Chapter 16

They returned to Waypoint on Tuesday, the twenty-seventh of March, the Quincys going on to Dorado Springs.

Malik requested that the Sonora corporate “war council,” consisting of the Maliks, the Quincys, Lewin, Bream, Blue Maize, Long Hand, Walks-On-Sand, Moccasin Woman and Stream-In-Winter, meet on the following Thursday afternoon and Friday morning at Dorado Springs.

On Thursday morning, Malik and his brother, along with Bream, and Lewin, were in Malik’s car, drinking coffee. Peng was standing in the front cabin, by the entrance door. The southbound had just arrived and they were waiting for his car to be picked up for the trip to Dorado Springs. There was a knock at the door and, a few seconds later, Connor Lonegan came into the cabin, grim faced.

Behind him there was another tall man wearing a marshal’s star. He was not smiling, either. Peng followed them in.

Malik stood and said, “Connor?”

“Emil, fellas, good to see ya’ll. Odd circumstances, though.” Indicating the other man, Lonegan said, “Emil, this is Marshal Josiah Whitaker from Galveston. He’s from the federal court district of east Texas. Josiah, this is Marshal Emil Malik.”

Malik reached to shake hands with Whitaker at the same time that Lonegan added, “He’s carrying a warrant for your arrest.” Malik hesitated briefly, but then completed the gesture, and the men clasped hands. Malik then shook hands with Lonegan.

Andy said, “Sit down, Connor, Marshal Whitaker, have some coffee.”

Lonegan turned to Whitaker and said, “This here is Marshal Malik’s brother, Sometimes Deputy Marshal Andy Malik. These two are the Marshal’s law partners, Wil Bream and David Lewin. The fierce-looking lady standing over there is Deputy Marshal Peng Yan. She’s the Marshal’s bodyguard.” Whitaker gave Lonegan a sideways glance at that last introduction, but then shook hands all around, offering a nod toward Peng, which she did not acknowledge. Then Whitaker lowered himself into the proffered seat.

Bream asked, “With what is Emil charged, Marshal Whitaker?”

Whitaker, looking uncomfortable, cleared his throat and replied, “Assault with a deadly weapon and attempted murder.”

“Against whom were these offenses committed, and at what time?” Bream continued.

As Whitaker was removing the warrant from an inside coat pocket he said, “Against Edwin Nestor, on,” he looked at the document he was unfolding, “March fourteenth of this year at a place called Micah Spring Siding.”

“Who signed the warrant?”

“Judge Horatio Nestor of the Fifth Federal Judicial Circuit, the US District Court for Eastern Texas.”

“Horatio Nestor is Edwin Nestor’s father, I believe?” Bream queried.

“I believe he is.”

Lonegan interrupted. “Let me cut this short.

“Josiah, here, was sent on a fool’s errand. He had no idea Emil was a federal marshal and he’d been leading a federal posse under Judge Westcott’s say-so at the time of this, ah, incident. Judge Westcott said that if Josiah could arrest Emil, then I could arrest Josiah for assault on a federal officer. So, there’s the long and short of it.”

Just then, the car was bumped as the couplings knuckled together.

Malik asked, “You fellas have your luggage, because we’re about to leave for Dorado Springs?”

“Out front, on the platform,” Lonegan replied.

“I’ll get it,” Andy said, rising from his chair.

“Thanks, Andy,” Lonegan said.

“Yeah, uh, thanks,” Whitaker echoed.

Before Andy reached the doorway to the front cabin, Gerald Timmons, in his conductor’s uniform, came in, carrying a carpet bag and a leather portmanteau. “Don’t reckon you marshals wanted to leave these out there while we’re under way, did you?”

Lonegan said, “No, we didn’t. Thanks, Mister Timmons.”

Malik said, “Care for some coffee, Mister Timmons?”

“No, thank you, Mister Malik. We’ve got a pot up in the express car. I just wanted to make sure everything was squared away here. I’ll be on my way.” He headed back toward the door when he paused and turned to face the table, again. “Oh, that reminds me. We won’t be spotting your car at the end of the wye at the Springs, like we usually do, Mister Malik. They’re using that to store some boxcars with furniture and such for the new hotel. We’re going to put you on the old coal siding. Will that work for you, until those other cars are cleared out?”

“I’m sure it will, Mister Timmons.”

Timmons touched the bill of his cap, said, “Good day, then,” and went out. He could be heard crossing the roof a few moments later.

Malik turned to Lonegan, “So, what does Judge Westcott want me to do?

