Courtesy of MASH!
These are actually pretty good!
Kudos to whomever put this one together!
On the Trail
He settled up with Mrs. Lincoln, took the proffered paper bag with some biscuits and a slice of ham, and stuffed it in the poke he carried over the saddle horn. Red humped his back as Rio mounted, and Rio settled himself a little more deeply in the saddle. “Don’t even think about it Red. I’m not in the mood this morning!”
Red’s ears flipped back and forth, and Rio shook his head as he felt the horse mouthing the bit. “Good boy, Red.” He leaned down and patted his neck, then turned Red northwest. A half hour later, he came to the landmark where the cowboy had said he’d seen the cattle and rode around until he found the old tracks of cattle trailing off to the southwest. He followed them for about a mile, and they branched off toward Georgetown, Oh, boy. This is…not going to be good. Georgetown is a mining town, and if they’re up there, they are likely already gone. He got down, dug the short barreled six shooter and holster out of his saddlebags, slipped the holster on his belt in a cross draw position, then loaded the pistol and shoved it in the holster. He thought for a second, then pulled the 73 Winchester out of the scabbard and topped it off, then slipped it back in the scabbard.
Mounting up, he gigged Red to a trot, then a canter, following the tracks up the side of Clear Creek as he climbed higher into the mountains. He stopped as the sun topped out overhead, put a hackamore on Red, and let him drink from the creek before hobbling him on some grass the cattle had missed. Taking the biscuits and ham out of the poke, he sat on a log and munched on them as he watched wagons trundling up the road, Lot busier than I thought. Am I missing something here?
He put the bridle back on Red, tightened the girth and took the hobbles off. He shivered as the wind changed, blowing down the canyon, and pulled the slicker off the back of the saddle, unrolled it, and took out the sheepskin jacket. Re-rolling everything, he tied it back behind the saddle and slipped into the jacket, then mounted and trotted Red up the road. Four hours later, Red was blowing a little, and he slowed as the canyon turned and flattened out. “You want a break, Red?” He guided Red off the road, got down and took a piss in the brush on the side of the road before grabbing a piece of pemmican out of the poke on the saddle. Idly chewing on it, he led Red over to the creek bank and found an approach that allowed him to lead him down to the water. Scooping up a mouthful of water, he rinsed his mouth, then spit it out, Gah, tastes like…metal? Copper? Something?
Even Red didn’t seem to like it all that well, and they were soon back on the road. As he came to a Y in the canyon, he watched the tracks swinging up the left canyon and followed them. As he rounded the bend in the canyon, he came on a rising bench on the left side with a rundown cabin and what looked like pole fencing. He trotted Red up to the poles and saw longhorns grazing inside the fence. One was close enough to read the brand, and it was Rafter H. As he rode along the fence, a bowlegged old man stepped out of the cabin. “Hey, what are you doing?”
Rio noted that he carried a rifle in one hand, but he didn’t see a six shooter, so he waved and rode over. “Strange to see longhorns this far up in the mountains. Interesting brand, too.”
The old cowboy grumbled, “Got a problem, go talk to Olshanski at the Three Queens. He bought ‘em and pays me to keep ‘em penned up down here.”
Rio hooked a leg on the saddle horn, “Olshanski? Three Queens?”
“Big Polack, he won the saloon in a card game with three queens. He bought the cows off’n a couple of cowboys a week or so ago. They said someone had told them to drive them to the mine in Empire, but they didn’t want them.”
“Huh, I thought most Polacks were miners, not saloon owners.”
The cowboy hawked and spit. “Olshanski was a miner. Had, maybe still has, a claim up the canyon.”
“Three Queens, huh?”
“Yeah, right on Sixth Street. Two blocks from the hotel.”
“Hotel? Or a trumped up boarding house?”
The cowboy spit again. “Naw, it’s a real hotel, used to be Delmonico’s bakery. Some Frenchy, Dupuis or some’tin like that bought it, and now it’s the Hotel de Paree.”
Rio stretched and found the stirrup again. “Thanks. I think I’ll ride up that way and see what there is to see.”
“Ain’t no jobs for cowboys, and I like my job.” The old cowboy motioned with the rifle as he said that.
“Got a job, ain’t looking for one.” He reined Red around and trotted back toward the road, whistling as Red flipped his ears and humped his back. “Fine, no more whistling. Stubborn damn horse.”
The old cowboy got a look at Red’s brand. He hawked and spat, then turned back toward the cabin as quickly as he could, mumbling to himself. An hour later, Rio rode into Georgetown and stopped dead, This ain’t a bunch of shacks. This…it’s a real town. Dunno why I thought…oh well, time to find out what’s going on. He rode through town, marveling at the Victorian houses, the brick buildings going up, and the prosperous citizens he saw on the boardwalks. The sun was close to hitting the top of the mountains to the west, and he decided to try the hotel the old cowboy told him about.
Tying Red at the hitching rail, he stepped up on the boardwalk and walked through the door into a world of good smells coming from the restaurant. His stomach growled at him, reminding him lunch was a long time ago. The older man behind the counter looked up as he said, “Afternoon, any chance of a room?”
“Oui, Monsieur. How many nights?”
“Um, one, maybe two.”
