Shatto's Law (Perry County Frontier) Read online

  His own people, with their milder ways, would fade before the onslaught of such a horde. Don Mano did not hide from that bitter awareness.

  Why was it, he wondered? Had their three hundred years of interbreeding with the native Indians created a weaker people? Hardly. None were fiercer than the desert and mountain tribes. Perhaps the fault lay in the absentee owners who had never crossed an ocean and were content to suck in whatever profits appeared.

  When a North American came he wore guns and determination as if they were armor. His was a serious mission. To a Yankee, grants by ancient kings meant little—which accounted for De Castella's powerful lobbying in Washington.

  Few of the new arrivals would be of the Shatto breed. De Castella expected he might be wise to bind a Yankee of vision as closely as such a wild spirit could be held.

  He sighed inwardly, wishing a little that those youthful inner fires could burn in his own breast. If they flamed as they once had he too might ride forth on his prancing stallion to wrest some distant empire from its owner.

  Instead, he lived in comfort, surrounded by loved ones, and dealt in paper and promises. His smile was inward for he realized that he already had all that young Ted Shatto searched and planned for. He wondered if Shatto knew that the richest rewards lay in the discovery, in the building and gathering, not in the having. The young man was perceptive. Perhaps he did already know these things.

  +++

  Bargaining had not been difficult. The Shatto offer had been fair. As a matter of principle, De Castella sought a bit. In exchange, Don Mano granted special rates in his stores and freighting. Ted agreed.

  It was good business and good business left dignity. It also left ties for further transactions that might create still other opportunities. When finished, each could know satisfaction, content that he had done well, but not certain he had driven the very best of bargain.

  Ted Shatto would choose De Castella businesses because his costs would be less. Don Mano would corner trade that might have gone to a competitor. Less profit perhaps, but made up for by more business.

  Don Mano could name men who knew the raising of cattle. He could provide makers of adobe brick who would not consume the day in siesta. De Castella could wonder if Ted Shatto had not gained the most by paying a touch more for his land.

  Chip snorted, "You could have beaten him down on price, Ted. He was so anxious to sell he couldn't hide it."

  Ted was unconcerned. "I would have paid more, Chip. Got what I wanted and we'll come out ahead on all the supplies we'll be buying."

  "Huh, could be you'll get better rates across the plaza. Some of those newer outfits will be hungry for trade."

  "And some of 'em wouldn't deliver on time or get what I wanted. Others won't be around long anyway. I'm putting down roots here. Chip. Don Mano is here to stay. So am I. It could be important that we get along."

  "Oh, he'll get along real well, Ted—if enough easy marks like you come riding in, spilling gold all over his counting table as though it was nothing."

  "He didn't see any more than it took to pay him, Chip."

  "Then you had to go and tell him all about how we got the gold, Ted."

  "Didn't want him to figure we had a mine or that there was no end to what we had, Chip. Just told him the story, straight out as it happened."

  Ted had said, "Back in the 1820's our father roamed the western mountains, about like we're doing. Pap had a partner named Bogard. The pair of 'em found gold up north somewhere in the Uintas. Later on old Bogard was killed by Sioux with his gold left where it fell.

  "Our father went east to our home in Perry County, Pennsylvania. Pap raises fine mountain horses, like these we're riding.

  "Anyway, he spoke often about his old partner's death and, when we came of age. Chip and I decided to hunt out Bogard's gold. Well, to make a long search sound easy, we found it and that's what we have to start ranching.

  'It'll be many a year before ranching shows a profit and, with things costing like they do out here, our gold may not last. But, we'll make do till things turn up. Just like everybody else is going to do west of the Mississippi."

  They had come in to Santa Fe, three riders with pack horses. When they rode out, Chip Shatto scouted ahead of five heavy wagons. Ted and Beth held reins and three Mexicans handled the remaining wagons. The men's families were aboard, except for a trio of sons who herded a horse remuda and edged along a powerful looking longhorn bull and a half dozen fat cows.

