Justice

There was too much blood in the kitchen for it all to be his wife's. He found a butcher knife on the floor when Ellie had lain; the blade was covered in blood. Her and Buck, put up a fight Caleb thought. On the counter, next to the water pump, he found bloody bandages.

In the corner, wadded up and bloody, was a Confederate Officer's coat. It showed the insignia for a Captain of the Confederate Cavalry. Inside the coat, stenciled in ink on the collar was the name Fueget, Donald. Captain Donald Fueget, Caleb said to himself. Not a common name; that gives me a point to start looking. The other men can be found later.

After a fitful night's sleep in the barn, or lack of it, Caleb saddled up and rode to the trading post. He didn't want to go into San Antonio with the Union forces beginning to come into the area. Jeff Piccolo was the owner of the post and a friend. He told Caleb that five Confederate Cavalry troopers, who said they had been discharged, had come through two days ago. One of the men was heavily bandaged and didn't look like he would be able to ride far. Jeff said the men told him they were headed for Del Rio Texas and then planned to follow the Rio Grande to Langtry. After that it was northwest to Fort Stockton.

Caleb bought a few supplies for the trail, thanked Jeff, and rode toward Del Rio. Del Rio was about 150 miles west; about a five or six days ride. If I don't catch up to them at Del Rio and the trail leads farther west, I'll have to pick up another mount; or maybe across the border in Ciudad Acuna, he thought. He knew that his horse didn't have the bottom to travel a great distance. The animal was about worn out from duty during the war and the ride back to San Antonio.

Two days into the ride, Caleb saw buzzards wheeling around the in sky just to the north of the trail. He rode in that direction and found a man leaning up against a small rock outcropping; the man was dead. Caleb dismounted and looked at the man closely. Couldn't have been dead long, he thought. Buzzards haven't been at him and even the ants ain't on him yet.

The man wore a Confederate butternut brown shirt that showed where sergeant's stripes had been on the sleeves. He had bandages across his neck and on both arms. Another bandage, around his middle, showed through his open shirt; all of the bandages were bloody. There was a piece of paper with writing on it clenched in his hand. Caleb pried open the dead man's fingers, pulled the paper out and read the message.

"I'm sittin here waiting to die. That woman killed me. Serves me right, we shouldn't a done what we did. Hell, we shouldn't of deserted; the damn war was all but over anyway. None of us had the guts to go against Captain Fueget, so we took turns with her. But she got away and attacked us with that damn big knife. The Captain shot her but not before she got to me then cut him across the face. Fueget laughed and said a Confederate whore didn't deserve no better. I covered her with what was left of her dress before we rode out.

There were five of us. Captain Fueget, Sgt. Riley, Privates Sloan and Gibbons and me. When I had to stop because of the slicin that women did on me, they waited until I laid down and then rode off, takin my horse with them. I know I'm goin to Hell for what I did and hope the rest of those fellers join me. May God have mercy on that woman's soul and on my own.

Sgt. Bill Wilson,

"You're right Wilson, you'll to go to hell," Caleb said aloud. "I wish I could have been the one to send you there. But thanks for the names of the others, you son of a bitch. Think I'll just let the buzzards and varmints have you. You don't deserve a decent burial."

He folded the paper and put it in his saddlebag. Mounting his horse, he took one last look at Wilson and turned back west toward Del Rio. One down, four to go, he thought.

Del Rio is just a sleepy little Mexican village, even if it is on the American side of the Rio Grande, Caleb thought as he rode into the town. Don't reckon those soldiers stayed here for long. It was early morning and he stopped at the only building that showed any activity.

"Buenos Dias, soy Manuel Ortega," the old Mexican man greeted Caleb as he entered the building. "En que puedo ayudarle Senor?"

Caleb nodded and answered, "Buenos Dias. I'm Caleb Thompson. I'm looking to get some trail supplies and maybe a little information."

"I can help you with the supplies Senor. My cantina is also the, how you say, the general store. As to information, Quien Sabe?"

Manuel got the supplies that Caleb needed, putting them on a counter at the back of the store. "Anything else I can help you with?"

"Is there somewhere I can get a horse, mine's about done in?"

The old man smiled. "I also run the livery in Del Rio. Follow me and I will show you what I have."

