Chapter 18

As I’d warned during the meeting, 1858 and 1859 proved to be busy years for everyone associated with the Estancia and the various business enterprises.

The Estancia got back to work after the holidays on January 3^rd, the same day our guests left for their return trip home. The normal Estancia wintertime repair work continued on, although at a reduced pace, while ten teams were assigned to Tom and Giuseppe to quarry a hole at the southern end of the Robledo Mountains. That hole, measuring 200 yards by 200 yards by 25 feet, was for the first of 4 cisterns to be built to hold the water gained from the deep drilling John Gillespie would start in February. When done, whether John struck primary water at the deeper levels or ground table water at more a reasonable depth, the cisterns would provide the Estancia with close to 250 million gallons of water. Water that would be sorely needed in the coming years of drought.

We’d scheduled six weeks for Tom and Giuseppe to blow and clear the hole into the bare rock. When they were done, they would continue on to the next site until all four holes were prepared for the masons to build the cisterns.

The first hole was almost completed when we experienced a slight delay as we welcomed the next two residents of the Hacienda. Christopher (Kit) McAllister and Dorothea Patricia Murphy were born, without problems, three hours apart, on the morning of February 9^th.

Despite the delay, the hole was completed, and blasting was moved to the other end of the mountains. John Gillespie arrived with the first drilling rig as scheduled and drilling started three days later, near the cistern hole, while Heinrich’s crew began covering the walls with hydraulic cement and building the piers for the cistern roof.

The second drilling rig arrived in the middle March and began drilling at the other end of the mountain, near the hole that Tom had just completed.

The arrival of the second rig seemed to signal the beginning of a two-year, steady stream, of weapons, rails, wire, equipment, and all the other things Steve had arranged. Everything came through Santa Fe where it was routed to either the storage warehouses, the Estancia, or Las Cruces.

The first thing to arrive was a combined weapons shipment of Henry rifles and Starr DA pistols chambered for the Henry round. I held out four of each for my new Deputies and had the rest delivered to Mick, who would pass them out to his troops. Between the blasting going on for the third cistern and practicing with their new weapons, the northern end of the Estancia was quite noisy well into April.

The noise stopped in the middle of April though, as we saw the four Deputies, their families, Tom, Yolanda, and their kids, along with Carla off on their respective trips. Frank Burnham and Lee Vasquez rode west for Tucson, secure in the knowledge that I’d see them in late May when I made my rounds. The Bacas and the Garcias rode north, as far as Socorro, in the company of the Murphys, the Mendozas, Donna, and Carla, who was assisting Yolanda during their travels.

The Murphys and the Mendozas were accompanied by four teams each to provide them security for their respective trips. As it turned out, it was a good thing the teams were with them. They were a day and a half from Santa Fe, the main group was starting up a small hill, when they unexpectedly heard multiple shots coming from the other side of the hill.

On the other side of the hill, the lead team, acting as scouts had unexpectedly ridden up on eight men digging up the rail bed. The eight men immediately drew their weapons and began firing at the team, who opened fire at almost the same time, killing all eight men in the gang.

One of the team was killed and two were wounded. Tom insisted that the dead team member be buried in Santa Fe, at least temporarily, swearing that when the railroad was in operation, he would be exhumed and brought back to the Estancia for final burial. The two wounded were also taken to Santa Fe where Hiram and Helen would oversee their recovery.

We got word about the shootout in a note from Tom, attached to a package from the Judge, four weeks later. Anna and I rode sorrowfully to the village, where we found Tomas, Jose, and Lupe, and with them by our side, informed the widow at her house. No matter how many times we had to do this, it would never get easy. A full Catholic memorial service was held in the church that Sunday. A much smaller service was held in the Boulder Memorial Garden two days later, where Giuseppe had added the team member’s name to those chiseled into boulders.

The package from the Judge contained a letter and the normal updates to the wanted posters and warrants. The letter was brief and to the point. The battle that killed our man was the second attack on northern rail beds in the last five weeks.

