Chapter 21

New Mexico Territory, April, 1897

I picked up my horse and resumed my wandering. I headed for the nearest courthouse to restock my file of wanted posters. As I had done previously, I culled my file and took the stack of new posters to the nearest saloon to study.

Judging from the new posters, kidnapping had become very popular. It looked like I could expect to run into a kidnapping case at almost any time. I had found that most kidnappers were not very smart and could be caught with only a moderate amount of effort.

It wasn't long afterward that I ran into my first kidnapping of the season. I was in a saloon talking to the bartender when I found out that a local prominent merchant in town had suffered the kidnapping of his 14-year-old daughter just the day before. This looked like the opportunity I was looking for, so I went to see the merchant.

Mr. Silas Jones was not too happy to see me because he thought I wanted too much money, $10 per day and expenses. I pointed out that there was nobody else around to try to find his daughter, so that Mr. Jones was going to have to pay the ransom demand of $2500 if he wanted to see his daughter again. I also pointed out that I usually got results within a week. Furthermore, the longer he diddled, the more likely his daughter would be raped or even sold into a Mexican brothel. Her blond hair would bring a high price for a sex-slave. This shook him up and he hired me on the spot!

I asked for as much information as he had. I seemed that she had been riding with her boyfriend, properly chaperoned by her aunt, when they had been attacked by three men. The men had ordered, at the point of a gun, that the boyfriend and the aunt dismount. The kidnappers had then ridden off with the girl and all the horses. It took the boyfriend and aunt almost four hours to walk back to town to report the incident. There was no marshal in the town, so, as far as Mr. Jones knew, no one had been out to look at the crime scene or done anything else to catch the kidnappers.

Since it was early enough in the afternoon, I told Mr. Jones that I would start work immediately by investigating the location of the crime. I asked him to accompany me to find the boyfriend and get him to take me to the proper location. We found the boyfriend and he was willing to assist.

The three of us rode out to take a look. He showed me the crime scene and I asked the two to return to town as the tracking I wanted to do was really a one-man job. Somewhat reluctantly, the two left and I started casting about for sign.

Right away, I found their tracks. After all, six horses leave a lot of tracks. I followed the tracks for a few miles and then lost them on hardpan. I began casting around for the resumption of their track when I had the solution dumped into my lap. They were holed up in a small cave right at the edge of the hardpan. It was just by the greatest of luck that I had not stumbled onto them unexpectedly. I pulled away as quietly as I could and found a place to leave my horse. I took my rifle, although I did not expect an opportunity to use it. Of course, my canteen went along.

I sneaked back to the cave entrance and moved as close as I dared. I could not see into the cave, but I could hear the men talking. From what I heard, I gathered that they planned to deliver an ultimatum to Silas Jones that he pay up within three days, or they would take his daughter to Mexico.

I also learned that while there was no water supply within the cave, there was a good spring about 150 yards away. This gave me the key to retrieving the girl. I was sure that I could take out the next man who went for water. Another man would have to come looking when the first man did not return. I could also take him out, leaving only one kidnapper with the girl. I was sure I could kill him with a well placed shot, and that would eliminate the bad guys.

It was not long before a kidnapper came walking out of the cave carrying four canteens. I left my rifle in a safe place and followed him. It's not easy to walk with four large empty canteens, much less four full ones. I decided to wait until he had filled the canteens and was returning before I attacked him. I found a cleft in the rocks and waited.

I let the kidnapper pass me on the way back. Just as he walked by, I jumped him with my bowie knife at the ready. I easily cut the thug's throat from behind. I nearly took his head off, and he dropped in his tracks. I quickly pulled him into the rock cleft to cut down on the amount of blood I would have to hide. I cut off one of his pants legs to use to wipe up the blood on the rocks and used his hat to carry sand from a hidden location to cover the blood on the ground.

I had hardly finished cleaning up the blood when I heard the next man approaching. I had not done as good a cleaning job as I had hoped; the approaching kidnapper stopped and drew his gun. I knew when he did this that I would have to shoot him, so I did. I never miss at this range; there was only one kidnapper left. I knew he must have heard the shot, so I ran as fast as I could toward the cave.

