Chapter 2

After returning to my hotel room to leave my ammunition and new gun, I left once again. This time I headed toward the stockyards near the railroad.

Two stores down from Sprague’s clothing store, I saw a barbershop. I ran my hand over my chin and up the side of my face as I walked, and decided to stop on my way back for a shave and a haircut.

When I neared the pens, I heard the bleating of many sheep and thought of the tall slender young woman I’d seen earlier, herding sheep. I knew she must be of Mexican or possibly American Indian heritage. The skin on her face and arms was a golden brown, different from any of the women I’d laid with back in The Bowery. I wondered if her skin was that golden brown all over her body, and the thought made me wish I could meet her up close.

Above the sounds of the sheep bleating, suddenly I heard the screams of a woman, and then the loud, excited sounds of many men shouting and laughing.

I ran toward the pens, through an open gate where there was a crowd of twenty to thirty men gathered inside a large pen. The woman screamed again and the men laughed as I heard one man shout over the noise, “Strip her clothes off and show us her naked brown ass and tits.” His words was followed by even more loud and vulgar shouts from the others.

The man who had shouted was standing right in front of me and I grabbed him by his shirt collar, jerking him backward to land on his ass. When he came up, he tried to grab my leg and I kicked his face in with the toe of my left boot. I turned to look through the crowd and saw the young woman I had seen herding sheep earlier. She was trying to fight off two men who were beating the old man across his back with a long wooden shepherd’s staff.

Shoving my hands into my front pockets, through the loose bills, I slipped the fingers of both hands through my brass-knucks. Then, with my hands held close to my body, I elbowed my way through the crowd and rushed over to stop the men from beating the old man. Just as I grabbed the one who was about to strike the old man, another man grabbed the young woman’s dress at her shoulder, ripping the sleeve down her arm, tearing part of her dress down her side.

The crowd of men was shouting for the two men to turn on me. Before they could move, I swung my right fist, hitting the man who still held part of the woman’s dress. My knucks ripped across his cheek, before landing solidly against the side of his nose, crushing his face. I turned toward the other man who was striking the old man with the staff. I grabbed his arm before he could hit the old man again and he whirled to swing at me with his free hand. He left his belly wide open, and I buried my knucks in his gut so deep I felt his backbone. He fell to his hands and knees, puking up blood on the dirt and cow shit.

“Look out!” The young woman screamed from behind me.

I turned just in time to see two men rushing me from the outer circle of the cattle pen. I took two fast steps forward and hit the first man across his nose with my right fist, then I met the next one with a left to the side of his jaw. Both men went down and lay there as if they were dead.

Someone hit me in my ribs from behind and I turned to grab him by the hair on his head and his trouser leg. Lifting him over my head, I swung him in a full circle before letting him fly toward the others. Two more rushed me and I ducked a wild swing from the first, then hit the next one with an uppercut that landed my knucks in the middle of his balls, lifting him off the ground. I turned to see the other one, crouched low as he ran toward me. I stepped aside and swung from the ground to land a blow to his ribs under his left arm. I felt the crunching and cracking of his ribs.

There were two more coming at me ... Just as the first one came in close and stooped in a crouch with his arms wide, I kicked his nuts up under his Adams Apple. I’m beginning to like my new boots more and more as I become accustomed to them.

The crowd of brave fighters was falling back with only three of them circling me from a distance. I’ve always loved a good fight and never did I wait for an attack. I rushed the biggest of the three first. Grabbing him by the front of his shirt to pull him close, I reached up with my right hand and grabbed a handful of his red hair while busting his face with three fast jabs. I knew the other two would be brave with my back turned. I whirled to catch the first one with a boot to his balls, which brought blood to the front of his trousers.

The third one had picked up the long herder’s staff, gripping one end with both hands. As I started toward him I slipped my knucks back into my pockets. With my hands inside my pockets, he swung. I blocked the staff down with my left forearm where it hit my leg before falling to the ground. I reached down and stood with it held out in front of me. With my hands spread as wide as my arms would reach on either end of the staff, I bowed the ends together until it snapped in the middle. Then with a piece in each hand, I went after the man.

He stumbled, then fell backwards in the loose dirt and cow shit of the stock pens. He was begging for mercy as he curled up with his hands over his face ... and I gave him a good heavy dose of Manhattan Mercy.

I didn’t kill him. I just turned his lamp down low for a few hours, with a blow across the back of his head.

There was gunfire behind me and I whirled to see Sheriff Collins and a deputy, standing near the young woman and the old man. I was so glad I had slipped my knucks back into my pockets.

The crowd of men was running toward the open gate, just as it swung closed. One deputy was standing near the gate post. Another deputy was sitting atop the rails of the corral with a shotgun.

A few of the men started climbing the rails to escape, but when the deputy fired his shotgun into the air, everyone in the corral stood still as they looked around.

