Chapter 13

Following the memorial gathering -- it could not be called a service, as there was no ceremony, as such -- at Dorado Springs, the simple coffin was to be sealed with wax after the last of the mourners had passed and the last of the ice had melted and been allowed to drain away. It would be nearly three days traveling back to the Tsosie ranch, the wagons and buckboard would be kept to a slow pace as demanded by the condition of much of the trail. It was anticipated that, once sealed, Aspen’s coffin would not be reopened, even for viewing by the rest of the family at the ranch, as it was not a Navajo custom. Even more, dead bodies were shunned as a possible threat in the Navajo spirit world.

Preparations for the memorial had begun that morning, well before sunup, some hundred and seventy-five miles north of Dorado Springs, in the Kansas & Arizona Southern Railroad switch yard at Fort Birney. Allowing for the number of mourners who’d already purchased tickets, the K&ASR had added two more passenger coaches to the consist of that day’s southbound train, and those four were almost not enough. Malik had his cars attached and invited nine of the Ranch Home mourners to share the car with him. Andy, Christina, and Long Hand rode in the baggage car with Aspen’s coffin. Beowulf, Niyol, Tsela, and Christina’s palomino, Sissy, were in Malik’s livestock car for the journey to the Tsosie ranch.

In addition to the supplementary passenger coaches, the K&ASR home office in Wichita had instructed the Fort Birney Branch dispatcher to see that the southbound would run on time from Fort Birney to Dorado Springs, bypassing any freight switching that would delay its scheduled arrivals and departures. This was to allow sufficient time at the memorial for the mourners to be able to return on the afternoon train, for which the extra coaches would be held at Dorado Springs.

Aspen had been only a toddler when the brothers, Scout and Sargent Tsosie, moved their families from the Malik ranch to strike out on their own in the Flat Grass Valley in 1872. But the family had been well-liked, and there had been occasional social visits and celebrations, as well as some shared sorrows, between the Malik and Tsosie ranch families over the intervening years. At the same time, there’d been ongoing business links. And Aspen’s big brother, Cowboy, was a semi-resident at Ranch Home. So there was a significant representation among the mourners from Ranch Home, as well as Waypoint, and a number of people from further away -- Shepherds Crossing and Fort Birney, much of it out of respect for Cowboy’s loss.

It was a somber group that gathered on the plaza at Dorado Springs that afternoon. Aspen’s coffin had been placed across two benches under the ramada, and left open to the sunlight that leaked through the roof lattice and dappled her peaceful face. Sonora families, already mourning the loss of Standing Horse, nonetheless had provided blankets and rugs for Aspen’s mourners to sit on, as well as preparing pitchers of water, lemonade, and orangeade. Standing Horse already had been buried, in a private and traditional Sonora manner, early that morning. Even so, his family gathered with the others on the plaza.

Under the ramada, Malik rose from where he’d been seated next to Gabriela and went to stand with one hand on the edge of Aspen’s coffin. He looked at the assemblage and said:

“The summer when she was ten, Aspen got it into her head that she wanted a raft to float down Flat Grass Creek, which flows behind their house, there, in the Flat Grass Valley. So Cowboy and Sage, two of her big brothers, helped her build a rather nice little raft. The next day, Aspen packed a sandwich and some cookies, and set herself afloat. Cowboy, Sage, and Juniper, another of her big brothers, followed on horseback along the creek bank.

“But Aspen protested their monitoring her, as it was ruining her sense of adventure. So Cowboy, knowing that the creek made a big, slow, oxbow bend around the lower end of the pasture, told Aspen that she could float down and circle around the bottom of the pasture and then get out when she came nearest to the ranch buildings, again. Then the boys went off to have their own lunch.

“They expected to see her walking back across the pasture within the hour, but that didn’t happen. Thinking she decided to have lunch after disembarking, they weren’t particularly concerned. But, when another quarter hour passed and there was still no Aspen, they decided to investigate. Not wanting to overwhelm her enjoyment, they figured only one of them would go, and Cowboy volunteered.

