Chapter 10

The next morning, I helped Juan Carlos to the table, then went back to see if Luther wanted to try making it to the kitchen.

“Les, I hate to lean on you like this, but if you’ll help me, I’d like to get out of bed and go in there to eat with the rest of you. I need to get on with my life and I can’t do it lying flat of my back in bed. We have crops to plant and fields to water, if we’re going to hit another Mother Lode like that last one you showed me.”

“Lean on me, Luther. You can damn well bet this will never happen again as long as I’m breathing.”

“Les, they had guns on them too. I didn’t remember that until last night.”

“I have guns too, Luther. But I want them to taste the brass on my fists, until that’s the last thing they taste.”

I had just seated Luther in a chair when I heard Tom stomping his boots on the porch. I reached for the doorknob just as he burst into the kitchen. He was smiling as he carried Malena into the house. She was laughing like a little girl as he swung her around and stood her on the floor.

Lucia and Allece were already reaching for her when she turned to hug them. Agueda went over to meet her for the first time. Tom turned to me as I stood behind him.

“Tom, when did you and Malena make it back?” I asked, just as he drew his arm back, then shoved his hand deep into my open palm.

“Last night just after dark. I sent a boy over to the livery to tell the man to come give us a ride home.”

“I don’t have to ask if you and Malena had a good time. I can see it in your eyes and in your smile.”

“Les, I have never been happier. I owe you, my friend.”

“I had nothing to do with it. You and Malena did this all by yourselves.”

“You came here to Yuma, bought this spread, then asked me to join you, Juan Carlos and Lucia in your wild scheme to grow thousands of acres of vegetables. I’ve already made more money than I have in the past twenty years put together, and we’ve only harvested one crop ... I met Malena and now I’m married to the most beautiful, most loving woman I could have ever met.”

“I’m happy for you Tom. Seeing you and Malena happy together, makes me glad that I came to Yuma, for even more reasons now.”

Malena handed him his coffee mug and he leaned over for a kiss. She laid one on him and I told them, “I’m going to sit here and eat my breakfast. You two can use our bedroom if you can’t wait.”

When Tom sat down at the table beside me, he was laughing. Then, he looked across at Luther and Juan Carlos for the first time.

He turned to look at me. His smile was gone, and now he was frowning.

“I’ll tell you all about it later, Tom. There was some trouble while we were gone.”

After we ate, Tom helped me get Juan Carlos and Luther back to the bedroom, then I nodded toward the backdoor when we walked back through the kitchen.

I pulled Lucia close for a hug and told her, “Tom and I are going for a walk. We’ll be out where they’re working on the new buildings. We’ll be out there a while if you need us for anything,” I told her then turned to see Tom and Malena kissing before he walked out behind me.

“What happened, Les?” he asked as soon as we stepped out into the yard.

“Tom, there’s a bad history behind Luther and me. If I tell you the truth about what happened to him, I’ll first have to tell you all of it. I’m not sure you’ll even like me as a friend when you know all there is to know about me.”

“Les, there’s not a damn thing you can tell me that will make me not want to be your friend. NOT ONE DAMN THING ... I have a bad history too, Les. I’ve not always been the quiet, mind my own business, rancher most people around here see me as.”

“Whatever your past was, Tom, it can no way compare to my past. Want to swap stories?”

“May as well. We don’t have anything pressing for the next few days. I need to know what happened to Luther and Juan Carlos – who did it, and why – so you and me can go put some fish bait in the river.”

“Strange that you should mention that. But I’ll get to that part in a minute...

... “I’m not from St. Louis, Tom. I’m from the Manhattan Borough of New York City. The Lower East Side of Manhattan to be more exact. The baddest place in America, if you’re a young lad born there, then orphaned at age twelve.

“Don’t get me wrong, I had choices and I made the easiest one for me. At the time, I thought it was the only one. I made my living on the streets after my father and mother died within a year of each other. Mother died of pneumonia less than a year of my father being killed on our front stoop by a street gang called, The Whyos. My father taught me as a youngster to fight – not just defend myself – but to maim and kill my opponent. Over time, because of my size and my father’s teaching, I became very good at it, too.

“I kept the apartment up, paid the rent and utilities as if they were still alive. I made a few friends on the streets, who knew a few more friends. I learned to stay alive on the streets with the help of my friends. I was inducted into one of the roughest gangs in America at age fourteen. You couldn’t just join, you had to be asked by a higher-up. Once you were asked, you had two choices, join or die – so I joined. My best friend was a year younger than me, and if you haven’t heard of him by now, it’s because you haven’t listened to the radio broadcasts out of Los Angeles at night, or read the papers.

