The train had an hour lay-over in Taos, so I spent the time with the young couple and the Chapmans. Javier and Agatha seemed relieved to be in Taos after the attack. They were both smiling, and indeed, it was a time to smile. Newlyweds, starting out on the adventure of life together. They had a rugged start and it was a shame that Agatha’s father had such a burr under his saddle. I asked Javier about his parents and he told me that they both died a few years back when the epidemic struck Durango. Since then he had hired out to some of the ranchers. It was Bert Winfield who recommended the Lazy J outside of Taos and had sent a letter of recommendation to Juan Pablo Miranda.
One thing I did know; the Lazy J was not a lazy outfit. Juan Pablo shipped some of the best beef out of New Mexico, and raised some fine quarter horses. I met the old vaquero when I had some dealing in Santa Fe. He was a fine gentleman, but there was steel in his eyes. He could smile and laugh, but there was also a firmness to his jaw that when it was set there was a rigidedness that would not be changed. Yes, he would be a fine mentor for Javier. And similar to King, down Texas way, he allowed families to live and thus thrive on his ranch. I found out that Agatha would be teaching in the little school on the ranch.
The Parson and Betty said that they would miss only this coming Sunday. It was the first break they had taken since coming to Durango. Some people have the notion that all preachers do is spout out a sermon on Sunday. They forget about the preparation, and if he’s a good pastor, the praying. Then there is the visitation–visiting the sick, the old, the decrepit, and the heathen.
I stayed until the train pulled out then started off towards the center of town. Taos is an old town, dating back to the late 1700s, but the old pueblo probably dates back another five hundred or so years. It is inhabited primarily by descendants of the Taos and Pueblo Indians, with some Mexicans thrown in. The new town is not far south and that’s where I found myself looking for a place to stay. With the railroad coming through the town was doing an up-and-coming business and there were three hotels to choose from. My eyes wandered down the street, and finally I settled on a place: La Elegancia. Why? I just like the sound of the name.
The lobby was clean, and moderate in size. There were three floors in the building and I requested a room on the bottom floor. The clerk gave a wide smile that showed off a mouth of teeth. “Wise choice, Senor. Et is not quite so hot.” I paid him for two nights which came to $2.50. I thought it a mite high, but then again the railroad helped inflate the prices. I chuckled to myself of the times I heard regarding prices in the mining towns–prices higher, gold town you know.
Turning to go to my room, the clerk spoke up. “Senor, if the noise is loud above you, please come see me.” I nodded and touched the brim of my hat with the barrel of the Greener.
Entering the room I fell down across the bed. Ahhh, it was worth the price. I decided to wash up, then go find something to eat. I wanted to see if the enchiladas here were as good as those made by Emelda or Adela. After brushing myself off, I set the Greener in the corner near the bed. I didn’t think I’d need it in Taos, after all I wasn’t after anybody here. As I was shutting the door and preparing to lock it, I straightened up, opened the door and reached for the shotgun. I had grown so used to carrying it with me, I felt that I was going out alone, almost naked into the world.
I asked the clerk where was the best place to eat. He shrugged his shoulders, mentioned a few places, then said that the cocina in the hotel was muy bueno. I nodded my thanks and walked out. Standing there, looking out to the west, the sun was a bright ball, beginning to lower itself into the earth. Looking up and down the streets, a thought came to my mind to go to the livery.
“Viejo,” I said, moving to a man sitting on the bench in front of the hotel. “Can you tell me where the livery is?”
“Si,” came his quiet reply.
“No, the livery.”
“Si.”
I sighed. “Gracias,” I said moving away, then I heard the voice coming from the old man in good English with a slight accent. “Senor, there is a livery at each end of the street.”
Turning I took a step toward him. Then I smiled, “Si,” turned and started walking toward one end.
As I walked, I brought the Greener up, for no apparent reason except to check it as I walked. In a few minutes I spied the livery, not from the sign, but because there was a corral outside with several horses in it. There was a little man who I took to be a hostler. He didn’t look brawny enough to lift a hammer nor to shoe a horse.
“You looken for a horse, Mister?” inquired the man with quite a brogue. One that certainly didn’t fit in with the rest of Taos.
Looking at the corral, then to the man, pulling on my moustache. “Not really a horse, but perhaps a man. Someone who rode in sometime in the past three hours, perhaps hurt.”
The man smiled, then it vanished as quickly as it appeared. “Not my habit to inquire ’bout customers,” he said, then spat to the side on the ground as if for emphasis.
“I’ve just an inquisitive nature,” I remarked, staring at the man. “Maybe it’s my job, Deputy U.S. Marshal.”
He gave that quick smile again, which I believed now was just a nervous habit.
“Ah, Marshal, perhaps…”