Return to the New Mexico Territory, page 1
Return to the New Mexico Territory
Harvey Stanbrough
Novel 4 in the Wes Crowley Gap Series
StoneThread Publishing
http://stonethreadpublishing.com
To give the reader more of a sample, the front matter appears at the end.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Return to the New Mexico Territory (Wes Crowley Gap, #4)
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Return to the New Mexico Territory
Harvey Stanbrough
“Deserves? Nobody deserves anything except what they lay aside with their own hands.”
Ranger Wes Crowley
Chapter 1
A few months after Wes Crowley returned from his vengeance ride to the New Mexico Territory, it was his turn to walk down to the railway station in Amarillo.
The captain had decided to continue having his Rangers randomly check the stock cars on southbound trains for illegal contraband in the form of abducted women. That was despite the new patrols the captain and Corporal Connolly had devised, and despite the fact that those patrols had found no new evidence of the comancheros shipping women south by train. But really, it was no big deal. It took less than an hour to walk down to the station, check the cars and walk back.
Ranger Slate Lawson, who’d been with the company for only six months, accompanied Wes. The two of them looked like mismatched twins as they ambled along the boardwalk, nodding and saying good morning to the various citizens they met.
Both men were trim with youth and had blond hair and blue eyes, and they sported all but matching clothing and hats. And of course, the altered five-peso silver Mexican coin they each wore as a badge on their left breast. But at 5’8” on a tall day, Wes was a good six or eight inches shorter than Lawson, who stood around 6’4”. His adam’s apple bobbed when he talked.
As they stepped off the end of the boardwalk and started across the open ground toward the livery stable and the train station beyond, Lawson eyed Wes’ revolvers. “Doesn’t the weight of all that bother you at all?”
Without looking around, Wes said, “Nah. You get used to it. Besides, they weigh about the same, so it’s balanced.” He glanced at Lawson. “And I’d rather have twelve shots to the other guy’s six any day.”
Lawson nodded. “I’ve been thinking about getting another Remington.”
“To each his own. I’m a Colt man myself.”
As they strolled past the front of the livery stable, Wes raised one hand and waved.
Just inside the open bay doors of the stable, the owner, Ramón Sanchez, raised a shovel in response. In his usual boots, jeans and a blue shirt, he was carrying the shovel toward an empty stall.
Wes shook his head and glanced up at Lawson. Quietly, he said, “Muckin’ stalls. One more reason I’d rather be a Ranger than have any kind of a real job.” A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.
Lawson chuckled. “You and me both.”
As they approached the train, the engineer raised his left hand in greeting. His left elbow rested on the bottom of the open window on the side of the huge black locomotive.
Wes raised one hand to acknowledge the greeting. “Well, there’s Pete.” He glanced along the length of the train. “I wonder where Roger is?” The conductor was usually near the steps of the passenger car, seeing passengers either on or off the train.
Lawson said, “Inside, maybe?”
Wes said, “The train or the station?” Then he wagged one hand. “Doesn’t matter. We can talk to him later if need be.” They continued past the coupling between the passenger car and the Pullman. Ahead there were three stock cars. “Well, let’s get it over with. I’ll pull the doors. Just be ready.”
Lawson nodded. “I’ve done it before.” He pulled his gun and assumed a stance. He was squatting slightly, facing the door, and gripping his revolver with both hands.
Wes looked at him. “What’re you doing? That ain’t how you fire on the range, is it?”
“What’s wrong?”
Wes extended his right arm out to the side. “Turn sideways and hold your gun out like this. If there’s anyone inside, it’ll give ‘em a lot less to shoot at.”
Lawson turned and extended his revolver. “Like this?”
“That’ll work. Isn’t that comfortable?”
“Yeah. Someone was showing me what he calls a ‘combat stance’.”
Wes grinned. “I’d bet that was Mac. I’ll talk to him. In the meantime, do what you want, but it looked silly to me. Why give the bad guy more to shoot at?”
Lawson remained as he was, turned sideways with his revolver pointed toward the door.
Wes stopped and gripped the vertical handle of the first door, then dragged it open. The earthy smells of dusty alfalfa mixed with old horse droppings wafted out as Wes quickly ducked away to one side.
Lawson laughed as he lowered his revolver. “Where you goin’?”
Wes grinned. “I wasn’t sure how trigger happy you might be.”
“Jeez, Wes, I ain’t that green.”
“All right.” Wes put his hands on the edge of the floor, leaned forward and looked right, then left.
To the right, the car was divided into eight stalls, some of which were loaded with a few horses, probably belonging to passengers. Toward the front were a few bales of what looked like alfalfa in the dim light.
Wes stepped back, pushed the door closed, then walked to the second car.
He glanced back to be sure Lawson was ready, then slid that door open.
The odor was almost overpowering. It stank of mud, wet straw and feces. Touching the edge of the floor gingerly with his palms, he forced himself to lean forward and look inside.
