Chapter 06

Socorro

The next morning I gather my black girls together to tell them not to leave the wagon circle for any reason unless I’m with them. We set up a temporary latrine in the inner circle for them to use. They don’t like being restricted until after I explain this is the town where they were going to be given over to be prostitutes and I don’t want to risk having some idiot grab them. Donna suggests a way for them to keep busy within the circle. I end up surrendering another bolt of cloth to the cause of their safety when they set about making a third dress and using the offcuts from all of the dresses to make a fourth dress out of the ponchos they made the first night.

Oh well, it’s for a good cause. I bought the cloth with enemy funds to begin with so it’s no big loss to me. I walk into town with José and Tom for protection. First stop is the Town Marshal to show him the warrants for the remaining The Cause people. He identifies four in town. Surprise, I think not, one is the brothel owner waiting for a shipment of young black virgin girls he’s paid for. Two run a bank and the last runs a saloon. Next stop is the courthouse to register the will and to confirm my ownership of the girls.

Socorro is the County Seat so I stop by the County Sheriff’s Office to let him know the bounties I’m after. He shrugs and asks I try to keep the kill count down because he hates the paperwork. He’s already had word from Santa Fe and Albuquerque about me. I smile while saying, “I’ll do what I can, Sheriff. But if it becomes your paperwork or my funeral, I’m sorry, you’ll get the work.” He laughs and accepts the restriction.

Over to the saloon where I find its owner, Jefferson Anderson, in his office with two bodyguards. He has his safe unlocked when I’m taken in to talk to him after asking. I cock my shotgun and cross-belly pistol before entering his office while leaving my guards in the saloon. Keeping my hands so they can’t see the cocked weapons I walk in and sit down. They relax, because they know how hard it is to draw while seated.

When Anderson asks why I wish to see him I lean forward to drop the warrant on his desk. It’s folded so he has to reach forward to pick it up before he can open it and read it. This gives me time to sit back, relax, and turn so my belly gun is aimed at one of his guards while the shotgun is aimed at Anderson’s guts under the desk. He opens the paper and he stares at it. I say, “Yes, it’s a valid federal warrant for your arrest and I’m here to collect the bounty. It says dead or alive, your choice on which.” His guards just stare at me as it’s three on one and I’m so confident!

Anderson says, “Kill him.” That’s all I need, so they’re still drawing when I fire. The one on my right takes a .44 vasectomy to drop while screaming with pain as Anderson is punched backwards by the shotgun blast. The desk he’s at has no front panel, as is typical of the time, so the blast goes straight through the gap to rip hell out of his thighs and groin. I pivot the shotgun around further to blast the last bodyguard when his gun starts to rise. He’s got part protection by the desk, but the shotgun makes a hell of a mess of his right hand and hip.

The barkeeper rushes in with a shotgun in his hand to find me pointing a loaded Dragoon at his head from the side. He’s fast to hand over the shotgun. A couple of minutes later the Marshal arrives to examine the damage. He nods and waves for me to clean up the mess.

The barkeeper soon informs me Anderson was the sole owner and he has no family. All of his money is kept in the safe and he lives upstairs. He also has a buggy he keeps out the back with the horses for his guards. Tom goes to get the buggy ready and to also grab anything we can use from the stables. I check the files in the desk and cabinet then I empty the safe. Tom soon arrives with the buggy and the valuables are placed in it, along with several cases of quality whisky and brandy. Tom sends the bar sweeper and two helpers out to the stables because there’s a wagon there full of hay and four horses. By the time all else is ready to go so is the wagon of hay. I sign the saloon over to the saloon staff.

That makes them happy and they’ll now support my self-defence since saying anything else will lose them the saloon. Tom and José take the buggy and wagon out to our campsite while I go looking for my next target. The undertaker will take the bodies away when he’s ready. The office is a real mess because all three bled to death between being shot and the Marshal arriving. Anderson and the first guard both lost major arteries in the groin and the other guard had his wrist ripped open.

