Chapter 17

Paco was nervous. He was almost panic-stricken. If it hadn’t had been for Pablo, he probably would have bolted and ran. Pablo talked to him, reassuringly. Telling him that everything would be alright. That people were watching them the whole way and that if something went wrong, they would come to their rescue. This was of some comfort to Paco. But he was still afraid.

As they approached the meeting place, Pablo took charge and firmly told Paco what to do next. As they rounded a corner, Ed Bartlett rode out from the brush. He had his pistol out and pointed at what he thought was Clara Jackson. “Hold it right there, woman. You’re at the right place.”

Paco stopped the buggy and froze in place. He was terrified into inaction.

Riding up to the buggy, Ed shoved his pistol into the veiled woman’s face. “You got the money, bitch?”

Using his left hand, Pablo raised the veil. “Buenos Dias. Como Esta Usted, Pendejo?” in his other hand, was a short-barreled .38 pocket pistol. It was cocked and pointed at Ed’s left eye.

From the surrounding boulders and brush, the cocking of multiple weapons could be heard. A voice called out from behind Ed. “Give it up partner. You’ve got nowhere to hide.”

Ed Bartlett was an accomplished outlaw. One of the reasons was because he had quick reflexes. He also usually made correct decisions. In this case, he bolted and ran. His original intention was to run east with the ransom money. The only change to that plan was he didn’t have the money.

As he galloped away from the buggy, he was confused by the lack of gunfire following him. As he continued, he looked over his shoulder and couldn’t see any pursuit. After 20 minutes, he slowed down and looked behind again. Within 5 minutes, he saw a group of 4 riders following his trail. Spurring his horse, he resumed his run.

This continued off and on for the rest of the day. Ed would ride hard for as long as his horse could take it. But shortly after slowing down or stopping those same four riders or what looked like them would appear on the horizon.

It was after sundown that Ed mixed things up. All-day long, his trail was directly east. There were minor detours for terrain or obstacles, but the main direction was easterly.

When Ed decided it was dark enough, he changed direction. And headed due north. He also spurred his exhausted horse to a gallop. This lasted until the horse stumbled. This was Ed’s plan to throw off his pursuit. Once he knew that his horse was no longer of use, he stopped.

Dismounting, he climbed a small hillock and looked at his backtrail. In the distance, he could see a campfire. It seemed to be past where he had changed direction. He concluded that this was the group that had been dogging his trail all day. Ed came back to his horse and took off the saddle. He hobbled the horse and gave him some water. He then set up a cold camp.

Ed was just as exhausted as his horse. Between riding all day and the stress of being a hunted man. He quickly fell into a deep sleep.

As Ed slowly came awake, he could smell bacon and fresh coffee. He stretched the kinks out of his body. Opening his eyes, he saw a middle-aged man sitting at a campfire about 5 feet away. Noticing that Ed was awake, he said, “Good morning. Want some coffee? bacon and beans will be ready in a couple of minutes.”

“Who are you? what are you doing here?”

“Well, Ed, it is Ed, right? Ed Bartlett? You ran with Bob Pritchert’s gang over to Virginia City, didn’t you?”

“So what? You know me, who the hell are you?”

“My name is Joshua Anderson, Colonel Joshua Anderson. Retired, of course. After the war, the government had too many Colonels running around. They kept the ones they liked and kicked the rest of us loose. But now that we know each other. I need to let you know something vitally important to your future.”

“Spill it, asshole what could an old fart like you have to say that would be of any interest to me?”

“Oh, the impatience and crudity of youth.” Anderson raised his left hand. From the bushes and surrounding rocks in a semicircle surrounding Ed. Fourteen men stepped out. All of them were armed. Some with Winchester rifles. Two with shotguns. All had pistols on their hips.

“Ed, we will be returning to Wilkins. And you will be tried for the various crimes that you have committed around the territory. But of greatest interest to the Jackson family will be the crime of the ransom kidnapping of one Billy Jackson. In case you weren’t aware, in Nevada, that is a capital crime. If found guilty, you will be executed.”

Ed reached to the holster on his hip. It was empty.

“Sorry, Ed, we took it. You are a sound sleeper. We also took the derringers from your boots. And the knives. Both of them. The one on your belt and the one on your back. We aim to see you stand before the judge and not get killed in a shootout. A sturdy rope is in your future.”

“But before we get started back to town, how about some beans and coffee. I’m a fair trail cook. As long as it’s simple.”

It was an almost carnival atmosphere when the so-called Washoe teams returned to Wilkins. Most of the Hacienda families had gotten word that there was a mission coming home, and they wanted to show their support. There were also folks from the surrounding area that, sensing the carnival atmosphere, had set up temporary booths for food and entertainment.

When the star performers came into town, it was to a hero’s welcome.

All of this had been by design, sort of. Once started, it had morphed from a simple welcome home to a county fair with all the trimmings. For three days before the team’s arrival, and a full day after, crowds of people flooded into Wilkins. Rooms at the Majestic were nonexistent.

Even Elizabeth’s Tea House suspended their usual trade in favor of the higher room rentals they could demand. An enterprising group of Japanese rail workers had dismantled their camp and relocated to Wilkins and rented their canvas tents at twice the usual rate for a room at the Majestic.

Meanwhile, Maybelle and Julieann had taken a sabbatical. They had worn themselves out and claimed refuge at the Hacienda. Joshua granted their sanctuary on the condition that they make it a true vacation and take it easy. They spent the week lounging in the headquarters garden.

As the parade began, the crowds lined the main street. There was a brass band that the Mayor had hired from Flagstaff. Playing stirring music while the Troopers rode towards the Sheriff’s office. The men, with the exception of Sun Hair, rode proud and waved at the crowd. Sun Hair had rejected the notoriety and had ridden ahead to the Shoshone lands. He had a tribal mission.

When the crowd reached the Sheriff’s office, a bedraggled and trail worn Billy Jackson was helped from his horse and handed over to Sheriff Quigley. Who, without further fanfare, hustled Billy into the jail and then to a cell. It was the cell directly across from Ed Bartlett.