“He rode to the far corner of the pasture, where the creek’s big oxbow played out, curving back to continue on down the valley. There was no sign of Aspen. He took short rides both upstream and down, but there was still no hint as to where she had gotten to. He realized his best bet was downstream, so he set Niyol to a lope down along the creek bank into the next pasture. Just when he began to feel uneasy, he spotted, nearly a mile ahead, an object floating on the creek.

“Within a few minutes, he was close enough to see Aspen on her raft, happily eating cookies with one hand and, with the other, splashing water at the dragonflies along the banks. She didn’t see him approach nor, with the rippling current and her splashing, did she hear him.

“When he came up near her and asked, ‘Are you going float all the way to Fort Birney?’ his voice startled her so much she jumped and fell off the raft. She came up spluttering in water that was barely waist-deep on her. She tried to chase down her raft, but the current carried it off faster than she could move, fully dressed, as she was. So she insisted that Cowboy retrieve the raft, which he did, pulling it ashore with his lariat.

“When Cowboy got back to Aspen, he told her that she was nearly three miles from the house and he asked her why she hadn’t gotten off the raft back at the end of the oxbow, closer to the house. Aspen said she was going to stop when she went by the house, but hadn’t seen it.

“Cowboy said, ‘The creek doesn’t go by the house again.’

“Aspen countered, ‘But you said it did.’

“‘When did I say that?’

“‘You said the creek circled around the pasture and came close to the house.’

“‘No,’ Cowboy told her, ‘I said the oxbow curve circled around the bottom of the pasture and you should watch for where the curve brought you closest to the house. But did you think that meant the creek was flowing in a circle?’

“‘That’s what you told me,’Aspen protested.

“‘Aspen, think about it. A stream always flows downhill, doesn’t it?’ Cowboy explained

“‘Yes,’ she replied.

“‘So how could a stream flow in a circle?’

“After a moment’s thought, Aspen wrinkled her brow and she said, ‘Oh, yeah.’”

Malik paused as smiles appeared on the faces of most there. “That was Aspen. She was as joyful, buoyant, fresh, and lively as the fluttering green leaves on the tree for which she was named. And she was as splendid as the golden glory of its autumn crown.” His voice had rasped over the last words and he lowered his eyes as his grip on the coffin tightened.

Malik paused and he quietly cleared his throat. When he looked up again, his eyes were glittering with moisture. “My friends, we lost two wonderful young people this week. But Aspen and Standing Horse had shared their joy in life with us. Let us preserve their joy in our hearts to share with one another.”

A two-rut wagon trail led from Dorado Springs to Smoky Valley, the site of Gabriela’s Doña Anna ranch. The trail approached Smoky Valley by way of Badger Pass, a low gap of gentle grades through the southern reach of Green Ridge. Badger Pass was about forty-five miles west of Dorado Springs; the Doña Anna ranch headquarters was another ten miles, on the west side of the valley. In any event, that wagon trail was near enough the shortest route to the Doña Anna, even for a crow.

On the other hand, while the Tsosie ranch compound was actually closer to Dorado Springs than the Doña Anna by about ten miles, if flown by a crow, wagon trail access was another matter altogether. To reach the Tsosie ranch compound, with a wagon, one had to follow the Smoky Valley trail for the first thirty-five miles, but then cut out north and west for another forty miles. This brought one to the Tsosie ranch by way of Wickiup Pass, a somewhat steeper crossing of Green Ridge.

Sargent, though, had elected to ride out, on horseback, cutting cross-country, to bring the news of Aspen’s death to Tilly, Aspen’s mother, and to the rest of the family at the ranch, before her coffin arrived. The Tsosie farm wagon, loaded with their ranch supplies, and the rented buckboard, carrying Aspen’s coffin, would take the seventy-five mile wagon trail to their Flat Grass Valley ranch. It would also allow Sargent time to dig Aspen’s grave, next to those of his brother, Scout, who was Aspen’s father, and her Aunt Rebekah, who had been Sargent’s second wife. Long Hand rode along with Sargent on this sad mission. They set out immediately after the memorial service.

The following day, a caravan, composed of the Tsosie farm wagon, the Doña Anna farm wagon, the rented buckboard carrying the coffin, and a number of riders on horseback, set out for the Wickiup Pass cutoff, where they all camped overnight.

