Chapter 2

As the stranger walked through the batwing doors, He stepped quickly to the side and paused to let his eyes adjust to the gloom. The other patrons noted his entrance. Four men were playing a card game at the table to the rear of the room. Their interest was obviously whether the stranger was a threat or a monetary opportunity. Along the right side of the room ran a bar. The bartender stood about mid-way, talking to 2 other patrons. Everybody’s attention also seemed to be a threat assessment. When everybody could see that the only weapon the stranger carried was a large bowie knife, Sheathed on his left side, in a cross-draw sheath, they relaxed.

At the table at the front left of the entrance sat two women. Gaudily dressed and heavily made up. Even with their finery, it was obvious that these soiled doves had lived hard lives.

At the left rear of the room was a set of stairs leading up to a balcony, which ran along the backside and over the bar. These were the hourly rooms that the station master had mentioned. And the two ladies were obviously the bed warmers he also mentioned.

The stranger looked to the women, tipped his hat, and greeted them “Ladies.” They looked over the newcomer with the predatory sharpness of hungry lions. In seconds he was evaluated and passed their prosperity test. The younger one spoke up. “Care to join us, mister. I’m Julieann, and this is Maybelle. Both of us are lonely and would enjoy having such a handsome man’s company.”

“Thank you for the invitation, Miss Julieann, But I’m in here on a mission. Actually, two missions, maybe later, we can discuss the terms and rules of engagement. But, in the meantime, can you tell me if the Sheriff is here, Or, if he isn’t where I might find him?”

Both women giggled, “Sweetie, “ The older of the pair, Maybelle said, “You surely are a nice talking cutie. That fatass playing poker, the one facing the door. He’s the Sheriff. He’s been winning this morning, so he’ll be in a good mood. But unlikely to want to quit playing. You get done talking to him, Come on back. I’m feeling a bit of Christian charity, and I might even be persuaded to offer you a discount.”

“Why, Miss Maybelle, you sure do offer an attractive choice. We’ll have to see how my conversation with the Sheriff goes.”

With both women giggling behind him, the newcomer walked over to the poker table, and He announced, “Sheriff?”

He was a heavy man, wearing a red plaid work shirt with a silver badge pinned on the left breast. He looked up, “Yeah?”

Dropping a $20 gold piece on the table. “When you’re available, sir, I wish to discuss some business with you. I’ll be at the bar awaiting your pleasure.” He then turned and walked to the bar.

At the bar, the bartender, being a past master at his art, had determined that the ring of the coin in front of the Sheriff as the genuine article and of high value. Unfortunately for him, His avarice and greed glaringly showed in his face.

Smiling at the stranger, “What’ll it be, buddy? You name it, and we got it. The beers are cold and whiskey strong. Prices reasonable.”

“Well, barkeep, do you have anything not distilled in your backroom? Also, something that WON’T make me go blind? Whiskey and Scotch are favored, but rye and mescal are good in a pinch.”

Reaching under the bar, he grabbed the first bottle at hand. Bringing it up and brushing the dust off, he recognized it as a bottle of scotch that the late, unlamented Chancey V. Farnsworth had required him to order. This bottle hadn’t even had the seal cracked yet. And they had a case of this white elephant in the back room. It was too expensive to sell to the usual clientele. Maybe, this newcomer could at least cover the cost. “Well, Cap, we have this here, “ Looking closely at the bottle, and then offering it to the stranger, “Macallan Single Malt? It’ll be two bucks a shot If that’s agreeable.”

The stranger took the bottle and examined it carefully, noting that the seal was still intact. “This is more than acceptable, sir. By the way, My name is Joshua Anderson, Late of the Maryland Andersons, Late of the 25th Cavalry. And what would your name be, sir? Just calling you bartender isn’t polite.”

“Names Bart, sir. Bart Gibson. And yeah, I have heard all the jokes about Bart the Bartender.”

Joshua placed a $20 double eagle on the bar, the bartender snatched it and replaced it with the cleanest glass he had available. At the same time, he was thinking that he would have to get one of the Mexican women to go through and thoroughly clean all of the glasses. “There ya go, sir. It’s a pleasure to meetcha, Mr. Anderson.”

“The pleasure’s mine Bart.” Anderson carefully and discretely examined the glass, determining that, while it barely passed a cleanliness test, His need trumped any squeamishness on his part. He chuckled at the memory of some of the liquids that he had been forced to drink over the past six years. A little dirt surely wouldn’t kill him now. Pouring a healthy shot into the glass, he took a sip. The pleasure of drinking an excellent scotch whiskey was almost euphoric.

