Alta Vista: Sage Country Book Two Read online

  “Oh, I expect we know them better than that,” she giggled again. “Especially Homer, he’s the youngest. All three of them were here just yesterday, with two other men.”

  From Bear Creek, it was nearly sixty miles to the town of Thorndyke, the county seat of Chaparral County. Waller, at pretty much the mid-way point between there and Bear Creek, was a layover town for the freighters and stage passengers.

  The three remaining Thorndyke boys had been part of the gang that robbed the First National Bank of Bear Creek, just after eight o’clock in the morning. They’d ridden thirty miles in less than eight hours, with Ed and me only an hour or two behind them.

  The picture was real clear to me now. It was what I had been brooding on. They were running for home; they were headed for Thorndyke.

  I knew where they were going, so we wouldn’t have to track them. The problem was the time we’d wasted in Waller. Now, no matter how hard we traveled, they still had about a two hour lead on us. Sure their horses were tired, but so were ours, Dusty in particular. He’d carried me for over seventy miles in the last two days.

  For my part, I was feeling both the miles and the years. I’d been wearing one badge or another and chasing bad men on and off for more than twenty years. I was almost too tired to care anymore, almost.

  I wasn’t about to forget Ted lying in a pool of his own blood, or the stolen money that people had worked hard for. The money in that safe had belonged to real people in Bear Creek, not just to the bank.

  When we got to our horses, Ed had something to say.

  “We’re in Chaparral County now, John. We don’t have many friends over here. I guess Sheriff Wilfred McCoy will help us, but I expect he’ll be pretty much the only one. The Thorndykes are heroes over here.”

  I sighed.

  “I know it. I expect they’re headed for the ranch headquarters over on the other side of Thorndyke. It would be a good place to get fresh horses and meet the others. Let’s hope somebody else in the posse has good luck tracking their man. We might just need their help when we get there.”

  It was nearly dark now. I decided to push on until we came to a good place to rest for a couple of hours. I was hoping the Thorndykes would stop for the night somewhere. If they didn’t stop, they would be long gone before we ever got to Thorndyke. It was still thirty miles to what had been their ranch. It would be foolish to try to ride cross country on half dead horses in the middle of the night, but if they stuck to the road, they could mosey along slowly and be safe enough, while they put miles and travel hours between us and them. That was a risk I would have to take. Dusty needed food, water and rest. So did I. Ed and his horse didn’t exactly look fresh as a daisy either. I was hoping just being in Chaparral County would make those Thorndyke boys feel over confident and safe. If they did, they would rest for a while, too.

  About thirty minutes later we came to a spot on the side of the road often used as a camp ground by freighters and folks who wouldn’t, or couldn’t, pay to stay in a hotel in Waller. There was a little creek called Camp Creek spilling through a grove of cottonwoods and willows. There’d once been a house, part dugout and part sod, now fallen down and nearly melted away by time and weather. The freighters and others had maintained the outhouse as a public convenience, and there was a lean-to barn that offered some shelter in bad weather. Tonight, there was just one big freight wagon camped there, with six mules picketed between some trees. The driver had a fire going, and we hailed him from the road.

  “Hello, the camp. This is Sheriff John Everett Sage and Deputy Ed Burnside, can we talk to you for a minute?”

  “Come on in and have you some coffee,” the man called back.

  He picked up a shotgun, just as a precaution. When we led our horses into the firelight, the man lowered his shotgun. His face was nearly covered with a grizzled beard, and the hair sticking out from under his battered hat looked like twisted strands of gray wire. I recognized him as one of Clay Atwater’s men. No surprise there, the dusty and faded lettering on the side of the wagon was visible now. It said “Atwater Freight Lines.”

  “Welcome Sheriff Sage, Deputy. Get you some coffee.”

  “Thanks, sure do appreciate it. We just need to feed and water our horses and let them rest for a spell.”

  “I’ll take the horses Sheriff,” Ed said. I handed him the reins and pulled some things out of my saddle bags, then he led the horses off toward the creek.