He flipped the register around saying, “Two dollars a night. Please sign in.”
“Two dollars?” Rio asked, outraged.
“Two dollars. Each room is a private room. Fresh linens. And indoor bathing.”
Rio reached in his vest pocket and pulled out two dollars, dropping them on the counter as he signed the book. The man took a key off the board, “Room six, upstairs to the right. Door is numbered. They will serve dinner at six o’clock.”
Rio nodded. “Livery stable?”
“Two blocks over, east side of town. Fifty cents if you want anything other than hay.”
Rio grimaced, but took the key and went back out to Red, taking his blanket roll, saddlebags, poke, and rifle out of the scabbard before going to the room. Once there, he shoved the things under the bed, sniffed, and was surprised to find the bed really smelled clean, Maybe it is worth two dollars, but that’s still a lot of money just to sleep inside. He started to take the second pistol off, but changed his mind and left it on his belt. He dug the saddlebags out and dropped some spare rounds into his coat pocket.
Going back downstairs, he unhitched Red and rode down 6th Street past the Three Queens, Looks prosperous. Guess I’ll go find the stable, then decide whether to walk or ride. As it turned out, the stables were in the opposite direction, and he left Red at the stables. He rubbed him down, paid the extra for the feed, and piled his tack in the back corner of the stall, trusting Red to guard it overnight. He walked by the hotel on the way to the saloon, and his stomach growled again, Ah shut up. You’ll get fed. It ain’t like you’re starving. He walked through the doors of the saloon and immediately stepped to the side. It was fairly quiet, with two tables of miners off to one side and what looked like a couple of cowboys sitting as far away from the miners as they could get. He chuckled to himself and started toward the bar, noting that the sawdust was fresh, and it didn’t smell like stale beer. When he got there, he didn’t see anybody, and said, “I wonder—”
A huge, bearded man got up from behind the bar and asked in heavily accented English, “You wonder what cowboy?”
Rio laughed. “If I can get a beer, and if you are Olshanski.”
The big man pulled a beer and set it in front of Rio. “Dat will be a dime. I am Olshanski, why you want to know?” Leaning on his scarred forearms on the bar, he stared at Rio intently.
Rio dropped a dime on the bar, took a swig of the beer, nodded, and said, “Good beer. I hear you bought some cows from a couple of cowboys.”
“Ve did. Me and Dupuy, at ze hotel.”
“Did these cowboys have any papers for the cows?”
“Why you want to know?” Olshanski flexed his shoulders, and it was all Rio could do not to back up.
Instead, he took another swig of beer. “Well, those cows are stolen. They are Rafter H cows, and they were rustled three weeks ago.”
Olshanski’s face flushed red, and he started reaching for Rio, cursing under his breath. Rio backed up, and Olshanski finally said, “You lie! I paid for cows!”
Rio held up both hands as Olshanski started to reach under the bar. “I don’t doubt you paid for them, I’d appreciate it if your hands stayed where I can see them. But the problem is, you didn’t pay the owner for them. Just curious, how much did you pay?”
“We paid, twenty-five dollars a cow. Fifty-dree cows.”
A voice behind Rio startled him. “Rio, either make up with him or shoot him. My supper is getting cold over here.”
Rio swiftly stepped to the side, putting the bar and Olshanski both in his line of sight. He chuckled as he saw a stooped, middle-aged cowboy with prematurely white hair. “You’re a long way from home, Jack.”
“So are you. They Rafter H?” Rio nodded, and Texas Jack Hart laughed. “Polack, you got taken. Those cows belong to him, well to his daddy. And you really don’t want either one of them mad at you.”
Olshanski look between the two. “Why?”
Hart chuckled. “Because either of them will shoot your ass dead. Oh, let me introduce you to the Laredo Kid. You might have heard of him.”
There was a scramble as the other cowboys got out of the way, and the miners suddenly got very quiet. Rio shook his head sadly. “Dammit, Jack, you’re costing me friends again.”
Olshanski asked, “What we do to make right?”
Rio focused on him. “Give me the sumbitches that sold them to you, and I’ll call it even.”
Olshanski started to answer, but two men stepped through the door, and Rio and Jack both pivoted. An older, walrus mustached man with a star on his vest asked, “What is going on here?” Rio saw the hotel clerk behind the man and wondered if this was the owner, Dupuy.
“Well, Marshal, at least this man,” pointing to Olshanski, “and possibly that man,” pointing at the man behind the marshal, “If his name is Dupuy, bought stolen cattle.”
“You got proof of that?”
Jack laughed as Rio sighed. “I’m reaching in my jacket for papers.” He reached slowly into his jacket and pulled out the packet of letters. He laid them on the bar and stepped back. “Those papers are from the bank in Fort Collins that allow me to rep for the brand. And Jack, there, knows me and my dad from Texas. Sixty head were stolen from us about three weeks ago, and fifty-three head with Rafter H brands were sold to Olshanski and apparently a partner named Dupuy here for twenty-five a head. Now the going rate is forty to sixty a head, as I’m sure they know.”
Jack said, “Dammit, now my supper is cold.” But he remained standing, the thong off his pistol and his hand close to the holster.
