Chapter 5

The next morning, Cowboy was just starting his breakfast at Mrs. Kuiper’s when Malik and Gabriela finally arrived at five minutes after seven. They sat on either side of him.

“You didn’t have breakfast at the bakery?” Malik asked.

“Early morning’s the busiest part of the day at a bakery. No time for a family breakfast. Rode down on a freight, got in about midnight.”

Malik said, “Connor, Gabriela, and I are taking the train back to the Springs this morning. We’ve started the deputy training, but just about the Constitution, nothing on practices and such. So you’re up next, if you’ve a mind to help out. Connor decided to do the training himself. We plan to make a big fiesta of the swearing-in ceremony, figure it for Monday. We’ll ask Andy to come down, too, have our working group meet there until the deputies are sworn in. Were you successful?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“Ah. Can it keep? I’ve got some business here I have to take care of before we leave. Maybe we can snag one of those facing seats on the train, talk there, if no one’s nearby.”

“It’ll keep.”

Gabriela asked, “Did Matilda tell you we all had supper there last evening?”

“She did. She seemed pleased with it. Her ma, too.”

“It was a very nice visit, and some very good food.”

“Yeah, Miz Isely made some of those meat pies you’re always braggin’ on.”

Missus Kuiper turned from the stove and asked, “Braggin’ on whose meat pies, Mister Malik?”

Cowboy whispered, “Now you’ve done it. You’re on your own.”

Gabriela snickered.

“Why, uh, we, uh, had supper with Miz Isely last evening, Missus Kuiper. She made meat pies, pot pies, she called ‘em.”

“Those are good, ain’t they? She’s told me how she gets the top crust so flaky crisp. Reckon to try ‘em out, some Saturday evening. More coffee, folks?”

“You live a charmed life, Shichaha’oh,” Cowboy muttered.

Andy arrived on the southbound. He’d wired ahead and was expected. Christina met him at the station with some clean clothes and with her own carpet bag. She’d decided to travel to Dorado Springs with him, at least until it was determined what he might be doing next.

The first of the two passenger coaches, in the mixed freight and passenger consist, had several salesman scattered throughout, but there was only a young couple in the second coach. However, they occupied two of the facing seats at the back. Malik offered to reimburse them for their tickets if they would move to the other end of the car. He explained that he and his companions were on a business trip and wanted the seats to discuss urgent private business. The couple happily agreed.

Malik suggested that Christina could sit in the row next to the facing seats, to help create a space between their group and other travelers who might enter the car.

Lonegan, sitting sideways on the seat across from Malik, his legs and feet in the aisle, leaned closer and said, “No offense to your sister-in-law, Emil, but she’s not one to be privy to these details, and she’ll easily overhear us from that seat.”

“I know, but I think that, in the intense moments after learning of Bill’s death, we might have gone a little far with the security measures. Even the Judge said something to that notion when he spoke of his original plan. I doubt very much that Christina will be a liability and there’s a very strong likelihood she’ll be an asset.”

“Yeah, I reckon you’re right,” Lonegan said, “I wanted us to think about it first, is all.”

Malik, seated next to Gabriela with their backs to the rear bulkhead of the car, leaned toward Christina, who was seated behind Andy’s bench which faced Malik. “Christina,” she leaned on the back of Andy’s seat to better hear Malik, “there’s more going on than we’ve been able to reveal and there’s not really the time to explain it all here. I’ll let Andy fill you in later. For now, I’ll just tell you that Bill Edwards had been sworn in as a deputy US marshal last September. He was supposed to be keeping an eye out for silver ore that was being stolen from the Sonora mine and watching out for more graft in the courthouse. We don’t think that’s why he was killed, though. Cowboy and I have just been made deputy marshals, too, and we have several things we’re looking into, most of which we’ll be discussing here. Please keep this, and anything else you hear, in confidence.”

“Of course, Emil. Thank you for trusting me.”

“Well, if something helpful occurs to you during our discussion, please join in.”

“I will.”