  The man held up the coffee pot. “Name’s Chandler, Zach Chandler. I see you brought your own cup.”

  He poured coffee into my cup, and I eased down next to the fire.

  “If you don’t mind my say so, you look plumb wore out.” Zach Chandler said.

  I nodded and sipped the strong black coffee.

  “You might need you some whiskey in that coffee,” he said, rummaging around in a gunny sack.

  Before I could reply, he offered a bottle. “I don’t generally drink it much myself, but it’s a comfort to have, if’n you need it, and I expect you need it.”

  I let him pour a little in my cup. I held up the paper wrapped bundle I’d pulled out of my saddle bags.

  “I’ve got some ham sandwiches in here, Zach, with some bacon and more coffee. Can I offer you some?”

  “Thankee no, I’ve et, but you go on and dig in.”

  Before going to the livery stable to saddle Dusty, I’d stopped at the Bon Ton to get some quick provisions. Henri Levesque, the owner, had quickly bundled this stuff up for me, himself.

  “Oh, Monsieur Sage, thees is terrible. Wees ze guns and ze, how do you say, oh, mon Dieu, weel it nevare stop?” Henri made it sound like he was trying to talk with a mouth full of grapes, what with “tar ee bluh” and what not, but I knew what he meant.

  When I had the sandwiches out, Ed came back to the fire. “I watered the horses and loosened their cinches; I’ve got them hobbled and turned out on some grass over yonder. Do you want me to unsaddle them?”

  “Maybe later, get you some coffee and a sandwich.”

  We sipped coffee and ate, while Zach busied himself with little chores around the campsite.

  “I brung this firewood with me, just busted up crates and stuff, mostly. I remember when you could build a fire of buffler chips, easy as pie, till the buffler ran out. Then in the open range days, there was always cow chips. Now everything’s gettin’ fenced off. Gotta supply yer own wood. There ain’t never any tree limbs on the ground, whenever I stop here.”

  “Zach, you haven’t asked us why we are out on the road after dark in Chaparral County.”

  He winked. “I expect you’ll tell me if’n I’m supposed to know.”

  “This morning, the bank was robbed in Bear Creek; we’re chasing two of the robbers.”

  “Which one?” he asked.

  “Which one, what?”

  “Which bank?”

  “The First National Bank.”

  “Oh, that’s good, my money’s in the Farmer’s Bank and Trust. Course, I guess that’s bad for other folk, though.”

  Ed and I looked at each other.

  “They killed a mule skinner named Ted Johanson.” I said.

  “Ohhhh, no! Not young Ted! I knowed that boy. He was gittin’ to be one of us freighters. He has a pretty, little wife and a couple of kids.”

  “The men we’re after might’ve come by here a couple of hours ago,” Ed said.

  Zach nodded sagely.

  Ed and I looked at each other again.

  “Zach, have you seen two men on tired horses come this way tonight.”

  Zach grinned and chuckled, “Why sure, you boys is sittin’ right here at my fire.”

  “Did you see anybody else, other than us?”

  “Oh, I see what you mean, two fellas goin’ on by here. Let me think.”

  I rubbed my face with both hands, waiting for him to answer the question.

  “Well, right when I was pulling in here, two fellas went trotting by. They gave me some hard stares too.”


  “Did you get a good look at their horses?”

  “Naw, I was busy with my team, but I remember they sure looked wore out, just like you boys. They didn’t have the sense to stop and rest though. Now I wish they had, I surely do.”

  We all thought about that for a while.

  12.

  After we ate, we unsaddled the horses so they could roll or lie down. Then we sacked out in our bed rolls. I had only planned to sleep for a couple of hours. We slept for nearly twice that long. It was about midnight by the time we got back on the road. I was concerned the two hour lead the Thorndyke’s had on us was now extended to more like six or seven hours, but I’d known the risk before I went to sleep.

  ***

  The sun had just come up when we found where they had stopped to rest. It was just a grassy patch with a little trickle of spring water running through it, about a hundred yards off the road. They’d dug out a hole with their hands, or whatever, to make a catch basin so they could water their horses. We used it for ours as well.

