Chapter 14

New Mexico Territory, January, 1895

Christmas with the kids was heaven on earth! Just like last year, we had strung up popcorn ropes and made wreathes; so much of both that they were almost a safety hazard. Not only did the kids get presents from me, but they had also made presents for each other. They had even made a present for me: an Indian-style "medicine bag" for me to wear on a thong around my neck. There was a lot of laughing and crying all round, including me for both. I sure loved those guys!

This had been the perfect place for me to recuperate, my wound didn't bother me at all. I had almost forgotten it and there was no pain, either walking or riding. It was time for me to leave; but I hated to more this time than last.

I rode back toward Goshen to stop in at the saloons to catch up on the latest developments. I had left the last line of trees before the road when I saw the wagon with the broken wheel. You got so that you expected a wagon wheel to break every few months if you were on the road very much. Rocks and holes in the road played Hell with wagon wheels. I rode up to see if I could be of any help.

A very pregnant woman was kneeling beside a man lying in the road. He was obviously injured, but not dead. When I got close enough, I could see that the man's leg was broken. They really were in a fix! The woman said that her husband, who was still out cold on the ground, had fallen from the wagon when the wheel broke; the broken wheel was on the left front, the driver's side. As he fell, he both hit his head and broke his leg. The accident happened as they were rushing to the midwife in Goshen; her pains had started. Of course, they had a spare wheel, but neither of them was in any condition to repair it right then.

They were both in such dire straits that I knew quick action was required. I told the woman to do what she could for her husband; I was going for help. I raced back to the kids as fast as I could go. When I arrived a few minutes later, I told them the situation and asked for their help; all three agreed, immediately. Bobby ran to hitch the wagon and mule, while Sue and Ann fetched all of the blankets in the house and I carried two mattresses out to the wagon.

We were ready to go in less than ten minutes. Bobby drove while the two girls rode with him and I rode my horse. We raced back to the accident scene and prepared to help. We made the two mattresses into beds in the wagon and spread the blankets. As carefully as I could, I lifted the man into our wagon and placed him on one of the beds. I then picked up the woman and laid her beside her husband on the other bed. The woman said that she couldn't wait, so we went back to the kids' home, since it was much closer than Goshen.

Bobby drove as quickly and as carefully as he could. Fortunately, the man was still unconscious, so the unavoidable bumping did not cause him additional pain. When we arrived, first the woman was moved inside, then the man. They were placed on the two bottom bunks and made as comfortable as possible. Sue and Ann then helped the woman to remove her clothes. Meanwhile, Bobby and I brought the bedding in from the wagon and put it on the top bunks. The woman, Susan Jones, was made as comfortable as possible while I looked after her husband, Jack.

I carefully removed Jack's clothes, doing as little damage to them as possible. Once he was naked and under cover, I flipped the blanked aside enough to look at his right leg and the break. I had already checked his head and could find nothing that I could help with; the skin was not even broken.

The break in Jack's leg appeared to be a simple one, not a compound fracture, so it was something I could deal with. I had set several broken legs in my years of wandering, so I was sure that I could do as good a job as any doctor. It actually would be fairly easy, since he was still unconscious. I had Bobby help by holding Jack as I pulled his leg back into place, which I was able to do on the first try. Bobby and I held Jack while Ann held the splint in place and Sue tied it on.

I was concerned that Jack still was not waking up, but there was nothing that we could do. Meanwhile, Susan started into delivery. None of us had any actual experience with midwifery, but we all knew about the mechanics of babies being born because of our experience with animals. Therefore, we were able to render Susan the help she needed. In a time short enough to relieve all of us, Susan delivered a girl. We knew how to treat the umbilical cord and that worry was out of the way soon enough. Ann cleaned up the baby and gave her to Susan to hold. Susan decided, subject to Jack's approval, to name the baby Sueann. The two girls were pleased beyond all measure.