Early the next morning, Lester Toomey proceeded west toward Smoky Valley with his supply-laden wagon. After he reached the Doña Anna, he would bring Aspen’s cousin, Wren, and the Doña Anna ranch crew over Longview Pass to the Tsosie ranch to see Aspen buried.

As Toomey headed west, the others -- Sage and Juniper, along with Cowboy and Matilda, and the Malik brothers and their wives -- turned northwest, to take Aspen’s coffin to the Tsosie ranch, which would necessitate another night on the trail.

Sage drove the rented buckboard, which carried Aspen’s coffin, while Juniper drove the farm wagon. Malik, Gabriela, Andy, Christina, and Cowboy were on horseback. Matilda was an adequate horsewoman but she had not the many hours in the saddle that the others regularly experienced. For this trip, she was switching between a saddled horse and the sprung seat of the buckboard, beside Sage.

Up to this point, Cowboy had not inquired of Malik the circumstances of Aspen’s death, nor of the relevant details regarding her kidnappers. He remedied that deficiency an hour after they broke camp. He brought Niyol next to Tsela and said to Malik, “Tell me.”

For most of a half hour, Malik spoke just loudly enough to be heard by Cowboy over the thump of hooves and the creaks and clanks of leather, wheels, steel, and wood. Cowboy listened silently, his grim expression the only hint of his thinking. After Malik finished, they rode in silence.

At the next walking break to ease the horses, Cowboy came over next to Malik and he said, quietly, “The bunch at the B-Bar-L, they’re the most exposed. They’ve got to be holding several women. That so-called stock buyer must take the kidnapped women to Mexico, maybe in that other coal gondola. We need to hit that horse ranch and make one of those bastards talk.”

Malik did not respond immediately, but walked on beside his friend. Then he said, “If we do it that way, our ‘hard way,’ then we can’t go in as deputy marshals. Fact is, if we want to do this the ‘hard way,’ then we’re going to have to roll up everybody involved and bury them somewhere, deep. That means John Gunderson and Tim Banks, maybe even Coates and that manager a’ his, if they had a part in it. Maybe others, too, because I still don’t think we found whoever’s behind the ore thefts.”

“You don’t think that was Gunderson?”

“No. It had to be somebody with more money and imagination than Gunderson has. His biggest idea in all of this has been wanting to get his hands on Christina. No, there’s somebody else, or maybe more. Beyond the ore thievery with all that it entails, who figured out to use the ore-shipping wagons and gondolas to transport and sell kidnapped women? I’ve yet to come across anyone in that gang who seems smart enough to put together even the first part of such a double-purpose scheme.

“Beyond that, I’m wondering if, by some wild chance, this might tie into the syndicate that owns the B-Bar-L, or whoever’s behind the lawsuit over the Sonora mine. We might end up with a situation as bad as or worse than we had with Senator Ranford and Sheriff Banks.”

“So, what are you sayin’?” Cowboy demanded.

Malik sighed. “I reckon what I’m saying is that we were way, way beyond lucky with what happened in the federal district with Ranford and Banks. I don’t think we should even hope we can go blundering into another mess like that and expect to come out smelling like roses.

“If it was just those few yahoos in that second B-Bar-L ranch house, then sure, maybe we could pull it off. But we’re likely to be freeing some captive women who’ll be talking about whatever they witness. An’ then there’s possibly Lord-o-the-May and his family in the big ranch house, and maybe Macready and his ranch hands, any or all of whom make take an interest. Besides, there’s still Gunderson and Banks, and maybe Coates and Odey, too.”

He turned toward Cowboy, shaking his head, and gestured with his hand, turning it palm up. “And none of that even begins to touch on the fact that both Connor Lonegan and Judge Westcott are the camels that already have their noses under the tent. With them being alert to this, we’d be lucky not to find ourselves standing on a gallows, let alone sent to prison.”

Cowboy said, “I don’t give a damn about that. It was Aspen.”

“I know, Akalii. I want to gut them all.”

They walked on in silence. A few minutes later, Andy called for everyone to re-tighten the cinches and to mount up, again.