The marshal stepped up to the bar, opened the letters, read them, and looked sharply at Rio. “Rafter H and H Bar?”
“H Bar is our ranch brand. Rafter H is our road brand. There are fifty some odd steers down on a bench about a mile from here with Rafter H brands, and the old cowboy down there says Olshanski here bought them.”
The marshal shook his head. “Oleg, he’s the authorized rep for the brand. Who did you and Rene buy the steers from?”
“Two cowboys, Buck and…”
Dupuy interrupted, “Jack, the other was named Jack, and I heard him call the other one Stiles. They took two rooms at my hotel.”
Jack glanced up at that. “Rio, that’s gotta be Stiles and Harvey. Couple of gunslicks, and I guess, now rustlers.”
Rio cocked his head. “I’ve heard those names, but…they don’t ring a bell.”
Jack laughed. “They’re smart enough to stay out of Texas, but I run across them a couple of times.”
He looked at Dupuy. “Are they still at the hotel?”
Dupuy shook his head. “No, they have been gone…three, maybe four days now. I heard them say something about Brown something north of here.”
The marshal sighed. “They must be heading for Brown’s Hole. That’s up in Utah or Wyoming territories. Bunch of thieves hang out up there. Bunch of shacks apparently.”
“Why haven’t they been cleaned out?”
The marshal shrugged. “Too many places to ambush a posse and too many ways out of there. Easier to hope they kill each other off or wait for them to come out.”
Dupuy said, “I will give you back your money, and your food is on me.”
Rio nodded. “Thank you. C’mon Jack, I’ll treat you, since I made you miss supper.”
Olshanski looked at them in confusion. “You not make us pay?”
“You paid. Just the wrong people. That isn’t your fault. I think you two are honest, and you told me who they are. Just don’t buy any of our cows again unless you buy from us directly.” He picked up the letters, bundled them back up, and stuck them back in his jacket, then faced the sheriff. “You satisfied?”
He nodded. “Yes, and I appreciate you not shooting anybody. I really didn’t want a gunfight before supper tonight.”
Rio laughed. “Honestly, neither did I.” He started for the door. “Supper’s on me, Jack. C’mon if you’re coming.” Jack grabbed his hat off the chair and followed Rio out into the night.
***
An hour later, Rio sat back and groaned. “Ate too much.”
Jack nodded, looked around at the empty restaurant, then whispered, “What are you really doing up here?”
“Running cows up by Fort Collins. Horsetooth Canyon. You think they went to the Hole? Is that where you’re heading?”
Jack grimaced. “Yeah, got a little too hot for me in Texas. Got into it with the Johnson brothers over at Johnson City. I don’t take kindly to men trying to force themselves on women, much less young girls.”
“How many did you kill?”
“Them two brothers the first night. Well, one for sure, got a lot of lead in the other one. He might’a died later that night. Anyway, their family came after me. I killed three more of them, then lit out. I’m tired of killing idjits. Figured I’d hole up over the winter and see what things look like next spring.”
Rio made a snap decision. “I think I’ll ride along with you. Maybe I can recover at least some money and take care of those two. That way I don’t have to deal with them next spring.”
“I’m leaving tomorrow.”
Rio nodded. “Meet me here in the morning, and I’ll buy breakfast.”
First up, a long awaited fourth novel in Holly Chism’s Modern Gods series- Gods and Monsters
As always, click on the cover for the Amazon link.
The blurb-
Here there be dragons…again, damn it.
Deshayna has her sanity back, and forces older than the gods have granted her a new purpose. Chronos, his freedom restored, fights for his sanity, and with it, a purpose in helping Deshayna—now called Shay—with hers. The gods are starting to pull together more…and it’s about time.
Millennia after the last dragons to threaten human existence have been hunted down, they’ve started to reappear, hinting to the surviving gods that something more sinister appeared first: Tiamat.
Instead of a confrontation, though, the gods—major, minor, and genus loci—are drawn into a frustrating hunt for a predator that flees rather than attempting to strike.
This is a fun read, well worth the time!
Pam Uphoff as a new book out in her Wine of the Gods series- War Party
The blurb-
Ice is a powerful magician and trained warrior. His day job, however, is political analyst, and it is once again election year.
Hopefully with fewer explosions and snipers than the last one, but in the Empire of the One, what sounds like a boring desk job is anything but.
Especially when al old flame gets pissed enough to jump into the presidential race.
Between assassins on the loose, duels to the death, and a sense of something nasty coming his way, Ice is going to be busy.
Last but not least, John C. Wright has the third book in the Lost on the Last Continent series out- Gods of Pangaea
The blurb-
Colonel Preston Lost didn’t think of himself as reckless. He believed in preparation, proper equipment, and patience in stalking the prey. But, in reality, he was not a cautious man. Having followed a spaceship into the black storm clouds above the Bermuda Triangle, he flew through a time portal to the end of days and crash-landed on Pangaea Ultima with few supplies and no way of returning home.
Lost now finds himself embroiled in a battle for dominance of not only the world, but all of time as well, and he is forced to concede that—just perhaps—he is a little reckless after all.