“Alphonse Gabriel Capone was one of the meanest men I ever met, but for some reason, he liked me and got me into the gang. I worked for years as a bouncer in a whorehouse the gang ran. But that was just a cover. During that time, Al gave me my first brass knucks and told me I could make thousands of dollars if I used them at the right time on the right people. I was a paid killer, Tom. I have killed many men, some of who needed to die and some who didn’t deserve to die like that. I took no mercy on them, they were pointed out to me and I beat them to death. Then, I got my hands on some guns and I killed even more men.

“Al came to me at the whorehouse at 4:00 in the morning, the day I left New York. He told me there were over a hundred cops coming after me. He gave me a handful of money and a train ticket. He handed me a certificate of birth, with a new name, showing I was born in St. Louis and told me to get the hell out of town. The train ticket was to Yuma and he told me to look up a friend of his named Luther Street when I got here. Luther was a loan shark back there. He was a part of the outfit I was in, but it was before my time. The gang would loan the money and when a man didn’t pay ... men like me went to meet with him. The second meeting, he may or may not live over, if he couldn’t pay what he’d promised the first time.”

We were sitting on a steel support railing, near where the men were riveting the beams of the roof frame to the steel posts already standing. When the riveters started, we could hardly hear, but they’d only last a few seconds, then I’d continue.

“While we were gone this week, there were two men who came here looking for Luther. One was a man who thought Luther owed him some money on a land deal Luther had made with his family. He had been after Luther since Luther bought his folks’ land for five dollars an acre more than they were offered, then combined it with a bigger piece of land which had water, and sold it all for a twenty dollar per acre profit. That’s what Luther does. That’s how he’s made his living out here until now.

“The other man who came here, was a cousin of the one who thought Luther beat his family out of some money. The cousin was from New York, back on the streets of Manhattan ... Lower East Side, like Luther and me. He knows me well, and I know him. He doesn’t know that I’m here or he would never have set foot on my land yesterday. Luther has already told me where they’re staying.

“Tom ... Luther also told me who’s living with the man.”

“Catherine?”

“Yes ... why did you think of her?”

“Just from the way you said that, and we’ve been wondering what happened to her. I knew she couldn’t tell good from bad, or love from lust. I’m so damn glad you came to Yuma, Les. I don’t give a damn who you are, or what you were back there. I’ll kill any sonofabitch who tries to expose you or make you suffer for your past. I got your back, my friend ... Now tell me, when are we going after them?”

“No better time than tonight. You’ll have to help me plan this one, I’m still lost out here in Arizona. They’re at a fishing shack under the bridge. Got any ideas how we can handle it?”

“There was a rowboat that washed up on the bank at my place a week or so ago. Didn’t have over a half gallon of water inside. Got to be a good one that broke loose somewhere upriver. I pulled it up on the bank and turned it over so it wouldn’t drift off, in case the owner came downriver looking for it. I have two good oars that I’ve had in my barn for years. We could have somebody pick us up down below the bridge after we’ve done our job – or we could saddle four horses, ride down below the bridge, tie two of them out and ride the other two home ... Then get in the row boat and go take care of business.”

“You’ve done this shit before, Tom!”

“I told you, I was badder than hell back in my younger days. Maybe not as bad as you. But it was only because you had bigger crowds to work with back there, than I did out here.”

“Tom, I say we take Catherine back to her grandfather after we take care of the men, you got a problem with that?”

“For him – I’ll help you take her back.”

“He was my reason for asking. He befriended me when I first came here. Didn’t ask for anything, just accepted me, and that meant a lot to me. Still does and I owe him that much.”

“Then we’ll need to have our faces covered. I don’t want him or her knowing we were the ones at the shack or at his house delivering her.”

“I’m with you there. Got any suggestions?”

“I’ve still got a couple of pullover masks I used years ago, if the moths haven’t gotten to them by now.”

“You know that if both men aren’t there tonight, I’m going hunting again until I find the other one, don’t you?”

“Not without me, you’re not!”

“Good, now tell me how we can get away from here at that time of day, and the women not suspect something?”

“What if we get a call from William Collins, that he needs to see us late this evening, say about dark?”

“You can do that?”

“He owes me...”

“You mean he ran with you back then?”

“Something like that.”

“Good enough for me. I like the man more all the time.”

“He’s good through and through, Les ... Just like you. Watch him though, he’ll try to pull one over on you now and then, just to see if you’ll squirm. He still tries to pull one of his tricks on me once in a while, but I’m onto his ass by now.”

