Chapter 17

Before going to bed, Tom and I worked on the mortar shells in the den.

“Paul are you sure this is going to work?” Tom asked skeptically, as he applied hide glue around the brass sides at the bottom of the 12-gauge shotgun shell.

“It should work just fine, at least for the shotgun shells, Tom. The tricky part of all this is the caps in the top of the shells.”

Squinting, I focused my mind on dabbing just a little hide glue on the percussion cap before sticking it inside the plunger cap and holding it there with my finger for almost a minute. As gently as I could, I removed my finger, breathing a sigh of relief when the percussion cap stayed where I’d put it.

Next, I lightly glued the plunger cap inside the top of the shell so that it stuck out the top. The hide glue would, if it worked as planned, keep the plunger cap from hitting the firing pin inside the shell when it was fired from the mortar but not stop the plunger from working when it hit the ground. Setting that top aside to dry, I worked on the next one until all four were done.

Looking over at Tom, I found him leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed. The four bottom halves of the shells he’d been working on were lying on his end of the desk, waiting for the glue to dry.

“That’s it for tonight Tom. We’ll carry them like they are tomorrow morning, and when we get to the quarry, we’ll add the powder and shot just before we screw everything together.”

When I got upstairs to the bedroom, Anna was already in bed asleep. Using some sixth sense she had, at least since we got married, she snuggled her head into my shoulder as soon as I lay down.

The next morning, Tom and George loaded the mortar on the pack mule while I packed the shells, one to a saddlebag. Forty-five minutes later we were at the quarry. Once everything was unloaded, we moved the horses and mule back behind a large half-buried boulder almost one hundred yards behind the pit we were going to fire the mortar from.

“What’s first?” George asked as we walked back to the pit.

“First, you two assemble the mortar in the pit. Once that’s done, we’ll try a shell with just the shotgun shell for propellant. If that works, we’ll add gunpowder, in quarter ounce increments and see how much further the shells go.”

“Are you going to fill the tops with powder and shot on all of them?” Tom asked.

“That’s the plan,” I said as I started to pour powder and shot into the top of one shell. “I figure we’ll go with the same powder and shot ratio we use in the grenades to start with.”

Laying the assembled shell gently on the ground, I walked over to the pit to double-check the mortar. The six pins were solidly in the three supports that connected the tube to the base plate and the top of the tube extended a good inch beyond the top of the pit. Satisfied with the mortar, I checked the wood tripod I’d had Tom build just over the top of the mortar tube. Nodding my head in satisfaction, I turned to George.

“All right, now comes the exciting part. Tom, you hold that shell over the opening of the tube, with the end of the shell just inside the tube, while George ties that cord around the middle of the shell. George, make sure you use a slip knot. When you’re done, run the cord over to that large pit we’re going to be in.”

They both rapidly completed the task. Tom joined me climbing down into the pit, followed a few seconds later by George carefully trailing the cord behind him.

“Guys, if that shell explodes in the tube, we don’t want to have our heads sticking outside of this hole so please make sure you stay hunkered down.” I got nods from both of them. “All right George, when you’re ready, give the cord a yank,” I said and immediately crouched down against the side of the pit with my hands over my head.

I felt more than saw George yank the cord and crouch down next to Tom and me in a single motion. A bare moment later there was the sound of a heavy ‘whump’ followed almost immediately by a fading whistling shriek. A few seconds later there was the sound of a large explosion in the desert to the front of us and a small tremor.

“Well, that seemed to work,” I said after taking my hands from my head.

Both men were smiling at me as the three of us remained crouched in the pit. Crawling out of our hole, we walked over to the mortar pit. From standing above it, the mortar looked fine. Waving the others to follow me, we walked towards the settling dust almost three hundred yards away.

All we found when we arrived was a small crater. There was no sign of the shell casing much less the shot that was packed inside.

“That’s some kind of hole,” George said, looking at the crater in wonder. “That whistle was creepy. I sure wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of that thing.”

