Chapter Seven -- Robbed!
"You're quick on the draw this morning, Wes. You've got to take it easy."
"So the sawbones tells me. I think he's full of you know what, but I heard you fellows talking and I see he's got you convinced."
"Now, Wes, it's just common sense. You're lucky to be alive, and here you are complaining about taking a vacation."
"Vacation? It's not my idea of a vacation.
"However, it does leave me with a problem. Not a lot goes on in this town, but when it does it demands attention. I do have a part time deputy, but he is in St. Louis for his sister's wedding. I don't know when he'll be back. I need to find some coverage until I can get back on the job."
Bud let his eyes wander over the room. He knew what was coming, but darned if he was going to volunteer. Sure enough, Wes now spoke his piece.
"Bud, can you look after Sierra Vista for me while I'm laid up? You have no problem of jurisdiction, although I don't remember of a ranger running a town before. You won't have any problems. You know how I treat the riders that are passing through. I let 'em be as long as they behave. If they don't there's a sawed off ten gauge in the closet, and that one does have shells with it. But it will be your show - you can run it however you want to.
"The payroll for the Lucky Dollar does go through here on Fridays. If there should be a robbery attempt here in town, that would be it. It will pay you to keep an eye out for strangers on Thursdays and Fridays. That is, if you take the job."
Hagan was still hedging. He knew he would end up doing it; he just wanted a little more time to think. "How does the ore go out?"
"The original owners are the Rodriquez family in Mexico City. Somehow through the land grants and the American takeovers they managed to keep control of the mine. They pack the metals down to Mexico."
"Through the desert. Sounds like a cause for concern, what with the concentration of outlaws in that region. I've been thinking that there has to be a better reason for animal noises in the night than to scare a few punchers and steal a few head of beef."
"Perhaps somebody really does want to take over southern Arizona. This King, perhaps? Stranger things have happened."
"True enough. Okay, I'll stay, at least until your deputy comes back."
"Thanks, Bud, I owe you."
"No you don't. It's all line of duty."
The ranger walked down the main street and surveyed the make up of his temporarily adopted town. It was a blend of Spanish and American cultures rolled into a unique blend that spelled Arizona. Here a one room Mexican café made all kinds of delicacies rolled in tortilla shells. Beside it was the red and white striped pole which indicated the proprietor was a barber and a blood letter. Next door to a hall with a sign that just said "Saloon" was a Spanish shop that had a sign saying "Cerveza."
The storeowners nodded and said "Howdy," and an occasional Mexican girl in traditional dress looked coyly at him over her fan.
His town! Bud Hagan had often wondered what it would be like to be a marshal in just one town. His own years had been spent going wherever he was needed. He had never settled down for more that a week and here was a chance to get a taste of the other extreme.
The ranger took a tour of the stables and corrals around the little town. His memory was good, and he wanted to be able to spot strange horses if any should show up. He stopped at each saloon and store, not asking questions; just getting acquainted with the owners. If they like him he wouldn't have to pump them for information - they would be eager to help.
Hagan had company when he got back to the jailhouse. Three well dressed men were there to greet him.
"We understand you will be taking over the job of marshal while Wes Smith is recuperating. Did he say anything about compensation? Our town has a limited budget, and ....."
"I'm just doing this as a favor for Wes. As far as payment goes, I am an Arizona Ranger and Sierra Vista is a part of Arizona. No further wages will be necessary."
"Oh, well, I was just worried about the burden of taxation on the common men," said the apparent spokesman of the group. He was dressed in a black broadcloth suit despite the heat and had the air of a New England banker about him. "Frankly, I'm not sure that we need a replacement for Smith. We haven't had any trouble here to speak of in a long time. I don't see why that should change now."
Hagan was puzzled. This was certainly odd behavior for a town father. Well, he wasn't going to stand here and argue about it. He had given another lawman his word, and he was going to keep it.
"As I mentioned, I am an Arizona Ranger, and I have free rein anywhere I go in this territory. There is nothing to talk about, for I will be taking over for the marshal until he is ready to work again. Understood?"