A voice rudely interrupted Joshua. “OK, you wanted to talk to me, and you paid for the privilege. What do you want?”

Standing at his left was the Sheriff. His poker game on hold. Or at least his participation in it. Because the same players were still at the table, and, most importantly, the coins and cash at the Sheriff’s former position was still there.

“Yes, Sheriff, it’s my understanding that You handle all the deeds and titles for the area?”

“Yeah, that’s right. We ain’t got no recorder. So, I collect the fees, keep the books, and when the circuit judge comes by, he takes all the new stuff into Phoenix and records it with the territorial recorder.”

“I see. Well, Sheriff, What I would like to do is buy some property in the area. And I was informed that You were the best person to point me to a good place. Something that My family and I could settle down on.”

The Sheriff sat for a moment, thinking. Motioning to the bartender, he ordered a shot and a beer. Joshua noticed that there was no money offered or demanded.

“Well, my name is Pete Quigley; by the way, yours is Anderson, right? You wanted for anything, Anderson?”

Joshua Chuckled, “No, Sheriff, my slate is clean as far as the law is concerned. There might be a few unhappy husbands here and there, But the law looks on me with favor.”

“That’s good to know, Anderson. Well, probably the best place out there is the old Ruis place. They were an old Mexican family. Been here since the Conquistadores. Land grants from Spain and all that folderol. Had a huge piece of land south and east of here. Had about a thousand folks working for them. Real Spanish Royalty.”

“Then, after the war, we had a carpetbagger show up. Called himself General Farnsworth. He started buying up all the available land. And what was available wasn’t worth spit. Desert, cactus, and sand. But he was willing to buy it. At a quarter an acre, it didn’t cost him much. Got to the point, he was among the biggest landowners around.”

“Then, some of the smaller outfits started having trouble. Night raiders, poisoned wells, menfolk shot, and killed in their fields. We even started having problems here in town. Gunslingers and their hangers-on were shooting things up. But through all this, the Ruis’ didn’t have any problems. I even talked to the old man Manuel. He was the head guy. I asked if He was having problems. He denied having any, and he told me that if any did come up, He could handle it himself. He was a proud man, unused to asking for help. I had to remind him that this was America, and He needed to follow our laws nowadays. He assured me that he knew that and where the law was at.”

“6 Months later and there weren’t any small-timers left. Those that weren’t killed outright, were burned out. And Old Man Ruis had a full-blown range war on his hands. I went to the City Council and begged them to let me help. Let me recruit a militia to help. They refused me. They told me that if I interfered in any way, I would be out of a job. And probably have posters put out on me. I was able to get word to the old man. I didn’t hear back.”

“Along about Christmas, it all came to a head. I wasn’t there. All I ever heard was from some of the Vaccaro’s, the ones that survived that is. They told me that early in the morning, raiders came over the walls and took out the sentries. From what they reported, these were Comanchero mercenaries. Before the alarm could be raised, the enemy was inside the walls. The carnage was horrendous. No mercy was spared for man, woman, or child. By the end of it, The Ruis family had been slaughtered, no survivors. Including Old Man Manuel’s great-great-granddaughter, six months old, and her head bashed in. Some said that Farnsworth himself did the deed.”

“I couldn’t prove any allegations against Farnsworth. If fact there wasn’t anybody that would swear out a complaint. It seemed that he had succeeded in taking control of the territory. Believe me, I tried, I talked to everybody I could think of. I sent telegraphs all the way to Washington DC. All I did was waste time and money. It seemed that the bastard had got away with it.”

“Tell me, Mr. Anderson, Have you ever heard the old saying of there being no honor among thieves? Well, that’s where General Farnsworth had his waterloo. You see, in the process of all the murder, mayhem, theft, and destruction that the General brought down on this county, He was stingy with his payments. From what I heard, He would routinely rob Peter to pay Paul, get one gun slick to knock off the other, that was owed big money. It all came to a head right after the Ruis massacre. The various mercenaries that the General had hired were demanding payment.”

“The General was broke.”

“He wasn’t even a General, or a captain, or a sergeant. He had never even been in the military. It turned out he had been a butcher’s apprentice in Philadelphia. During the war, he had learned a bunch of different ways to separate honest persons from their hard-earned money. He Accumulated enough to head west and take advantage of the confusion. Masquerading as a rich carpetbagger. But then, he ran out of money, and all the gun toughs and outlaws that he had hired wanted what they were owed.