Caleb and Manuel walked out of the back of the cantina to a barn with an attached corral. "These are the animals I have to sell." Manuel said pointing to six horses in the corral.

Opening the gate, Caleb entered the corral and inspected the animals. His eyes kept coming back to a big gray. The animal was a little skittish and danced away every time Caleb got too close. Grabbing a lariat that was draped over a fence post, Caleb threw a wide loop and roped the horse. He ran the rope around a snubbing post in the center of the corral and pulled the animal closer to him.

Caleb spoke softly to the horse and slowly walked toward him. He held out his hand toward the horse's nose and let the animal smell him. The horse calmed down and Caleb stroked his face and neck as he continued to quiet him. "Big son of a gun aren't you? Bout 17 hands." Caleb said to the gray in a low voice. "Deep chest, long strong legs, and your hindquarters are strong and muscled too. Got a lot of bottom I bet."

Turning toward Manuel he asked, "What's your price on the gray?"

"Oh, I couldn't sell that one. He is like a family pet."

"Not much of a pet, if you can't get close to him without a rope," Caleb answered with a smile. He knew the horse trading had begun.

Manuel smiled back at Caleb and named a price. Caleb shook his head and countered with his own offer. For the next ten minutes the two men bargained back and forth. They came to an agreed price, which included Caleb trading his Confederate issued officer's saddle for a western one.

Caleb started to count out Double Eagles to pay for the supplies and the gray horse. "Now for the information please Senor Ortega."

"What is it you wish to know, Senor Thompson?"

"I'm following four men, maybe wearing remains of Confederate uniforms. Heard they were headed this way. Have you seen them?" Caleb laid a $10 gold piece on the counter in front of Manuel.

"Why do you wish to find these men?"

Caleb looked at Manuel for several seconds and made a decision. He told the old man about coming home from the war and finding his wife. Caleb told him that she had been killed no more than three days before he got home.

"I keep thinking that if I'd a got home a few days sooner, Ellie would still be alive," Caleb admitted. "The four men I'm looking for are the ones that killed her."

"And when you find them, what will you do?"

"I'll bring them to justice. Either mine or God's, but I'll bring them to justice."

Manuel could see the pain and anger in Caleb's eyes. He thought back years ago to his own wife being killed by bandits from across the border. Manuel had searched for the men, much like Caleb, but they had disappeared into the Mexican desert. I can understand his need for vengeance, the old man thought.

"There were four men that passed through Del Rio about five days ago and bought some supplies from me; three wore gray shirts, one had on a gray hat with a yellow headband, and the fourth wore gray pantalones with a yellow stripe on each leg. They wanted to trade horses but I didn't like their looks or their horses so I refused. If my neighbors hadn't been here, I think they would have just taken my horses." Manuel said with a grim smile.

Manuel pushed the gold coin back to Caleb. "I heard the one the others called Capitan say they were concerned with the American Federalizes and they were planning on crossing to Ciudad Acuna; to follow the Rio Grande on the Mexican side up to Langtry. From there he planned to travel northwest to Fort Stockton. I hope you find them Senor." Ortega made the sign of the cross on himself and added, "Vaya con Dios."

Caleb nodded his thanks, saddled his new horse and rode across the Rio Grande to Ciudad Acuna. There were a lot of trees and brush along both sides of the river. It was much greener than the country Caleb had been traveling through. The big gray horse didn't like not being able to see through the willows, cottonwoods and brush. Caleb carefully guided his mount until they got to the river and a natural crossing.

He rode out on the opposite shore and soon picked up a fresh trail through the underbrush; it didn't look to be more than a few days old. "Take it easy Gris, we'll make it okay," Caleb said to his horse. He'd named the horse Gris, it was Spanish for gray. It was around noon when he came into Acuna and he stopped at a small cantina for something to eat. He also hoped to get more information on the men he was following.

The young senorita that served him told him, after he gave her a dollar, that two men wearing gray shirts and another man had ridden on two days before he got there. One man that came into the pueblo with the others stayed behind. He was trying to get one of the senoritas that worked at the cantina to leave with him.

"This man comes in every night, drinks, and talks with the woman," the young senorita said and laughed. "The woman won't leave with him; she is only interested in the money the gringo spends on her."

This may be one of the ones I'm looking for; sure sounds like it. I'll be here tonight, Caleb promised himself.