After they’d remounted, Cowboy gestured with his head, toward the rear. They dropped back behind the others, allowing a wider interval to open, so they could talk privately.

Malik began, “I think we have to take this to--” He interrupted himself, then said, “Hold on a minute.” He noticed that Gabriela had been glancing at them over her shoulder. He waved her back to join them.

Gabriela was riding the horse that Cowboy had given her at the Maliks’ first wedding anniversary the year before. Lichi’i, pronounced, roughly, LEE-chee-ee, meaning ‘Red,’ in Navajo, was a red roan Appaloosa mare. Gabriela directed Lichi’i to the side of the trail and waited for the two men to come abreast. She took a position between them.

Gabriela spoke first, giving voice to the anxiety that had been obvious in the rearward looks Malik had noticed. “I hope you’re not planning to do things like the last time. You’ll both end up hanged or in prison.”

Cowboy said, “Of course not,” as he shot a sideways glance at Malik, who shrugged in response.

Malik said, “No, Sweetheart, we were just discussing alternatives.”

Gabriela replied, “I’m not buying it. I know you two. You need to get Marshal Lonegan involved. Probably Judge Westcott, too.”

Cowboy said, “Of course, just what Shadow was saying.”

Malik, bemused, said, “Uh, well, that’s what we were considering.”

Gabriela continued. “I think that, after we lay Aspen to rest, you two should ride out directly to Waypoint. Take Andy, Sage, and Juniper with you. Have them bring your cars back to Waypoint. Load up your horses and take the Tsosies to Cleveland to start a watch at the B-Bar-L. You and Andy go on up to Fort Birney to meet with Connor and CB, work out a plan.” She looked from Malik’s face to Cowboy’s, then back again.

Cowboy looked at Malik and raised his eyebrows, inquisitively.

Malik asked, “What about Matilda and Christina?”

“We’ll visit with the Tsosie’s for a couple days, then ride over to my place. Then we’ll spend a few days at my place so I can take care of anything pressing. After that, we’ll go back to the Springs and take the train to Waypoint. We’ll bring Wren with us. Figure maybe ten days from today.”

“And the buckboard?”

“I’ll ask Les or one of the hands to bring it to the Doña Anna by the wagon trail. Or leave it at the trail junction and just bring the horses. We can pick it up on the way out.”

“Just you four women on the trail to Dorado Springs?” But Malik winced as soon as the words were out his mouth.

“Just us women?” Gabriela demanded. “I can’t speak for Matilda, but I know Wren and Christina can handle a gun, and you know I can. And we know how to keep camp watch and stay alert on the trail.”

Cowboy said, “Matilda can shoot, but she’s especially good with a knife, both throwing and fighting.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Malik said to Gabriela. “I meant more to express my concern for your safety, what with all that’s been going on. It was not intended to cast aspersions on your competence.”

“I know, husband. In any event, I intended to ask Long Hand to delay his return and to accompany us.”

“That would be good.”

Three days later, a Saturday, just shy of noon, the two Malik brothers and the three Tsosie brothers rode out of Isabella Canyon and proceeded to the Kuiper ranch. After Malik checked in with Mrs. Kuiper, he joined the others as they unsaddled the horses and cleaned, curried, watered, and fed them before turning them out into the large grassy paddock beyond the corral. Leaving their saddles and blankets to air in the stable, they stowed some personal gear and their long guns in Malik’s room, then walked into town, each with a saddle bag over his shoulder. While the other four went up to the Inn to use the baths, Malik walked down to the station to arrange for his cars to be brought up from Dorado Springs on that afternoon’s northbound train. He also sent a wire to Sheriff Ulney, advising him of Long Hand’s delayed return.

After he sent Malik’s wires, Trent told him that Chen Ming-teh was at the Inn awaiting his return.

Trent went on to explain that Chen, Pete Pottinger, Arnold Yeats and two other directors, Pauline Jones and Jeferson Hawksclaw, had arrived on Tuesday, the day after Aspen’s memorial in Dorado Springs. They met all afternoon with Trent, Tom Palmer, Emmet Quincy, and Tommy Ryan, foreman of the track gang at Utica Switch. In answer to the directors’ inquiries, Trent, Palmer, and Quincy had described the incidents leading up to Urban’s death, the discovery of Aspen’s body, and the subsequent chase and demise of the other kidnapper. The directors then excused themselves for a brief visitation at the funeral parlor before Urban’s coffin was sealed.