  Their pace was easy and their course pointed north. Back into the heart of Apache country. Back to the haunted emptiness of the Valley of Bones, across which the eyes of Chinca kept vigil.

  +++

  Chapter 3

  Chinca saw their dust and the reflection of their night fire a day before the five wagons came into view. When they were closer, Chinca recognized the horse and rider scouting ahead. The old one felt turgid blood quicken for he had almost expected their return. Something new had entered the world he looked across, new life that would disturb tranquility. The Apache turned his mind to it.

  Chinca did not doubt the whites' destination. The smaller man's possessive stance stood powerfully in the Apache's memory. When they faced their people, chiefs stood like that. The white had plans that included the Valley of Bones.

  It might be wise to report the newcomers and encourage a strong raid. If a large band could be assembled before the wagons entered the valley there could be success.

  But Chinca did not summon a woman to carry his message. At best, many would die for, as before, the party bristled with ready guns. At least as important to Chinca was his interest in what the whites intended. Nothing lived within the Valley of Bones. After he had seen the whites' activities, and when the wagons moved on, warriors could then be gathered.

  Chinca smiled within, attacking an enemy as armed as this one would be a challenge worthy of a wild one. There were a number of hot bloods among the jacals that could be convinced that their destiny lay in destroying the riders and their people. If wild ones also fell . . . well, that could be accepted, and thereafter the jacals would be more peaceful.

  Chinca would wait. Exciting times were ahead; he sensed them. Would the whites dig in the earth, as had the long dead Spaniards? Why did they bring a few cattle when many roamed the brushy draws and open grass? Perhaps he would discover what filled the wagons so that their iron rims dug deeply.

  The train paused along the river's edge, then turned west toward the valley. At the closer distance Chinca could see more. When the larger man faced his horse toward the east and raised a shining tube to an eye, the neck hairs of The Watcher tingled.

  Until the sun moved, the white aimed the shining. He sat for a moment before raising his hand, palm outward, in the peace sign. Chinca did not answer.

  +++

  Chip said, "That old Indian's still up there and he's alive."

  "Let him look. The Apache know what's under every rock anyway." Ted was unperturbed.

  Chip continued, "It's a wonder they haven't jumped us by now. We must look awful inviting. Five wagons and only a handful of men? I've been expecting Apaches every dawn."

  "They'd have gotten a big surprise, Chip. Doubt they've met many Colts and they've never run into a Volcanic before." Ted patted the rifle butt protruding behind his saddle.

  Chip hauled out his new rifle and pointed it around. "Well, I'm glad you're sure about these things, Ted. Mine handles about like waving a tree limb. No balance at all."

  "Doesn't matter, Chip. They're for short range. Imagine . . . thirty bullets without reloading! How'd you like charging into that?"

  "Terrible weak bullets, Ted. Wouldn't hardly irritate a man at two hundred yards."

  "They're for short range, Chip. Dang, don't you ever listen?"

  Chip grinned, pleased to have roused his brother.

  "Well, if they're so good how come the man said to handle the ammunition careful or it might all fire off in the tube at once?" Before Ted could answer, h
e added, "And how come the company's gone under and not making any more?"

  Ted said, "If you don't like the rifle, why'd you buy one?"

  "Didn't want you to have one and me without—in case it did work out, Teddy." Chip rode ahead laughing and Ted grinned behind his brother's broad-shouldered back."

  The Volcanic rifle held thirty bullets with their powder and primers stuffed into their hollow bases. Operating a lever fed a new bullet and cocked the rifle. The gun could put out its thirty rounds in the time a fast muzzleloader got off two.

  Chip was right, though. The Volcanic had some serious problems, but at close quarters, the gun could make one man about as effective as a half dozen conventionally armed.

