Trail Hand (12 page)

Elijah leaned his pitchfork against the barn wall and eyed the horses I was leading.

“Ah see those saddle bums caught up with you. Or was it visy versy?”

“A little of both,” I replied. “One thing’s for sure, they won’t be needing these ponies any longer,” I added.

“Figured that much when Ah seed you ride in,” he said, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand.

“Look, I’m going to be leaving again, but this time I’ve got a long way to go, so I’ll be needing more supplies. Suppose I could get a fair price for these two horses?” I asked.

“Depends on what you consider a fair price.”

“All I need is a change of clothes, some more ammunition, and enough grub to get me where I’m going. Might even check out that bathhouse you mentioned before.”

“Well, seein’ as how mah brother-in-law runs the mercantile, Ah reckon we can strike a deal. What about the other one?” he asked, pointing to the chestnut gelding with the EH brand.

“Just leave him in the corral and feed him. I expect some boys from that same brand will be along soon to claim him,” I said.

“Iffen they ain’t friends o’ yorn, you might want to reconsider takin’ time fer that bath,” he said knowingly.

“Why’s that?” I asked.

“Already been here. About three hours after you rode out, a group o’ Mexes rode in. Ah couldn’t help noticin’ but they was ridin’ that same EH brand you are. Ain’t none o’ mah business, but those boys kept askin’ ’bout someone who kinda fits your general description.’ Course, Ah don’t savvy none o’ that
mejicano palaber
, but Ah got the dee-stinct impression that whoever the fellow is that they’s a-lookin’ fer, he ain’t gonna be none too happy when they catch up with him.”

I glanced quickly back over my shoulder. “You tell ’em where I went?”

“Iffen Ah had, they’d ’a’ found you by now. Nope, they didn’t offer me nothin’ fer mah trouble like you did, and Ah always figured a businessman ought to take care of his good payin’ cash customers first. Besides, maybe you’ll take that into account when we agree on the final price for these cayuses,” he said, grinning.

“You just saved yourself a lot of money, friend. Know where these
vaqueros
might be right about now?”

“Oh, Ah figure they still ought to be headin’ on north. Guess Ah kinda intimated it was a good idea. Ah remembered how you rode out o’ here to the west, by the way.”

“Much obliged. But with no trail to follow, they might backtrack any time, right?” I looked around again apprehensively.

“Might at that,” he said. “But then again, that
stretch is so bad iffen they was a-lookin’ fer sign, and iffen they wanted to find someone real bad like, they prob’ly wouldn’t stop until they hit the nearest water hole. That’s the only way they’d be sure, and it’s a good two days ride from here. ’Course, it’s none o’ mah business,” he continued on, “but iffen you were the feller they’s a-lookin’ fer, Ah figure you got about a full day or so, afore they git back.”

“Hadn’t counted on them finding me so soon,” I said. “Thanks again for the help.”

Elijah just nodded back at me.

“Look, when they come back this time, don’t take any chances, just tell them straight out where I went,” I warned.

“Truth is there ain’t a-gonna be no next time. When that outfit comes back, Ah don’t plan on bein’ around to answer any more questions. Especially not after what they done to the Golden Goose.”

“How’s that?” I asked.

“After they left here, they headed straight fer the saloon. Most folks usually do.”

“So what happened?”

“Ah followed them down there an’ saw the whole thing. They all went in, peaceful enough like, and ordered beers and a few tequilas. The bartender served them all right, but then this one feller, name o’ Morton, he don’t cotton to Mexes much, and starts givin’ ’em a hard time. Called ’em a bunch of stinkin’ beaners and let on that the folks in the bar don’t want their kind around. Well, sir, one of them Mexes starts to object, but Morton, he’s kind of a big feller, he just shoves him backward and reaches behind the bar for a
sawed-off shotgun that’s kept there. Then he sets it on the bar top and starts talkin big to his friends, you know, braggin’ a lot. Ah could tell those Mexes was hot, but this other feller with a scar on his face, guess he’s the boss, he sort o’ holds up his hand to stop them from startin’ a fight.”

“That would be their ramrod, Chavez,” I offered.

“Iffen you say so. Anyway, this Chavez feller, he takes out a ceegar from his shirt pocket and lights up. Then he motions to the barkeep to buy this Morton feller a drink. Next this other Mex translates for him that they ain’t a gonna fight with ’em. Says they’s just passin’ through and ain’t lookin’ fer no trouble.”

“I assume it didn’t help?”

“Hell, no. This Morton, he just laughs, and starts bragging again to his friends about how many Mexican whores he’s had. Then he and some o’ his pals order all the Mexes out of the place.”

“And they just took that?” I asked surprised.

“Well, Ah’ll tell you. This Chavez feller shrugs his shoulders, and then turns to leave. But, see, he stops first to put out his cigar on the bar.”

“Then what happened?” I asked. Chavez was hardly the mild-mannered type.

