Nick Stolter

  Her father was in an old cantankerous mood. She had never seen him like this. Kelly heard her mother stress that she did not want him to leave her and the children. He tried to reassure her that it was only a week, maybe ten days, and that he would bring home horses and cash so they wouldn’t have to struggle for the next year.

  Kelly shivered in the cold and leaned up against the doorjamb. After a few moments, she tiptoed back up the stairs and climbed back into her warm bed. At fifteen, Kelly understood much about the family business but she had been shielded from the nuts and bolts of the money transactions. She knew they weren’t poor but they weren’t wealthy either. She closed her eyes.

  ###

  The graying light of dawn crept towards them as the two men sat behind the big two story barn around the campfire. Whelihan had put an old tin pot into the fire to heat water for coffee. Stolter watched the flames dance and dart around the wood from gusts of wind. Whelihan now gave the deeper details to Stolter.

  “Zippy and I had brought in about forty head from Utah. His cousins had brought in another twenty from the Montana territory. The Mexicans had fallen trees on top of brush as a crude fence up in the trees. They made a barrier that looked like it the brush had grown up that way. To stand there and look at that valley you’d think it had always been there.” Whelihan pulled his heavy coat a bit tighter around him and leaned back against the barn and looked at the trees.

  “We spent a morning walking around the herd looking for brands and marks, making sure they were healthy and such. There were two that we had to put down because of hoof and leg problems. There was a blind horse that had somehow gotten along with the herd. You know how it goes.” Stolter nodded, listening.

  “That night, Zippy and the Mexicans took out with their forty head and left me with twenty. They like to run at night and they knew the trail south so off they went. I wasn’t leaving until dawn so I bedded down and got some sleep.” Whelihan poured two cups of the steaming black liquid.

  Whelihan leaned his arms onto his legs and looked at Stolter. Nick had seen the look before when Whelihan had been in a scrape. Stolter took a drink of the coffee and waited.

  “Last fall, I had some trouble in west Texas. I simply wasn’t as careful like I usually am, I’d been drinking pretty heavily and a local sheriff locked me up.” Whelihan chuckled. Stolter could see a fleeting glimpse of shame in the tall man.

  “Yeah, I know how you can be.” Stolter grinned. Whelihan could turn into a cantankerous daredevil from time to time. There had been more than a few times where Stolter had come to Whelihan’s rescue.

  “Turns out, one of the Mexicans that saw me get locked up knew me through Zippy. Through the cell window, he said he could get me out but there would be a debt to pay. Well, I wasn’t about to sit in a cell so I agreed. Victor Zendejas and his three brothers, along with a couple others, took down the wall of the cell in the middle of the night and I was free. These horses you and I are going after, will pay that debt to Victor in Sinaloa.” Whelihan looked at Stolter watching for his reaction.

  Stolter frowned with his mouth open. “You’re taking those head to Sinaloa?”

  “To be honest with you, a little further west out in Baja. That’s where Victor lives most of the time. That’s where his wife and family live. But yes, I’ve got to deliver twenty head to Baja to pay my debt. But that’s just the end of the ride.” Whelihan gestured with his chin to the valley.

  “What do you mean?” Stolter began to feel uneasy as he waited for the rest.

  “Just north of Bramble Creek, I’d moved the herd up through this wash when I was hit from behind. Bullet grazed my left shoulder but it was enough to knock me down off the horse. I crawled up into a hole between some rocks and pulled dirt and brush over the top of me. Five men came looking for me, walked right over the top of me. I had my gun but being wounded like that, there was no way I could shoot my way out.” Whelihan shook his head as the memory washed over him.

  “I must have passed out because it was dark and the crickets were singing when I woke up. It was hell to stand up. I found water and cleaned up. Horses were gone and I was on foot. And I had my gun,” he whispered.

  Stolter poured another cup of the bitter coffee for them. Whelihan rolled a smoke and the gray smoke drifted up into the brightening sky.