The Eighth Men have come, bringing the Fifth Men and all of their First Man fighting slaves, to conquer Threno, the City of Swift Death, and they have come with overwhelming force. Their dreadnought alone would be sufficient to defeat the entire Corsair Navy, and they have more. Much more.
The only things Lost has going for him are a broken-down machine from countless eons past, a whispered prophecy from an Atlantean girl, and his hope that the Watchers’ will err. It’s not much, but Lost really wants to kiss the girl at the end of the battle, so he’ll have to find a way to make it work!
At least the ‘new’ acting Navy secretary has actually served on a carrier…
Modly did his minimum payback for going to the USNA, seven years. His ‘career’ path was one tour as a pilot, then instructor at the Air Force Academy. In other words, he never got past lieutenant…
Acting Navy Secretary Thomas Modly has resigned, a U.S. official told Fox News on Tuesday, one day after Modly apologized for suggesting the ousted commander of the USS Theodore Roosevelt was either “too naïve or too stupid” — or perhaps even deliberately insubordinate — over his handling of the ship’s coronavirus outbreak.
Full article, HERE.
Capt Crozier DID commit the cardinal sin of going out of channels, which would have gotten him relieved anyway, but this was badly handled by Modly, much less his flying out to the TR and haranguing the crew, THAT was unbelievably stupid on his part.
At least McPherson, the new Acting is a retired Naval Office, JAG, but he did at least serve on ships! Sigh…
Can’t think of anything ‘good’ to say, so I’ll leave you with this…
You know if you keep a glass of wine in each hand you can’t accidentaly touch your face.
This cleaning with alcohol is total b.s. NOTHING gets done after that first bottle.
Kinda starting to understand why pets try to run out of the house when the door opens.
Does anyone know if we can take showers yet or should we just keep washing our hands???
I’m so excited it’s time to take the garbage out. I wonder what I should wear?
You think it’s bad now? In 20 years our country will be run by people home schooled by day drinkers…
Your Quarantine name is the last thing you ate and your high school mascot. Me? Licorice Warrior
Day 7 at home and the dog is looking at me like, “See? This is why I chew the furniture.”
Home schooling question: Does having your children fix you mixed cocktails count as chemistry? (Sorry, I’m new at this)
Where’s your husband?….In the garden….I didn’t see him….You just need to dig a little deeper.
My Mom always told me I wouldn’t accomplish anything by laying in the bed all day, but look at me now! I’m saving the world!
If you get an email with the subject “Knock Knock” don’t open it. It’s a Jehovah Witness working from home.
I miss the days when we were terrified of Romaine lettuce. Ahh, the good times….
I swear my fridge just said: “what the hell do you want now?”
Coronavirus has turned us all into dogs. We roam the house all day looking for food. We’re told “no” if we get too close to strangers. And we get really excited about car rides.
Whoever owes you money, go to their house now. They should be home.
I’m giving up drinking for a month. Sorry, bad punctuation. I’m giving up. Drinking for a month.
Half of us are going to come out of this quarantine as amazing cooks. The other half will come out with a drinking problem.
I used to spin that toilet paper like I was on Wheel of Fortune. Now I turn it like I’m cracking a safe.
I need to practice social-distancing from the refrigerator.
Still haven’t decided where to go for Easter —– The Living Room or The Bedroom
PSA: every few days try your jeans on just to make sure they fit. Pajamas will have you believe all is well in the kingdom.
Homeschooling is going well. 2 students suspended for fighting and 1 teacher fired for drinking on the job.
I don’t think anyone expected that when we changed the clocks we’d go from Standard Time to the Twilight Zone
This morning I saw a neighbor talking to her cat. It was obvious she thought her cat understood her. I came into my house, told my dog….. we laughed a lot.
So, after this quarantine…..will the producers of My 600 Pound Life just find me or do I find them?
Quarantine Day 5: Went to this restaurant called THE KITCHEN. You have to gather all the ingredients and make your own meal. I have no clue how this place is still in business.
My body has absorbed so much soap and disinfectant lately that when I pee it cleans the toilet.
Day 5 of Homeschooling: One of these little monsters called in a bomb threat.
I’m so excited — it’s time to take out the garbage. What should I wear?
I hope the weather is good tomorrow for my trip to Puerto Backyarda. I’m getting tired of Los Livingroom.
Classified Ad: Single man with toilet paper seeks woman with hand sanitizer for good clean fun.
Day 6 of Homeschooling: My child just said “I hope I don’t have the same teacher next year”…. I’m offended.
Homeschooling Day #9: they all graduated. #Done.
Poor journalists…
Bold mine-
There are a few reasons for the job losses. Local newspapers have seen much of their advertising revenue vanish as readers move online. They’ve also struggled to attract many digital subscribers after past rounds of layoffs and buyouts eroded their quality. Digital media startups, funded by venture capitalists seeking growth, aggressively hired journalists then scaled back to focus on profitability. Almost everyone is struggling to compete with Facebook and Google, which accounted for three-fourths of U.S. online ads sales last year.
To say nothing of the slanted coverage… sigh…
Full article, HERE.
The sad twist about these layoffs and restructuring is that they come just as the public is hungry for information about the pandemic, but there are now fewer journalists to provide vital information about it. Traffic is up for many sites and TV ratings have increased as people are stuck at home watching the news.
