Chapter 10

Sam Hopkins and I started out on our search for his brother Tony. Since we had no idea how long the trip was going to take, we had a single pack mule along with us. This mule was trained to follow without a lead rope, so she was very easy to get along with.

We rode to the place where we had spotted the three sets of tracks leading off into the who-knows-where and began our pursuit. Most of the time the tracks were clear and easy to follow, but a few times, Sam had to work on following the trail. I had him be the main scout because he was more experienced than I at tracking horses. We rode for a couple of hours until we came to a stream where an overnight camp had been pitched.

That was kind of puzzling because it indicated that the trio would be riding for some time more, and we wondered where in the hell they could be going. This was definitely not the kind of kidnapping that we expected, but we were going to stick with it as long as it took. We found a couple of more camp sites, and we got more and more concerned as to what was going on.

Suddenly, we realized that we had not been paying enough attention to the direction that we had been riding in, and we had made a big arc so that we were now not far from the Hopkins ranch. In fact, Sam recognized the building that we came to as being a little used line shack at the edge of the Hopkins spread. Apparently, we had been led on a wild goose chase to make us think that Tony was being held well away from the ranch. Had I been by myself, this might have worked.

We stopped in a small copse of trees around a water hole not very far from the line shack. We hitched our horses, but we did not have to worry about the mule: she would stay with the horses. Sam had some trouble walking in his high heel cowboy boots, but my flatter heels gave me no trouble. Anyway, I walked slow so that Sam could keep up, and we made our way toward the line shack.

As was common with this type of structure, it was just enough to provide shelter for one or two men during the milder part of winter, and certainly not meant to be a place for somebody to live the year round. That was not of real concern at this time of early fall, but the nights were getting too cool for comfort. Therefore, all three people were making do with what they could find within the shack.

There were three horses in the crude corral, and Sam reported that one of them was the one favored by Tony. He did not recognize the other two. We watched for a while, and we saw all three of the men at one time or another visit the little one-holer outhouse. At least, we knew that Tony was still in one piece and unharmed. He was accompanied by one of the guards whenever he visited the latrine.

Sam and I retired from our watching after about two hours to discuss the best way to rescue Tony. I suggested that the best time might be when Tony was making a trip to the latrine. At that time, he had only one guard, and the guard seemed more bored than anything else.

I pointed out that I could shoot the guard while Tony was actually inside the outhouse, so he would be safe from my bullet. Meanwhile, Sam could keep an eye on the shack to make sure the other man did not escape while we were concentrating on getting Tony away. Sam had no better plan, so that was what we planned to do.

The two kidnappers were going to be hanged if they were caught, so shooting them might have been doing them a favor. They certainly would have no qualms about shooting Tony if it were a question of whether or not they could escape. The only reason for keeping one of the kidnappers alive was to find out if there were others involved in the plot.

I was able to creep to within about 60 feet of the door to the outhouse and hide while everybody was in the shack. Eventually, Tony showed up with his guard. He did not fool around, but headed straight for the facility, and the guard lolled around near the door.

Once Tony was safely inside, I lined up a shot with my pistol. I aimed at the guard’s gut. What I wanted was a disabling wound, but not one that would kill him immediately so that we could extract some information. A hit from my hollow-point bullet was going to tear up enough of the guard’s innards that he was not going to be thinking of much else before I had a chance to talk to him.

I fired and, as expected at that range, needed only one bullet to hit the guard exactly where I had intended. He fell with a scream of pain. Sensibly, Tony stayed where he was. I had to admire his good sense.

That was when the other guard foolishly stuck his head out the door to see what was going on. Sam was ready and shot the man in the shoulder. The result was a wound that tore the man’s shoulder joint beyond repair, even in my old century, and he, too, collapsed with a cry of pain.

Sam ran to check on him while I approached the outhouse. I assured myself that the man I had shot was no danger to me and called out to Tony. “TONY, WE ARE HERE TO RESCUE YOU! SAM AND I HAVE SHOT BOTH KIDNAPPERS! YOU CAN COME OUT NOW!”

Tony opened the outhouse door and peered carefully out before he stepped outside. I introduced myself, and Tony had heard of me, so he was ready to cooperate forthwith. He called out to Sam and got the expected answer, and that was enough to let him relax and enjoy his renewed freedom.

Sam said that the man he shot was completely out of commission and losing so much blood that he probably would not live much longer. I questioned the man I shot and was told that they had been hired by a man in Cheyenne for the kidnapping. He gave a name that none of us recognized, but he swore that there was nothing else he knew about the man. He did give a physical description of the man, and that was when Sam recognized the man as a shady lawyer with only a marginal reputation for honesty.

Anyway, the man I had shot was in such pain that he begged me to shoot him in the head, and I did so out of compassion. We looted the bodies and agreed that Tony deserved the small of amount of stuff that we collected. The two thugs had not yet been paid, so there was not much money involved. However, the guns and horses would bring about $150, and that was more than pocket money to a 12-year-old boy.

We left the two bodies for the scavengers and rode to the ranch house. The whole family welcomed Tony with open arms and were greatly relieved that he had not been hurt. I refused a reward since I did not need the money and was thanked profusely. Ezra and Sam Hopkins planned to visit the lawyer the next day, and they declined my offer to join them. They insisted that they could handle things without me now that they knew who to confront. That was what I figured, so I headed home—I was in a hurry to see Joan.

The Hopkins family saw to it that I received full credit for the rescue of Tony and the identification of the instigator of the kidnapping. I am not sure how much of a favor that was to me, but I did get a call from neighbors with a problem that need a detective with a gun.

The call resulted from the standing problem of cattle rustling. Three ranches had lost significant numbers of cattle. The strange thing was that none of the cattle had been shipped to market. I would have known because of my family’s ownership of a portion of the railroad and total ownership of the loading pens. We simply had not seen any cattle show up that were not brought in by ranch hands we knew who worked on the respective ranches. From that, we assumed that the cattle were being held at some out-of-the-way pasture to be brought in after the whoop-de-do over the rustling had died down.

Most rustlers did not have that kind of patience, so I wondered what was going on. All three ranches were large enough that they could wait on the return of the cattle because their income would carry them for a long time. What I had in mind was simply to wait out the rustlers and catch them when they tried to ship their ill-gotten cattle. The cattle would be easy to spot because we would know from the ranches involved whether or not they planned to ship any cattle.