After reloading my guns I pick up the two empty saddlebags José had left for me and I head for the bank. The two armed guards inside the bank give me a long stare when I enter and stand in line. When I reach the front of the teller line I hand over my two documents for collection, which are drafts on the bank. One from Albuquerque and one from the slaver. The teller asks me to go in to see the manager. Once inside I see both targets and two guards. One man says, “Sir, you don’t fit any of the descriptions we were given on who’d get the money. Please explain how you have these documents.”

I grin while saying, “Well, one’s from a man I met on the trail. He was attacked by Indians and I tried to help, but he got hit bad before I could finish the Indians. He made me his heir and gave me that and his other assets before he died.” I pull out the will from my pocket and I hand it over. “Here’s his last will and testament. The other I got in a different way. I was in Albuquerque saloon when this man started an argument with me. When he went for his gun two of his friends did too. They all found out I was faster than they and one of the friends had that on him so the Town Marshal said it was now mine because I’d killed the man in self-defence. So I’m here to collect.” I’d put the saddlebags down when I entered, now I pick them up to place them on the desk, “I’d like to be paid in ten dollar gold coins, thank you.”

With a sour look the speaker signals to a guard to get a teller. He brings in a chest and counts out the twenty thousand dollars the drafts entitle me to collect, all Cause money. After he counts it onto the desk I pack it in the saddlebags while the teller leaves with the chest.

After picking the bags up I sling them over my right shoulder and I start to leave. I turn back with the two warrants in my left hand, “I almost forgot, I’d like to collect these too,” as I drop the folded warrants on the desk. My right hand is on the shotgun and I’d pulled the warrants from my shirt pocket with my left hand because I had my hand up there to help hold the saddlebags in place, so it’s natural for my left hand to go back up there. What isn’t so natural and they miss is the hand going to the butt of the Dragoon under my right shoulder to cock it while I draw it from the holster in a slow and gentle motion so as to not draw their attention to the movement or the gun.

I’ve both guns up and ready by the time Jenkins and Miller have the warrants open and are reading them. Both reach for their guns. The guards react to seeing their bosses go for guns but they’re slow due to the delay. I wait for the targets to grab their guns and get them half out before I trigger the shotgun. They’re sitting together so the blast from across the desk while I’m standing is enough to take both of their heads off. These guards are smart as they let go of their guns and raise their hands. No need to kill them so I don’t. I have them drop their gun-belts.

One goes to get the Marshal then they both swear the dead are who they are and it was self-defence. The Marshal nods and walks out again. I strip the dead of valuables and I check the office papers. Nothing relevant to me. I take their keys and I’m told they’ve a buggy out the back, along with the address of their house they lived in together.

When I walk into the main part of the bank everyone is standing around looking worried. I look at the staff, four guards, two clerks, two tellers, and a secretary. I say, “Anyone know a good lawyer?”

One of the clients puts his hand up, “I’m a lawyer.”

I smile, “Good, how quick can you run up a legal paper for me to sign over ownership of this bank to the staff as joint owners, including the lady? That’ll allow the bank to continue in operation.”

He smiles, “Nine staff here today, one other teller away elsewhere, so that’s ten people at ten percent each. Give me about ten minutes, please. The cost will be ten dollars.” He must really love the number ten because he throws it around so much.

Getting ten a dollar coin out of my pocket I flip it to him, “The clock starts now.” He grins and grabs paper. In eight minutes the document is ready for signature while he makes copies. I sign the first three copies with two other clients signing as witnesses and the nine staff present sign it as well. Just then the judge walks in so he signs it and takes a copy to register at the courthouse after his lunch. Everyone is happy because the bank is still going and their money is safe. I turn to leave by the back door to collect my new buggy and go check the house.