“Well, he’s sent a wire to Judge Nestor, explaining the situation, and specifyin’ the charges against Edwin. In point of fact, a Marshal’s only got jurisdiction in his own district, though it’s customary to assume that there’s reciprocal jurisdiction between districts throughout the country. For this warrant, Judge Westcott has withdrawn that privilege for this district.”

“So, I can’t leave eastern Arenoso?”

Whitaker said, “Likely any federal judge would bury this warrant, once the why and wherefore of it were known. So, maybe all’s you really need to do is to stay out a’ east Texas. And even there, I’ll make sure no one in my office is actively looking for you, so, maybe it’s just the federal courthouse in Galveston you need to stay clear of.” By now, Whitaker was grinning.

Emil was shaking his head. Andy was smiling. Bream and Lewin looked exasperated. Peng was closely watching Whitaker.

Lonegan said, “There’s more.” He turned to Whitaker. “Go ahead. Tell ‘em who wrangled Nestor’s appointment to the federal bench.”

Whitaker looked bewildered. He asked Lonegan, “You mean...? But why?”

“Just tell ‘em. They’ll appreciate knowin’.”

Whitaker shrugged and turned back to the table. “When Judge Nestor was a younker, up near Fort Worth, he was best friends with a fella who moved out here to Arenoso, just before it was made a state. That friend was ya’all’s first senator, Paulus Ranford.”

Both Malik brothers’ faces immediately fell. Andy said, “You’ve got to be kidding.”

Lewin looked puzzled, but Bream said, “Wasn’t he related to the Banks over here?”

Whitaker looked at Lonegan, who just shook his head and said, sotto vocé, “Long story.”

Malik said, to all, “The short version is, Senator Ranford was behind a major land-stealing scam here in Jackson County and down in Sonora County. The Banks brothers, who were county officials here, were also the Senator’s kin, nephews, supposedly. They kidnapped women to sell to Mexican brothels, had several of our friends murdered, tried to kill several others, had Andy beaten and thrown in jail, and sent a posse after me on a totally bogus charge, not unlike the one that brought the marshal here. There was even a Banks that was part of that Texas Ranger troop that Nestor led here a couple weeks ago. That Banks was a Ranger captain, and he was shot dead by one of his own men.

“Senator Ranford and one of the Banks brothers, who was our sheriff, died in a steamboat explosion back east a few years ago. Last year, the other brother was knifed to death by one of his cronies, Ranford’s own son, in fact. The son was later killed by a federal posse, but not until he’d murdered seven people in a single day, including our new sheriff and our stationmaster,” Malik finished, shaking his head.

Andy said, “And he killed a deputy marshal, my brother’s best friend.” He put his hand on Malik’s shoulder.

Whitaker said, “That’s a helluva thing.”

Lonegan nodded. “Ain’t it, though.”

At Dorado Springs, Lonegan and Whitman went to the courthouse seeking Nathan Ulney. Whitman had expressed interest in the Sonora deputies and Lonegan figured they could check to see how things were going.

The corporate war council met in the recently enclosed and roofed front room of the new Hacienda. There were two small adobe fireplaces, one each in opposite corners of the room. Wood fires held off the early spring chill. However, no furnishings had been installed, save for the rough, sawhorse-supported table at which they met, and the simple restaurant-style kitchen chairs from the Dos Picos salvage.

Adobe is an ancient construction method, known the world over, at least in arid climes. The word, adobe, itself, is thought to have originated from an ancient Egyptian word adopted into Arabic as at-tubu, the term descending through the millennia, with relatively minor variations, into several languages. This included the Spanish form, adobar, which was brought to the Americas, though the mud brick construction method, itself, had long been traditional in many pre-Columbian cultures.

While adobe construction was labor-intensive, it was also fairly simple, demanding neither precision nor advanced skills. The only tools actually required were some manner of brick molds. Squares and plumb-bobs were wholly superfluous, as long as common sense prevailed. The brick and the mortar components, as well as their proportions, were determined by time-tested traditions and available materials. The basic constituents were sand, clay, and an organic element, such as straw, grass, or even fibrous animal dung. These ingredients were mixed with water to form a thick paste which was packed into a form or mold. After several hours to allow the mud to begin to dry and solidify, with some attendant shrinkage, the mold was removed and the adobe block was placed on edge to dry completely.

In the American southwest and much of Mexico, adobe bricks tended to be roughly fourteen inches in length, nine or so inches in width, and about four inches thick, though sizes could vary by local tradition and purposed use.