“The next time we come out here to test these things we need to bring a dozen or so dummies to put out here so we can see what effect the shell has,” I said. “Come on, we have three more rounds to test and I want to see how far it will shoot.”

“How do you aim this thing?” George asked as he pulled the mortar out of the pit for a closer inspection.

“For now, the best we can do is just point it in the right direction,” I replied, checking each of the six pins and the supports. “We’ll control how far it shoots by adding powder. In the future, with a little experience and some way to adjust the angle we’ll have even more control over distance. Once we have enough shells, we can fire a bunch out of each tube, at known distances, and see how far off we are.”

By the time we were done firing the other three shells we knew we had a weapon with real possibilities. Each quarter ounce of powder added roughly three hundred more yards to the range. I didn’t want to take the chance of the shell exploding in the tube, so I limited the total powder added to three-quarters of an ounce. It seemed to us that a maximum range of one mile was good enough.

After a quick lunch back at the Hacienda, Tom and George rode over to let Frank know the results of the mortar test. They also told him we needed one hundred rounds per mortar to complete our testing and train the first four teams. Once those four teams were trained, we’d need six more mortars and another eight hundred rounds.

I spent the afternoon writing Holiday invitations to our Las Cruces, Mesilla, and El Paso support elements, asking them to attend a meeting at the Hacienda to bring everyone up to date on our activities and new information.

I was halfway through the invitations when I was interrupted by one of the cousins.

“Thundercloud, over two hundred men on horseback are riding up the Camino Real from Las Cruces,” he said worriedly.

Clapping him on the shoulder, I grinned. “Nothing to be concerned about cousin. Those men are the new security force for the railroad. They’re going to camp on the other side of the Estancia for a few months as you and the other cousins train them. Send two messages, please. The first to the entire Estancia letting them know about our visitors. The second to Miguel and Maco, asking them to dinner this evening.”

Grinning now, he nodded and swiftly disappeared up the stairs. As I was turning back into the den, I saw George and Tom come in from the courtyard.

“Just the two men I was going to send for.”

Giving each other a questioning look, Tom asked, “What do you need Paul? Is something wrong?”

“At the moment everything is not only good, it’s great. Mick and his two railroad security force companies are coming up the road. I want you to go meet them and ride back with them. Make sure they all understand that the cousins are going to be training them. I’m going to be very mad if one of my cousins gets shot by one of them.”

“Better you than Anna,” George said grinning. We’ll make sure they understand Paul.”

“Good. Bring Mick, Eric, and Paddy to the Hacienda with you. The rest can go on to the other side of the Estancia and begin setting up camp. Those three will be having dinner with us and staying the night here. Put it in polite words if you will George.”

“I’ll extend both your compliments and your request for the pleasure of their company at dinner this evening,” George replied, now laughing.

“You do that,” I said smiling. “Now you two get out of here, I’ve got work to do.”

Two hours later, I’d finished the invitations and had just sat down on the terrace with a fresh coffee service when the first riders came into view. I watched the seemingly endless lines of riders, riding four abreast, come up the road followed by ten wagons full of supplies and tents.

Five riders split off from the front of the columns and rode over the bridge. As they turned up the slope, I started down the steps to the courtyard. By the time I opened the lower courtyard door, Tom, George, and the others had already dismounted and were turning their horses over to the cousins. I greeted all five and ushered them up to the terrace.

“This is quite impressive Paul,” Mick said, looking over the terrace rails before sitting down and accepting a cup of coffee. “We thought the road was impressive, but your house is even more impressive, at least once you can see all of it. It’s a shame most of it is hidden from the road.”

Before I could answer, Anna, Yolanda, Celia, Kit, Josefa, and Steve came out of the Hacienda. I made the introductions, and after a few minutes of pleasantries, Mick looked at me.

“Don’t get me wrong, Paul, this is much nicer than the tent we were expecting to spend our first night in, but why, exactly, are we here instead of with our security forces?”