In the house I find five thousand dollars in coin and papers about The Cause. I take them and several property deeds as well. I go back to the bank and say to the head clerk, “Can you do a quick check of the bank’s books to tell me if there’s anything missing?” He gives me a shocked look before he dives for the books while he calls out to the tellers to be quick to count all of the money on hand.

It takes about thirty minutes for him to check the books and all deeds are on hand so he totals the amounts in outstanding notes then compares it with loans, deposits, and cash on hand. He gulps, “The bastards, the safe is short eight thousand six hundred and thirty dollars.”

All of the staff and clients present are looking pale. I slowly nod and I drop the saddlebags on the desk, “I thought they may be like that. Here, take out what you need to make them balance. I got this for nothing so I don’t mind losing some to help good people out.” They’re all wide-eyed, but the junior teller is quick and he’s soon counting out the money needed. When he’s finished and he nods to me I pick up the saddlebags again and leave.

I walk out knowing no one in Socorro will be sorry I shot the town’s bankers since they now know they’d been shorting the till and I was nice to make it up for them. I take the buggy to the camp to unload.

Selling Out

There’s a lot of local Mexicans around the camp so I ask what’s going on. It takes a while but I get the story from Pedro in the end, as he’s the only one who can stay with the English all the way through because their emotions are a bit too high. A new person has taken over the town Dry Goods Store and he has two prices, one for gringos and one for Mexicans which is nearly double the first. My people let the locals know I’ve some trade goods and they’re here to do business if they can. Alice and Sandra decided to sell to them and hope I’d agree later. I agree right away: even if I don’t want to it’s not important enough to me to cause trouble in my household.

I’ve just finished unloading the buggy when I see one woman almost doubled over under the weight of a sack of flour. Pedro comes to her aid and offers to carry it for her. After a few words he looks for some help, I ask what’s up. He says, “She’s here to buy food for the poor on behalf of the church. They have a lot of poor at the moment but she can only afford five pounds of salt and two sacks of flour, and now she needs help to get it back to the poor house.”

Standing up I yell out, “Xavier, Rosario, Ramón, Rafael grab a sack of flour each and put them in this buggy. Pedro put that one over here as well then get help to bring a full keg of salt over and the salt she’s bought. Paloma, bring me two bolts of cloth, a box of needles, two pairs of shears, and lots of thread. Pelle, get the half deer we’ve left, Fernando can get us more. Paz, a bundle of blankets. Rosario, Ramón, Rafael, Paz, you go with her to help unload this lot. Also the horse and buggy is for them too.”

They all scurry to do as told, with huge grins while saying, “Si, Patrón, si, Patrón.”

The woman doesn’t speak English and she’s looking upset at my yelling out and everyone running about, but after a moment she sees how much is going in the buggy along with her things and she’s wide-eyed. Pedro explains to her I’m giving them more food and things for the poor plus a buggy to help carry it. She starts to cry since she’s never seen a gringo help out the Mexicans before. Going to where I’d just finished unloading I take out a poke with about three hundred dollars in coin in it and I give it to her while saying, “Here, take this.” When Pedro translates and she opens it to see more money than the church here has seen in decades she’s overcome. When the men lead the buggy away she sits in it crying with happiness while saying the same thing over and over.

Pedro is trying very hard not to laugh when I ask him what she’s saying while everyone within hearing has huge grins. Finally he says, “The woman was saying ‘Now I can die happy, because I’ve looked upon the face of the Saviour in your eyes and you carry many guns to kill the evil ones.’ She started saying that when she looked into your eyes, Patrón.”

I look at all the grinning faces and say, “Right, sell them all of the goods they want, but make sure we’ve enough left for our own needs.” Everyone’s happy because my prices give me a small profit but are still below the prices the store sells to gringos for.

I go to my wagon to reload my pouches, replacing fired rounds, and to get some lunch. I notice all of my black girls have huge grins while they keep busy sewing dresses. I walk over to ask, “What’s so funny?”