Malik said, “I think we should start with Andy. I’ve a feeling his mission will have been less involved than Cowboy’s.”

Lonegan looked at Cowboy, who was in the bench seat facing his, but was also sitting sideways, facing across the aisle, leaning on the armrest, with his legs underneath it. He said, “I’m afraid you may be right. So, Andy?”

“Simple enough,” Andy said. “Someone’s got a very low dam mostly built, rock and dirt, about two hundred feet long, maybe four feet high where the water would be deepest. The thing is, there’s already a decent run-off flow, so I don’t think they’ll be able to close that last gap, which is right in the center. They’ve been using a slip scraper and horse team, but also a lot of plain ol’ shoveling. I think they started too late. The tracks look like just two people. Their tracks are lost among others in the canyon trail, but it looks like they come up from town.

“In any case, I put a deposit down on two sections. One is the canyon itself, from one end to the other, including some of the high ground on either side. The other section is at the western mouth of the canyon, adjoining the canyon section. That should make further dam-building totally impractical.

“A state land agent had recently opened an office in the Crossing, and he had the bit in his teeth. I couldn’t get him to back off a dollar an acre. I explained the school would use it to educate kids, but he seemed to think I was trying to put something over on him. I’m afraid that your acquisition in Surprise Valley may have driven up the price in all of the three dry valleys.”

“I reckon it’ll drop again, in time,” Malik said, “not that it will make any difference, unless some other unusual circumstances arise. So the school trust will be down twelve hundred and eighty dollars?”

“Yep.”

“We’ll have to post some private property signs, and make sure a couple signs are placed prominently in that dam. They should probably show the trust as owner and how to get in touch. Did he say anything about a trail easement?”

“Six feet either side of a continuous line, all usable by wheeled vehicles.”

“Let’s aim for twelve feet either side. We’ll need to post the trail or we’ll eventually lose legal control of all of it, especially in the canyon. Maybe if there’s a few likely picnic spots, we can mark them so folks have access. Still, we’d better post them as private property with temporary use by the public.

Gabriela said, “Why not make that trail one of the learning projects for the secondary school kids? They can survey the center line, keep track of the gradients and the curve radii, then stake out fence lines and begin constructing some fence. The project could stretch out over several terms.”

“Won’t the spring flow take out the fence?” Christina asked.

Malik joined the discussion. “There could be a gully-washer that might move rocks downstream, but that’s rare. It’s almost as rare to have any large trees in the flow, coming from the Toonilini Valley, though there will be some brush and the occasional small tree. One of the instructions the students should deal with would be keeping the trail away from the main flow channel and to not cross the flow channel if at all possible. Of course, the present trail pretty much follows the main flow channel, but that’s not a good design for a permanent trail.”

Andy added, “Perhaps they can get guidance from the state agricultural school at Brighamton, or from the state road office in Meseta. We might even convince the state land agent that the land up there would be more valuable with a decent trail, get some real surveyors and road builders to teach the kids.”

Lonegan said, “Can we get back to, ah...?”

“Sure, sorry,” Malik said.

Lonegan asked Andy, “Anything on Clarence Odey?”

“Nothing odd or incriminating. Sheriff Hanson says the man’s a little vulgar, but seems to do a competent job. He drinks some and, if there’re B-Bar-L riders in town, he’ll usually drink with them. They can get a little rowdy, but not any different from other ranch hands come to town. I mentioned his name a few places, didn’t get much reaction, certainly nothing bad. That’s about all I got.”

Malik said, “Thanks, Andy.”

Lonegan looked at Cowboy. “I’ve got a feeling I don’t want to hear this.”

Cowboy shrugged. “The most I can say is, somethin’s goin’ on.”

He held up his hands, moving them apart. “There are two separate crews at that ranch, and they each keep to themselves. The bigger group, there were a dozen that were around and no others I heard mentioned, they work the ranch. They all stay in the bunkhouse which is close to the main house, a big, three-story, white clapboard structure.