Full article, HERE.
And an interesting article HERE. A potential direction for ‘news’ and I use that term loosely… A couple of weeks ago, I was talking with an editor from a small east Texas newspaper. They are not daily, and they have NO, zero, none, zilch national news. Everything they do is local. Sports, marriages, items of interest, which is what newspapers used to be. Sure, they had the occasional AP or wire piece, but the biggest majority of reporting was local.
The other problem is ad revenue is in the toilet. Advertisers are looking at the ROI on newspaper ads and going nope, local cable buys me more views per dollar spent…
And quite honestly, to me at least, most of the reporting I read other than the local stuff is suspect at best, if not badly slanted at worst. I do follow the local sports teams, because they are the backbone of our communities and it IS Texas… Football and all… LOL
I’m interested to see what your perspective is.
Ask family members, friends and students to take this fun closed-book, closed-computer quiz:
- How many members in SCOTUS (Supreme Court of the US)?
- Of these, how many are female?
- Name just ONE female SCOTUS member.
- Popocatépetl is an active volcano in which country?
- Which historic SCOTUS decision affirmed a citizen’s rights under the Fifth Amendment?
- Typically, there are how many members in the US Senate?
- How many senators may each state send to the US senate?
- Which is the westernmost state in the Union?
- Which is the easternmost state in the Union?
- Which is the southernmost state in the Union?
- Which is the northernmost state in the Union?
- Which is the highest peak in the Americas?
- What countries share the island of Tierra del Fuego?
- The Second Amendment does what concerning the right to keep and bear arms?
- What is the longest river in the Continental USA?
- What is the southernmost country in Central America?
- The former Dutch Guiana is now:
- The former British Honduras is now:
- Which is longer: a mile or a kilometer?
- The language of Brazil is:
- An isosceles triangle has how many equal sides?
- Caesar’s expression, VENI, VIDI, VINCI means what?
- What poet wrote,”Quoth the Raven, Nevermore?”
- Samuel Langhorne Clemens is better known by this name.
- This person inspired Britons to have hope during World War- 2.
- Our WW-2 enemy, the Axis, was composed of which countries?
- The Bataan Death March occurred in which country?
- S. Marines hoisted Old Glory on Mount Suribachi on which island?
- This Norwegian, whose name is a synonym for “traitor” was a Nazi collaborator
- Who were the principal victims of the Holocaust?
- On 14 May 1948, this Middle East land became a country.
- This Union general devastated Georgia during the Civil War.
- Mexican General Santa Anna laid siege to this western stronghold.
- Russia sold this land to the USA.
- The 38th Parallel divides these two countries.
- Name the Vice-President of the USA.
- This CIA U-2 pilot was shot down and captured by the Soviets.
- The Tenth Amendment affirms this right of the individual states of the Union.
- Which was the last state admitted to the Union?
- Name one country in the former French Indo-China.
- The Battle of the Bulge took place in which country?
- This US president died in office in 1945.
- The Dewey Decimal System controlled what?
- What did Charles Lindbergh accomplish?
- Which city was the USA’s first capital?
- What criminal charges were filed against gangster Al Capone?
- Ioseb Vissarionovich Dzhugashvilii was known by which nickname?
- How many degrees does the Earth rotate per hour?
- Who wrote Atlas Shrugged?
- Who falsely claimed to have created the Internet?
Answers below the fold…
I’m going to serialize this over the next couple of weeks. Hope you enjoy it…
Business Before Pleasure
Rio rode up to The Palace in Denver just before five in the afternoon. He’d taken a room at Mrs. Lincoln’s boarding house, got his broadcloth suit brushed and ironed, and had a bath at the bathhouse earlier in the day. He looked up at the blue sky with just a few puffy clouds off to the west as he stepped off Red. “Well, don’t look like it’s going to rain, Red. Guess I can leave you tied right here.” He threw the reins over the railing, then loosened the girth as Red whinnied and stamped. “Hey now. You got fed and watered, and you get to just stand here.”
Red peeled his lips back and nipped at Rio’s sleeve, prompting a swat on the nose. “Stop that! This is my one good suit.” Rio, twenty-four years old, a little under six feet, lean, with light brown hair and piercing blue eyes, didn’t look like a ranch owner, more like a cowhand going out on the town as he stepped up on the boardwalk and strolled toward the restaurant door, Long ride, ain’t sure this isn’t for nothing. But if we get a contract for beef, that’ll help. And that cowboy at the boarding house said he watched some Rafter H cows being driven to the west two days ago. He stepped into the restaurant and immediately moved to the right, out of the doorway. Looking around, he scanned tables full of prosperous looking men and sighed as a waiter came up. “Can I help you, sir?”
“Yes, I’m supposed to meet a Mr. Marshall and a Mr. Burns here.”
“Right this way, sir.” The waiter led him to a table situated with a view of the room, which had one open seat. “Mr. Marshall, this gentleman was asking after you.”
A tall bearded man stood. “I’m Joseph Marshall.” The second bearded man, obviously a miner, also stood. “My associate, Rene Leblanc.” He pointed to the third man. “Ethan Burns. He owns the Red Cloud Mine.” Burns extended his hand, and Rio shook it. Leblanc merely looked at him, nodded, then sat. Rio took that as a cue, pulled out a chair and sat down facing them.
