rusty. “I guess that’s because of his rust colored hair.” She speculated. The name didn’t mean anything to me, so I dismissed him from my mind as someone I really didn’t know… but his face still looked familiar. Maybe it was something around the eyes or… I didn’t really know what it was; he was just familiar. I told Miss Kate Simpson, that I’d be leaving in the morning right after breakfast, cause I’d sure hate to miss out on her mama’s flapjacks and eggs. I left an extra two bit piece on the table and went back to the hotel.

  Before I called it a night, I went over to the livery to make sure that Jake horse and gear was all ready to leave in the morning. It was nearly dark, but there was a lantern hanging beside the door. I lit it and it gave off enough light to so that I could to see all that I needed to. I fussed with Jake horse for a few minutes, and doled him out a little extra grain. He seemed to think that was a mighty fine thing I did, and gave me a couple of nudges. My gear was all there and seemed to be in good shape. So I left.

  Replacing the lantern on its hook, I walked away toward the lights of the main part of town. I hadn’t taken more than three or four steps when I heard boots on gravel behind me. Not stopping to analyze or figure out what that noise could mean… I just moved. My first move was to my left, which was probably a good move because; something gave me a whack on my right shoulder. It was a glancing blow and didn’t do much damage, but it served notice that somebody had intentions of doing some damage.