The car held several pigs. In one front corner was a low, rectangular trough of water. Much of the water had sloshed out onto the floor. Most of the pigs were pink and round, but one was covered with white fur and broad black splotches, including an almost perfect circle around his right eye.
Wes backed away and retched a little but kept control. Not wanting to keep the stench to himself, he straightened and gestured for Lawson to come closer.
When he did, Wes grinned and pointed. “Look at that. A pinto pig.” He chuckled. “Or maybe a bandit pig with half his mask missin’.”
“Ha. Hey, that’s funny.” Lawson shook his head as he turned and quickly moved away.
Wes pinched his nose shut and pulled the door closed, and they moved toward the third car. “I’m thinkin’ tall as you are, maybe you ought’a check this one and I’ll be the guard.”
Lawson laughed. “No sir. You called dibs on slingin’ the doors. I think we’ll just leave it as is for now.”
As Lawson leveled his revolver at the door, Wes hauled it open.
Again, the car stank, but not quite as bad.
As Lawson holstered his revolver, Wes pinched his nose, leaned forward on only his left palm, and looked in.
The car held only several sheep, and they were all lying on straw toward the back of the car.
Wes said, “At least they have the sense not to sleep where they crap.” But the combined stench of the last two cars finally caught up with him. He stepped back, bent over and retched, then gestured toward the door. “Close that thing, would’ya?”
As Lawson slid the door shut, Wes straightened. “Whew. I’m glad that’s over for a while.”
The two men had just turned away to head back to town when someone yelled, “Ranger Crowley!”
Chapter 2
Wes and Lawson both whipped around. Wes’ right Colt was drawn and cocked. Lawson was crouched slightly, his right hand gripping the butt of his Remington.
But it was only Roger Dennison, the conductor, hurrying toward them with one hand raised.
At Wes’ reaction, he stopped and went pale. Then he waved both hands across his face. “No, no! It’s only me!”
Wes holstered his Colt and frowned. “You hadn’t ought’a holler like that, Roger. Not right outta the blue.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” Roger was accompanied by a tall, wiry young man who only gaped at Wes. He was carrying a thick leather suitcase in his right hand, and he looked vaguely familiar. The man was rail-thin, and he had a thick head of black hair. His face looked almost pinched. His clothing was normal enough—boots, jeans, a white shirt under a black vest—except that he wore a black bowler hat.
Wes gestured toward the gangly newcomer. “Who’s this?”
Dennison only said, “It’s all right, Wes. He’s one of the good guys.”
As the two men approached, Wes looked at the stranger. The man was darker than a white guy but not quite a Mexican or Indian. Well, maybe Indian. But he had blue eyes. Wes frowned again. “Do I know you?”
The man grinned. “No sir, but you knew my younger brother. I’m Bill Pinchot. Well, William J. Pinchot. Jeremy was my little brother.” With his left hand, he gestured toward the black holster that hung at his right hip. “In fact, this is his Colt.”
Wes grinned. “Shift that case, son. Always keep your gun hand free.”
“Yes sir.” Pinchot transferred the case to his left hand, then stuck out his right hand. “Anyway, it’s really good to meet you.”
As he shook Pinchot’s hand, Wes said, “Well I’ll be. Your brother was a good’n, I’ll tell you that for sure. He ran out of luck, but he was right there in the thick of things.”
“Yes sir, that’s what the captain said in his letter. Said he was kind of a hero.”
Wes nodded. “Kind of.” He folded his arms over his chest. “What can we do for you, Bill?”
“I want to join the Rangers, sir.” He shrugged. “Sort of carry on the tradition Jeremy started.”
Wes nodded. “Well, now that’s an honorable thing, but are you sure?”
“Oh, yes sir. I’d’a been here sooner but I had to finish hauling pulp logs into the mill for my other job. I didn’t want to leave the boss in a lurch. And then—” He paused and glanced at the conductor, then back at Wes. “I kind’a missed my stop on the way up. Got off the train in Denton almost a week ago and caught the next train south.” He shook his head. “Anyway, the conductor and I just stepped outside. He was gonna point me in the right direction for Ranger headquarters, but then we saw you. Maybe you can show me the way. I’d sure be honored to ride with you.”
Wes chuckled. “Well, the captain decides who rides with who and all that, but if you’re anything like your brother, I’m in.” Wes looked around. “You bring a horse with you, did you?”
“Yes sir. He’s in the first stock car back there.”
“All right.” Wes gestured toward the suitcase. “And what’s in there?”
“Oh. Just clothes and such.”
“Those’ll go in your saddle bags from now on. You got saddle bags?”
“Yes sir. They’re on the horse.”
“All right. Good. Go on back and get your horse.” Wes remembered Ranger Lawson and gestured toward him. “By the way, this is another of our Rangers, Slate Lawson. He’ll go with you.”
The two men shook hands and exchanged polite smiles, then started toward the stock car.
Wes looked at the conductor. Quietly, he said, “Missed his stop? I hope the boy’s got more sense than that most of the time.”