I came close to canceling this year’s gold trip, but in the end, Anna convinced me it had to be done. She reminded me, quite forcefully, that the additional capital was critical to all of our businesses and trusts getting through the Civil War when prices for things like basic staples and ammunition were going to rise by more than four hundred percent.

Accordingly, the third week of April found George and Kit leaving to meet Martin and Juan in Las Cruces before they all headed to the La Paz goldfield. Juan was added to our team after a short meeting over the holidays, where Georg, Kit, and Martin all agreed he could be trusted and had more than earned the opportunity to get more wealth.

They would all drive tandem wagons towards the gold site. I was going to meet them somewhere between Tucson and Arizona City after I’d checked in with Frank and Lee, delivered a few gifts, and shown the badge for a day or two around Tucson.

A week later, I was sitting on my horse, looking down sadly at Anna and the kids. It was easy to see that Anna didn’t want me to leave any more than I wanted to leave. Seeing my gaze, she gave me a stern look.

“Mi Pablo, the sooner you leave the sooner you get back. We will be fine here. You’ve said yourself the Estancia is too strong for ‘the Boss’ to attack us here. I believe it, and now, you must believe it. Go do your job, join the other four, and hurry home.”

Not trusting myself to speak, I simply nodded my head once in acknowledgment, blew her a kiss, spun my horse and rode down the slope to the bridge where the two teams I was taking with me, as far as Tucson, were waiting for me. I knew that Anna had run up to the terrace as soon as I’d ridden away, but I didn’t dare turn to look for her as we rode south until long after the Hacienda was out of sight.

Two weeks later, just outside of Tucson, I split off from the teams. They skirted Tucson, continuing on to a small ranch owned by one of the team members, while I led the packhorse we’d brought, into and through Tucson to the cantina.

Walking into the cantina, I stepped to the left, inside the doorway, and waited a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dim light. A moment later I saw Lee, already up out of a chair he’d been sitting in, walking toward me with a smile on his face.

“Good to see you, Paul. Come,” he said, turning around after shaking my hand and heading back to the table. “Have a seat, let’s get you something to drink, and you can tell us how things are going.”

“Where’s Frank?” I asked, sitting down at the table while Lee motioned to the bartender.

“He had to use the jakes out back,” he replied as the smiling bartender sat a cup of coffee down in front of me. “He should be back any minute.”

I nodded and waited for the bartender to leave. “Lee, there’s a pack mule out front,” I said quietly. “Have someone you trust go out and lead it wherever it’s safe for the night. You and Frank will need to unload it yourselves since the pack is loaded with presents for you.”

Without blinking once, he heard me out, stood up, and walked over to three men sitting at a table near the door. Speaking a few words, he walked back over to the table and sat down as two of the men quickly left the cantina.

Just as I took my first sip of coffee, which was quite good, Frank walked in the back door. Exchanging greetings, he sat down, looked over at the table near the door and simply lifted a questioning eyebrow.

“They took a packhorse Paul left out front over to our place,” Lee answered.

We exchanged pleasantries about the trip for a few minutes before getting to business.

“Tell me about your information network and what you two have been doing the last couple of months,” I said, finishing my cup of coffee and motioning the bartender over for a refill.

Frank scratched his chin in thought before answering. “Esteban and Ed were right when they said no one pays any attention to what they say when the hired help is in the room, but they were wrong when they told us how hard it would be to set up the network.

“At least they were wrong about here in Tucson. Most of the Hispano families have been here for a couple of hundred years, intermarried, and are now one huge extended family. The patriarch for that family is the bartender, so setting up the network wasn’t all that difficult, especially when they saw our badges,” he said grinning.

“About the only white man in or near town that we trust is the Town Marshal, so we don’t have any white men or women in the network like Esteban and Ed do. We do have almost the entire town blanketed though. From the saloon swampers to the boys who clean up the general store and the barbershop. Finding things out after dark is tough though, just as you warned, so our understanding of the pro-slavery organization is still limited. We’re getting there, but it’s going to take time.

