Chapter 6

Red Eye McCall was easy to recognize, even without the red marble in his eye socket. There was a tall, rangy, scruffy, sloppily dressed man wearing two guns and with a bowie knife in a sheath along his backbone at his waist who was surrounded by admirers clamoring to be the next one to buy him a beer. If Red Eye McCall was in Carlsbad, this had to be him.

There was no doubt when the man turned toward me far enough for me to see his face. Yes, there it was, the infamous red marble. It certainly made him look like a demon, incarnate. My stomach did an automatic flip-flop at the horrendous sight; I had no trouble understanding why this man was able to intimidate so many lesser men.

I elbowed my way through the encircling admirers and asked him, "Are you the man commonly known as Red Eye McCall?"

"Yeah, I am. What's it ta ya?"

"In that case, I am here to place you under arrest for numerous crimes. Are you willing to surrender, or do I have to use force?"

He looked at me like I must be crazy. Then he started to laugh. This was the signal for the whole crowd to laugh. I merely stood there and waited for the merriment to end. I was trying to establish a psychological edge of my own, one built on the fact that I was totally unafraid of Red Eye McCall.

He finally got control of himself and asked, "Are ya some sort of bounty hunter? Ya must know that I already kilt a bounty hunter tonight. Are ya buckin' ta be next on the list?"

I answered, "Oh, no. I fully expect to capture or kill you, and I am giving you an opportunity to surrender before I am forced to harm you."

"Well, now that's right neighborly of ya. I appreciate ya takin' that attitude, but I must tell ya that I ain't surrenderin' ta ya. I 'spect ya better run along afore I gits too irritated at ya an' blows ya ta hell. By the way, what's yer name, sonny boy?"

"My name is John Oglethorpe, and I am calling you out right know. Surrender now, or I will draw on you."

With that statement, men jumped to escape the potential line of fire. This conversation had gone beyond humor and had turned serious. Everybody in the saloon knew that bullets were about to fly. Everybody, including Red Eye McCall, was surprised as I stood with my arms crossed over my torso—they all could plainly see the gun strapped to my thigh.

Red Eye's good eye became fixed on me with a hard stare, waiting for me to move toward the gun at my thigh. I continued to stand there with my arms crossed, apparently totally unconcerned by the whole thing. We stood facing each other for a good three to four minutes, and Red Eye broke first, as I knew he would. His hand jerked toward the gun holstered at his right thigh, and that's when I moved.

I uncrossed my arms and pulled my hand away from where it had been resting on the handle of my double action revolver. I pulled the gun with that same motion and pointed it toward Red Eye's chest. I slid my finger through the trigger guard and squeezed off my first shot. The noise that roared through the saloon as that cartridge went off was nearly deafening. The second shot went off before the first one had stopped reverberating through the hall. If you have never heard a double action pistol at its best, you don't know what noise can be.

I was standing so close to Red Eye McCall that the force of the first .44 caliber bullet striking his chest actually lifted him from the floor. The second bullet spun him around as it hit more to his side. The result was that he landed on the floor face down, and blood ran in a river out onto the floor. The bullets did not exit his body, but dissipated all of their energy in making a mess of Red Eye's internal organs.

There was a great rush of people to pound me on the back and to try to buy me drinks, but I just was not having any of that. I ordered them away from me and had the swamper help me drag the body to the jail. It had stopped bleeding by the time we got there, so there was not as much of a mess left in the cell we dropped him in as you might expect. I closed and locked the cell to keep scavengers away, both four legged and two legged.

Carlsbad was the county seat, so I looked up the sheriff the next morning and had him verify that I had, indeed, killed Red Eye McCall and was eligible for the reward. The reward was payable in Texas, so I got a receipt from the sheriff of Eddy County for the body of Red Eye McCall and headed back to Texas to collect my money.

The first courthouse I came to was in Mentone in Loving County. They didn't want to pay up because they would not believe that I had killed McCall. There had already been some false claims, but their tone changed when I dropped that red marble on the counter. The Sheriff slapped me on the back, but the clerk fainted. When he came to, the clerk still didn't want to pay up, but the Sheriff told him that he had to, so I finally got my money. As I left, I tipped the Sheriff $50 for his assistance in settling the matter.

I went back to El Paso to visit some more with Mrs. Shipley and spent two weeks at her house. I had a great time, and I am sure that she enjoyed it too. I did spend some time canvassing some of the local saloons looking for leads on other wanted men. One particularly nasty individual spent a lot of time in Mexico. He was in the business of supplying fresh whores to the rougher whore houses on the Mexican side of the river. He had a steady demand, since the women didn't last long on the job. Either they were killed by a customer or they died of any one of a multitude of diseases, not all of them sexually transmitted—cholera was the most common.

I decided to make him my next target. There was no reward out for him, but I didn't need the money, so I didn't care about that. I was able to get a detailed description and to learn his real name: Jefferson Golick. He was also known as The El Paso Kid. Over a period of a week, I was able to get the addresses of some cantinas he frequented across the river.

I left Mrs. Shipley with the promise to return as soon as I could. I crossed the river at a commonly used ford and headed for the nearest of the cantinas. I wasn't surprised when The El Paso Kid wasn't there, but I talked to the bartender in hope of getting some more solid information. My Spanish accent was perfect for that area, and I could talk like a working class bumpkin or like a hidalgo, as the situation called for. In this case, I made myself sound like a bumpkin so that I would not appear threatening.

I didn't find out much, other than my quarry had not been around for a couple of weeks. The bartender said that this usually meant that he was out collecting his stock in trade and should be back inside of a week. I made it sound like I wanted to join his gang, so I got more information than I might normally have come up with. The El Paso Kid had a two-bit ranch outside Juarez on the south side of town. That's the place the bartender recommended that I look, but he suggested that I wait a few days, since it would take a while for the women to be moved in their cages across the river and through town. The move would be made late at night so as not to attract attention. I thanked the bartender and bought another glass of the excellent beer. The Mexicans sure knew how to brew beer.

Gray Eagle had drummed into me the virtues of patience in a warrior. I still had some trouble following his advice, but I managed to this time, at least part way. I went ahead and found the ranch that the bartender had told me about, and I saw that it was built like a prison. All of the windows in the adobe outbuildings were barred, and the one time I approached, the stench drove me away. There was no effort at sanitation, and I was willing to bet that he lost some of his women to disease before he ever had a chance to sell them.

I caught a glimpse of some of the women while I was there, and everyone of them was naked. I assume that this was a part of the softening-up process to make the women more amenable to taking orders. I wanted to help them then, but I figured I should wait for the next bunch to show up so that I could take care of them all at once. I know—in hindsight, this may not have been the best idea, but I plead inexperience, and let it go at that.