  There had been a full case of ten of the rifles for sale with a huge supply of ammunition. No one wanted the guns because their bullets lacked rifle power and hit only about as hard as a pistol ball. From the desperate shipper, Ted bought all but the one Chip purchased and he got them cheap. Ted saw the Volcanics as defensive weapons. As hunting rifles they were useless, but if his wagons were attacked, or if they were out alone, the Volcanics would turn their few into a small army—out to seventy-five yards or so.

  +++

  Making a permanent camp in the valley took a day. The cattle were corralled near the waterfall where feed would be brought to them. Ted did not want his fancy bull battling tough old range bulls, and he intended his few special cows to begin his herd of carefully culled stock that would someday fill their grasslands.

  Boys would move the horse herd outside during the day and bring it into the canyon's safety before dark. Whenever the horses were out, a lookout would be positioned well up the cliffs near the canyon entrance. Apache watch would be continual.

  Ted and Beth chose their house site with an eye toward safety. A deep mine shaft had been driven horizontally into the cliff wall a hundred feet from the waterfall. Close above, the cliff swelled outward, protecting the house from weather or attack.

  Beth said, "We will want a porch on the front, Ted. A broad one that will hold a lot of rockers and settees." Then she asked, "How thick will the house walls be?"

  Ted had a quick answer. "Three feet downstairs and at least two feet on the second floor. We won't have to worry about bullets coming through. Adobe will turn them and provide insulation against both heat and cold. Our shutters will be the weakest points, but we'll make 'em thick enough to stop heavy balls."

  "I'd like large windows, Ted. Otherwise our house will be gloomy and smell dirty."

  Chip heard the last part. "You'd better start a glass factory, Ted. Any glass that makes it this far will be worth its weight in silver."

  "We'll do without for a while. Weather won't be that severe and we can shut up if it does get bad." Ted thought for a minute. "Might be profitable to freight our own glass west. Load enough extra to pay for the trip would be the thing."

  Ted described how they would go about building their home. "Dig anywhere out here and you'll hit good 'dobe making ground. There's good clay out in front here. So, we'll use it. That way we'll develop a pond just beyond the house. Anyone trying to storm the place will have to swim it or go around. Be nice to look across, won't it?

  "Just as important, we'll sluice the waterfall into the pond. We'll build a trough that will catch the water and run it in. From there we'll let it out into irrigation ditches that'll work all across the valley."

  "There isn't that much water."

  "Yes there is, Chip."

  "No there ain't."

  Ted glared at his brother before going on.

  "The house will be back against that old Spanish cave, which'll give us more storage than we'll ever need.

  "We'll build only one room deep so every room will have a window." Ted measured with his eye. "We'll put four rooms downstairs and a pair upstairs. Big windows in all of them, like Beth wants, and inside shutters with loopholes like Jack Elan's old cabin had."

  "Might as well go up another story, Teddy."

  Ted frowned, "What for? We can always build sideways if we need more rooms."

  "Defense, brother. It'll be good shooting from a second floor, but imagine how you'd be hanging over any attackers from three stories up. Maybe even off the roof."

  "Won't be out on the roof much, Chip. Bullets'll ricochet off that rock overhang something awful. Man'd think he was in a bee hive if the firing got steady."

  Chip nodded, "You're right and the roof will have to be good and thick so you won't be nervous about it."

  +++

  By the end of the second week Ted was uneasy.

  "Dang it, Beth, we're going to need more people, work is going too slow. At this rate nothing'll ever get done."

  Nodding agreement, Beth squished wet adobe from hands and forearms. "We could use two dozen more workers, Teddy. We need more tools, as well."

  They looked across their acre of drying adobe bricks. Women and men alike were busy mixing clay, water, and chopped straw before patting the mixture into rectangular bricks to bake hard in the hot sun.

  Ted said, "We can't build the flume until the pond is deep and the ditches are dug. And we can't get the pond in until the bricks are mostly made—or even get a start on the ditches until we figure the right water levels." He nodded to himself and added, "We'd better send Chip into Santa Fe for more help, if he's willing to go."

  Beth laughed aloud. "Willing? My goodness, Ted, your brother is just stomping around hunting reasons to go somewhere."