“Three reasons Mick. First, I wanted all three of you to meet the people you may have dealings with if I’m absent. Tom is my number two or executive officer. Anna is both Tom’s backup and my logistics officer. Yolanda is our intelligence officer. George is my operations officer, he’s in charge of Estancia security and controls all the response teams. Although new to the Estancia, Kit is our communications officer. Josefa and Celia haven’t taken a role yet, but I expect they will in the near future. Steve is our legal officer.

“There are three other partners in Santa Fe that you’ll meet eventually. They are; a Federal Judge, we just call ‘the Judge’, Hiram Greenburg, a banker, and Lucien Maxwell, the largest landowner in the territory.

“The second reason you’re here tonight is to meet the men responsible for training you and your men for the next few months. You’ll meet them at dinner, and they’ll talk more about the training with you after dinner.

“The third and final reason you’re here tonight is that Tom and George will be giving you a tour of the Estancia tomorrow morning. The reason for that is quite simple. At some point in time, you and your men are all going to be on the Estancia, usually in small groups. You need to tell them how to get to places like the village store, the blacksmith, the ranch, and the community center. Have I satisfactorily answered your question?”

Mick looked at his two companions before answering. “Yes, thank you, but what are we doing between now and dinner?”

“You’ll be listening. Yolanda will give you a full intelligence briefing on what we’re facing, and then Steve will give you a legal briefing on what you will, and will not, be able to do when you face the people who want to delay and eventually take over the railroad.

“You three, above all others in the railroad security forces need to understand that while, today, you are more like our military force, eventually the security forces will transition to a law enforcement organization.

“Yolanda, the floor is yours.”

“Gentlemen,” she said, standing up, “if you’ll follow me, we’ll move into the command center so we can use the maps.”

Anna quickly added, “Kit, Josefa, Celia, you may want to go with them. I don’t think you’ve ever been in the command center nor heard what Yolanda and Steve are going to say.”

The three nodded and joined the other four as they made their way inside.

“Paul, just so you know, I added Jesus and Lupe to the invitation you sent to Miguel and Maco,” Tom said, laughing as I slapped my forehead.

“Thanks, Tom, I knew I was forgetting someone.”

Dinner that night was the usual chaos and it was fun to watch the three men as they tried to follow conversations around the table. I’d introduced the three to Miguel, Maco, Jesus, and Lupe when we sat down and, as they were sitting together, they took turns translating the various conversations where they could.

After dinner, the seven of them used the study to talk more about the training and the services the village provided while they were training. Two hours later they came out and joined us in the living room for a while before we all called it a night and headed to bed.

The next morning, while Tom and George were giving our guests a tour of the Estancia, I made arrangements for a team to take the completed invitations to Las Cruces, Mesilla, and El Paso. I gave them instructions to wait for a response so we would know where to send the coaches. The team also carried a letter to the Rodriquez Brothers, in El Paso del Norte, asking them for two additional prisoner wagons built the same as the first one.

“If you three listen to Miguel, Maco, and the other cousins, you’ll leave here with a much better chance of surviving,” I said as Mick, Eric, and Paddy mounted their horses later after lunch. “Please heed their lessons, because if you don’t, your men won’t either. Don’t forget the monthly dances, the single ladies are anxious for new meat on the dance floor,” I said, laughing as they rode away shaking their heads.

A week later, just after lunch, I was sitting on the terrace, enjoying a lazy afternoon with Anna and JJ, when Carla came out and told us that Jim Longstreet, and a wagon containing his family, was traveling north on the Camino Real, and would be arriving in about an hour.

“It’s hard to believe that he decided to join us after everything you told me about him,” Anna said after Carla had gone back inside.

“I almost don’t believe it myself,” I replied. “I really didn’t think he would accept our offer. Your idea to ask him questions about what his honor demanded was the key, I think. That and the Army’s decision to deny him duty back east.”

