Blue (Ben Blue Book 2) Read online

  Sam looked up and said, “That’s a pretty strong statement, but since you boys came riding into this country riding some pretty fine horseflesh, and I know you know what to look for, so I’ll take it that’s some kind of horse.”

  “Do you think you can catch him?” Patty wanted to know.

  “I think so.” I told them. “It’ll be a job, but if I can get Pablo loose from Juan Domingo for a couple of weeks and maybe another rider on some good mustang stock, it can be done.”

  “Have you ever noticed how wolves and coyotes hunt in a pack?” I asked Sam. Not waiting for an answer because I was sure he had. “They run their prey into the ground using relays. They use a couple of chasers to sort of herd the deer or antelope in the direction of the next group, which does the same thing when they take over… That antelope can easily stay ahead of a wolf, but they keep throwing fresh chasers at it until that deer or antelope is plum worn out.”

  Sam was nodding his head, like he knew exactly what I was saying. Patty was wide eyed and asked how I knew all that.

  I told her, “Coming across the Indian Nations, we traveled with a crazy old trapper, hide hunter, hermit, and would be poet who spent a lot of time educating us to life in the wild. He particularly taught us about trackin’. He showed me where the coyotes had set up their relays and then the next and the next until we found the bones. We didn’t think we were learning anything, we were just listening to a crazy old coot, but it stuck.”

  Sam agreed that it stood a good chance, and then he changed the subject. “So tell me, Ben, did you learn anything over in Rio Arriba? Did you get a line on those rustlers… the ones that killed Jim Duncan?”

  When I quit choking I asked, “How’d you hear about that?” I sensed Patty making herself smaller on the swing beside me. I glanced at her and she was indeed like a turtle pulling itself into a shell. Her head was down and her cheeks were flushed.

  In a timid little voice she said, “I’m afraid that’s my fault… you see I uh… I… Well I jumped all over the sheriff because he sent you up to Johnston’s place looking for rustlers. I think I must have come down on him pretty hard because he was pretty defensive. He finally said that this time it wasn’t his doings but the US Marshal’s doings.”

  “Then he swore me to secrecy and told me where you were and what you were doing there. Next he sat me down and gave me a half hour lecture and history lesson about rights and responsibilities of citizens and militia and the greater good.”

  “The way you were feelin the last time I saw you, I wasn’t in a hurry to let you know about that little trip. The fact that Dunk was killed while wearing a badge turned a local rustling case into a federal affair, and Stewart called my name.”

  “There’s a real Deputy Marshal due to show up in Taos in the next few weeks, and I’ll be able to turn the whole matter over to him.”

  “Then you’ll be out of it?” She asked with a hopeful look in her eyes.

  “I’ve arranged for that bunch to bring a herd to the county line, where I’ll meet them with some hands to take the herd. The sheriff and a posse will be waiting to make the arrests… Hopefully, the new marshal will be here by then, and I’ll just help him clean up the loose ends and send them my bill.”

  “Thank God.” Was all she uttered.

  Presently, Sam got up and went inside leaving us to the evening breeze and the hum of the cicadas. We sat there not saying anything for a few minutes, and then she finally opened with, “Are you put out with me for jumping the sheriff that way?”

  “Put out? I should say not. You had every right to say or do what you did because it was important to you. You’ll learn, if you let me stick around long enough, that I don’t get mad very easy. I especially don’t get mad or upset when there’s no malice intended. If a person makes a simple mistake, I can live with that… your talk with Nelson wasn’t even a mistake… you had the right and you did it for the right reason.”

  “Thank you, Ben. I needed to hear that. I was afraid I’d overstepped my place… I wasn’t even sure I had a right to overstep anything.”

  She was silent for about a half a minute and the said, “I still don’t like the idea of you being the chosen one when there’s a dangerous job to be done, but I guess you’re the knight errant of Taos County.”

  “I don’t know if I can live up to that kind of title… I might make a half decent squire errant. And maybe not even that for long, with the new deputy coming in.”