“As for what we’ve been doing besides setting up the network and documenting who’s who, not all that much until the last few weeks.”

“What’s happened the last few weeks?” I asked, a sinking feeling in my stomach telling me I wouldn’t like the answer.

“Everything has been quiet here since we rode out with you and our return wearing US Deputy Marshal badges. Three weeks ago, that all changed when the raids on outlying farms and ranches started up again. Because of what we learned at the Estancia and from talking to Esteban and Ed, we’ve been riding out on a twenty-mile circuit outside town since we got back, warning the farmers and ranchers that the raids were probably going to start again and to be careful.

“Most of these people may be poor, but every farm and ranch out here has experience fighting off Indians, so they have two or more rifles, most old and worn out, but they still work. The two places that were raided in the last three weeks took our warning seriously, and neither raid accomplished much.

“Lee and I rode out to both places as soon as we heard about the raids and tried tracking the raiders but lost them once they hit the road outside of town. We think that the last raid lost a couple of men, either dead or wounded, based on blood we found while we were tracking, but we can’t be sure. Two pro-slavers are missing since that raid. They could just be on a trip of one kind or another, but no one in town is talking about them, one way or the other. That’s about all we have at the moment,” he finished, before abruptly adding, “Oh, we found an empty building, just up the street, at the end of Main Street, that will work quite nicely as our office and home.”

“How many men were in the raids?” I asked.

“Ten in the first raid and fourteen in the second,” Lee answered. “All riding shod horses. At least a few of the horses from the first raid were also in the second raid which was eight days after the first.”

“And how many pro-slavers have you identified in the area?”

“We’re up to forty-two within twenty miles of Tucson so far, but that’s families led by pro-slavers. The actual number of men could be higher depending on the size of each family.”

I thought about everything they’d told me for a few minutes before making a decision.

“Damnit, I’d hoped we have more time,” I said with a heavy sigh. “Lee don’t bother unpacking that pack mule. Instead, tomorrow night, after dark I want you and Frank to take it to the Salas ranch, you know where that is?”

“Yep, it’s about fifteen miles west of here,” Frank answered in a voice full of curiosity.

“Good. That pack has ten Henry rifles, ten Starr DA pistols, a thousand rounds of ammunition, and ten temporary Deputy US Marshal badges in it. I brought you that in case you needed additional temporary Deputies. It sounds like you do.

“I want you to keep your new Deputies and their weapons a secret. Who you choose is up to you but get ten men you trust to keep quiet, take them to the Salas place and train them to use those weapons. I’ve got two teams at the Salas place waiting for you to show up and tell them to either go home or to stay and help you.

“Tell them to stay. They are all Deputized, have badges, and are quite good with their weapons. One team will return to the Estancia in three weeks to let Anna and the others know what’s happening, but they’ll send replacements, including two teams of Scout/Snipers for you to use to trail more suspects after dark. Both the teams and the Scout/Snipers will rotate out with fresh teams every four months or so.

Both men had large grins on their faces by the time I’d finished explaining what was happening.

“Tomorrow, we’ll take care of buying that building and I’ll show my face and badge around town to make sure everyone knows that I was here. I’ll leave before first light in a day or two depending on what kind of reaction we get.”

I spent the night with Frank and Lee at their little house nestled amongst the Hispano community. The next morning, while we were sipping our coffee, I asked who we needed to see about buying the house.

“Our bartender is the current owner,” Frank replied over his coffee cup with a smile while waving the bartender over.

The building turned out to be one of the family homes that had gotten too small for his family. He’d built a much larger home for his family on the other side of his cantina and now no one wanted the old home, in large part because it was too close to the white men who looked down on the Hispanos.

The bartender walked us over to see the house. What I found was a solid well-built three-bedroom adobe home. While it was dusty from disuse, there was a wooden floor, large parlor, and a very large kitchen. After a cursory inspection, I gave a head nod to Frank. We walked around the inside and outside of the house for twenty minutes as Frank and the bartender negotiated the price.