Jack woke up with a frightful headache about two hours later. We had nothing to give him for the pain in his head or his leg, but we did sooth him by showing him his new daughter. A couple of hours later, we all, including Sueann, had supper.

Before it got dark, Bobby and I repaired Jack Jones' wagon and drove it back to the house. Bobby put the horse in the corral with the others and fed them all.

By then, it was time for us to sort out places to sleep. Ann and Sue slept in the top bunks and Bobby and I joined the horses.

Jack, Susan, and Sueann stayed with us for nearly a month. Bobby and I did go to their farm to look after it enough to keep it running until the owners could return. After they returned home, Bobby went by a couple of times a week to check on them until Jack had fully recovered.

I stayed around until early-February, and then I moved on.

I had been out of circulation so long that I needed to go by a courthouse and renew my stock of wanted posters. Goshen was growing fast, but it did not yet have a fullfledged courthouse, so I pushed on. The next town I came to was a bit older and a bit larger, so there was a courthouse where I could stop. I went in and asked to see their file of wanted posters. I got some smart-aleck clerk who wanted to know why I wanted to see his precious files. I told him I was a bounty hunter and had a complete right to see the files. He still refused, saying I needed a court order to look at them.

I blew up at this stupidity and went to find a judge. When I told him the problem, the judge burst out laughing and explained that the clerk had only been on the job for a week. He was the son of a local politician and so full of himself, it was a wonder that he could fit through the door. The judge told me that he would take care of things and I should follow him.

The judge walked up to the clerk and asked, "Mortimer Blandings, do you know who I am?"

"Y... y... yes, sir, Judge Zigler. I know who you are." stammered the clerk.

"Do you know this gentleman?" asked the judge as he pointed toward me.

"Only that he claims to be a bounty hunter, sir."

"Well, do you realize that he cannot do his work unless he knows who is wanted?"

"I hadn't thought of that, sir," mumbled the clerk.

"Well, now that you do, you will assist him in any way he requests or you will be looking for another job! I don't care who your father is! Now, get off your ass and become the public servant you were hired to be!" thundered the judge. At that, the judge turned around, winked at me, and marched with phenomenal judicial dignity back to his office.

I had no further trouble from Mr. Blandings!

There had been a lot of changes to the wanted list in the nearly four months that I had been otherwise occupied, so I had a lot of work to do. I took the stack of new posters to the nearest saloon and sat down with a beer to begin studying them. I hadn't been at it very long, when some bozo with too much to drink, strutted up to me and said in a very loud voice, "I'll bet you are one of those dirty bounty hunters. I hate bounty hunters. You're nothing but a bunch of leaches and thieves."

I stared at him in surprise. There were a few other men in the saloon at the time and they all looked at us to see what this entertainment was all about. I asked, "Are you trying to start trouble, or are you just too drunk to know what you are doing?"

The bozo looked a little confused and then started to draw his gun. I was still seated, and he must have had no idea that I had a cross-draw pistol conveniently to hand. I'm sure he thought that I would have to stand to shoot, and this would give him a big advantage. Of course, I made no effort to stand. I drew from my sitting position and blew a big hole in his chest from around the side of the table. He probably was dead before he hit the floor; I am sure I caught his heart.

All of the spectators had obviously expected a different outcome from this affair; they looked surprised and a few also looked amused. The bartender sent the swamper for the sheriff, who showed up in a short time. I explained the essentials of the shooting and the witnesses all backed me up, so the sheriff nodded his head and went to get the undertaker. By the time the sheriff returned with the undertaker, the swamper had mop and sawdust ready to clean up the blood. The sheriff told me to forget the whole thing; he saw it as a clear case of self defense.

I stood a round for the house and asked several people if they knew of any business that I would be interested in. Nobody had heard anything useful to me, but they were all eager to talk about my recent gunfight. It seems that the bozo I had just shot was a notorious bully who had been a problem around town for years. Not a person in the saloon, not even the ones who came in after the fact, were the least bit sorry to see him go. For lack of anything else to do, I went back to my study of the wanted posters.