The sheriff is a little man but he has a big voice. He walked out to the center of the corral and looked around at the men. Some were still laid out on the ground and some were bent over with blood on their faces. Those who could, were backed up against the rails of the corral, looking at the sheriff as he spoke.

“All of you who’re able, hit the ground and sit with your backs to the fence. Put both hands on top of your head. If any of you attempt to escape, you’ll be shot in the leg with buckshot.”

Sheriff Collins turned to look at me and shouted, “You there, Les Savage ... Come here!”

The last thing I needed was to have trouble with the law, but I wasn’t about to stand by and watch a young woman have her clothes stripped off and possibly raped in public. I walked slowly toward him as he reached behind his back. I just knew the cuffs were coming out.

Instead, he pulled a deputy’s badge out. He reached up and pulled me close with his other hand at the neck of my shirt. Leaning closer, he pulled me down face to face with him, stabbing the pin on the badge through the flap of my shirt pocket as he growled, “You’re a deputy now whether you like it or not. If anyone asks – you were deputized at my office earlier. Now, help us get this mess cleaned up. You sure made mincemeat of at least a dozen of them ... Damn ... I have never seen one man fight like that in all my life.”

“Sheriff, they were about to strip the young woman’s clothes off and I knew they’d rape her if they did. I wasn’t going to stand by and let that happen.”

There was no way I was going to tell him about my equalizers in my front pockets.

“I’ve already been told about that part. I was on my way over here when a boy ran up to me and told me I’d better get over to the stockyards in a hurry. He said there was a bunch of men attacking the Santiago woman and her grandfather, and there was a big man who was about to kill the whole bunch of them with his bare hands. The first person I thought of was you, and I wondered what it was that set you off.”

“Sheriff, why were they picking on the old man and his granddaughter in the first place?” I asked him.

“They’re Mexican sheepherders.”

“Sheepherders are that bad? I know sheep shit stinks like hell, but that’s all I know about them.”

“Sheep graze the land too close and the grass dies ... if they’re not kept on the move. Cattlemen resent them being on government owned grazing lands.”

“If the lands belong to the government, why do the cattlemen resent them being there?”

“A stockman pays the government for annual grazing rights on a certain piece of land whether he’s a sheepherder or a cattleman. The cattlemen have never mixed well with the sheepherders on the open range, though the animals have no problems at all getting along.”

“Well, that’s not my fight. I was just defending the old man and the young woman over there.”

“The old man owns the most fertile part of the lower Colorado River Valley. About five thousand acres on this side of the Colorado River. The land was deeded to his family in a Spanish Land Grant before Arizona became a US Territory. The Land Grant was recognized in the courts when we became a territory and then recognized again later by the courts, when we became a State. They have every right to graze their own lands, and they pay to graze the open range, just as the cattlemen do.

I was looking over at the man and his granddaughter. When she looked my way, I wasn’t even listening to him as I saw her looking at me, “She sure is a looker, Sheriff.”

“Yes she is and she’s smart as hell to, Les. Her name’s Lucia. She came back here last year after spending two years at Tucson, attending the university to learn how to farm, ranch, and grow vegetables.

“ ... The least you could do, damn it, is go over there and let them thank you properly. They are proud people, Les, and they are damn good people too.”

“Do you want your badge back?”

“You’re a deputy of mine now. Wear it for a while – you may even get used to it. From now on, you’ll be known in Yuma County as a man to steer a wide circle around. I swear, I have never seen a man fight like that. Were you trained in the ring to fight bare-knuckles?”

“No. My father – God rest his soul – trained me to survive on the streets, not just fight my way out of trouble.”

If the Sheriff knew what was in my pockets, he’d not call it a bare-knuckle fight.

“You’ll never have to worry about another man wanting a fistfight with you in this part of the state, once news of this gets out.”

With that, Sheriff Collins turned his back and left me standing there facing the old man and the young woman. She was holding some sort of colorful woven blanket with a hole cut in it. She slipped it over her head to let it drape down front and back, covering her tall slender body.

I need to quit thinking about her golden brown skin. I’ve never talked to a woman before, other than my own mother. God rest her soul. Well, I wasn’t counting the whores I’d laid with back in The Bowery. Maybe it’s because I’m trying my best to forget about all that went on back there since I’ve started a new life. Well, I did talk to Catherine and she even fondled my cock and balls. I’ve even agreed to meet her and her grandfather for supper.

I may as well walk over there and get this over with. I don’t even know what to say to this pretty woman. She’s been to a university even, and how in the hell will a man like me ever be able to talk to such a pretty, educated, brown skinned woman as her anyway? She already has me wondering about how brown the rest of her body is.

I sure hope she doesn’t look me in the eye like Catherine did. That young woman unsettled the hell out of me. Well, here goes anyway.

“Hello, Ma’am. Are you alright?”