  “The sky looked just about like this when I got up and started tracking the herd. I figured they took my chestnut with full saddlebags, gear, and food. Six miles south they suddenly turned east and I came up on a ridge overlooking a ranch of sorts. Green grass, trees, creek and a corral attached to a built up lean-to.” Whelihan blew smoke up and away.

  Stolter asked, “That’s where we are going? That little ranch of sorts?” Whelihan nodded.

  An iron voice, gritty with determination now came from the gunman. “I didn’t recognize any of them. Couldn’t pick them out of a crowded room. But they took my horses and I want them back.”

  Stolter nodded with a sudden awareness of the coming danger. “What if they’re gone when we get there? What then?”

  “Then we go find them. Me and the Mexicans spent more than a couple of days rounding up loose, unmarked, unbranded horses from the western states and territories. I figure I’ve got a week’s work into those head and I’ll be damned if I’ll let a sorry bunch of two-bit thieves take them from me.” Whelihan emptied out his tin cup.

  “I figure they are selling the horses. If that is the case, then there is cash involved. Whatever cash and gold I find, I’ll split with you. I sort of got the feeling that this wasn’t the first time they had done this shoot and grab before. They’re going to keep doing it to folks unless they are stopped. I intend to have you take fifteen head and move west while I make sure they never do this again.” Whelihan shook his head.

  Stolter looked at his cup for a moment and then looked up at the mention of cash. “So is it just you and me or are there others coming along to help out?”

  “No offense, Nick, but most of the men that I went looking for are in jail, headed for parts unknown or dead. I made it as far as Phoenix when I went into Georgio’s restaurant, that’s Zippy’s cousin, and told them what happened. Georgio said there was a family coming up to Phoenix in a few days for a visit. Georgio would send word that I needed help.”

  “A family? What do you mean, a family?” Stolter stretched out his legs and dug in his boot heels.

  “The wives, the kids, the aunts the uncles. To you it probably looks like a travelling circus but really it is an organization supporting the men who go after the horses. I gotta be back in Phoenix on Saturday, and that’s four days from now. We’re gonna push hard and we have to ride now.” The green and gold flecked eyes scanned over Stolter and then the gunman stood up.

  Stolter’s mind was working. He would have to sell six horses to make two hundred. There is no telling how long that would take. Plus, if he could bring home just five head it would be enough to add to his herd. He and Marianna would put some work into grooming and training and maybe make a couple of dollars more off them. He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly.

  Deep inside Stolter had felt that he had never provided well enough for his family. After a life of trail riding, using his guns and flitting from job to job, having a home and a family was all he wanted. They were all happy and healthy with slim prospects for the future. But now this life had not turned out like he had once hoped.

  Nick Stolter was born and raised on a small ranch just to the north of New Orleans. His family came through the war lessened, wounded and without too much left to live on. When the gold fields of California beckoned, Stolter packed his saddlebags and along with two cousins, headed west.

  In doing odd jobs along the route west, Stolter found that he was faster than most with his guns. He did a couple of ride along jobs on stagecoaches, rode on a couple of trail herd jobs up to Abilene and was once deputized to help a small town sheriff bring in a gang of outlaws in the mining fields. The gold that came
his way made him comfortable and secure as he had been raised with next to no money.

  You can take the boy out of the poverty but you can’t take the poverty out of the boy. The years of not having enough food, few clothes and little hope had embedded themselves into the young man. Over the next three years, Stolter amassed five thousand dollars in several banks from St Louis to Phoenix and the personal fear of destitution kept him from spending any of it.

  When Stolter and Marianna moved to Yucca Valley, Stolter pulled out all his money except five hundred to buy the Windy Ridge Ranch. Sixty acres of prime valley grazing land with the Smith River flowing through the southwest acres. Ancient oak trees framed in the flowing stream. Another fifty acres of hillside stands of fir, spruce, pine and birch. They had been happy for fifteen years even after they had suffered a personal tragedy of the death of their first son.

  The gnawing, aching knowledge that his family was suffering because of his own ability to provide for them was crushing. He would rather die than have any of them know the misery of being penniless. He had a growing feeling of irritation. This job with Whelihan would give him a cushion of money, a reserve and a savings in case people stopped buying horses.