He found the livery closest to the cantina, boarded Gris, and arranged to sleep in the hay loft. Caleb washed up in the horse trough, spread his bedroll on the hay in the loft, and took a nap. He woke about 6 PM, changed shirts, and went to a small diner for supper. After eating he made his way to the cantina and leaned against the bar.

Caleb didn't have to wait long for the man he was interested in. He was easy to recognize because he was wearing a Confederate gray uniform shirt with dark areas on each sleeve where private's stripes had once been. Caleb drifted closer and heard the bartender address the man as Senor Gibbons.

Gibbons tried for better than two hours to get one of the bar girls to leave with him. She would smile and sit with him while he bought drinks. When Gibbons suggested several times that they leave she would pat him on the arm and shake her head no. Finally the ex-private got discouraged and left the cantina; Caleb followed him out. The man stepped between two buildings on the edge of town to relieve himself. When he turned back to the street, Caleb was waiting.

"You were in the Confederate Cavalry," Caleb said. It was more of a statement than a question.

Gibbons nodded and replied, "Yeah, so what. A lot of men fought for the South. With that Texas twang, you sound like you're from the south yourself."

"You passed through Texas just south of San Antonio." Another statement.

"Who are you and why is it any of your business?" Gibbons asked beginning to get a bad feeling.

"You, Sloan, Riley, Fueget, and Wilson made a stop at a ranch outside of San Antonio before you headed this way. The five of you killed a woman in the kitchen of the ranch house."

Gibbons looked around to see if you could escape the crazy looking man facing him. "I didn't have anything to do with it," he whined. "It was those others; I waited outside."

"You're a liar as well as a coward Gibbons. That woman was my wife and I've come for justice," Caleb said in a cold hard voice and placed his hand on the butt of his Remington .44. "Where are the others?"

Gibbons thought if he told where his three partners had gone; the man facing him might let him go.

"They headed over to Langtry; left a couple of days ago."

"My name is Caleb Thompson. I wanted you to know the name of the man that is going to kill you."

"I won't shoot with you Thompson."

"Then you'll die with your gun still in the holster."

Gibbons shuddered and went for his pistol. Two shots rang out before he could clear leather and he fell backwards. Caleb walked to where Gibbons lay on the ground. The man had a wound in his chest and one in the center of his forehead.

"That's two," Caleb said, "Three more to go." He holstered his weapon and returned to the livery. Caleb saddle Gris and rode into the night. I'm only two days behind them now, he thought and pushed Gris a little harder.

Caleb and Gris crossed and re-crossed the Rio Grande as it meandered south by southeast. The river was shallow and not too fast moving so it was easy to ford. "Gris if they did what they said and rode up the Mexican side of the river we'll make up some time on them by riding in a straight line," Caleb told his mount. "At least until we get to Langtry; then we cut northwest to Fort Stockton."

He rode into Langtry, Texas two days after leaving Ciudad Acuna and decided to stop for a day. Gris needed a rest because Caleb had been riding for 16 to 18 hours a day. He felt he might catch the rest of the men before they got too far toward Fort Stockton. Gris is in good shape due to water from the river and grazing along its banks but we may have a long way to go Caleb thought as he stabled his mount. No need to run him to death.

Caleb ate supper in a café and went to the saloon for a whiskey; the first since he left the ranch. Standing at the bar, he took the glass of whiskey, tilted his head back and drank it all. Setting the glass down, he motioned to the bartender for another; this one he sipped to make it last longer. For a moment he thought about what he'd left at the ranch, then drank the second whiskey and motioned for another. Last one, he told himself; got a hard ride tomorrow.

Nicest saloon I've been in since I was at the Texas House in San Antonio, he thought as he looked around. The Red Dog Saloon was one large room in a big building with a second story. The upper floor had rooms for overnight travelers and some who only needed them for an hour or two.

Five soiled doves as they were known, plied their trade with the early customers. They talked and flirted and enticed the men to buy them drinks; Caleb knew the girls usually drank a dark tea but the men had to pay full price for whiskey. If they could talk the clients into going upstairs that was an extra bonus both for the Red Dog and for the ladies.

The bar was carved wood and extended across the back of the room, opposite the entry with its swinging doors. Several tables with chairs sat in the open space between the door and the bar. Of course the bar had a large mirror on the wall behind it.