Then I spoke to the old man, “Sir, are you alright? Did they hurt you?” I asked as I walked up. The old man was smiling and she was too. Damn, she really is a looker now that I’m closer.

The old man was the first to speak, “I’m alright. I am old but I’m tough as harness leather. Thank you, young man, for standing up for the honor of my granddaughter,” he spoke slow and easy. Then his granddaughter spoke.

“I want to thank you also, Mr ... I’m sorry, we don’t even know your name. I am Lucia Diega Santiago and this is my Grandfather, Juan Carlos Santiago.”

“Ma’am, I hate we had to meet this way, but I’m, Les ... Uh, Les Savage, that is. I had just stepped off the train earlier today when I first saw you,” I told her...

For the life of me, I cannot look away from her eyes.

“Mr. Savage, you were a blessing for Grandfather and me. We will never be able to repay you or even thank you properly, but please know that we are indebted to you for stepping in to defend us as you did,” as she spoke to me, I saw tears come to her eyes and it made me want to go over and kill the ones who sat around the outer rails and stomp the shit out of the ones who still lay in the dirt and cow dung of the corral.

“Why did they attack you and your grandfather?” was all I could muster through my anger, as she looked at me.

“They want our land, Mr. Savage. I am the last of the heirs to Grandfather’s Land Grant and when I am gone, if I have no heirs, the land will revert back to the State of Arizona. Though we own the land free and clear, the merchants have begun to cut off our credit to purchase feed and supplies for our farm and ranch in the valley. We are here to sell fifty head of prime sheep and six, crossbred Morgan-Paso Fino horses at auction tomorrow, in order to pay for the feed and supplies we need. We are not beggars, we are the last of a proud family and we will never give up what the courts have declared over and over, belongs to us,” she spoke not in anger, but in defiance of her attackers.

“I came to Yuma in hopes of finding a small place to build a home and start a new life. I don’t know anything about animals or ranches, but I do want something out away from Yuma. I’d kinda like to have some privacy and a place to shoot my guns when I feel like it. I’m here now, to try and find a gentle saddle horse or even a horse and buggy for transportation while I search for property ... Uhh, did you say you have horses for sale?”

“Yes. We have six that Grandfather’s wrangler, Renaldo is bringing to the sale. He will be here before nightfall,” she answered with a smile – a smile which kindled a fire that’s been smoldering in my loins for a week or more.

“I’ve only been on one horse in my life and it was an old, broken down buggy horse. I would have to trust you and your grandfather to sell me a horse that I could ride.”

Juan Carlos joined the conversation about his horses, “Sir, the six horses Lucia spoke of would be perfect for a man of your size, and they are very well trained,” he told me.

He and Lucia exchanged a smile and I knew that look on both their faces. I had only seen it but a few times back in The Bowery.

It was a look of hope.

“I’m not sure that I’ll ever have a need for six horses.”

Lucia spoke quickly, “If you happen to purchase a nice spread in the valley, you will need more than one horse.”

“Well, I was thinking of buying a small piece of land near Yuma to build a home, rather than a large spread with animals to tend.”

She responded again and this time I paid attention, “Land is cheap now, Mr. Savage. If you have the means, you should think about more than a small plot, as an investment for the future if nothing else.”

Juan Carlos added his argument against a small plot, and he made even more sense to me, “Lucia is right, Mr. Savage. You are a young man and you will one day want to have a wife and family. You’ll need more than a small home to raise a family. With land prices this low, you should think more in terms of hundreds of acres rather than one acre for a home.”

I answered them, pulling the papers out of my shirt pocket. “The man at the hotel gave me this list of properties which will be auctioned off tomorrow, and this map of the county. I don’t know anything about the county or enough about buying land to make a good choice if I did decide to buy more than one acre.”

Lucia reached for the papers, telling me, “We too have one of those papers. Let me show you the best property on the auction list,” she said, holding the paper out between us.

“Here,” she pointed with her long finger, to a place on the map. “We know this land well. It has good fences, over a hundred head of prime beef cattle, well kept barns and corrals and a large home already built upon it, with tenant houses also. This land borders the Colorado River, near our lands and the elderly widow who owned it, offered it to us last year for fifty dollars an acre. We didn’t have the funds to purchase five hundred acres, or we would own it.”

“Five-hundred-acres?”

“Yes, and the bottom-land along the river is very fertile. Rich enough to grow vegetables crops for market. The pasture lands are rich and fertile also and can be used for raising grain and feed so you won’t have to purchase feed for your livestock.”

“I wasn’t planning on spending twenty-five thousand for land to build a home. That’s a lot of money ... although, Mr. Thompkins, at the bank did offer to finance me if I found a larger property I like.”

Lucia told me real quick, “Then you should consider his offer, Mr. Savage. This property is likely to sell for no more than forty dollars an acre at auction tomorrow, and possibly a lot less. If you have the funds, you could pay a fair sum down and finance the rest at a very low interest,” she told me and I knew she was right.