Chapter 14

As I approached the young man to help him from under the horse, he pulled a hideout gun and demanded, "Show me your left hand. Come on! I mean it!" Shrugging my shoulders, I held out my left hand. "Turn it over so I kin see the base of yer thumb!" Still not knowing what was going on, I turned my hand to show my thumb. "I'm saved! Thank you, sir! Now, if ya'll be so kind as ta he'p me from under this here horse, I'll explain what is going on."

It was a struggle, but the two of us, working together, finally got the young man from under the horse. I checked and, thankfully, the leg was not broken, though it was undoubtedly banged and bruised. As soon as the person stood up, I knew that I had been mistaken, it was not a young man—it was a young woman! I was embarrassed because I had almost insisted that those pants come off so that I could examine the leg more closely. Jane would have killed me! Oh, well, I got away with one!

She said, "Thank you so much for saving my life. I'm Janet Hardy."

"Ya're welcome, ma'am. I'm Bill Lang, the sheriff of Chaves County. I'm pleased to have been of assistance. Please tell me why they were chasing ya."

She smiled a most captivating smile and said, "I'm sure you won't believe it, but I'm a confidential investigator trying to get evidence to expose the Brotherhood in New Mexico Territory. If ya'll look at the base of the left thumb on any of these men, ya'll see a strange tattoo. Please look before I tell ya more."

I did as she asked and found a small tattoo of a burning cross. "I've never seen the likes, before, ma'am. What does it mean?"

"It's the mark of a secret society that's an offshoot of the KKK. They make the KKK look like abolitionists, but they hate Negroes, Jews, and Catholics about equally."

"But why were they trying ta kill ya, ma'am?"

"They found out that I'm on my way ta Roswell ta try ta find the chief Brotherhood organizer in this section of NMT. His name is Ephrem Zimboldt, and I plan ta kill 'im ifen I can't arrest 'im."

"That's why I'm goin' to Roswell, too. I got some information that Zimboldt will be at the Crystal Saloon 6 days from now. Do ya know 'im when ya see 'im"

"Oh, wonderful! That's the one missing piece of information that I needed. No, I don't know 'im except by a description. How 'bout ya?"

"Naw. I got the same problem. I only got a description. But I think I kin spot 'im."

"Well. Sheriff Lang, it looks to me like we got enough between us ta git Zimboldt ifen ya'll let me work with ya."

"Yes, ma'am, it shore looks like we should work together, I got a good deputy in Roswell what kin he'p us, so we got three people we kin depend on to catch that bastard. Oops! Sorry, ma'am, that slipped out."

"Don't worry about it, Sheriff. I agree with ya. Ifen ya'd be so kind as ta cotch one of them horses fer me, we kin be on our way. My leg is a bit stiff and sore right now, so I'd appreciate the he'p."

After examining the 8 corpses for information and taking their valuables, I dragged them from the road and left them for the coyotes. Janet and I resumed our journey to Roswell and arrived in mid-afternoon. We found George Hamilton and explained our hunt for Zimboldt. I could tell that George and Janet were attracted to each other almost from the moment they met, so I tried to stay out of their way!

We agreed that George should be the one that made inquiries for Zimboldt, since he might recognize either Janet or me and bolt from town. We still had a few days before we expected to find Zimboldt, so we had time to work out our plans. The first thing we needed was the layout of the Crystal Saloon.

George could get that for us by the simple expedient of becoming a customer.

That evening, George joined the patrons in the saloon for a beer and some observation time. As in most saloons, the main door was exactly opposite the bar, which stretched the length of one wall. The saloon floor was about 40 feet from the main door to the bar and 50 feet wide. There was a balcony over the bar with stairs at either end of the balcony, along the walls. This balcony gave access to several rooms. One of the rooms was available for business meetings and the other rooms, much smaller, were used by the saloon "girls" and their clients. Two poker tables, one on either side under the stairs, were the saloon's official gaming sites.

A piano player sat at his instrument between the bottom of the stairs and the front wall to the left of the entrance beside a small stage. The opposite wall was lined with chairs and there were several tables with chairs set about the rest of the room. Thus, the Crystal Saloon was typical of the higher class of emporium offering an evening's entertainment.