We were laughing when we went back to the house. It was early yet and we had a lot of waiting ahead of us before we went fishing in the dark.

Tom and Malena were still here when Sheriff Collins called. I had already told Luther that Tom and I were going fishing tonight. He never smiled or said a word, his just raised his right fist with his thumb up.

Lucia answered the phone, then turned to Tom, “Tom, it’s Sheriff Collins. He needs to speak to you.”

Within minutes, we had said our goodbyes with promises to return as soon as possible. Without being told, they knew it was about Luther and Juan Carlos, and they were glad we were going to get this solved.

Alejandro and Joaquin were waiting in the barn with four horses saddled. They rode to Tom’s place with us, before they dismounted and walked toward the river.

We rode fast, each of us leading an extra horse. Still – riding in the dark – it took us close to an hour to reach the bridge. Tom was familiar with the area and I followed him across the highway and down a dirt road toward the river. We rode through a Willow thicket and out onto a grassy area where we hobbled the two horses and left them.

Riding back, we really pushed the horses. When we reached the place where Tom had the rowboat tied up, there stood Alejandro and Joaquin. They didn’t know where we were going or what was planned, but they knew we were going after the men who were responsible for beating Luther and Juan Carlos. None of us spoke until they shoved the boat away from the bank with us in it.

“We will be waiting in the barn for your return. All we ask is that you tell us the job is done,” Joaquin told us.

On the trip downriver, Tom was rowing with both oars, and it was a lot faster than riding our horses on the road to Yuma and cutting back toward the bridge. In less than half the time, we could see the lights under the bridge.

There were five or six old clapboard fishing shacks built along the bank, on the Arizona side, and Luther had told us which one to look for. Tom rowed out of the slow moving current, right up next to the boats already tied there. He pointed to the shack we wanted, and in the dim light, I saw only one door, with a window on opposite sides. The shack wasn’t even half as big as mine and Lucia’s bedroom.

We pulled our masks down over our faces, and each of us had a carbide headlamp to put on, though I had never seen one before he showed it to me earlier. Tom lit my headlamp, then lit his own as we knelt at the back side of the shack. With both lights lit, we turned to face downriver, and the shoreline was lit like daylight, as far as we could see.

Both of us carried a .45 on our hip – each of us wore brass knucks on both our fists.

“Tom, when we go in, we’ll push through the door together. You look right, I’ll look left. There’s no light on inside, so they’ll either be asleep or gone. If Catherine’s still here, we’ll gag her, put this pillowcase over her head and tie it, then tie her hands behind her back. If both men are here, I want them dead. If you’re not up for this, just keep the other one off me until I can get to him.”

“One of them sonofabitches belongs to me, Les, for what they did to Juan Carlos and Luther.”

“Then let’s get this over with.”

We rounded the corner with our heads down to keep the lights from being seen from the roadway. At the door, I grabbed the knob and shoved my way through the opening, as Tom pushed the door all the way back.

Catherine and one of the men were lying on a filthy, soiled and greasy mattress against the back wall. Both of them were naked as they came up with their hands shielding their eyes, trying to see.

“Turn them dam lights off! Who in the hell are you and what do you mean busting in here like this?” The man yelled. I was hoping it was Horse – but it wasn’t. This one was drunker that shit, and so was Catherine. She screamed and tried to talk but she just babbled her words. The man backhanded her across her mouth to shut her up, then he stumbled back across the mattress.

When he tried to stand, I laid him out cold with a hard right, landing solid on his right temple. I glanced around and Tom had Catherine down with a gag in place and the pillowcase over her head. While he tied her hands and feet, I dragged the man off the mattress and out onto the rough floor. He was still out, but I wanted him awake when I beat him to death. I wanted him to know it was me, and before he died, I wanted him to know Luther Street and Juan Carlos Santiago are my friends.

I leaned close to Tom and whispered, “Put that filthy mattress over her head so she won’t hear this.”

I heard loud footsteps on the board walkway outside and poked Tom as he stood up.

He was on one side of the door and I was on the other with our hands held over our lights, trying to keep them from being so bright. The man stomped through the door, blinded by our lights as we turned to him.

It was Horse!

“Hello, Horse ... Nice of you to come to our little party like this,” I told him, just before I buried my left fist in his gut. He went down gasping and thrashing on the floor as he fought for air.

I bent over him, asking, “Horse, do you know who I am?”

“I’d know that voice anywhere! How’d you know I was here? Why did you follow me way out here after all this time?” He managed to speak.