I was sure that I had lost all chance to kill the last kidnapper by sniping, so I didn't stop to retrieve my rifle. I dashed up to the mouth of the cave and ran in. This would ordinarily be a very stupid and probably fatal maneuver, but it was the only quick way to gain entrance to the cave. I figured on the last thug being uncertain of the reason for only one shot, thus he would not be expecting an enemy to approach him so boldly. He was standing to one side of the girl and just turning toward me when I drew my pistol and fired. This quick shot caught him in the belly, but did not kill him. As he fell, he tried to draw his gun, but I put another bullet in to him, this time his head.

I quickly reassured the girl that I was here to help, not hurt her. I cut her bonds and helped her to sit up. I asked if she had been hurt. She said no, but she had been embarrassed when they all watched while she used the chamber pot. I promised not to do that, and she laughed.

By now, it was getting dark. I asked the girl if she were willing to spend one more night in the cave, since it would be dangerous to the horses for us to try to get her home in the dark. She agreed, so I dragged the corpse out of sight and went to get the canteens the first thug had been carrying. I went for my rifle and my horse and cared for her while the girl was preparing a simple supper for us.

We relaxed with a cup of coffee and she told me of being very frightened while she was a captive because the kidnappers talked of selling her to a brothel in Mexico even if her father paid the ransom. I suggested that she get herself a gun and learn to use it; she could carry it in a belly holster for a quick draw. If she didn't want to be seen with a gun, she could wear it under her shirt or dress with an inconspicuous slit cut so that she could draw the gun. Of course, this could not be a fast draw, but it would always insure availability. She thought this was an excellent idea and asked me to show her how to do it. I promised to help.

The next morning, I checked the dead men to see if any were on my list. Unfortunately, none were, so we just left them for the animals to dine on. We went into town to find Mr. Jones. I charged him for two days and waived the expenses. Miss Jones selected a .32 pistol and belly holster from her father's stock and I showed her how to wear it. She was very pleased with herself and looked at her father as if daring him to complain.

The next few saloons didn't produce much useful information, though I did win a little more than usual at poker. I guess that kept the time from being totally wasted. I wasn't getting rich with poker, but my winnings seemed to keep up with my daily expenses, so I was not unhappy.

The saloon I was in at this time was a little higher class than average. The mirror behind the bar was clean and the spittoons didn't stink as much as usual. They even required that a customer check his gun at the door; I left two (like most professionals, I never gave up my hideout gun). The bouncer was one of the largest men I have ever seen and he stood as intimidatingly as Cerberus at the gates of Hades. Most of the customers wore business suits and talked quietly, instead of shouting. All in all, it was as pleasant as any gentleman's club.

Much of the talk was of the current national financial situation and whether the railroad would ever come to town. The previous year's mini financial panic had them worried that the railroad might run out of money before it could reach this far. They hoped that the current rosier financial picture would help the railroad recover, because the town needed the railroad if it were ever to amount to anything. In the meantime, there were three competing freight lines and a stagecoach company which served the area well enough to keep shipping costs down to a bearable level.

The least successful of the the freight lines might have to go out of business, though, if it had any more accidents. It seemed to be plagued by bad luck and old man Tate, the owner, couldn't seem to get a handle on the causes. The most common problems seemed to be wheel breakage and sick draft animals, but there were occasionally other difficulties.

This made me wonder if there was more to Mr. Tate's problems than just bad luck, so I planned to visit him in the morning. Mr. Jefferson Tate (call me Jeff) was a very likable man about 60 years old. He had the look of a man who had weathered all kinds of adversity and was not about to give up to a "little bad luck." He agreed to hire me on an unusual contract: I'd get $100 if I could stop the "accidents," and nothing if I couldn't. This was definitely not the kind of contract I would normally consider taking, but I liked Jeff so much that I went along.

I asked to see a broken wheel, but Jeff said that he didn't have any. As soon as a wheel broke, he sent it out for repair to the wheelwright down the street. I then asked about his animals, particularly the feed. He said that all of his animals were in good shape at this time, but I was welcome to take a look and check his feed supply.