Chapter 22

Thursday, in the late afternoon, Michael Byrnes, who was on overwatch at Ranch Home village, intercepted a town-dressed rider in a duster and top hat as he approached the hacienda compound.

“Good afternoon, sir, how may I help you?” Byrnes wore a holstered pistol on a cartridge-laden belt, had a rifle in a saddle scabbard, and held a shotgun across the pommel of his saddle—”help” was not the image he projected.

“Yes, if this is the Malik ranch?”

“It is, sir. What is your business here?”

The man drew a calling card from a waistcoat pocket and offered it to Byrnes. “I am Raul Castillo, Attorney at Law, from Fort Birney. I wish to see Emil Malik, if he is here. More than that is not your business to know.”

“Very well, Mister Castillo. If you would proceed at a walk, I will follow you to the hacienda door, there, in the building with the bright blue shutters.” Byrnes followed behind Castillo, who rode over and stopped near the front door.

“May I dismount?”

“Please, sir, and knock at the door.”

Castillo said, “I have documents in my saddle pack. May I retrieve them?”

“Of course. Please do so slowly and so I can see what you have in your hands.”

Castillo pulled a leather messenger pouch from his saddle bag and held it out so that Byrnes could see it. Then he held it in one hand against his leg and went to knock on the door. He knocked, but there was no answer. He knocked again and waited. Still no answer.

He asked, “Do you know if he is at home?”

“They are, sir. Allow me.” Byrnes dismounted his horse and walked up to the door as Castillo stepped aside. Byrnes banged at the door with the butt of the shotgun. One could hear the echoes inside.

Within ten seconds, a small aperture opened in the upper part of the door, and Christina’s eyes and forehead were revealed. “Michael?” she said.

Byrnes said, maintaining some formality, “A Mister Castillo to see Mister Emil, ma’am. Here’s his card.”

Christina took the card, said, “One moment, please,” and closed the small window.

A half minute later, they could hear the sound of the wooden crossbar sliding against the door. Malik pulled the door open.

“Señor Castillo, Raul, it is such a pleasure to see you, especially way out here. Please, come in, come in out of the sun. Welcome to the Malik ranch.” Then to the armed man on horseback, “Thanks, Mike. Señor Castillo is a business colleague. Would you ask one of the children to see to his horse?”

“Sure, Emil.”

Malik urged Castillo to leave his duster, suit jacket, and hat on the pegs and shelf protruding from the wall behind the front door, which he did. Then he led Castillo into the courtyard, where Christina was waiting under the inner verandah with a tray holding a pitcher of water, some glasses, and a rolled-up hand towel.

She set the tray on a nearby table and said, “Welcome to our ranch, Señor Castillo, on behalf of my husband, Anders, and myself. I am Christina Baylor Malik.”

Castillo looked quizzically at Malik, who said, “Andy is my brother and business partner. He holds the majority share of the ranch. I hold the majority share of all non-ranch properties. Christina, here, is the vixen daughter of our general mercantile store owner, Jacob Baylor.”

“The other man who was hurt in the explosion?”

“Precisely.”

He turned to Christina, took her proffered hand, and bent formally. “Thank you, Missus Malik, I hope your father is doing well.”

“Except for the lingering evidence of his head wound, he seems fully recovered. May I offer you a damp towel?”

“Thank, you.” He accepted the towel and applied it to his face and neck, and then scrubbed his hands with it. “Most refreshing.”

“Mister Castillo, I would like to offer you a guest room and our table for the duration of your visit.”

“Thank you. I gladly accept your kind offer.”

“Then, the room there, through that door in the corner, will be for your use. Did you have a bag?”

“Yes, strapped behind my saddle. I believe Emil said the children would see to my horse?”

“I’ll corner one of ‘em, have ‘em bring your bag around.” Then, looking to her brother-in-law, she asked, “Where would you like to sit, Emil? I’ll leave this water on a table.”

“Right there will be fine, thank you, Christina.” He turned to Castillo. “In our home we are on familiar terms, Raul. Please call us by our Christian names.”

“Of course, Emil. Yes, the water will be appreciated.”

Christina set the tray on the table, then addressed Castillo, again. “Would you care for some spirits, Raul? Scotch whisky, rye, Kentucky bourbon, tequila?”

