Fiddlers Green - Cover

Fiddlers Green

Copyright© 2019 by Mark Randall

Chapter 3

With that, the Sheriff turned and headed to the door. His poker stakes, untouched, remained on the table. Anderson paused for a moment, a slight grin on his face, and then followed the sheriff out of the saloon.

As Sheriff Quigley and Anderson stepped out of the saloon, they were met by Joshua’s new friends, Billy Jackson, and the boys. With them, Billy’s father, Obie Jackson, was sitting his horse at the hitching rail.

Obie Jackson, is a squat, compact man, tending towards being overweight, a life in the saddle keeps that in check.

Standing at the hitching rail, Billy starts whining. “That’s him Pa, That’s the guy that stole our guns.”

“Who? The Sheriff? Why’d he do that, Billy?”

“Not him Pa, the other one, He took all our guns and broke them. “ Billy, almost in tears, was pointing his finger at Anderson.

Obie gave Anderson a quick look over and noted that He was unarmed. “Boy, He ain’t even got a gun. How in the hell could he disarm five pissant gun toughs like you and your punk friends?” Not waiting for an answer, he turned back to Anderson, “How bout it, stranger. Did you take these idiots shooting irons? And how in the hell did he break them?” This was aimed back at his son.

“He took them apart, Pa. We couldn’t stop him cause of that huge knife he’s got. He said he would blind me if I didn’t.”

Looking closely, Obie asked Anderson, “That looks like one of those blades that were made by that Texican Bowie? The one that was killed at the Alamo with Crockett?”

“That’s right, Mr. Jackson,” Anderson replied.

“Nice, mind if I take a look?”

“I’m afraid not, Sir. Have you heard the old saying, My rifle, sure. My pistol, Maybe. My knife, Never.”

“Seems I might have somewhere. No Matter. I’m Obie Jackson. I own a big portion of the land around here. I run cattle and horses. Some folks think I’m the big dog in the territory. Most others are just scared of me and mine. Who’re you and what’s your bidness round here?”

“Well, Mr. Jackson, I am Joshua Anderson, formerly of Maryland. I intend to settle my family out here. I was informed that Sheriff Quigley is the De Facto county recorder and real estate agent. He has suggested I take a look at the Ruis Hacienda. That it would be suitable to my needs.”

“Well, Josh, far as I’m concerned, you’re welcome to it. Ain’t nothing there anyway. But be advised, I aim to buy up all the land round those ruins. And as soon as I bring My next herd in, I’ll probably be able to buy 2 or 3 sections of the old Ruis land grant. The territorial government just released those sections for sale, and I aim to get them.”

Through all of this, Young Billy was getting more and more impatient. “PA, what are you going to do about him?”

Obie, impatient with the interruption, snapped at him. “Boy, you and your friends get back to the stockyards. They still need help and you lollygagging over here isn’t getting the job done.”

Turning back to the Sheriff and Anderson, “Never mind the boy, Josh. He’s young and lacking manners. I blame his ma for that. She coddles the boy, won’t let me take the belt to him anymore. He’s nothing but a loudmouth.”

Joshua doubted that this would be the last meeting with either of the Jackson’s. He felt sure that the next meeting would not end on a good note. “Mr. Jackson, He’s your boy and your responsibility. I’m more than willing to leave it at that.”

Without another word and a glare at the Sheriff, Obie climbed back onto his horse. He then pulled the horse’s head back over to where his son had disappeared and then galloped off in a cloud of dust.

“Joshua, I don’t think that’s the last you’ll see of Obie Jackson.”

“You’re probably right, Sheriff. But No use crying over spilled milk, I’d still like to look over this Hacienda.

When they arrived at the jail, A two-story affair with the cells and the sheriff’s accommodations on the second floor as well as an additional room used for records and storage. The first floor was the sheriff’s office and space for trials. It had been decided early on that the dignity of justice required something more suitable than the saloon.

At the jail, the sheriff went upstairs to the storage room. He returned with several rolled tubes of paper. Obviously maps. “Right, well, you wanted to know about the Ruis place.” Selecting one of the tubes, he unrolled it onto a free table. It was a 3 foot by 3-foot plat map of the area surrounding what was labeled “Ruis Hacienda.” The map was old and wanted to return to its original condition. Several handy weights pinned down the corners.

The legend for the map stated that it was divided into nine sections of 640 acres each. A total of 5760 acres were shown on the map. The center section was blank and had “See Ruis Hacienda Special Map.”

“This is the original total of the Ruis property. The only section available here is the center section. The one labeled Special. However, the surrounding eight sections are available, but you’ll need to go to Tucson to buy those sections. The territory holds those and the surrounding 18 sections, and I don’t have the authority to accept bids on them. You’ll need to go to Tucson for those also.”

Next, the Sheriff unrolled and weighted down another 3 X 3 map. This one was labeled “Ruis Hacienda Special” It showed all of the center section of the first map, including in detail the structures labeled as the “Ruis Hacienda.” It was a sprawling 30- or 40-acre complex of buildings and fence lines at the center of the section itself.

“When the Army cartographers came through to make these maps, they were taken care of by the Ruis family. Very well taken care of. There are rumors that some of the family secrets were NOT detailed on the maps. I’ll tell you the truth. It would take a regiment, a month to look over all that land. And if you head down to this area in the southeast, Be careful. Folks have gone into those mountains and not come back. Rumor is a band of renegade Indians who are holed up in there. If that’s the case, they’ll be nigh on to impossible to dig out. SO, what do ya say Mister, Wanna buy a house?”

“Sheriff, what you have shown me is mighty tempting. And quite frankly, the best I have seen, based on what my family is going to need. But before I commit anything to this, I’ll need to see the property myself. To do that, I’ll need a horse. Hopefully, you can recommend something that won’t throw me after I get out of town.”

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