“Then there were four other men, looked to be mostly hard-cases, who stay in a house a quarter mile from the main house and its outbuildings. The talk among that smaller group led me to think there might be one or two others. They did mention Trey as having been wounded, but I never saw anyone with head injuries. There was a large stable and extensive corrals behind that house. I had the impression it might have once been an active horse-breeding operation, but the only horses there now looked to be just mounts for the men at the house. The ranch’s working string and a few other personal mounts are kept over at the main compound where there’s a normal-size stable.

“In that large second stable, though, were two freight wagons, painted in the Black Diamond livery. Both looked like they’d been hauling dirt, and one of ‘em looked to have had a lot of blood in the bottom not too long ago, at least, more recently than the last load of dirt.

Lonegan asked, “Black diamond?”

Andy said, “The Black Diamond Coal Company. It’s a one-man operation out of Texas Bend, mostly delivers odd lots of coal to homes and businesses. Owner’s name is Rufus Black. He likes the cheap hooch, usually hires a roustabout to help him offload the rail car deliveries and load his wagon. But why would he keep two wagons at the B-Bar-L?”

Cowboy said, “You mentionin’ Texas Bend reminds me. Likely none of you noticed, but remember that one time when that over-sized deputy marshal thought it would be funny to manacle Shadow and me to the roof-support post at the Waypoint depot?” He smiled sardonically and looked at the others, who, except for Gabriela, had all been there and were nodding, with varying degrees of grim or bemused looks, recalling the episode from two years prior.

Cowboy resumed his narrative. If you recall, I was chained so that I was facing the tracks and didn’t have much else to do but look at the train after it arrived. There were two new freight wagons on a flat car on that train. They were both tied down under tarps, but the parts that were visible were painted black. Then that flat car was switched out at the yard at Texas Bend.”

“They couldn’t’ve been for Mister Black,” Christina said. “He’s still driving that same freight wagon he’s had for years. Pa keeps a half-dozen fifty-weight sacks of coal on hand at the store, so I’ve seen Mister Black’s wagon, late as a month ago.”

“So what would...,” Andy began. “Oh, I see. How could one move a heavy freight commodity, like silver ore, without being noticed?”

Cowboy said, “Just so.”

“But you’re not thinking this Rufus Black is stealing the ore,” Lonegan suggested.

“No,” Cowboy said. “No, what I’m thinkin’, is that somebody brought some wagons in with the same white letters on black boards like the real wagon, and they’d hardly be noticed, except maybe by Rufus Black, himself.”

Andy added, “But it’s well-known he’s drunk most nights and all day Sunday, so it wouldn’t be hard to move things when he was on the sauce.”

Lonegan asked, “But what are they doing sitting empty, and bloody, in an empty stable at the B-Bar-L?”

“I thought the ore was being moved by pack mule train,” Gabriela said.

Malik replied, “That’s how they’re moving it away from the mine and through Isabella Canyon. But a pack mule train would have been noticed elsewhere, so they probably transferred it to the freight wagons and hauled it out once they had a full load.”

“But they still had to load the wagons somewhere,” she objected.

“And I think I can tell you where,” Cowboy said, and all eyes turned back to him. “I suspect it was at the home of the late Sheriff Barnabas Ranford Banks and his next-door neighbor and twin brother, former county prosecutor and current county clerk, Timothy Ranford Banks. Both of their houses are at the extreme southwest corner of Waypoint’s town plat, the closest point to the mouth of Isabella Canyon, save maybe for the old Kuiper ranch buildings. But you can’t see the canyon trail from Missus Kuiper’s compound.”

Cowboy expounded, “They keep the wagons out of sight in Banks’ stable, and when they’re full, use the mules from the pack train to pull each wagon, at different times, back to the train yard at Texas Bend. Load it into a gondola or hopper car, throw some coal on top, and you can ship it anywhere, probably even with a dummied-up bill of lading under Rufus Black’s name.”

“So why take the wagons up to Cleveland?” Lonegan asked.

Gabriela slapped her knee and exclaimed, “Now I get it!”