Also common In the Americas, where snow load wasn’t an issue, adobe structures often featured flat roofs, pitched just enough to quickly shed water. Such roofs were supported by an underlayment of wood components. First, beams, often just peeled logs of appropriate diameter. Such a beam was called a viga (VEE-guh), and they were set to span from wall-to-wall or to an intervening viga supported by posts. The vigas served as joists to carry smaller, perpendicular cross-pieces, called a latilla (la-TEE-yah), typically made from peeled saplings. The latillas were placed snugly against one another in a tight array, then were usually topped by a mesh of twigs and small branches. Then, adobe blocks were placed on top of those three layers and were sealed with an adobe mortar. The mortar usually was made with the same ingredients as the bricks, but without the fibrous organic component ur very little of it.

Since the bricks were simply air-dried, they were not waterproof. As a result, they would break down if soaked in water. Hence their use was confined to the planet’s drier regions. Even so, there were techniques to protect the bricks and the structures from the occasional rain. A mud stucco coating was often applied to the surface of the walls; it was easily replaced if it was washed off by rain. Roofs were pitched at shallow angles to channel water through wood-sheathed drain spouts at the edge of the roof, spilling the water away from the walls below. A heavy mud stucco coating was also applied to the roof, which overlay required periodic restoration.

One of the significant features of an adobe brick structure was the temperature moderating effects of its compressed mass. As part of a wall or ceiling, its thick, dense composition slowed thermal transfer, keeping the heat outside during summer and inside during winter. Structures were also highly fire-resistant and, for the day, notably resistant to small projectiles, such as arrows and spears, or bullets from personal sidearms.

A properly cared-for adobe building could stand for centuries.

“Here’s what I’ve been thinking.” Malik had already reported on the visit to Dos Picos and made note of some of the additional equipment and materiel that was destined for Waypoint and Dorado Springs. Then he asked for the groups’ opinion on some ideas he’d had. “To better suit our tourism business, I think we should keep Dorado Springs as, uh non-commercial ... no, that’s not exactly what I mean. Ah, maybe, undeveloped?” He looked at his brother.

Andy prompted, “You think it should stay much as it is now, without a white man-style commercial district.”

“Yes, exactly. And we play up the Sonora village as the main reason for the town. We can let commercial growth occur east of the tracks, where much of the view is blocked by the trees that grow along the spring run and by those in the pecan grove.”

Bream asked, “Are all those trees on the section we own?”

“Yes,” Andy said. “The section’s eastern line is just beyond the Jesuit mission.”

Bream said, “Then we’d better let it be known that those trees should not be cut down.”

Blue Maize said, “I will talk to the elders’ council. They will let it be known.”

Malik said, “Do folks pick up the pecans in the fall?”

“Both the Sonora and the Mexicans collect them,” Morton Quincy said. “I doubt many are missed.”

“Blue Maize, has there been any conflict between the People and the Mexican families over the pecan harvest?” Malik asked.

“No, Shadow. The Mexican’s see the land much the same as the People see it. Mexicans are mostly part Indio. It was the Mexican government and the Federales with which the People fought. We do not get together as a group, but many of the People have friends who are Mexican. There have been some marriages. The pecan harvest has never been a problem.”

Lewin said, “Maybe we should plant more trees and have a cash crop, sell to the tourists.”

Andy said, “There’s a few young trees that have started south of the spring run. There’s room for more.”

“That’s a good idea. I think Mexicans use them more in ways that would attract buyers, in baked goods and sweetmeats,” Malik noted. “If I’m not mistaken, the Sonora just eat them as is,” Malik looked to see Moccasin Woman nodding. He said, “We need someone to manage that, get it underway.”

“How about Miguel’s mother, the woman with the rental houses? She seems pretty energetic,” Andy said.

“Do you know her, Blue Maize?” Malik queried.

The business of the group went on in that vein.

The next morning, the war council met with the Sonora County Board of Judges and other county officials: the county clerk, the tax assessor, county attorney, and Sheriff Ulney. The largest room in the county courthouse, a former Franciscan mission, had been the mission’s chapel. That space now served as the county’s general meeting room and as its largest courtroom. It was there the conference took place.

As was their custom, the three judges sat behind a table on the low dais. Llewellyn Bennet, the Chief Judge, banged a gavel twice and said to the group gathered on the benches, “This is an informal meeting organized at the request of Mister Emil Malik and Chief Blue Maize. While I have been requested to chair this meeting, it is not an official meeting of the board of judges.