Later, they reassembled the group and, over a late lunch in a private dining room at the Old Courthouse Inn, they discussed the mining potential in Long Valley and the possibilities of rail transport. Then Yeats, Jones, and Hawksclaw boarded the evening northbound, to return to Wichita with Urban’s body. Chen and Pottinger took rooms at the Inn.

Trent further reported that a four-man survey crew had passed through on this morning’s train, on their way to Utica Switch. They had two dedicated cars fully equipped with the tools of their trade and with supplies, as wells as a stock car with horses and mules, and a flat car with a small freight wagon. They intended to begin to map a rail route into Long Valley. Some of that freight and livestock was the equipage of two geologists and their two assistants who were also on the train. Pete Pottinger had boarded that train, to “join in the fun,” he had said. Emmet Quincy went along, as a guide, at least as far as the silver vein.

“And there’s a real railroad copper here, too,” Trent added. “Martin Doyle. He’s the Branch Inspector. Came in the same day as the directors, but up from Junction City, so he got here too late for our meeting with Mister Chen and the others. I recommended the Inn, but he said he’d prefer to stay at the Railroad Arms, closer to the trains. Said I could leave a message there, if he wasn’t in.”

Malik thanked Trent for the update, then told him that he, his brother, and the Tsosies would be loading their horses in his stock car when it arrived. Then the Tsosies and their horses would be dropped at Cleveland and he and his brother would go on to Fort Birney to see Marshal Lonegan.

“I apologize, Joshua, because I know that having to load and unload the horses will cause additional delays.”

“You’re not to worry about that, Mister Malik. Mister Chen made it clear that you were to receive every cooperation from the K and ASR. Mister Urban was well liked among the employees and we all want to see those responsible brought to justice. Nor is anyone happy that our trains have been used in such awful ways.”

“That’s good to know, Joshua. Still, we’ll try to reduce delays.”

“We know you will.”

“I need to send another couple wires.”

Trent pushed a message pad toward him and a pencil. Malik wrote:

Raul Castillo Fort Birney

Arriving tonight with Andy. Will overnight in my car. Meet at Mess 8AM SVP.

EMalik

The second message read:

US Marshal Lonegan Fort Birney

Arriving tonight with Andy. Invite to Mess 8AM.

EMalik

Trent said, “May I ask, ‘SVP’?”

“S’il vous plait. It’s--”

“French for ‘please’. Of course. I’ve seen ‘RSVP,’ but not this form.”

Malik chuckled. “I wouldn’t use it with just anyone, but I’m confident Mister Castillo will know. Well, I’d better go meet with Mister Chen. We’ll be here at a quarter to six with our horses and gear.”

At Mitchel Anderson’s insistence, Chen Ming-teh, Chairman of the Board of Directors of the Kansas & Arizona Southern Railroad, had been lodged in the suite, and at a discounted rate.

While Chen Ming-teh served as the official chief executive of the railroad, anti-Chinese provisions of both federal and most states’ laws would not allow him to serve as one of the two required corporate officers with signature authority, those who could conduct the official business of the railroad and obligate the corporation by signing contracts. Arnie Yeats and Fred Urban had held those offices, Yeats as corporate secretary, Urban as legal counsel, both as board directors.

Chen opened the door in response to Malik’s knock. “Emil, please come into this lovely room. You can be proud of this facility, my friend. Moreover, your staff has been most hospitable. And your kitchen rivals the best in Kansas City. A private bath and flushing commode, to boot. Well done, Emil, well done.”

Malik stepped into the room. “I am most gratified, hearing that praise from you, sir. If there is anything more that you need...”

“Not at all, Emil. Everything has been provided. But, please, sit down. Let us sit at this table. We can talk.” Chen seated himself in a chair at the round table by the window. He held up a pewter carafe and said, “That charming Missus Garcia just brought some fresh coffee.”