  Stolter walked back to the quiet, dark ranch house followed by Whelihan and sat on the back porch tumbling the merits of the trip and then made up his mind. In the first few years of their marriage, he had told her about his poor childhood, but never revealed the full, ugly truth of it. He still felt a shame about it. He had seen other men ridiculed and shunned because of their poor families and he had vowed to keep it to himself.

  He knew that Marianna could get along without him for a couple of weeks. He had listened to her reasons and arguments yet he knew that he was going. At thirty five, he was still considered a young man by many and that he had another thirty years or more ahead of him. He was strong and edgy enough to do the work and smart enough to know how to get the job done.

  Stolter nodded. “I’ll go pack. We’ll ride in an hour.” He reached for the gunman’s hand as he stood up. Whelihan walked back to the barn to pack up. Stolter walked around to the side porch and went into the kitchen.

  Chapter 2

  Stolter and Whelihan had just crested the ridge and Stolter stopped to look back at the house. A quarter mile away and he could see Marianna, Kelly, Lola and Colton waving. He lifted a gloved hand, waved and turned to ride out onto the mesa. The sun had inched over the horizon and the far valley to the north was still cocooned in a low fog.

  “You’ll be back home in just a few days, Nick. It’ll do you good to be gone for a while. You’ll bring back a couple of head, maybe some cash. Things will be good again.” Whelihan had a confident tone.

  Stolter’s buckskin palomino mare was burdened with two extra saddlebags, an extra coil of rope and shotgun sleeves on both sides of the saddle. Marianna had packed food for three days. It was Lola who had brought out four long white bandages and pushed them into the satchel with his clothes. After hugging her father, she had looked at him for a silent moment and then walked out onto the porch. Stolter frowned but had said nothing.

  The night before out in the barn by lantern light, Whelihan and Stolter had cleaned his twin Colt revolvers, two shotguns, sharpened four knives and repaired the strapping on a small holster. Stolter had cleaned his saddle, blanket and bedroll and brushed up three pairs of soft leather gloves. With slight pressure from his fingers he had squeezed fragrant ointment into a small steel cylinder and packed his stitches kit. They were as prepared as possible for the unknown ahead.

  The long silences during the ride suited Stolter whose mind was flooded with the images of his family and thoughts of the home behind him. He had done nothing to lessen Marianna’s fears about him being shot, injured or worse. Part of him wanted her to see his bravery, his fortitude and determination. He could still feel little Colton’s arms around his neck when he hugged him goodbye.

  It was going to be warm day. As they rode farther into the desert, the heat began to rise sending shimmering waves out over the hard packed earth distorting what lay ahead.

  Whelihan glanced sideways towards Stolter. “Do you remember Ellis Cove? That stage stop about twenty miles north of Hattiesburg?”

  “Somewhat. Why?”

  “There was another set of riders that would take over the stage at that stop. Milt Anthony and Steven Blaine. Do you remember them?” Stolter thought for a moment and then nodded.

  “Milt Anthony had asked me to try to find Steven Blaine when he disappeared. I was sitting playing cards in Hattiesburg when I felt a hand on my shoulder and looked up at Milt Anthony. When I took a break, I went to find Milt and he told me about Stevie disappearing. We got a beer and went over to the chairs near the windows and sat down. Milt and Stevie were much like you and me. They used to ride security on the stages coming north out of Hattiesburg.” Whelihan wiped his handkerchief over his forehead.

  “Milt said that Stevie had most likely run into trouble somewhere. It had been close to a year. Milt just wanted to help out and know for sure. They’d ridden together for many years and he said that they hadn’t had any hard word or arguments. Stevie just rode away one day to visit friends and sort of disappeared.” Whelihan shrugged.

  Stolter said, “So you decided to go see if you could find Stevie?” Whelihan nodded.