“No, no thank you, uh, Christina. Those always seem to make me feel warm and I am quite warm enough. This is a lovely spot, what with the fountain and the flower beds and the shade trees. And the water is appreciably cool.”

“Dinner is at six, Raul. No need to dress up. We’re a working ranch. Our only standard is that one be clean and neat. Again, welcome.” Christina walked back toward the kitchen. The two men sat on a pair of rockers.

“Emil, I am certain I was being observed and followed for at least the last few miles before I reached the hacienda.”

“More likely the last five miles. We are patrolling our approaches.”

“With your brother’s ranch appearing an armed camp, I might deduce the explosion was not the accident about which the Jackson county people reassured me.”

“No, I’m afraid not. A man hit Mister Baylor, Jacob—you’ll meet him later, he’s staying here—he was hit from behind. I saw the man run from the store. I ran up, and there was Jacob, laid out cold, with a half stick of dynamite next to him and the fuse burning at its end. I threw it out the door, but it exploded as it left my hand. I was deaf for one day, blind for three. My ribs have only just begun to mend.”

“I noticed you were moving stiffly. And your face exhibits the heat from the blast, still. You are either a lucky unlucky man, or an unlucky lucky one. Thank goodness you are recovering. I take it the sheriff has not located the perpetrator?”

“Oh, I’m quite confident the sheriff knows exactly who the culprit is. By the boot prints that were left by the man who ran away from the store just seconds before I found the dynamite, we’ve established that the assassin was one of the sheriff’s constant stream of new, young deputies. We’ve learned that that man has now left town.”

“Indeed? Assassination?” Castillo said with alarm. “You had mentioned their corruption, but I pictured simpler, non-lethal activities, like bribery or kickbacks, voting fraud. Which reminds me, I have some things to report, but perhaps in a more private setting.”

“Yes. I’m waiting for two more ... ah, here they are,” he said, as Gabriela and Cowboy came into the courtyard from the kitchen doorway. Castillo rose while Malik deferred to his ribs and remained in his chair.

“Raul, this is my fiance,” Castillo’s eyebrows shot up, “Missus Gabriela Lestly, owner and operator of the Smoky Valley Ranch. Gabriela, Señor Raul Castillo, an attorney, colleague, business partner, and friend, from Fort Birney.”

Castillo took her hand and bent over it in his courtly kissing gesture, then rose again and said, “Missus Lestly, I am honored, and I am pleased at the news of your engagement.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Señor Castillo. Emil has mentioned your joint ventures. But, please, call me Gabriela.”

“And I am Raul, Gabriela.”

Malik then said, “Raul, this is Cowboy Tsosie, my oldest friend, a man who has rescued me, more than once, from my own foolhardiness. His family has a large ranch in the Flat Grass Valley. Cowboy, Raul Castillo.”

“Mister Tsosie, if half the stories I’ve heard from Emil are true, then you must teach me how to walk on water.”

“Ya’at’eeh, Señor Castillo. I am glad to meet you.” Cowboy chuckled. “But where is your Indian companion? Shadow has me convinced that lawyers are unable to tie their own shoe laces without a more practical man to assist.”

“As may well be, Mister Tsosie. But who is ‘Shadow’?”

“Ah, I see he has not been all that forthcoming in his storytelling. I will have to correct that. Allow me to start now.” With a bow and flourish toward Malik, Cowboy said, “Señor Castillo, may I present Shadow, or Shichaha’oh, as he is known among the Navajo, Sonora, Ute, and Apache clans of this region.” He rose again with a broad grin.

Castillo raised his eyebrows. “Indeed, Emil? The stories you must not have told me.”

“Well, perhaps. But, Cowboy, Raul, we are all using our given names within the confines of the hacienda, so drop the honorifics, por favor. If you would, now, come, this way, over to my room. Thank you, Gabriela.” She had retrieved the water pitcher and glasses.

“It will be a bit warmer in here, but we will have privacy. Cowboy, if you’d shut the door. Take any seat, Raul. I’m going to stretch out on the bed. It is still helpful to my various aches and pains.”

Gabriela sat nearest the head of the bed, while Raul and Cowboy drew up chairs and settled on them, nearer its foot.

With his legs outstretched and his back upright against the headboard, Malik began, “Cowboy and Gabriela are both privy to the hotel plan, Raul. Other than our partnership group, they are the only ones. But since Andy and I are partners in everything, I will have to advise him, and very soon. He is assisting on our security patrols, so is not available at the moment. I expect him shortly, as the work day is about over. Cowboy, would you ask Christina to send Andy here when he comes in? Thanks.”