  "Where is he anyway? Thought he'd have been back by now."

  "Lord knows." Beth's eyes followed the cliff tops where they lined against the sky. "He could still be high on the mountain. Said he wanted to follow the waterfall back to where it started."

  "Hope it doesn't begin too near the top or else he'll just have to see what's on the other side."

  "Chip's a roamer."

  "Needs a good woman to settle him down." Ted placed a grimy hand around his wife's waist.

  Beth leaned against him a little. "Not yet, Ted. Chip needs to see and do more before finding his place. He wouldn't be happy with it right now."

  "No, he might last through the fall but he's already talking about looking into that big canyon we heard about." Beth brushed at mud hardening on her long skirt. "When it gets too cold we'll see him again. He'll be in and out during the winter."

  Ted let his eyes settle on the first brick layers of their home. He had outlined the house dimensions by dragging a stick. They had scraped away loose dirt and placed the first course of still wet bricks on the hard undersurface. As the first layer hardened a second had been added, but they dared not go higher until everything thoroughly baked.

  Heavy planking had been stacked to one side. Even the wagon beds had been part of the cargo and only one wagon was more than a pair of loose wheels on axles. The lumber would build the flume to divert the stream. It would begin lintels above doors and windows, rafters, and shutters. Along the irrigation canals small diversion locks would be needed. Corrals required stakes and planks, so would . . . Ted thought the lumber list unending. If Chip went in to Santa Fe he could bring out more.

  They needed a forge and a stock of iron for hinges and horse and mule shoes. That meant charcoal. Both he and Chip had blacksmithed alongside old Rob in their Perry County years, but you had to have the kit to do it right.

  Damn but ranching took a lot of stuff. The place had to be self-sustaining, that meant living quarters, vegetable patches, harness shop, and even doctoring hurts and illnesses. Ted wondered when they'd get to raising cows?

  Chip wandered in before the canyon grew dark. He sat his horse in the sunlight and focused his telescope across the miles to where the old Indian lingered. Ted had been doing the same. He thought the Indian could see them. Chip said nobody's eyes were that good, but Ted noticed that Chip waved his hat at The Watcher after almost every look.

  Chip turned out his horse and sluiced himself under the waterfall. Then he was ready to talk. They settled on w
agon seats in the early dusk and Beth swung the coffee pot low over stirred up fire embers.

  "Stream starts way up, Ted. Begins at a seep in front of a rock fall. A lot of feeders come in on the way down. There are aspens up there and with some more work water could come out from below them and be fed into your creek. Anyway, by the time the stream is halfway down the mountain it runs in a groove worn deep enough that a man wouldn't want to fall in. Water's moving real fast by then and shoots off the top with a lot of power."

  They talked about the water for a while before Chip brought up other points.

  "I walked most of the canyon rim trying to see in. These cliffs are high when you're looking down.

  "Closest glimpse I could get of this house site was a good eight hundred yards down canyon. If a rifleman got up there he couldn't bother the house much, but he'd have a mean sting out toward the entrance."

  "How far did you ride to find a way up, Chip?"

  "A half day to the north. Went that way because we didn't see any likely routes when we rode south to Santa Fe."

  Ted thought about it. "Long way to go but someone earnest enough might be willing. Question is, how do we guard against the chance of it?" Ted saw Chip grinning.

  "All right, brother, you've figured something out?"

  Chip was pleased with himself. "Well, I've got at least part of an answer.

  "Down near the entrance there's a rock chimney. It's so small I hardly paid mind to it. But, if we hung a pulley up at the top we could rig a lift for one man. It'd be hard to discover and we could hide it some more. We could run a rope through and weight an end so it would sort of counterbalance a man going up. Idea would be to send a dead shot with a long shooting gun up there before an enemy arrived, or maybe haul a rifleman up there after dark, if you had to dig a shooter out of hiding."

  Beth said, "We had better add that rope to our eastern order, Ted. Santa Fe won't have anything that long."