“Oh, he put the cigar out all right. But as it turns out, he ground it right into the back of Morton’s hand. Well, Ah’ll tell you, that man yelped loud enough to wake the dead, and pulls up his hand in pain. Next thing ya know this Chavez feller grabs up the shotgun and clouts him right across the nose with it. Man, that Morton went
down like he was pole-axed. After that the rest of them started swinging at anyone in sight. And them Mexes, they got this one big bald feller.”

“Chango,” I said, nodding.

“Whatever. Anyway, he grabs this one cowboy up over his head and throws him clear through the gambling wheel like he was a dart. Went right through the middle, flying headfirst. When the bodies started sailin’ through the windows is when Ah skedaddled out of there. Last Ah heard every table was broke, two cowboys lost an ear, and the barkeep got part o’ his nose bit off. One cowboy ’parently pulled a gun. They found him later under a table, with three holes in him, two in the chest and one in the gut. Right here.” He pointed to his belly, indicating the precise spot.

“Any of them
mejicanos
hurt?” I asked.

“Saw ’im ride out right afterwards. Couple of bloody noses and one fellow was cut a little on the arm, but nothing serious. Leastwise nothing Ah could see.”

“How many riders were there?” I asked.

“About twenty or so, Ah reckon.”

“Seems they’re madder than I thought, to have brought that many.”

“Son, mad don’t touch it. Just ask the fellers at the Golden Goose, or what’s left of it,” he said.

“Any place left in town to get a drink now?” I asked.

“Yeah, but Ah’d have to show you,” he answered, licking his lips in anticipation.

“All right, you do that, and I’ll spring for the drinks.” I laughed. “And then we can talk to your brother-in-law about those supplies.”

When we walked past what remained of the
Golden Goose, I could see that Elijah hadn’t exaggerated. After that I was more determined than ever not to let those
vaqueros
catch up with me until I had a chance to find the herd and square things.

I left Gila City at first light, aiming for Fort Yuma.

I rode hard and fast, trying to put as much distance between myself and the
vaqueros
as possible. This time I made no effort to cover my trail, since after a day or two it would be obvious to everyone where I was going.

A week later I arrived at the Butterfield stage way station. It was the logical place to stop and rest, the food was good, and they didn’t water their drinks. I had hoped finally to clean up some before moving into California, but as usual it was not meant to be.

After tending to the roan, I went into the station house. Since I’d run out of bacon three days earlier, visions of a hot steak, mashed potatoes, and biscuits flashed briefly through my mind. It was only briefly, though, for, as soon as I opened the door, the commotion inside wiped away any hope of a nice quiet meal.

Inside eight heavily built drovers had a lone black cowboy trapped in a corner and were preparing to beat him up. One of the men had a bottle in his hand and was raising it to strike just as I entered. For some reason it didn’t surprise me one bit to find Sonora Mason on the receiving
end, staring back at me from the corner. For the time being lunch would have to wait.

“ ’Afternoon, gents,” I said as loudly and forcefully as I could. “Just goin’ over to the bar here. Don’t mind me. I’m not lookin’ to interfere with your fun.”

Caught off guard by my unexpected entrance, they all turned toward me and hesitated.

“By the way, just what is going on here anyway?” I asked.

“We’re about to brain us a smart-mouthed nigger,” replied the one brandishing the bottle. He was a fat, bearded lout missing all his front teeth. He wore an old buffalo-hide vest and a ten-gallon black hat with the brim turned up. “Any problem with that, stranger?” he asked threateningly.

“Why would anyone have a problem with that?” I asked innocently. “Besides, anyone can see he’s the type that’s probably getting what he deserves,” I added. “Just look at those shifty eyes of his.”

Sonora caught my wink after they turned back to him.

“What’s that you say? Hey, you want to buy into this, too, asshole, or you just some big-mouth pansy with no stones to back it up?” Mason yelled across at me.

“Well, now…. Boy!” I shouted angrily. “Just who the hell do you think you are, talking to me that way?” I spoke loudly, hoping further to distract the others. Stepping quickly away from the bar, I shoved my way through the crowd until I faced Mason, directly alongside the drover with the bottle.

“You know,” I said turning to Buffalo Vest. “There’s only one thing I hate worse than an uppity nigger.”

“Yeah?” he asked anticipating the joke. “What’s that?”

“Having to fight a bunch of ignorant cowpunchers, instead of eating lunch!” My right elbow crashed into the side of his head. It wasn’t exactly the answer he’d expected.

The next ten minutes still remain something of a blur. I vaguely remember Mason kicking the nearest drover in the knee, and then backhanding him as he doubled over in pain. I ducked low under a chair that was swung at my head by a bald type in an old soldier shirt. He was wearing tied down bat chaps that flared out widely at the bottom, so I grabbed for the chaps near his ankles, and then pulled as hard as I could while straightening back up. He was thrown backward off his feet, slammed through a table, and hit the floor flat on his back.

Someone cuffed me behind the left ear hard enough to knock me forward into Mason. He stopped my fall, but, as I began to recover, he suddenly shoved me hard on the shoulders, causing me to drop back down again. Another drover coming up behind me ran smack into Sonora’s fist as Mason slugged right over my head directly into his oncoming face. The drover fell over backward like someone who’d just run into a wall.