As Cowboy went out, Malik said, “Raul, naturally you will be our houseguest tonight and for as long as you’d care to stay. Perhaps you’d like the opportunity to relax in the country. We may appear to be an armed camp, but things have been quite peaceful out here, ever since we became aware of the problems with the sheriff and began our own security measures.”

Castillo smiled. “I would like that. I have heard of the Malik ranch and am happy for a chance to see it. I enjoyed the panorama as I came out of the hills to the west, the views of the lake as well as that of the river below the hacienda.”

“Maybe some fishing? Do you like to wet a hook?”

“I have not been fishing since I was a child, with mi padre (my father). That might be pleasant.”

“I’m sure we can outfit you with some appropriate clothing and gear. Speaking of which, you look a mite skinnier than when I last saw you in Fort Birney.”

“I, ah, have been exercising more, walking every day to my office, eating a bit more, ahh, judiciously.”

“A sure sign of a new romantic interest,” Gabriela said.

Castillo blushed. “Not really.”

Cowboy chose that moment to return, Andy in tow.

“Raul, this is my brother, Anders. This is, in effect, his ranch. Andy, this is my friend and colleague, Raul Castillo. He is an attorney from up in Fort Birney and a partner in a new business I’m starting.”

Andy, reaching to shake hands, said. “Oh-oh. We’ve got a two-attorney meeting going here. Hold on to your money. Señor Castillo, Raul, welcome to our ranch. I have other partners besides my brother, too.”

“Pleasure to meet you. The reputation of your ranch is substantial.”

“Mostly our father’s doing, at this point, but we have plans.” Andy said. When he looked for a chair, he saw Cowboy was sitting on the raised hearth of the small adobe fireplace in the corner of the room. Andy made eye contact, then nodded toward the last vacant chair. With Cowboy’s wave-off, Andy took the seat. “So, big brother, what are you up to, now?”

“Just so everyone understands, this information is confidential. The only other people privy to it are the other two partners. I am the senior partner, the others are all junior. Raul’s interest is also time-limited. You, Andy, according to our agreement, hold forty-nine percent of my share.”

Andy said, “I think we should bring Christina in on this. I keep no secrets from her, and she has been a big help in managing things.”

Malik said, “Of course, you’re right, little brother. I wasn’t thinking.” He was shaking his head. “Is she around?”

“She’s in the kitchen with Maria.”

“Well, then, let’s move this back into the courtyard. We can always start talking about fishing if anyone walks in,” Malik said. “Andy, would you please invite her?”

Five minutes later, they were seated in the corner nearest to door to the front room and Malik was explaining: “Specifically, we have made a bid to purchase the old Jackson County Courthouse under the guise of a large seed and feed concern, supposedly looking for a distribution warehouse and sales location. This was done to keep the Malik name out of the negotiations. Our real intention is to open a quality hotel and restaurant, which will be called The Old Courthouse Inn. The other two partners are an experienced lodging manager and an even more experienced cook.”

Andy said, “You should’ve got that retired sergeant from the Officer’s Mess in Fort Birney. I’ve never been disappointed there.”

“A great idea, little brother. That’s exactly who it is.”

“Then, if you’re that smart, Shichaha’oh, you’ll have recruited whoever it is that runs the Fort Birney Lodge. That’s the best kept, friendliest, and most comfortable hotel I’ve stayed in, this side of Saint Louis.”

“As indeed I have,” Malik replied. “Mitchel Anderson, their manager, is from London, England. His real accent is from the dirt-poor Cockney neighborhood where he grew up, but he can fake that high-tone British style like he was born to it. And he loves to make people feel at home. The retired Army mess sergeant is Joe Collins, a freed slave and former Buffalo Soldier. He can cook for two or two hundred, and make everyone feel like it’s special.”

Malik settled against the chairback. “What I want us to do is to offer a dining and lodging facility that combines the best of what those men brought to Fort Birney. I don’t want to compete with the Rademachers. We will not offer what might be called family-style fare, but a more imaginative and specialized menu. As for lodging, the Railroad Arms is an embarrassment to the community. Maybe it’s good enough for people traveling cheap, but I want something better to attract businessmen and for people from out of town who have dealings with the county government, the bank, or local businesses.