“Rio Hackett, Mr. Marshall. I’m repping for the Rafter H ranch. I understand y’all are looking for cattle to supply your operations?”
The waiter asked, “Would you like anything?”
“A cup of coffee, please.”
Marshall looked at him suspiciously. “You are authorized to speak for this ranch?”
Rio sighed inwardly, reached into his suit pocket, pulled out the letter from the bank in Fort Collins, and passed it over. “This is a statement to that effect from the bank in Fort Collins. It gives me the authorization to make commitments, contracts, and allows money to be spent.”
Marshall looked it over closely, then passed it across to Burns, who merely glanced at it before handing it back. “How did you find out we wanted cattle?”
“The banker alerted us to your agent’s request for a reliable source for cattle. He said you’re looking for fifty head a month?”
Marshall nodded. “Fifty head a month, no culls, no heifers. Good beeves. Twenty dollars a head.”
Rio couldn’t help but laugh. “Twenty dollars a head? No. Twenty a head is what they pay in Dodge City, for three or four thousand cows at a time. Going rate right now is twenty-six for a cow, sixty-two for a three-year-old steer. We have a mixed herd, mostly steers, so thirty-five a head would be about right.”
Marshall glared at him. “Do you take me for a fool? There is no way—”
Rio bristled. “Mr. Marshall, I’m not a kid. You’re a man that needs cattle for your operation. We have those cattle. There aren’t that many ranches in this area, matter of fact, we’d have to drive them about fifty miles to get them to you. That’s…three, maybe four days. Cowboys get thirty to forty a month and found, so you’re looking at…roughly seventy dollars just to pay them. Now that assumes they don’t have a problem with a horse. A good cow pony is a hundred and fifty—”
Burns laughed. “Joseph, he’s got you over a barrel. You know that as well as I do. Mr. Hackett, I need fifty head a month for the mine. I will pay thirty-five a head for them, delivered to Boulder, regardless of what Mr. Marshall decides to do. I’d like them delivered by the fifth of the month, and I am willing to sign a year contract.”
Leblanc growled at Burns, and started to get up, but Marshall hissed, “No,” as he turned to Rio and said gracelessly, “Fine. Thirty-five a head. Delivered to my mining operation. Fifty cows a month. Delivered within one day of the fifth. I reserve the right to refuse any cattle that do not meet our standards.”
Rio nodded. “Understood and agreed.” The waiter delivered his coffee, and he said, “Thank you,” waving off the cream and sugar bowl on the tray. He sipped it and continued, “It would be preferential to have your bank pay the ranch’s bank directly, that way there is no temptation for the cowboys to disappear with the money.” He stuck out his hand. “Deal?”
Marshall grimaced but shook his hand. “Deal.”
Burns did the same, but with a smile. “Deal. I work with a lawyer here in Denver. I can have him draw up a contract tomorrow, if that would be acceptable.”
Rio smiled. “Fine by me.”
Burns waved the waiter down. “I would like to order now.” He gestured to Rio. “I will pay for his meal as well.”
Rio nodded in thanks, then ordered the same thing Burns did, which was a middle-sized steak with the trimmings. They had finished eating, and Rio was dawdling over a cup of coffee as the others had brandy, when a silver haired, mustachioed man stopped by the table. Marshall jumped up with alacrity. “Judge Archer. How are you this evening, sir?”
The rest of them also stood, as the Judge said, “Fair to middlin’ Joseph. You paying your miners a fair wage these days?”
Marshall visibly restrained himself as he said quietly, “I’ve upped their pay and revised the company store procedures. There has not been but one or two bobtail paychecks a month since then.”
“Good. That means I don’t have to send the law up there again, do I?” Marshall shook his head, and the Judge nodded to Leblanc and Burns. He turned to Rio. “I don’t believe I know you.”
“Rio Hackett, sir. I’m a…cowboy…I’m repping for the Rafter H brand.”
The judge cocked his head. “Hackett, an unusual name. And you sound like a Texan.”
Rio smiled. “Guilty, sir. Del Rio.”
The judge stuck out his hand. “Well, welcome to Denver. I don’t think you’ll like the winters up here. Better get yourself some woolies if you’re going to punch cows in the winter.”
“Yes, sir.” The judge walked off, and Rio said, “If you will excuse me, I need to go take care of my horse.”
Burns said, “My lawyer is Albert Fellows, his office is in the First National Bank building. I will meet you there at ten in the morning.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll be there. Good night, gentlemen.” Rio slipped the waiter a silver dollar on his way out with a mumbled, “Thank you.” Once he got outside, he breathed a sigh of relief and walked down to where Red was tied at the hitching rail.
Just as he got to Red, he heard a soft voice behind him. “Mr. Hackett?” He spun, his hand automatically going to the gun he didn’t have on his hip, Damn, I knew I put that damn gun in my waistband. As he started to pull the Peacemaker from his waistband, he realized he was staring at Judge Archer.
“Sir?”
“I did not mean to surprise you, sir. But I would like to meet with you privately in the morning, if that would be possible.”