  “Anyway,” she said, “think I like it better having you around between my worries than doing my worrying and not ever seeing you show up at the door.”

  I told her about staking out the foot print of the house I was planning to build, and that I really didn’t know what I was doing. “It really needs a woman’s hand to guide the pencil that does the plannin, so if you know anyone who has any ideas about what a house is supposed to have and where it’s supposed to be, you send them right over.”

  When she kissed me good night, I could swear I smelled my boot leather burning.

  The next two weeks went plenty fast with work around the ranch and hauling rocks for a foundation. I didn’t know where or how to put them so’s they’d be a foundation, but when I got to that point… I’d have me some rocks. The place I’d staked out was pretty level and on solid ground. There were some places on the ranch that were too sandy, and I sure didn’t want that kind of trouble.

  Sheriff Nelson had his posse all ready to go. He’d picked six good steady fellas who would act as my crew, while the other twelve would be hidden around the herd to stop anyone who tried to run. I was ready to go and get it over with. My gear was ready, Jake horse was ready, but Deputy US Marshal Claybrook wasn’t ready, so I’d have to be the lead man on this affair.

  Rafe and I were eating supper and talking about the rustler roundup. I was to meet the sheriff and his posse on the trail the following morning, so I felt comfortable talking things over with Rafe. I trusted him, but I hadn’t wanted to put a burden of secrecy on him with any details. “… and if we can get all the Williams boys in one swoop, we can pretty well clean up this whole mess.” I was saying.

  “Williams boys? You mean Rank and Bob Williams and their brothers?” He asked as his head snapped up.

  “You know em?”

  “I hope to tell you, I know em. They’re the reason I’m in Taos County… I used to work on a ranch near Tierra Amirilla. Bobby and Rank were the big shots around there. Everybody suspected them of rustlin but nobody would take a stand again em. They picked the circle JD plum clean. The old man, my boss, went lookin for signs, we all did. He found the trail leading right onto the Williams ranch… We never found hide nor hair of him, but we found the puncher riding with him all shot to rags.”

  “The old sheriff was just puttin in his time till the next election and wasn’t inclined to go out lookin for the killers. I had no job and not much money, so I drifted… Oh Mr. Samuels offered me a job, but I’d had enough of that country.”

  “That be Burt Samuels?” I asked.

  “That’s him. Good man with a good crew. His place was to the east and the Vega place to the south and east. Both of em strong enough to take care of their own. But we only had the boss and three of us riders.”

  “Well,” I said, “Bobby won’t be stealin’ anymore cows. He was the one who went down when Pablo and I stopped that herd while we were lookin for wild horses.”

  “What can you tell me about their uncle?” I asked.

  “Which one?”

  Chapter 11

  “You mean there’s more than one? I only know about Milo.” I’d almost choked that.

  “Oh yeah, Milo’s an old pirate, but that brother of his’n is the real king pin of the whole set up. That Russ is a downright devil.”

  “Russ? Would his name be Russell?” I was almost kicking myself for missing the possibility of Russell being a first name.

  “Yep.” He said. “Russell Rafferty would be his full name, but most folks just ca
ll him Russ or Rusty, because he’s got that rust colored hair. More orangey than yours. An he’s meaner’n a snake… to folks and horses.”

  Rafe went on to tell me about how the Williams pa had kept the boys pretty much under control, but when he died Bobby and Rankin took over the leadership of the younger ones and followed the two uncles along a shadowed path. Russell and Milo shared a ranch north and west of the Williams spread.

  When the old sheriff gave up the job Milo decided to take it, and take it he did. According to what Rafe had learned from his former connections, it seems that no one wanted to run against him, so he just walked through the election process.

  The situation in Rio Arriba suddenly became a whole lot clearer. I guess most of what he told me was common knowledge there, but I wasn’t asking the right questions. As a duly elected sheriff I had no reason to think he was any more involved than what he had led me to believe. I took him for a simple western sheriff who was just trying to cover for his kin. This wasn’t exactly legal, but not a major crime either. Everybody watches out for family.