When they were both happy, we walked back to the cantina, I paid the bartender, and he signed over the deed, which I took to record in Mesilla when I got back.

“Paul is there anything special you want done to the building,” Frank asked as we had a celebratory cup of coffee at our table.

“Make it as close a match to the one in Mesilla as possible, Frank,” I replied. Since you’re on Main Street you won’t need to chop a corner off the building, but I do want the large glass window, the same type of door, and a similar interior layout, although your rooms will be bigger than Esteban and Ed’s. It’s a much larger place than theirs. I also want a water pump in the kitchen and a back courtyard. If you need any help or any material, send a letter to Juan telling him what you need, and you’ll get it.”

Finishing our coffee, we began to make our rounds in Tucson. Stopping in all the businesses, the Mayor’s office, and the Town Marshal’s office. It was fairly easy to tell which businesses and politicians were pro-slavery just from the cool reception we received from them. A few businesses welcomed us with cheerful smiles and a willingness to talk.

The Town Marshal was the only city office where we received a welcoming smile and the offer of a cup of coffee. We ended up spending the rest of the day with him, talking, drinking coffee, and watching the street through the window. The rude Deputy Tom and I had encountered on our last visit was nowhere to be seen.

I pulled out of Tucson at first light the next morning, riding towards Colorado City. I didn’t see anyone on the streets at that early hour, but I wasn’t trying to hide, so someone may have seen me leaving.

George and the others had a three-week lead on me, driving empty wagons being pulled by fresh mules so I figured it was going to take me four or five days to catch up with them. They were making much better time than I’d anticipated so it was the afternoon of the sixth day before I caught sight of them and another two hours before I caught up to them.

From that point on the trip was very similar to the one last year with a few exceptions. We didn’t encounter anyone north of Arizona City, I actually did my share of digging, and we left for home before the rainy season started. We worked long into the night, every night, melting down the nuggets so we weren’t too far behind. Our final four days were spent melting the remaining nuggets, moving the wagons back down to the arroyo, and loading the boxes of gold bars into the wagons.

I left the wagons just outside Tucson and swung in for a quick visit with Frank and Lee to see how things were going. The news was encouraging. There’d been two more raids while I was gone, but the second raid had resulted in five of the twelve raiders being killed.

One of the people in the Tucson information network had overhead the raid being planned when he was cleaning up the newspaper office one evening and let Frank and Lee know what he’d heard. My Deputies had come up with a plan, ridden out to the Salas ranch, briefed the Estancia team and the ten temporary Deputies the team had been training. Two days later, they were in place as evening fell, waiting for the raiders to attack.

The ambush went off as planned as soon as the raiders started firing at the farmhouse. Frank apologized for only getting five of the raiders, but I reminded him that hitting a vague target in the dark was much more difficult than in daylight. There hadn’t been any more raids in the last four weeks, but both Frank and Lee were expecting them to resume soon.

With their assurances that they now felt comfortable enough to handle almost anything that happened, I mounted up and rode after the wagons, catching them less than an hour later.

Three weeks later, we were again at the freight crossing, looking down on the banks of a swollen Rio Grande. We’d managed to beat any heavy rains of the rainy period, but we’d still been caught in plenty of rain and there’d been plenty north of us as evidenced by the river. As our expert, it was up to Martin to make the decision on whether to try a crossing or not and we waited in silence as he examined the river depth and speed, the state of the riverbanks, and the firmness of the ford.

Finally satisfied with his examination, he climbed back up into his wagon and gave us a grin. “One wagon at a time won’t be a problem. Two at a time is a little chancier but there’s a big storm coming,” he said pointing at the very angry, very full, rain clouds building on the horizon. “We’re going to have to go across with tandem wagons or we risk getting stuck here for a few days, with wagons on both banks.”

With a snap of his reins and a shout to the mules, he started down the slight bank and into the river. In less than a minute he was across, up the opposite bank and turned north on the road. Standing up in the driver’s box, he waved the next set of wagons across.