Rio slipped the pistol back in his waistband as he replied, “Yes, sir. What time and where?”
The judge handed him a slip of paper. “This is my home address. Earlier is better. I am up by sunrise, and my wife sets an acceptable table for breakfast.” He saw two men walking toward them and said loudly, “Beautiful horse, young man. Would you be interested in selling it?”
Rio caught on and replied, “No, sir. This horse isn’t for sale.”
The judge smiled as he started walking away. “A pity, that would have been a nice horse to add to my stable. Take care, young man.”
***
Mrs. Lincoln watched Rio coming down the stairs, already dressed and said, “You’re up early, Cowboy. I’ve got coffee in the kitchen.”
Rio doffed his hat. “Thank you, Ma’am. Much appreciated. Too much time on the trail and working from can to can’t growing up.” He followed her into the big kitchen behind the house and sat where she pointed, as she grabbed a tin cup from a cupboard and poured a cup of coffee. She set it on the table, and he said, “Thank you.” Taking a sip, he added, “This is much better than Pronto’s coffee.”
She laughed. “It better be. I make it fresh. I don’t save the mother to use over and over again.” She bustled about, saying, “I have some honey if you want sweet. Biscuits will be out in about ten minutes.”
He waved her away. “No, thank you. Don’t want to get spoiled. And I’ve got a meeting to go to that’s a ways away, on the other side of town this morning.”
She nodded. “If you’re coming back, I’ll put a plate aside for you. You’ve already paid for it.”
“Don’t bother yourself, Ma’am. I’m not sure when I will be back, but I would like to stay another night.” He took out a silver dollar and laid it on the table. “You can give me change when I get back.” He finished the coffee and put the cup by the washtub and headed out the back door to the stable. Ten minutes later, he rode Red quietly out of the stable, turned toward the east, and trotted down the street as the first rays of the sun peeked over the eastern horizon. He finally found Lark Avenue, and the white clapboard house with a barn behind it, just as the sun itself poked over the horizon. As he trotted down the lane, he noted the judge sitting on the front porch, smoking a pipe.
He stopped Red at the front steps as the judge got up. “Hitching post right there, Rio. Come on in, Martha has breakfast cooking. Hope you like ham, eggs, and biscuits.” Rio was a little
startled by the judge’s friendliness, but he got down, tied Red to the hitching post, and stepped up on the porch as the judge laughed. “You don’t remember me, do you, Rio?”
Rio looked at him, then shook his head. “No, sir. Not that I can recall.”
The judge laughed again. “John said you probably wouldn’t. You were…I think nine or ten the last time I saw you.”
“You…know my father?”
The judge opened the screen and motioned Rio in. “We were in Terry’s Rangers during the war, Eighth Texas cavalry. Fought from Shiloh to Atlanta. After the war, I settled in Fort Worth and started practicing law again. I represented your father when he set up the H Bar ranch and made sure all the Spanish, English, and Indian land deeds got correctly registered.” He led him into the kitchen where a slim, attractive, grey-haired lady was dishing out eggs onto plates. “Martha, this is John Hackett’s boy, Rio. This is my long-suffering wife, Martha. Sit!”
She smiled as she slid a plate in front of him. “And a suffering it has been. All I do is slave over a hot stove day in and day out.” She laughed delightedly as the judge shook his head and handed him a plate. She got her plate, set it on the table, and poured coffee in all the cups. “Sugar or milk?”
“Uh, no Ma’am. Barefoot is fine. And this smells wonderful!” He noted that her hands were roughened, almost like Mrs. Lincoln’s, which made him think she actually did the cooking.
She poked her husband with her fork. “See, Robert, I get compliments on my cooking.”
He laughed and replied, “From a cowboy who will eat anything he doesn’t have to chase too far and either gets it raw or burnt over a campfire in the middle of the plains.”
Rio laughed and said, “Actually, Pronto is a good cook. And the last thing you ever want to do is criticize his cooking, unless you want to have to wash dishes after every meal.” They turned to eating, and everything was quiet for a few minutes.
Once they’d finished, Martha poured more coffee, collected the plates, and stacked them in the washbasin as the judge poured hot water from the stove into the basin. He sat across from Rio, and his expression changed. “Rio, I need your help.” He held up a hand as Rio started to speak. “I know about your little set to down in Del Rio, and I know they cleared you in that mess. I’m the federal judge for Colorado, and I need another Deputy US Marshal, but one that only I know about.”
Rio’s head swam, and he blurted, “But you fought for the…Confederacy. How…I thought—”
The judge chuckled. “Yes, I did. But I also read for the law at Dartmouth back in forty-two. Amos Ackerman was a classmate and also served with the Confederacy. President Grant appointed him to head the Justice Department in seventy, and he appointed me in seventy-one, because he felt we needed qualified judges, regardless of which side they’d fought on. I’ve been out here since then, and I get along fine with Governor McCook. We’re going to probably get statehood this year, but we’ve got a lawless element that isn’t helping us at all. Between the mine owners, the miners, and the robbers, we have a bad reputation in Washington. I only have four US Marshals for the entire state, and I am not confident they are all above board.”
Rio sipped his coffee to give humself time to think. “Sir, what…I mean, I have a job.”