The employees appeared to be 3 bartenders, the piano player, a swamper who spent most of his time moping up spilled drinks and vomit, and 5 saloon "girls." Personally, I suspect that the 5 prostitutes turned up most of the profit for the establishment, the rest of the operation was to entertain potential customers while they waited their turn with the women.

Our rendezvous with Zimboldt wouldn't happen until Wednesday, so we had some time to kill. I spent my time in the county court house talking with the "other" public servants while Janet and George got to know each other real well.

There was no way that Janet was going to fool anyone with half an eye into thinking that she was a man, so she would not be able to go into the saloon. Therefore, she covered the back entrance, in case Zimboldt tried to run that way. I covered the front entrance from the sidewalk across the street. George went in and looked around for our quarry.

Zimboldt was nowhere to be seen, so George asked one of the bartenders where Zimboldt might be, claiming to have an appointment with him. George was told that Zimboldt was in the upstairs meeting room with some other men and had left word that he didn't want to be disturbed until after 4:00 PM. George thanked the bartender and left the saloon.

We went around back and discussed the situation with Janet. She suggested that we go to a restaurant for coffee while we waited until 4:00 o'clock. Actually, she wanted to get back early and watch the men leave Zimboldt's meeting. She wanted to see their faces for future reference because she was sure that they would all be members of the Brotherhood.

We discussed possible ways to manage getting her inside the saloon, and Janet told us not to worry. She left us about half an hour before we were scheduled to return to the saloon, and we sat in the restaurant waiting for her. Jamet never returned, but some old geeser staggered up to our table and plopped himself down in the chair that Janet had vacated.

I was about to object to this impertinence when George burst out laughing. It was then that I recognized Janet under the makeup! I was flabbergasted! Janet could easily fool anyone who wasn't too close, so we figured that we could sit at the side of the room and keep others far enough away from her to protect her disguise. That way, she could see the men as they left the meeting.

We got to the saloon about 3:45 and found a place to sit. George went to the bar and bought 3 mugs of beer. They sat, nursing their beer, while we waited for Zimboldt's meeting to break up. Finally it did, a little late, as one would expect, and several men filed out of the room.

As one particular individual walked out, Janet began to seethe. She turned to me and said, "I'll have to pass on Zimboldt! That man who just left the meeting is somebody I've been chasing for 3 years an' I can't take a chance on 'im gittin' away! I'm sorry, but ya'll jus' have to git along without me!" With that pronouncement, Janet got up and left us.

George and I stared at each other for a moment. I shrugged and we went back to watching for Zimboldt. When no more men came out of the room and the door was closed, George went up to knock on the door, with me standing to one side. We had taken off our badges so that we wouldn't spook anyone, so we didn't attract any special attention as we went up the stairs.

George knocked on the door and opened it at the invitation to come in. There was a moment of silence as George saw that there was still someone in the room with Zimboldt. George reacted strangely and reached to draw his gun. Several shots were fired from within the room and George fell to the floor.

I couldn't see what had happened inside the room, so I wasn't sure how to react. I did draw my gun and cautiously look around the edge of the door, only to draw a shot at my head. I now knew where the gunman was located.

I dropped to the floor and rolled into the room with my pistol cocked and ready to fire. I saw the gunman as he tried to bring his gun to bear on me. He had not expected me to be on the floor, so I had a moment's advantage. I shot him as soon as I could, and he never got his shot off.

I then looked around for Zimboldt, but he was nowhere to be seen! The window was open, so I jumped up and ran to it to look out. Just as I did, I saw a man run from the alley into the street and disappear from sight. I looked down and saw a fire escape ladder right under the window. Zimboldt must have used that to escape through the window while the other man kept us occupied.

I turned to George and found that he was not seriously wounded. He had a scalp wound which was bleeding profusely and must have knocked him out, though he did not appear to have any injury to his skull. I ripped off a piece of the dead man's shirt to use to staunch the blood. Several spectators had reached the door by now, and I yelled for help. A man pushed his way into the room and said that he was a doctor. I told him that I was the sheriff and he should look after George, since the other man was dead.