  “It looks like they rode in here about midnight to rest. They made a cold camp, with no fire. Judging by the trampled grass, the manure, and these tracks being pretty fresh, it looks like they only pulled out about an hour ago, not more, maybe less.” My hunch had paid off!

  “Yeah, and they had to make do without any coffee,” Ed grinned.

  “It’s only about ten miles to Thorndyke; we can be there in about an hour if we push our horses.”

  “Why wouldn’t they have tried to go on the last ten miles in the dark last night?”

  “You can only push so hard for so long. My guess is they and their horses were played out. Maybe they needed to get there in daylight for some reason, but they had ridden at least fifty miles. They’d pushed their horses hard for the whole distance, and they galloped the first five miles of their getaway. That was bold but draining. I’m guessing they were just done in.”

  “I know we were. At this point, I care nearly as much about a nice hot breakfast as I do about catching them,” Ed said, stamping his feet.

  It was cold that morning. The kind of cold that happens just before the sun comes up on the high prairie.

  “We’ll have to be pretty fortunate to get breakfast, coffee, or the bandits in Thorndyke.”

  ***

  The first stop we had to make in Thorndyke was the Sheriff’s office. After we stepped off our horses, we stretched and dragged ourselves up the stairs and into his new office. It had been rebuilt after the fire, along with a few other buildings, but there was a lot of reconstruction going on. The smell of freshly sawn wood was heavy in the air and the sound of hammers and voices came every direction. Brick and stone masons were also busy.

  Sheriff McCoy’s eyebrows shot up when he recognized me.

  “Good night! Is that you, John? You look like hell.”

  “Good morning, Wil. It’s nice to see you, too,” I grinned. “Ed, this is Wilfred McCoy, the new Sheriff of Chaparral County. Wil, meet my deputy, Ed Burnside.”

  They shook hands.

  Wil looked at me with his eyes narrowed to slits.

  “I don’t suppose there’s any chance that this is just a coincidence?”

  “What’s that, Wil?”

  “Well, you riding in here looking like sixty miles of bad road, just a little while after Henry and Harvey Thorndyke did. They looked about as bad as you do.”

  “So, they’re here in town, now?”

  “No, I doubt it. They never stay in Thorndyke. They just pass on through. If they tried to stay here, they know I’d have to arrest them. Sometimes they stop at the bank though, like they did earlier this morning.”

  “They did what?”

  “Yeah, they do it a couple of times a month. I know because every time they come into town, somebody runs and tells me. That’s the only thing they ever come here for. It was their daddy’s bank, you know.”

  “You’re telling me they rode into town this morning and went straight to the bank?”

  “Sure, as soon as it opened, they went in and came out about ten minutes later, and climbed back on their horses and rode east. Nobody had to tell me about it this morning, though; I saw them as I was on my way to breakfast.”

  “How long ago was that?

  “Maybe an hour or so; you’re chasing them aren’t you?”

  I was dumbfounded.

  “Were they carrying anything when they went into the bank?”

  “Yeah, the same satchels they usually carry into the bank.”

  “Say, Sheriff McCoy, can I have some of this coffee?” Ed asked. He was standing by the potbellied stove.

  “Why sure you can, son. Use one of those cups hanging there under the shelf. Would you like some, John?”

  “No thanks. I need to go over to the bank.”

  “You want me to come with you, John?” Ed asked.

  “No, you tell Sheriff McCoy why we’re here, and then be ready to ride when I get back.”

  ***

  “Sir, I am not at liberty to, nor am I in the habit of discussing the personal business of the bank’s customers with anyone,” the manager of the Thorndyke Bank and Trust informed me.

  He was peering over the top of his glasses at me as if I were a naughty school boy.

  “I don’t have time to be polite about this, mister ….” I took a deep breath, and forced myself to calm down. I needed to try a different approach. “All right, I’ll tell you what. I already know they were in here, so just tell me one thing. Were they making a deposit or a withdrawal?”

  “I don’t see how that is any of your business,” he said smugly.