I turned around and side-by-side the two of us rushed into the remaining four. When it was all over, my knuckles were swollen, my lower lip split, and my left ear was bleeding. Sonora was
holding his left shoulder where a broken bottle had slashed him and had another gash over his right elbow. The others looked a hell of a lot worse.

We supported ourselves on what was left of the bar as I reached over, searching for a bottle.

“Didn’t expect to bump into you,” Sonora said somewhat matter-of-factly.

“Oh, don’t mention it. You’re welcome. Nice to see you again, too,” I said, gasping for breath. He just nodded back at me. “Care for some o’ this tarantula juice?” I asked. My head hurt like hell.

“Don’t mind if I do,” he replied.

I poured him a long one, and then took a swig from the bottle. The effect of the alcohol on my split lip sent sparks flying through my body and right down to my boots.

“Best be gettin’ outta here afore they wake up,” he suggested.

I wasn’t about to disagree.

We decided to make a quick exit after first grabbing some supplies from the station’s storeroom. Mason caught me tossing some money on one of the shelves and laughed at me.

“Momma brought her boy up real proper, I see.”

“Hey, get off my back, would ya. I got enough people after me as is without getting the stage line detectives involved.”

“You being chased? That’s a new one.”

“Long story, I’ll tell you about it later.”

As we were leaving the station, Buffalo Vest groaned and started to sit up. Mason simply kicked him in the face as he stepped over him. The last thing I remember as we walked out the
door was the sound of his head hitting the floor with a loud
t
hud
.

That night we camped about twenty miles west. The cut on Sonora’s shoulder looked pretty bad so I offered to fix it.

“Got anything to work with?” I asked.

“Check my
mochila
, back of the saddle. Should be a sewing kit in there.” I looked in his saddlebag and found some old buttons and a couple of needles, but no thread.

“Looks like I’m going to have to improvise a might,” I said, walking back to his horse. I began pulling tail hair. Then I poured a little of the whiskey into a cup, dropping in both the needle and horse hair. I tossed Sonora the bottle. “Here, wash that wound with this.”

He looked at me apprehensively while removing his shirt. “You sure you know how to do this?” He grimaced as the alcohol ran over the cut on his shoulder.

“Don’t worry, I learned how from my uncle Zeke. He’s a leathersmith back home, and, judging from the look of this hide of yours, it shouldn’t be much different from the leather we worked on.” I removed the needle and hair from the whiskey cup.

“Just you remember this hide is my skin. It ain’t no saddle, you know.”

“ ’Course not,” I replied, threading the needle. “A good saddle’s worth a whole lot more.”

“Very funny.” He flinched as I began to sew, but I had to hand it to him again. It took a long time to get that wound stitched up, and it had to
hurt, but he didn’t complain once; he just sat there and took it in stride.

When I finished, I poured some more whiskey over the wound and bandaged it with an extra shirt I’d found in his
mochila
.

“You know, I’m getting a little tired of nursemaiding injured renegades all the time,” I joked.

“Didn’t nobody ask you to jump in,” he replied.

“That all the thanks I get for saving your sorry ass?”

“Hell, there was only eight of them. Could’ve handled things myself.”

“Well, I’ll remember that the next time around.”

“
Hombre
, I don’t know about you, but I hope there won’t be a next time.” He started laughing, and I joined in.

“Shoulder or no shoulder, you get to cook dinner tonight,” I said, throwing more wood on the fire. “What’s in those cans, anyway?”

Mason eyed the supplies carefully. “You’re in luck. We have a wide selection. Canned tomatoes and beans or canned beans and tomatoes.”

“I’ll have the beans and tomatoes,” I sighed.

“Good choice. As it turns out, they’re my specialty.”

“Didn’t expect to find you in these parts. Last I heard you were down around Zacatecas,” I said.

“My friends were for a while, but I had some personal business to attend to at the fort.”

“Anything to do with those drovers?” I asked.

“Nope. They was just a few mule heads that didn’t want to drink while there was a gentleman of color in the establishment.”

“Some folks are just downright impolite,” I replied.

“Truth is, I’m visiting a friend of mine, a sergeant with the Tenth Cavalry.”

“The buffalo soldiers? I didn’t think they were posted at Yuma.”

“They’re not,” he replied. “But my friend is with a special troop on detached duty.”

“Must be quite a friend for you to come this far out of your way just to say hello.”

“He is. His name’s Freeman, Nathaniel Freeman. After Pa escaped from the plantation he was slavin’ on, Nate helped him make his way into Mexico where he finally met my mama. Nate was real kind to me after they both died.”

“Sounds like a good man. So how come you didn’t end up joining the Army like him?” I asked.

Sonora ladled a thick mess of overcooked beans into my tin. As they dripped down onto the plate, he looked up at me and smiled.

“
Hombre
, no way! Not for me. Have you ever tasted how bad that Army cookin’ is?”

I looked down at the glob on my plate, and then back up at him. “Of course,” I replied. “I understand…completely.”