"Oh, yes, of course, I was just looking at all the angles before committing the people to anything. I see that I was over zealous, and I apologize. Good day, I must return to work."
The two sternly dressed men left but the third man stayed. He was wearing a striped shirt and suspenders. He had the air of a working man about him. He was also polite and he extended his hand to shake.
'My names is Cody Wells and I'm the blacksmith in these parts. I joined the town council to make life here a little better, but I'm not too sure of my two departed friends. I sometimes wonder what their motives really are."
"I've got to admit that they made me feel as welcome as the typhoid," admitted the ranger. "I wonder why they are so dead set against my taking this job?"
"They could be covering up an illegal act and they're afraid you will find out."
"But what about Wes? Surely he would see as much or more that I would. Unless.......No, I don't know him that well, but I would stake my life on his honesty. He wouldn't be a part of anything shady."
"He has been here a long time. Maybe he's become so accustomed to the status quo that he doesn't know any crimes are being committed. That is, if there are any crimes. I've been jumping the gun, haven't I?"
"You should be a lawman. We all think that way. Tell me about the last two visitors. Are they as much fun as they act?"
"Even less than that. The spokesman is J.D.Jones. I don't believe I've ever heard what the J.D. stands for. He is the owner of the bank and also the mayor. The other one is Jim Calkins. He runs the general store, or at least he owns it. His wife and daughter seem to do the actual work there."
"Perhaps I should get better acquainted with their establishments. There must be something I need from the store, and I might even open up a small bank account."
"You might take a look at the loading dock while you're there. My place is just down the street, and I have noticed deliveries and shipments seem to be at odd times. Of course, there is probably a good reason for that. I just haven't picked up what it is."
Hagan grinned at Wells. "You don't miss too much, do you? Thanks for the tip."
The ranger entered a store that simply said "General Store" on the sign over the door. Behind the counter was a woman that must have been Mrs. Calkins. She had the look of someone who has bitten into a lemon and was surprised by it sour taste.
Bud put on his cheeriest smile. "Good morning, I'm Arizona Ranger Bud Hagan."
She cut him off with an actual sniff. "Oh, the ranger. Yes I've heard about you." From the way she said it he knew that she had heard nothing good.
"I see. Well, I could use some pistol primers."
"We don't sell them. Just loaded ammo. My husband says we wouldn't make any money if everyone loaded their own ammunition."
"I hadn't looked at it like that. All right, could I have a box of .45 Colt ammunition? And throw in three pair of socks too, please." He wanted to look out the back and spotted a display of boots near the rear door.
"I've got to think about buying a new pair of boots," he told the woman. "Mine are getting pretty run down at the heel."
The woman's ears picked up at this, for it might be a chance to make a sale. "You won't find any better ones," she offered. You can buy them cheaper but these are made by a man from Texas who is really good at it. You can't go wrong."
"I'm sure you're right. I get paid in two weeks and then maybe then I can buy a pair." Her interest waned at that news and she went over to help a woman buying a bolt of cloth.
The ranger was now free to look out the back. There was no fence. There was a visible row of wagon tracks heading straight out instead of around to the street. To the left was a faint path going to the rear of the back. A lot of business could be conducted back here without ever being seen from the street!
Hagan paid for his purchases and left. Now he went to the back and told the teller that he would like to make open an account. The teller told him that Mr. Jones was absent, but would be back tomorrow. Bud thanked him and went on his way.
That was odd. The ranger wondered what news would bring the banker to leave the building on a weekday morning. Bud took a walk down to the livery stable to check his mount. The liveryman was shoveling stalls, so Bud stopped to ask him if the banker had ridden out recently.
The ranger could immediately see that he had raised a red flag. The liveryman must have been cautioned to be on guard about any question concerning the banker.
"It's not my day to watch him," said the old man. He tried to put on an air of bravado but it fell short. "I just clean the place and mind my own business."
"Thanks, just asking." Hagan left and went back to his office. From the rear cell window he could see the back of the stable. Sure enough, in a few minutes the old-timer rode out of there like his tail was on fire.
The ranger went down to follow him but when he entered the livery he was in for a shock. His own horse was missing!
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