  The next morning I was on the trail waiting for the posse just as the sun was coming up. Officially the trail was a county road, but it was barely a trail at best, and that was what I was inclined to call it. Anyway I could tell that there hadn’t been anyone along that trail for several days, so I waited. Within a half hour after the sun had climbed over the mountains the main body of the posse came riding along. There were still a few who were to meet us on the trail. Even at the early start, it would still be a full day’s ride to Tres Piedras.

  Nelson and I rode together, and I filled him in on what I’d learned from Rafe Baker the night before. The way we saw it, that meant another foray into Rio Arriba County. We’d have to pick up the Rafferty brothers, since they were unlikely to come with the herd. And the way I saw it, that would be Deputy Claybrook’s job.

  We were within a few miles of town when we made camp that night. While the men were getting supper started and in general making themselves comfortable after ten hours in the saddle, the sheriff and I took a little sightseeing ride. From a ridge south of town, we looked over the area where it would be most logical to stop the herd. It was a perfect funnel leading right into a nice little valley outside of town. There was plenty of cover for the posse to surround the valley and tighten the noose.

  We figured to post a lookout along the westernmost ridge of that funnel. As soon as he spotted their dust, the posse would take up positions around the rim, all except for the six men who were to be my drovers, the sheriff, and me. Nelson wouldn’t be wearing a badge, nor would I at that point.

  The whole bunch of us was tired and ready for supper and a good night’s rest. Several of the younger men wanted to ride into to town for a little refreshment and maybe some entertainment at the town’s only cantina. The sheriff was quick to put the kibosh on that notion. He told them that as far as the town was concerned, “we’re not even here.” I was glad he laid down that rule, otherwise I’d have to. There was too much invested in this to have it blown up because someone had more tequila than his good sense could handle. I could understand their desire to kick up their heels… after all I was younger than most of the, “younger men.”

  They grumbled a bit, but they got over it quick enough.

  We weren’t sure when the herd would arrive. I had given them a date to meet me here, but days on a calendar don’t always mean the same thing to different people. Some folks don’t even know what day it is. The way they judge the days is, “the weather’s warm so it must be summer.” I wouldn’t expect Tom to be quite that lax, but I wouldn’t be surprised at the others. Of course I’d expect Milo or Russell to be pushing them to keep to the schedule because of the money they were expecting.

  Of course, I was hoping they’d keep to the schedule because I wanted this whole mess to be over, so I could get ready to start my house. Later this summer when the waterholes were drying up and the wild horses could be located easier, I had my heart set on wild horse hunting. Another trip to Rio Amarilla to pick up Milo and Russell didn’t exactly fit into my plans. That job, I was turning over to Claybrook, whether he knew it or not. If he doesn’t ask, I’m not going to offer to go along. That’s what I told myself, but I really didn’t believe me.

  After breakfast the following day, we broke camp and moved to a shady grove by the river just outside of Tres Piedras. The main party stayed there except for the lookout, who was up on a ridge watching the valley below. The men were all told what to do and where to go when the lookout fired a shot.

  Late morning, my drovers and I saddled up and rode back down the trail about a mile and then rode into town like we had just arrived. Nelson stayed with the main bunch as a precaution. He wanted to be sure everyone knew what they were supposed to do. He’d join us when the herd arrived.

  We tied up at the hitch rail outside the cantina. From the looks of things, when we rode in, we pretty near doubled the population of Tres Piedras. There wasn’t much beyond the cantina, a few adobes, a trading post, and a couple of jacals.

  “The first and only round is on me, boys, so enjoy it because we’ve got to be clear headed when we take charge of that herd.” They all thought I was a fine fella for buyin the first round, but didn’t much like the “only” part of my offer. We drifted in through the door. A couple of us had to duck to keep from banging our heads on it.

  I set em up and took in the two vaqueros standing at the bar. They nodded their “gracias”, and that was good enough for me. I told the proprietor that we were taking delivery of a herd from Tierra Amarilla today, and asked if he had heard anything about one coming in. He said knew one was on the way but had no details.