One of them looks up at me, I still haven’t sorted out their names yet, and says, “You are, Patrón. Such a big mean and nasty slave owner who all but gives his goods away. It’s a good thing we got this bolt of cloth this morning because, at your prices, I doubt there’d be a rag left this evening.”

I laugh, “Oh yes there will. I kept the best for use by my women and they’re in my wagon.” I have a closer look at what they’re working with and I start to laugh. They all look at me strange, “And that supply is short by one bolt at the moment, or it will be when you finish with it.” I turn and leave them looking stunned while they look at the cloth in their hands and realise it’s from my private stock of better cloth.

Afternoon Action

Having had lunch I find José and Tom then head back to town. We’re about halfway along the main street looking for the brothel when a large man comes bustling out of a store on our left while yelling at me. He stops in front of me to stand there shouting and waving his arms about. The poor fool is so uptight that between the high pitch, high volume, and his violent movements I can’t make out a word he’s saying. Shaking my head I step around him while saying, “Look me up when you calm down enough to be rational.”

I’m about two paces away when there’s a gunshot and I’m hit hard in the back to knock me forward and down. While I fall I twist around so I can bring my shotgun around to point behind me. Looking up I see the man has Colt Navy .36 calibre pistol in his hand with the smoke of discharge just in front of it while he cocks the gun again. I point the shotgun as high as I can and I fire at his legs. Man am I glad I’ve got metal toe caps in the boots as when I pointed and fired I’d forgotten how close my feet were to the spread pattern. I get four pellets in my toe caps, but not lower down the foot. The gunman isn’t so lucky as most of the shot catches him just below the knees. He screams like a stuck pig when he falls, and I know why. His legs from mid-shin to the knees vanish in the blast and what’s left of his legs fall down separate to his body.

Lucky for Tom and José they’re beside me when I’m shot so they’re behind the muzzle end of the shotgun when I fire. The whole incident is witnessed by the County Sheriff so he testifies it’s a clear cut case of self-defence after I was shot from behind first.

Tom and José help me up and into a nearby hotel where we get a room. José stands guard while Tom helps me to strip and a Deputy Sheriff goes for Alice and my medical kit. She arrives to find me lying on my face inspecting my shirt and armour and sporting a bruise just above my kidneys. A simple treatment and I’m dressed with a new shirt. As we leave we pay the bill for a night at the hotel while I tell the Marshal and Sheriff it’s a minor wound in my side and all bandaged up so no big deal.

The Marshal leads me across the street to the store the man came from while he explains why the man shot me. It seems he’d come to town expecting to make a quick fortune ripping people off with the prices in his store. He’d been doing well as the main freight company to Socorro is run by his brother and he’s overcharging everyone else. I now own a Dry Goods Store. The Marshal warns me the brother is known to hold a grudge until it dies of old age and long after the other party has died.

Alice and I sit down to study the books. Hell, at these costs he should be selling below my prices. Also, he has a real big safe jammed full of gold coin. We’re quick to empty the safe and to organise for my wagons to come and refurbish from the stores here: he has a huge barn full. Tom and Alice go to bring my wagons up to the barn to restock while we change all of the prices to the same as what I’m selling at and the things I don’t carry to similar price rates. The two sales clerks are happy to name some friends to help them with sales and some others to run around town to notify everyone of the price changes. When Alice returns she has Sue and Steve manage the shop with six of my Mexican guards to keep order. They’re followed by half the Mexican community. Leaving them and Alice in charge I continue my walk to the brothel.

On reaching the brothel I ask for the owner by name. He appears and I say, “Peter Dawes, this ain’t your good day. That shipment of slave girls you were expecting got hit by Indians a few days ago and they were given to me for killing the Indians. That’s good news for the girls and bad news for you, because I’m not selling them.” By now he’s very angry and his hand is waving near his gun. I toss the warrant on the table near him because we’re in his foyer area, and I say, “That’s a federal warrant for your arrest for kidnapping and murder. I’m arresting you.”