“Well, enough sitting out here, as pleasant as it is, I need to go freshen the rooms the Longstreets will be staying in for the next few months,” Anna said, taking her last drink of coffee, before picking JJ up and disappearing through the French doors.

Deciding there were things I needed to be doing as well, I carried the coffee service to the dumb waiter before heading downstairs to the den to make sure all of the plans associated with the railroad were up to date.

I’d just closed the last folder when Anna appeared at the door. “Pablo, the Longstreets are crossing the bridge.”

“Thanks, my love. Let’s go welcome them to their new home,” I said, standing up.

I opened the courtyard door and we found Jim helping his wife and children out of the wagon.

“Welcome back, all of you,” Anna said, giving Louise a hug. “Let’s get you all inside and we can catch up.”

As the women and children headed inside, I turned to Jim. “How much of what’s on the wagon will you be using day to day, Jim?”

“Just the trunks of clothes, Paul. Everything else, what little there is, are things we’ll probably end up getting rid of, now that we can afford better things, or family keepsakes.”

With the cousins’ help, Jim unloaded the trunks, and we took them to their rooms. We’d just finished that task and joined the rest in the living room when chaos erupted as the Hacienda kids came in from school. Excited to see the Longstreet children, the kids whisked their friends away up the stairs to the upstairs courtyard to catch up among themselves.

“How’s the hand and shoulder, Paul?” Jim asked. “I noticed you were having some problems when we were unloading the wagon.”

“The hand is fine, Jim, thanks,” I said, absently flexing my right hand. “I’ve got most of the grip and coordination back now. The shoulder is about as good as it’s going to get, I think. I can’t lift my arm higher than my shoulder, as you saw, and more than about thirty pounds strains the shoulder muscles, causing some pain. It’s frustrating, but it’s something I’ve got to learn to live with.

“How’d things go with the Army? Any problems?”

“It was fine,” he said with a shrug. “The normal bureaucratic stumbling blocks, but no real problems. I’m anxious to get to work though, what’s the plan?”

“The plan is to relax the rest of the day,” I replied with a grin. “Dinner should be ready in an hour or so. Starting tomorrow though, we’ll spend the next couple of weeks getting you up to date with everything related to the railroad.”

“A couple of weeks?” he asked, surprised. “That long?”

“We’ve been busy the last ten months, Jim. You need to read all the railroad-related plans and where we are against the timelines. Once that’s done, we’ll ride out and inspect the rail bed from Las Cruces to the end, wherever that is at the time. I figure we’ll go on into Socorro and see how the depot complex there is coming along and maybe catch up with the southern surveyor if he’s nearby.

“Somewhere in there, we’ll talk about you and Louise traveling east next spring with the Mendozas to visit Erastus Corning in Albany. Steve says he’s a pleasant fellow, both willing and able to share his experience building and running the New York Central Railroad.”

Jim sat back in the loveseat and stared at me, before looking at his wife, who was sitting next to him.

I grinned at both of them. “Yes, it’s a lot to take in. For now, just relax and enjoy being among friends again. Which reminds me, I’ve invited the folks from Las Cruces, Mesilla, and El Paso up here for the Christmas season. While they’re here we’re going to cover the status of all our plans, the threats we see, our vulnerabilities to those threats, and come up with some new plans to face those threats. You will be a big part of those meetings, so we need to have you caught up by then.”

It ended up being just over three weeks before Jim was caught up, and comfortable with, the various plans connected with the railroad. Our trip along the rail bed from the Las Cruces depot complex up to Socorro was eye-opening for both of us. The number of arroyos, large and small, the rail bed crossed in the Mesilla Valley was astounding.

There was a short stretch from the end of the Mesilla Valley to the Caballo Mountains that didn’t need any bridges as there were no arroyos but then the arroyos began again. The railbed crews were leveling the roadbed between the arroyos since it was too cold to cast the concrete abutments to anchor the bridges too in each arroyo. The railbed crews were still over seventy miles from Socorro thanks to thick caliche deposits and large boulders along the base of the Caballo Mountains.