It was in this mirror that Caleb saw something that shocked him. Two men came into the saloon wearing Confederate gray shirts; one also wore a gray hat with a yellow headband. As with Gibbon's blouse, one had dark areas in the shape of a private's stripe. The other man's shirt showed an area that had been covered by the three stripes of a sergeant. That's Sloan and Riley, Caleb's mind screamed at him.

The two men came over to the bar and ordered whiskey. Standing there they were approached by one of the dance hall girls. "Thought you two were leaving with your friend," the girl said. She was older than she first appeared.

"Was goin to, Miss Darla, was goin to," Riley replied. "But decided we've rode hard enough for a while."

"He's got a part interest in a freight company up there. Goin to be a business man he says," Sloan added. "He gave me and Riley a grub stake so we're headed to my brother's place up on the Pecos River near Val Verde and there's no hurry to get there."

"Don't you want to see your brother?" Darla asked.

"Reckon I do, but he'll want to put me to work on that out in the middle of nothin ranch of his," Sloan answered. "I didn't make it through that damn war to work myself to death on a hard scrapple piece of land." Sloan drank his whiskey, ordered another one and motioned for the bartender to bring one for Darla. "We'll rest up for a spell up there and then head for California."

Darla took a sip of her 'whiskey' and asked, "That go for you too Riley?"

"Yes 'em, I'm not cut out to work on a farm or ranch. California sounds good to me."

Sloan and Riley continued to talk to Darla and buy her drinks. After about twenty minutes, Darla suggested that they go upstairs and named a price. The men looked at each for a bit.

"Reckon we ought to save a little bit of money so we can get to my brother's and then on to California," Riley said.

Darla saw that she wouldn't get any more business out of Sloan and Riley. She patted each of them on the arm or shoulder and went to find others that were willing to spend their money.

Caleb turned and left the Red Dog. He picked a walkway between two buildings and set himself to wait for the two men. Soon Sloan and Riley left the saloon and headed toward the place they were staying. When they walked by where Caleb was waiting, he stepped out of the shadows onto the street behind them.

"You boys were in the Confederate Cavalry weren't you," Caleb said in a loud voice. Sloan and Riley turned in surprise. "I thought I smelled something rotten," Caleb added.

Sloan and Riley turned to face Caleb. There was dust blowing and he was hard to see. "Who are you Mister and why are you bracin us?" Riley asked with a worried look.

"I'm Caleb Thompson and the why is that you killed my wife back in Texas. I aim to bring you to justice."

"Weren't no witnesses," Sloan said before Riley could get him to hush up. "Law won't do anything on your say so."

"I didn't say anything about the law; I said I was going to bring you to justice." Caleb swept his duster clear of his holster. The blowing wind settled and Caleb told them, "I'll give more of a chance than you gave my wife; defend yourselves."

Sloan yelled and reached for his sidearm; Riley was a little slower but grabbed for his own pistol. Riley was hit twice before he could bring his gun up. Sloan got off a shot before Caleb's bullet struck him in the head.

Caleb walked over to the men on unsteady legs, holding his side: he'd been hit by Sloan's shot and was fast losing blood. "Four down, one to go," Caleb said. He took a few steps toward the livery and collapsed into the dirt.

His first thought when he woke up was, damn that hurts. Caleb's next thought was, where am I?

"You're in our house. The doctor wanted to keep you close so he could watch you."

Caleb didn't realize that he had spoken out loud. The answer to his questions came from a tall, robust woman of about 40. She had a no nonsense way about her as she examined the bandage over the wound in his side.

"Who..?" Caleb began.

"I'm Mrs. Sorenson, the doctor's wife." She paused and said, "To answer your other question; you've been shot in the side, but if you take it easy for a spell you will recover. Sheriff Ames brought you here three days ago. By the way the Sheriff has been waiting to talk to you; I'll have to let him know you're awake."

"Sloan and Riley?"

"If those are the two you confronted, they're both dead." Mrs. Sorenson put a clean bandage on Caleb's wound. As she stood up she said," I suppose you had your reasons for killing them." It was more of a question than a statement.

"Yes 'em. Good reason to my way of thinking." He tried to sit up straighter in the bed; Mrs. Sorenson helped him and put an extra pillow behind him. Caleb started to explain why he'd been after the two men when a man came into the room.