Once all the wagons were across, I left them to make their own way and rode on to Las Cruces to disassociate myself from the wagons. Arriving in Las Cruces close to nightfall, I was surprised to see building activity in the depot complex. I stopped to talk to the supervisor and was told that the Socorro complex had been completed in July and they’d come back to Las Cruces as planned. I wondered what other changes I’d find when I got home.

Two days later, after making sure the wagons made it into Las Cruces, I rode for home, arriving at the Hacienda mid-afternoon. I received the expected and much anticipated, welcome from Anna, the kids, and the rest of the Hacienda.

After I’d cleaned up with a nice long hot shower and played with the kids for a while, I settled down on the love seat in the living room with Anna cuddled into my shoulder and we began to get caught up with each other.

Anna insisted I go first, so I told her about Tucson, the new office, and the raids while glossing over the time spent digging gold and the trip back. My story was over in minutes and I anxiously waited to hear what Anna had to say.

“Mi Pablo, you were so right when you said we were all going to be busy. You know how busy the finca is during the spring, so I won’t go into that. We got a message from Sofio in early June that the processing plant had been completed and they were beginning to install the three high rail mill system and the pipe rolling mill. We received our first delivery of rails and pipe last week. I sent them to Frank in the village to store in the wagon yard.

“In July, rails from back east began to arrive and the wire as well. Again, for now, the rails and wire are stored in the wagon yard at the village. Giuseppe gathered eight crews, and they laid rails along the entire Estancia, as you may have noticed, but that was only because we consider the rail bed running through the Estancia to be safe from attack. The plan is that the rail bed crews will come back here once they reach Socorro and start laying rails north from here.

“I had Giuseppe dig the ditch for the pipe and wire, so we also have the first eight miles of telegraph line run and buried along the rail line here on the Estancia. Then ends are both capped and waiting for the crews to come back from Socorro when they’ll start laying the pipe and running wire ahead of the rail crews.

“The Socorro Depot complex and the City/County building were finished in mid-July. The supervisor sent the Las Cruces crew back and added half the Socorro men. The other half of the Socorro men he sent to Albuquerque. He did keep a few finish carpenters to add the final interior finishes. We have a caretaker team watching over the complex since all but the ice plant will be empty for the next year or more.

“The ice plant in Socorro is up and running, selling our iceboxes, and delivering ice to all who want it. Now that the building is over with, the folks in Socorro are saving their money until they see what happens with the railroad, so there aren’t that many customers yet.

“The air conditioning business is set up and operating but the same things hold true for them as for the ice plant. The air conditioning is working fine in the City/County building so that is a major selling point.

“Three days ago, I sent two teams down to EL Paso del Norte to pick up and deliver the two prisoner wagons you ordered.

“The masons finished the first cistern last week so it’s ready for water when John and his drilling crew hit water. John hit water at fifty feet but kept drilling like you wanted. He’s down to one hundred and fifty feet and beginning to worry that he needs three times the number of drill heads he has; so expect him to talk to you about that.

“Work started on the second cistern this week and should be ready by Christmas if the weather holds.

“Finally, the Judge’s last letter, three weeks ago, said things are going well on the northern part of the rail bed, although there are still periodic nuisance raids on the rail bed, they’ve slowed down because Mick’s security forces are constantly patrolling the rail bed. No one else has been killed. They’ve started laying the rails from the Santa Fe Depot south and have actually caught up to the rail bed crews. They plan to continue laying the rails a mile behind the rail bed crews since they have more men.

“Disappointingly, they’re still no further in identifying who ‘the Boss’ or his middleman is.”

“It’s good to see and hear that our plans are coming together,” I said, pulling Anna even closer in a hug when she’d finished. “Let’s hope things calm down again for the winter so we can catch our breath.