  His smugness drained away when I pulled my pistol.

  “Fine, then you’re under arrest for aiding and abetting fugitives from the law. Stand up, you son of a bitch.”

  His eyes were almost popping out of his head. He gulped loudly. “Now, hold on. I have done no such thing. The Thorndyke’s merely made an ordinary deposit, as is their custom.”

  “Uh huh, like maybe they’ve done once or twice a month or so, for the last two or three months. Does that sound about right?”

  He nodded vigorously. “Yes sir.”

  “Well then, I’ll need you to walk over to the Sheriff’s office with me. I want you to tell Sheriff McCoy what you just told me.”

  When we reached the Sheriff’s office, there was a different atmosphere. A deputy was passing out shotguns to two other deputies.

  “John, Ed here told me what happened in Bear Creek. If you had telegraphed me, I would have arrested those boys the minute they rode into town.” He was looking at the bank manager who was beginning to puff up again.

  Wil was about half right. I could have had the advantage of rapid communication, which I had forgotten. On the other hand, I hadn’t had time to go to the telegraph office and compose a telegram to be sent to every lawman in the region.

  “I didn’t know who robbed the bank or where they were headed. I took out after them before I even thought about the telegraph.”

  “Sheriff, see here, this man pulled a gun on me and threatened to arrest me. He might have shot me . . . ,” the bank manager started.

  “Did he now?” Wil interrupted. “In my experience John doesn’t make threats, and when John needs to shoot someone, he does it right away, and they tend to stay shot. You’re lucky to be alive.”

  “That’s right, I am lucky to be alive, and I want to press charges against this man.”

  Wil looked over at me. “John, did you arrest this blow hard?”

  I nodded. “Yes, I did.”

  “On what charge?”

  “Aiding and abetting fugitives. We can add receipt of stolen property to that, and I’m thinking accessory to murder.”

  Wil nodded. “Yep, that sounds about right. Okay then, Deputy Watson, lock this slimy bastard up in a cell.”

  13.

  Six heavily armed lawmen rode out of the town of Thorndyke on the trail of two of the Thorndyke brothers. Sheriff McCoy an
d three of his deputies had joined us in the hunt.

  We weren’t bothering to look for tracks left by Henry and Harvey, because we were pretty sure we knew where they were going. They were headed for the Thorndyke ranch known as the Diamond T, and by now they had about a two hour lead on us—yet again.

  This country was covered with brush, cactus, mesquite, scrub oak, sage, and the occasional cedar thicket. From a hilltop you could see across the brush for miles, but down in it, you couldn’t see much beyond about twenty feet, more or less. It was rough country to travel through and hard to work cows in as there was no room to swing a rope. This was where Bob and I had captured Joe Holden when he had tried to kill me as I rode out into the open through a dry wash.

  When we got close, we stopped and led our horses off into the brush until we found a place where we could look down a long slope at the ranch that had been the Diamond T headquarters, before the state seized it.

  We were hidden in the brush, uphill, and about a half a mile away. I could see why the Thorndyke boys hated to lose the ranch. A stream meandered through this little valley and wrapped around a small piece of higher ground on three sides. The ranch buildings were on that little rise, surrounded by massive cottonwood trees, sycamores, and smaller willows.

  It was an ideal location. There was water and good grass in abundance. It used to belong to another, smaller ranch. That family had been bought out or driven out by the Thorndykes in their land grab. With them on the run the state owned it, an example of the changing times.

  When I first came into this part of the country, all this land had belonged to the Indians. Now, the State of Colorado was going to auction it off to the highest bidder.

  I used my spyglass to study the ranch buildings and stock pens. There was the usual assortment of outbuildings and barns, just as I remembered it, but everything was more run down and weathered now.

  One of the pens had some horses in it, but most were empty, waiting for a time when they would be used by the new owner to sort the stock. The place appeared to be nearly deserted. A big ranch headquarters is usually a busy place, but there wasn’t a single person in sight that day. Either the Thorndykes had come and gone, or they were waiting for us to ride out into the open.