Chapter 6

I gave Abi all of the money we got from selling the livestock and the buckboard. She was thrilled because she had never before had money of her own. She had $62, which was a veritable fortune in 1852. She kept the money in a money belt which she wore everywhere, except for baths and for bed. I was delighted for her.

We were going to have to search all of Las Vegas in an effort to find Hudson. To do that, I needed his picture. When we returned from supper, two daguerreotypes of Hudson were lying on the bed. I took one and gave the other to Abi. She changed back into her men's clothes so that we could go into saloons without raising annoying side issues.

On our way out, I asked the hotel desk clerk if he recognized the face I showed him. Yes, he did, but he had not seen the man for over a week. Well, that wasn't much help, but we did know the photos were useful. There were five saloons in Las Vegas, so we went to the nearest one, which was the one attached to the hotel.

I talked to the bartender while Abi watched my back. He had nothing new to offer, so we moved on to the next saloon. The results, here, were the same, so we moved on to the next one. I was asking the bartender about Hudson when Abi screamed, "MIKE! DUCK!"

I dropped to the floor, and so did Abi. Toward the back of the saloon, I saw Hudson seated at a table with two very tough looking characters. Both of them were standing, staring at me, and drawing their guns. Abi and I rolled on the floor in opposite directions while drawing our automatics. Bullets ricocheted off the floor where we had been lying when we dropped. We had agreed earlier what we would do if we were ever in this situation. Each one of us shot at the man on our side, so that Abi shot the man on the left and I shot the one on the right.

Abi was a little slower than I to get off her shot, obviously reflecting the difference in the amount of practice. The range was only about 35 feet, so my .45 did what one would expect of a .45 caliber bullet. My man was knocked down by the force of the bullet messing with his hydraulic and nervous system. Oh, and he was dead.

Abi's .38 hollowpoint did not have anything like the impact energy of my .45, but the expanding slug did enough damage with that one bullet to accomplish the same thing. Her man also fell dead, but Hudson managed to escape out the door to the jakes behind the smoke from the guns of his two bodyguards.

We jumped up and ran to the door, but we had to dodge around the tables and the other patrons who were trying to get out of our way. This gave Hudson time to escape by the time we got to the door. We had no idea where he was headed, but we were sure that it was in a damned big hurry.

We went back into the saloon, and I gave the swamper two-bits to fetch the undertaker. Meanwhile, Abi and I went through the pockets of the two dead men. We found little of value until we came to their money belts. Each one was carrying more than $100, and we confiscated that.

A few minutes later, the swamper came back with the undertaker, and we negotiated with him to bury the two dead bodyguards. The swamper helped the undertaker to load the bodies into his buckboard, and I tipped the swamper another four-bits to clean up the mess. The swamper felt like he was rolling in money!

We each bought a Mexican beer to placate the bartender. I drank mine, but Abi only took a couple of sips from hers and gave the rest to the swamper. We went back to our hotel room and found a map waiting for us on the bed. Dammit, I was going to have to start making a list of all the things I was asking for from the future. So far, I needed to ask for the carbine, the two .38 pistols and holster rig, 1,000 rounds of hollowpoint ammunition, six sets of cotton panties, one large package of tampons, the two daguerreotypes, and the map. I wondered what would happen if I failed to ask for any of them, but I was afraid to chance finding out. The wonderful thing about time travel was that I could ask for the items that I needed whenever I got around to it, but they would be delivered exactly when I needed them, even months before I actually asked for them.

The map was a detailed survey of all of the places where Hudson might be mining for gold. We had to check all of them out because Hudson might be hiding at any one of them. There were seven places that looked like they were worth Hudson's time, so there was approximately two weeks used up, since these places were more scattered than the first ones we had investigated. Man, what would I give right now for satellite surveillance? Failing that, how about a couple of ATVs? Oh, well, time to get better acquainted with our horses.

The next day, we checked out of the hotel and headed toward the nearest of the uninvestigated sites. That was going to be a two-day trip, no matter how we sliced it, with a night of camping out. We had a pack mule with us; the mule was trained to follow without a lead rope, so that was a little less bother than it might have been. I was glad the mule was along to act as a watchdog; rarely did something slip passed a mule.

The night was so warm that we did not bother with the tent, but Abi still demanded her nightly exercises. I sure hoped we didn't upset the mule or the horses, because she had a tendency to be loud. Furthermore, the open air seemed to really turn her on. Oh, well, a man does what he must to keep his woman happy.

The next day, along about mid-afternoon, we came to the vicinity of the likely mine site. I really did not expect to be that lucky, and I was correct: there was no gold mine around here. OK, I checked that one off the map, and we selected our next target. Two possibilities were at about equal distances away, so it was pretty much a guessing game as to whether or not one would be a better choice than the other. I let Abi pick the next one, and she used a very scientific method of choosing: she closed her eyes and touched the map. We were to visit the location nearest her finger. Sounded good to me, so that's what we did.

There was a water source nearby, so that's where we spent the night. The next morning, we stumbled upon a band of Indians who were like that first one a few days ago—just out for some fun, and we looked like good candidates for party favors. Shit, since they knew the country and we didn't, there was no way we were going to outrun them, so we looked for a place to fort up.

We had one big advantage in that we had rifles while they only had arrows for missile weapons. Of course, they had lances, but we did not intend to let them get close enough for that to make a difference.

In an effort to find a good place, we took off cross country. We had gone less than two miles when we came upon a startling sight. Two groups of Indians were fighting, a large group was attacking a smaller group. The smaller group had women and children in it, and, as expected, they were close to losing the battle. I guess people like us are just stupid, but neither Abi nor I could resist joining in on the side with the women and children.

There was not much cover in the general area, but the smaller group was gathered among some rocks that would have provided a good barrier against guns, but did not do much against arrows launched at a high angle so that they could drop over the rocks like mortar shells. Neither side had guns, and it looked like the attackers were fighting more for amusement than in rancor. Every time an arrow would strike a victim among the rocks, the attackers would stop and cheer and congratulate the shooter. Shit, who could help being pissed by that kind of bullying?

Here is where our automatic carbines came in handy. We didn't have much accuracy while riding as fast as we were, but we didn't need that so much when we wanted to spray a group. Abi and I opened up on the attackers as we rode as fast as we could toward the defenders. Both sides were surprised by our appearance, so neither side shot at us, at first. By the time the attackers realized who we were shooting at, it was too late to take us with a good aim. We screeched to a halt and dismounted among the defenders. Neither one of us spoke very good Spanish, but Abi's was better than mine. She shouted that we were friends and the Mescalero Apaches understood that. All of the Apaches had switched to Spanish shortly after the original invasion of Mexico, since it was a much more expressive language than their own. Thus, we were able to communicate with our new friends. The Mescaleros were one of the few unreservedly friendly nations to Whites, based on the enemy of my enemy is my friend. We, and especially our guns, were a welcome addition to the defense.