  We finished our drinks and moved on out to sit in the shade. We sat around jawing and tellin’ some pretty tall tales. As the old saying goes, “The first liar doesn’t stand a chance,” sure was true that day. Every story was topped by the next storyteller. Of course, we all knew that it was just funnin and nobody took any of it seriously… we were just passin time.

  They all trooped back in two at a time around noon to get some chow. I stayed out till they had all eaten, and then I tied on the feed bag while they waited for the signal. After a good feed, had the barkeep fetch a pot of coffee. Those boys each pulled a tin cup from his saddle bag and we settled down to wait some more.

  I checked my watch at about ten past one and began to think they weren’t gonna make it today, but no more than fifteen minutes later, the lookout fired a couple of shots in the air. That would give us about an hour from the time he saw the dust till they’d get to where we waited. I watched the posse members move out to their positions. Nelson separated himself from the others and came over to join me.

  I told my men, “Every man check his weapons, and make sure your cinch is good and snug. There shouldn’t be any need for shootin, but when the sheriff tells them they are under arrest and to drop their guns, you be already pullin yours. I know, many of you have lost stock and we all lost a good man in Jim Duncan, but this isn’t a lynchin party. We want those men to stand trial, and we’ll let the jury decide who hangs and who breaks rock at the state prison. There will be others that the new US Marshal will have to go after, so we need any information we can get from these men… but if you think someone’s going after a gun, pull your trigger. Don’t put yourself at risk.”

  We settled down to wait some more. At two thirty, the herd was in full view and about a quarter mile out. Nelson and I rode out to meet with Tom, who was riding point. I hailed him as we approached. I reined up and welcomed him. I introduced him to my foreman Nels, and suggested that we go get something to cut the dust. He thought that was a fine idea and motioned to Carver to take over the point. I didn’t see Rank or Peter, but they may have been in the rear somewhere. I saw Barney and Ely and several men that I’d not seen before.

  As we rode into the holding area, I asked him about Rank and Peter. He said, “Ol’ Rank just flat refused to come. He said he c
ouldn’t stand seein you without shootin you. An Peter said the same. Why, I had to kick the stuffin’s out of Carver to make him come. My brothers really don’t care much for you, but they’ll be proud to spend your money.”

  I told him not to worry about it because I wasn’t the sensitive type. Well, that made at least four that would need rounding up by Marshal Claybrook, which made it more and more likely that I’d better go with him whether he wanted me to or not. I had a feeling that Ethan Claybrook was going to need some schoolin about western ways. I hoped he was a good learner because I sure didn’t know much about teachin.

  We rode up to the cantina and Nelson said he’d stay out and watch the herd come in. I ordered a beer and Tom had tequila. Through the years, I’d finally acquired a taste for beer, but that hard liquor just set my throat on fire while it was putting out any kind of spark in my head. So I was a lightweight when it come to drinking. At least I’d quit asking bartenders for cold buttermilk.

  Tom got serious for a moment and said, “You got the money, don’t you?”

  “Oh sure,” I told him, “well actually Nels has it. He didn’t trust me to carry that much money because I’ve been known to leave money in my saddle bags, on my horse outside a saloon a time or two.” He laughed and told me that maybe it was better to let Nels take care of it.

  Finishing up our drinks, we strolled on outside to watch the herd fill up the holding area. When the man on drag was through the gap, we mounted up and the three of us rode out to look em over. I said to Nelson, “Nels, you go ahead and give em a good look, and if you’re satisfied we’ll close the deal.” He was actually looking at brands; the sheriff didn’t know anymore about cattle than I did.

  I told Tom with a wink, “Ol’ Nels has been a cattleman for probably a hundred years. He’ll have something to complain about, but we’ll still have a deal.”

  The sheriff jogged around the herd, and every now and then he’d stop and look em over real good. Carver kinda followed him till he got to the rear then he pulled up next to the drag man and watched. I guess he just didn’t want to be near me. My drovers spread out on each side of the cattle as if they were getting ready to start driving. Nelson completed his circle of the herd and pulled up facing Tom and me.