Dennison laughed.
Soon, Lawson and Pinchot were on their way back. Lawson was leading a coal black mare.
Wes looked at Dennison. “Thanks, Roger. See you next time.”
Dennison nodded and started toward the train station.
As they approached, Lawson said, “You want me to show him where the livery stable is?”
“Nah. Later. For now we’ll hitch her at the rail. He can take her to the livery after he takes his oath. That way the state of Texas will pay the bill.” He grinned and gestured. “Well, let’s go tell the captain Texas is safe from captive women for one more day.” Wes turned away and the other two fell in behind him.
He was glad for the opportunity to introduce the latest recruit to the captain. And it was Jeremy Pinchot’s brother. Maybe bringing another Pinchot into the fold would help smooth things over. If Bill Pinchot made half the Ranger his brother did, he’d be a good addition to the company.
Wes and the captain hadn’t spoken much for the past few months, and when they did it was mostly in passing. Really, the captain seemed fine, but Wes had felt uneasy ever since their private meeting.
The captain had requested his presence—alone—in the office shortly after his return from the New Mexico Territory.
Of course, the meeting was what Wes expected. After all, he’d broken the rules.
But the captain had also delivered a stark epiphany, something Wes hadn’t even considered:
When he rode off on his own like that, he’d also let down his friends and colleagues.
Chapter 3
On Wes’ return from the New Mexico Territory, he sauntered into the Amarillo Inn as if he owned the place. After all, he’d been gone for only a week or so.
The other Rangers, all of them, were seated at their usual table. The waiter, Joseph, was in the midst of setting their plates in front of them, piled high with their supper.
But Mac and both corporals saw Wes come in. They were staring past the captain as if Wes was a ghost.
When the captain noticed and looked around, Wes clapped his hands together and grinned. “Supper on you tonight, Cap? I’m famished.”
The captain had only nodded and gestured toward Wes’ chair, which the others had left empty.
But as they all ate, silence reigned. And when supper was over, as the other Rangers uneasily excused themselves, the captain looked at Wes and said, “My office. Now.”
Wes grinned across the table. “Well, I was hopin’ to catch up on my sleep, Cap. Maybe we could do the debrief tomor—”
The captain raised one hand and fixed his gaze on Wes’ eyes. Obviously exercising restraint, in that deep southern baritone he said quietly, “Ranger Crowley, if you don’t come to my office tonight, right now, I won’t expect to see you there again. Ever.” Then he dropped his napkin on the table, stood, and started across the floor.
Wes’ grin vanished. He only nodded, and to the captain’s receding back he muttered, “Yes sir. Tonight will do fine.”
And in the headquarters, the captain didn’t even make it to his desk.
As the door latch clicked behind Wes, the man pivoted on the ball of his right foot. “What the hell were you thinking, Crowley?”
Wes spread his hands. “Well, sir, I was—”
“You weren’t thinking! That is the only possible response to that question. You weren’t thinking, were you, Ranger?”
And Wes flushed red, a frown on his face. He was unable to hold back. “Yes sir, your damn right I was. I was thinkin’ I’m tired of cleanin’ up after the damn comancheros down there! I was thinkin’ I’m bone-weary of those folks gettin’ killed for nothin’! And I knew you’d never authorize us to cross over into the Territory to go after them, so—”
The captain yelled, “No sir, I would not! But the point is, that’s my call! The New Mexico Territory’s not even within our jurisdiction!”
Quietly, looking at his boots, Wes said, “Yes sir.” He paused. “Thing is, I carried mine with me.”
“You what?”
Wes looked at him. “I carried my jurisdiction with me, Captain. And it seemed to work out all right.”
“And what brought you to that conclusion?”
“Well, for one thing I’m back in one piece. And for another, there’s a bunch of dead comancheros over there. Those men will never raid another farm, Captain. And they’ll damn sure never kill another deputy!” His voice broke, and he paused. “Or—or a Ranger. You know what I mean, Cap.”
“Yes sir, I know exactly what you mean. It was purely personal. A damned vengeance ride.”
“Aw now, Cap, I didn’t—”
The captain raised one hand to stop him. “But even setting that aside for the moment, you went about it all wrong, understand?” He splayed the fingers of his left hand and ticked them off with his right index finger. “One, you completely usurped my authority. You don’t know what I might have authorized because you never bothered to ask! Two, it was a damn selfish thing to do. The other Rangers here count on you, Wes! Did you consider for even a moment how your absence affected them? We were already undermanned before you left.
“And when we heard you were headed for Logan Bluffs, Corporal Connolly wanted to take a few men over to help you. He would have too, if I hadn’t reminded him it’s a two-day ride. Which brings me to my third point: Listen closely, Ranger Crowley.” He paused. “If you ever do anything so self-serving and stupid again, I will dismiss you from the Texas Rangers out of hand. Is that understood?”
“Aw, Captain, now I never meant to—”
The captain bellowed, “I said do you understand!”