“You made the mistake of beating up two of my friends yesterday. For that, you’re going to die right here, Horse.”

“I didn’t know the men were your friend, Leo, I swear I didn’t. If I had known you were here, I’d never even stepped down off the train in Yuma.”

“But you did, Horse, and you’re here now. You’re about to die, Horse. Remember all the times you and your gang tried to ambush me and my boys back on the streets? Remember all the times you turned tail and ran into a hole like a rat? Remember me now, Horse, because you’re about to die,” I told him just before I slammed a fist into his face. I felt the crunch of his cheekbone, then hit him with a left to the his jaw.

“Don’t kill me Leo. I’ll leave, and never come back,” he sobbed, and blubbered through his busted lips and broken teeth.

“Too late, Horse.”

The other man on the floor was rousing up – just as I turned off the lights for the last time – on the man they called Horse, back on streets of The Bowery.

I kicked the other man in his ribs and he rolled over with his hands up, trying to shield his eyes from the light.

“Who are you?” he screamed.

Before I could answer, Tom knelt on the floor right over him, then growled at him, “We’re friends of Luther Street and Juan Carlos Santiago, and we’ve come to pay that debt you said Luther owes you. You’re a sorry-ass pitiful excuse for a man. You’re a low-life bastard, and here’s your first payment,” Tom growled, just before he drove his fist straight down into the man’s face. Standing above him with my light on his face, I heard the bones crunch when his face caved in.

One more swing with Tom’s long right arm and the man’s body kicked, then jerked one last time, before he lay still.

“Let’s turn these lights off and get these bastards in the river. There’s just enough current to move them miles downriver before daybreak,” Tom hissed in a voice I’d never heard from him before.

There was a ten foot pole with a gaff-hook on one end, laying on the makeshift wooden dock, and Tom used that to push the bodies out into the slow moving water, face down. I wasn’t sure if they went under, or drifted out of the dim light, but I didn’t see them again. Tom walked over to the row boat and loosened the rope. With the long pole, he shoved the boat out into the current.

Back inside, I told Tom, “I’ll carry her to the horses. I’ll hand her up to you when you get mounted. When we get to town, we’ll need to ride in the back way, then leave our horses behind the house before we take her back to her grandfather.”

Tom never answered, he just walked out and started off toward the high bank. Walking ahead of me, he lit his lamp and kept the light turned down low as he made his way through the Willows with me trailing him. The stench of Catherine’s body was making me gag, and I’ve always had a cast iron stomach.

Behind Harold Sprague’s house, I stepped to the ground and took Catherine’s limp body as Tom lowered her into my arms. In the dim light, I saw her belly was swollen. I untied her hands and took the gag out of her mouth before I turned to Tom.

“She’s pregnant, Tom.”

“I know ... I saw that.”

At the front porch, I stood with Catherine in my arms, then Tom motioned for me to sit her down with her back against the door. I did as he asked, then backed off the porch to the corner of the house. Tom knocked on the door five times hard and fast, then took three long steps to come around the corner where I stood.

We watched from the shadows as Harold Sprague opened the door. When Catherine fell backward into the open doorway, he looked down at his naked granddaughter, then looked toward the street, and toward both sides of his house before he stooped to pick her up. We heard the door slam and hurried back to our horses.

Neither of us said a word as we rode home. I knew Tom must be thinking about how Catherine had let herself go. I couldn’t help but think the same thing.

Riding into the yard, before we even made it to the barn, Alejandro and Joaquin stepped out of the shadows to take our horses.

“Is it over with, Les?” Alejandro asked.

“It’s over and done with, Amigo. You men go home and get some rest, we have lots of plans to make in the next few days, and many more things to take care of, before we start planting another crop.

With the help of the people back in Springfield, Illinois, we were able to find some planters which were specially made to be pulled by tractors. We also found out that a man over in the San Luis Valley of Colorado had made a pull-behind implement with seats, for his women to ride and set out plants as a tractor pulled them slowly through the fields. They were planting eight rows with each pass. He was using a C. L. Best Crawler tractor to pull the implement, because it could carry more weight, go slower and hold a steady speed.

I called the farmer myself, and after we talked for nearly an hour, he agreed to have some pictures made and send them to me.

I got a telephone number from him and called the C. L. Best Tractor company in California. The man and I talked tractors for thirty minutes as I told him what we wanted to do with them. Then he told me all about the Best 30, which is what he suggested we use. I gave the man George Thompkin’s name and telephone number at the Bank of Yuma and he agreed to ship two of them to us as soon as payment was arranged.