Everyone looked at her. Malik said, “Do you care to tell us, dearest?”

“Oh, sorry, it hardly matters to what we’re talking about, but I just remembered that Timothy and Barnabas were disciples of Paul, the Apostle.”

Christina snarked, “You’re right about it not mattering.”

“No, it’s not ... it’s just that Senator Ranford’s first name was Paulus, as that garden slug kept trying to get me to address him. His nephews were named Barnabas and Timothy. Those boys’ mama was really kissing up to her brother by using those names. Say,” she looked at Christina, “you don’t suppose...?”

“Brother and sister? Uhl,” Christina grimaced. “Still, it would explain why he went through all that trouble for them.”

“Ladies, how about we reserve the discussion of the Banks brothers’ lineage for another time?” Malik urged.

Both of them blushed.

Malik said, “To address Connor’s question, maybe they’ve decided to let things cool down for a while. Could be that they caught site of that army survey crew or whoever it was found their work at the mine. Or maybe they’ve been ordered to stand down while someone tries a different approach to stealing the ore, through a claim of eminent domain.”

“How would...?” Lonegan didn’t appear to follow.

“What if the syndicate that owns the B-Bar-L is the same group pressing the court case to take over the mine?” Malik said. “I know it’s a long shot, but it would explain the sequence of the ore thievery and its apparent discontinuance, along with the resources to buy a couple freight wagons, and the connection to Sheriff Banks, because the Senator, his uncle or whatever he was to him, was a member of that syndicate.”

“Granted, it fits, but that’s pretty wild conjecture,” Lonegan said.

“I’m not saying it isn’t.”

Lonegan looked over at Cowboy. “You get anything else solid, up there?”

“Not much,” Cowboy replied, “though it turns out that the B-Bar-L also uses Star horseshoes, pretty much exclusively. They had a few pieces of odd stock in their smithy, but all the new stock was the Star brand.”

“I doubt that it’s just a coincidence,” Malik said.

“Yeah,” Lonegan sighed.

Cowboy added,” It could be, though. Michael Macready, also a participant in our Crossing depot confrontation, is still foreman, but he appears to have nothing to do with the hard-case crew. On the other hand, the ranch crew are a fairly rough bunch themselves, but Macready seems to have them in hand. Macready is, as may be recalled, the brother of the late Patrick Macready, who was Senator Ranford’s body guard, who was also killed in the boiler explosion on the Senator’s steam boat.”

Gabriela said, grimly, “I remember him.”

Lonegan looked at her, then said, “That boiler explosion sure cleaned out a lot of rats.”

Malik quickly asked, “Any idea about the blood in that wagon?”

“No. For all I know, it could have been from a calf or an antelope.

“And I overheard some talk about a buyer that was due from Mexico next month and they needed more stock. This was talk among the hard-case crew.”

Malik asked, “Any notion what kind of stock?”

“No. And that was the only mention I heard. As far as I could tell, those boys had nothin’ to do with the ranch’s cattle or horses.”

“Rustling, do you think?” Andy said.

Cowboy shrugged. “Maybe silver ore,” he said.

Lonegan asked Cowboy, “Is there anyone staying in the main house?”

“Yes. An Englishman, Michael Bell-Reed, Lord Maysfield, with his wife and two daughters, maybe fifteen or sixteen years old. I believe Bell-Reed is the managing partner for the syndicate. Except for three English servants and a Mexican hostler, the only other person I saw come to the main house, while I was there, was Macready. The other hands appeared to avoid the place. With those two girls, I’d guess there’d be a strictly-enforced rule to that effect. I did hear some talk among both crews about all three women. The ranch hands imagined all sorts of...,” he paused and glanced at Gabriela and Christina, “physical encounters. But the hard-case crew discussions tended to end in the women being, well, killed, in drawn out encounters.”

“Raped and tortured to death, you mean.” Gabriela said.

“Yes.”

A trainman stuck his head in the door and called out, “Utica Switch comin’ up!” and closed the door, again.