The judge nodded. “Which is perfect. You move around a lot, you deal with many people, including the mines, supplying cattle, right?”
He said cautiously, “Uh, yes, sir. But—”
“So you see and hear things. As a cowboy, you would be ignored, because you are beneath them, or so they think. Am I right?”
Rio nodded. “Yes, sir. Mr. Marshall—”
“Is an ass. And he doesn’t take care of his people well. But he makes money, that’s all his investors worry about. Same thing with the mines in Georgetown, Leadville, and the others up around Gold Hill.” He looked sharply at Rio. “And you’re also missing cows, right?”
Martha came over with the coffeepot. “More coffee, Rio? Maybe it will help you get through the inquisition.” When he nodded, she poured him another cup and glared at her husband.
The judge scrubbed his face, “John talked to me about what happened up in Boulder. I have…somebody up there keeping an eye on what is going on, and they mentioned that the Rafter H had lost cattle. Two men were seen over by the Georgetown road with a small herd of cattle a week ago. They identified one of those men as Buck Styles, and they thought the other was Jack Henry. They are known gunfighters and rustlers and were up around Boulder, apparently out of work. Now two and two is usually four.”
Rio nodded. “A cowboy told me he watched some Rafter H cattle being moved northwest of town last week. I was going to…investigate that after I met with the mine owners.”
The judge smiled. “Texas style investigation, I assume?”
Rio took another sip of coffee, trying to think of how to answer that, when Martha said, “In case you haven’t noticed, my darling husband likes to hear himself talk. And Texas style is fine. At least out here you won’t have to ride miles to find a cottonwood tree.” She smiled as the judge shook his head and mutely held up his coffee cup. She added, “Yes, I’m a Texas girl. My family had a ranch south of Fort Worth, and a few rustlers got hung down by the river.” She poured him a cup and walked back to the stove, shaking her head.
Rio finally said, “What would…I mean would I have to wear the badge? And how would I report to you?”
“Written reports are fine. And no, you would be…what they call undercover. The only time you would have to use the badge would be if you brought in criminals. And that would only be to the sheriff or town marshal where you put the criminals in jail. We have people who collect those prisoners and bring them to Denver for trial.”
“Would I have to come testify?”
The judge cocked his head. “I’m sure we could work something out.”
Rio got up. “Um, the outhouse?”
The judge replied, “Down the hall, out the back door, you’ll see it on the right.”
He went out and used the outhouse, I’m not sure I’m cut out for this. And I’ve got other responsibilities. But father raised us to do our duty. He did his, for all it cost him, and so did the judge. Can I do less? Especially if I’m going to stay here. He came out and stood for a minute looking off to the east, seeing the sweep of land lit by the morning sun. He turned around and looked at the mountains rising to the west, towering over the city of Denver like sentinels guarding the approaches from the west. This isn’t Texas, it’s definitely different – the land, the people, even the weather. And it really is the frontier where Texas was forty years ago. Texas was already a state before I was born, do I owe it to the Territory of Colorado to help it become a state? He mulled that over as he walked back into the house. Martha was in the kitchen by herself, and she handed him a fresh cup of coffee. “He’s on the front porch. Do what you think is right, Rio. Don’t let him buffalo you into something you don’t want to do.
He took the cup with a nod. “I won’t, Ma’am. Thank you.” He meandered through the house, noting the plain but nice furnishings and the homey feel. Stepping out onto the porch, he said, “Judge, I…will do what I can to help you. I don’t know how much good I can do—”
“Thank you. Wait here, please.” He set his pipe carefully on the porch rail next to his coffee cup and disappeared into the house, coming back moments later with a bible and his wife. “I’m going to swear you in, with Martha as a witness. I’ll get your commission signed today, but I will hold it in my office for now.” Martha held the bible while they swore Rio in, and the judge handed him the round tin badge with the five-pointed star in the center. Around the outer edge it said DEPUTY US MARSHAL.
Rio bounced it in his hand as he looked at the two of them. “I’ll do my best.” He looked east and added, “I need to get back to town. I have to go meet Mr. Burns at his lawyer’s office to get that delivery contract for the cattle, then try to get Mr. Marshall to sign one too.”
“Burns uses Albert Fellows, third floor of the First National Bank Building. He’s honest…as far as lawyers go.”
Rio chuckled. “Is that damning your profession, Judge?”
The judge laughed. “Well, only some of them. But I’ve found that the truth is usually the last thing that gets in the courtroom during a trial.” He shook his head sadly, then added, “You’re a few miles from Greely, right? If you get over there on a regular basis, the easiest way to get a report to me would be to send it with the railroad.”
By late afternoon, Rio’s temper was frayed about to the breaking point, but he had two signed contracts in hand, and he’d had enough of Mr. Marshall and his attitude. He posted the contracts back to the ranch and headed back to Mrs. Lincoln’s boarding house, occasionally reaching in his vest to touch the marshal’s badge, What have I gotten myself into?
The fifties weren’t all fun and games, but they were our childhood…
I’d REALLY love to have one of those chemistry sets… They had GOOD stuff in them!
What we are seeing today isn’t fun and games either, but please use common sense and dial back on the rhetoric. It’s time for America to pull together to get through this mess.