  “Milt had written to the Texas Rangers, stopped in at all the Sheriff offices, even checked with all the doctors he could find. The next day after we talked the stage company put him on a run to Dodge and he said he’d be back in a couple of weeks. He asked me to send word if I found Stevie and I said I would.”

  Whelihan gestured to the road ahead. “Milt was always easy going, willing to buy a beer or plate of food if money was tight. He didn’t throw money around, start fights or spend a lot of money on the ladies. He was just a nice guy to talk to every so often.”

  Stolter nodded. “I know people like that.”

  “That night I was laying up in the hotel thinking about Stevie’s family. I knew he had a younger sister because he introduced me to her once. At least, I’m pretty sure it was his sister.” Whelihan grimaced.

  “Anyway, I decided that I’d start asking around about Stevie. He had that reddish blonde hair that he wore cut short and freckles like you see on some Irish. He looked like more than a few other people.

  “As best that I can recollect, I was making the run to New Orleans with a Wells Fargo stage. When I got down to the stage office the next morning, I found out the other outrider had come down sick so they were hunting for another gun before the stage could leave.”

  Stolter said, “And I remember Wells Fargo being a bit particular about who rides gun on their stages.” Whelihan nodded.

  “They still are. Anyway, I told the station master I’d be over at Del Rio’s when they got ready to go. So I get over to Del Rio’s and I’m standing at the bar drinking a beer. Man down the bar looks and me and looks away. He’s familiar but I can’t place him. I see him take another look at me and then drink up and walk into the cardroom.” Again, Whelihan shrugged.

  “Just out of curiosity, I walked into the cardroom the man was gone. Like smoke into the air.” Stolter snorted.

  Stolter laughed. “Now you know how I felt when you’d do that to me.” Whelihan chuckled.

  “Yeah, yeah. Well, the stage was ready so we all rolled on into New Orleans and I’ve got a couple of very pretty and accommodating lady friends there so finding Stevie Blaine went right outta my head. Three days later I’m putting on my boots and the little piece of paper with Milt’s address on it falls to the floor. So now I’m thinking about Stevie Blaine again. I tell Marie about Milt and Stevie and she said that she would ask around if anyone knows him.” Whelihan shook his head.

  Stolter asked, “Nobody knew him?” Whelihan shook his head again.

  “After three days in that town asking around about him and nobody knowing him, I figured he never made it to New Orleans. So I got to thinking abo
ut what is east and west of Ellis Cove. Nothing. Nothing but bare land for twenty five miles in each direction.”

  Stolter asked, “So did you head back to Ellis Cove?”

  “Yeah, I got put on a freight wagon hauling a big load north. Those horses walk, they don’t run so it was a slow ride. Two days very slow back to Ellis Cove.

  “The next morning I saddled up and trotted east to see what I could see. I’m sure you can understand why I would be attentive to bare patches of ground along the way. And to save all the details, I did find four graves. Two of them had markers so I know those were not Stevie. The one unmarked grave was shallow but had a big pile of rocks over the top.”

  “Was it him?” Stolter almost brought his horse to a stop.

  “No. It was a woman and a child. I suspected that they had gotten sick and died from illness. I piled even more rocks on top of them.” Whelihan shook his head.

  “Was that him in the last grave?”

  “Nope. Dog.” Whelihan shook his head. They stopped their horses for a few minutes while a flock of quail scampered across the road.

  “I went back to Ellis Cove. Had dinner, played some cards, drank a little and called it a night. The next day, I saddled up again and then went west. I’d been out for about three hours when I stopped next to this creek under a cottonwood. Middle of nowhere. I turned the horse loose to graze and I’m thinking of a nap when I look up and there’s this young boy standing there.”

  Stolter frowned. “What?”

  “Liked to made my heart stop, he snuck up on me like that. He don’t say nothing so I asked him his name,” Whelihan said.

  “He said his name was Billy. Then he tells me I’m sitting on Nicky. So I jump up and look at the ground. There ain’t nothing there. So I look at the kid. He says no, Nicky is buried there.” Stolter burst out laughing.

  Whelihan pointed a threatening finger at Stolter which made him laugh all the harder.