Malik said, “Those hard-cases aren’t there for no reason at all. Whatever their purpose is, it’s unlikely to be legal or pleasant.”

Lonegan said, “Let’s hold the talk for now, pick it up when we’re movin’ again. I want to think about this. Let’s spread out a little, to guard these seats.”

Fifteen minutes later, with no new passengers coming into the car, they gathered again in their group.

Lonegan asked, “Any ideas?”

Malik said, “I’ve just written a letter to Raul, asking him to find out who’s behind the mine lawsuit and who are the members of the B-Bar-L syndicate. I’ll get it onto today’s northbound.”

Gabriela said, “I sent a wire to a woman I know in the Springs. She should have a couple small houses we can rent until Monday”.

Lonegan said, “All this talk about the mine made me think: Isn’t it unusual that there is only one silver mine in this area?”

To a person, the others’ mouths dropped open and they all looked at Lonegan.

Malik muttered, “Hellfire!”

Ten minutes later, the four men and two women were still bent forward in their seats, the discussion of a potential silver rush intense and earnest.

“ ... destroy the water supply and silt up the reservoirs.” Andy was saying, through clenched teeth.

“Even more,” Malik said, “the diggings will wreck the hard top layer of soil. That’ll throw a lot of the disturbed earth into the runoff. The Rio Isabella will have floods like nothing we’ve seen, not just water, but dense, flowing soil, maybe even large rocks. It could be very destructive. At its worst, it would likely take out the Wagon Road bridge and even the railroad bridge.

Christina said, “I can’t imagine what town will be like with all the scum and villainy that will accompany a silver rush.”

Lonegan did not live in Waypoint or Jackson County, so his reaction was not so desolate. To a degree, Gabriela, whose ranch was in a mountain valley in another county, shared the Marshal’s detachment. Their eyes met.

Gabriela said, in deliberate enunciation, “So? What are we going to do about it?”

“She’s right, Emil,” Lonegan added. “There may be ways to head this off, or reduce the problems, at least.”

Malik was seated next to Gabriela, but he had leaned forward, his head between his hands, the very picture of despair. Slowly, he raised his head up and then sat up straight in his seat and turned his head to his wife. He smiled at her. “You’re so lovely, I keep forgetting how smart you are.”

Gabriela blushed, but smiled back at him.

He reached over to pat his brother on the shoulder. “She’s right. We’re not helpless in this.”

Lonegan asked, “How is it that this odd circumstance of a solitary silver mine has never occurred to you before?”

Malik said, “We just grew up with it, the notion of an isolated silver mine. It was thought of as an abandoned, played-out silver mine on the Sonora reservation. It wasn’t something that we’ve ever looked at from a different angle. It seems so obvious, but it took someone from outside to see it.”

Gabriela added, “We take many familiar things for granted,” her wistful look suggesting a reference to the loss of her first husband and her teenage daughter.

Malik patted her hand, then looked around the group. “First, let’s acknowledge that we must stay on top of our current assignments. But I’d like to devote a few minutes to this new problem, just to put our minds at ease, if we can, so we’ll be more effective in the first concerns.”

“I’m in favor of that,” Lonegan said.

“Cowboy, you’ve not said anything, yet. Any thoughts?” Malik asked.

“Not so far. I admit it seems obvious now, as well as the risk involved. And, since I’m more tied to Waypoint through Matilda and her mother, it does concern me.”

Andy said, “We seem to have identified two problem areas so far: water issues and town societal worries. Anything else come to mind?”

“We’ve mentioned the bridges as a water problem, but really there are broader transportation concerns: the bridges, as I said, and I’d add the trail through Isabella Canyon with both floods and possible obstruction from mining debris or associated erosion destroying any or all of them.”

Andy added, “The price of land will increase rapidly.”

Malik said, “Then, when the rush peters out, values will crash. So, long-term business-value dependability is at risk? There’s probably a better way to say that. That makes me realize there’re two more people I’d like to bring into this discussion: your pa, Christina, and Robert Smith, from the bank.”