“It will be a while before that happens,” she answered. “It’s harvest time after all and time for the quarterly delivery of cattle to the forts so it’s hectic no matter where you look on the Estancia. Then, of course, there’s canning, this year’s warrior test, and preparing for the harvest festival. No, mi Pablo, it’s going to be another two or three months before things calm down.”

She was right and it was October before things began to calm down on the Estancia. We’d had four days of rest and relaxation after the harvest festival when the calm was broken. I’d forgotten that Santana was due back to give me the matriarchs’ decision, so I was surprised when we got a signal message telling us that Santana and twenty warriors were on the Estancia heading for the Hacienda.

While I had forgotten, Miguel and Nantan hadn’t. Message signals flashed telling the closest cousin to welcome them to the Estancia and accompany them to the camping spot they’d used last year where their wickiups were prepared and waiting for them.

The next morning, I found Miguel and Nantan waiting outside the courtyard gate to accompany me on the ride over to the campsite.

“Good morning Thundercloud,” Nantan said as I mounted. “Are you ready to hear the decision of the Mescalero?”

Nodding firmly in response, I added, “It would be nice if we had more time to prepare but this will have to do.”

“You’re not expecting a simple yes or no answer, are you?” Miguel asked while we were riding down the slope.

I laughed. “Dealing with you two has reminded me that there is never a simple answer when it comes to the Mescalero. What I’m hoping for is an overall yes, followed by days of talk and discussion, before a rough agreement is reached. It won’t be everything I hope for, but it will be more than they want to give.”

“You are indeed a man wise in the ways of the Mescalero,” Nantan solemnly pronounced before breaking out in a loud belly laugh.

Thankfully, we’d all finally stopped laughing by the time we dismounted at the camp and turned our horses over to one of the cousins.

Arranging ourselves on the blankets, we accepted coffee from another of the cousins and waited, quietly talking among ourselves, for our guests to present themselves.

Within a half-hour they had all gathered and were seated on their blankets, facing us. Surprisingly there were two older ladies among the warriors sitting at the front. We began the greeting, introduction, and small talk ritual that seemed to carry on for hours. Finally, Santana addressed the reason for their visit.

“Thundercloud, I and the others who were here last year, have spent the last year talking with the old ones and the matriarchs, telling them of your visions, and your belief that we can change the future shown in those visions. The matriarchs would hear more and sent these two,” he said motioning to the older ladies seated next to him, “to hear your words with their own ears, and see with their own eyes, the future you offer us.”

Using the same script as last time, even though they all had already heard it, or heard of it, I had Nantan and Ujesh tell of their visions. When they were done, I told them of my visions, what they meant, and how they could be changed. By the time I was done, lunch was ready, we were served and ate while talking sociably to those around us.

When lunch was over, I suggested that they all take the next day and a half to explore the Estancia, talk to whomever they wanted to talk to, and see whatever they wanted to see. I promised that I would be back for more discussion on the second morning. After some talking amongst themselves, they agreed with my proposal, and the three of us took our leave.

We were back two days later, sitting on the same blankets, sipping coffee we’d just received when Santana began speaking.

“Thundercloud, we’ve heard what you’ve said and seen what you offer. The matriarchs would have much of what you offer for the tribe, but there is some they don’t like. They would have what they like and let you keep what they don’t.”

‘And so, the negotiations begin,’ I thought to myself. “I am not a spirit that can give you just what is acceptable to you. Even spirits give with one hand while taking with the other. The white man has a saying, we must all accept the bad with the good. However, let us talk about the good and bad. Perhaps there is some other way of doing things that you will find more acceptable.”

For the next two days, that’s what we did. Eventually, though, we reached an agreement with me giving in on some minor points that I’d originally added as throw away things for just this reason. In turn, they gave in on the major points. There would be no raiding, anyone who broke the white man’s law would be jailed and held for trial by a Federal Judge. A force of forty warriors, led by a white man of my choosing, would be formed as Tribal Police and trained here on the Estancia. A Tribal Council Hall, school, church, and fifteen homes for the elders and matriarchs would be built in a single location as the tribal town of Mescalero.