THE DEPUTY: CHAPTER 4

Trinidad was everything Matt expected it to be. Maybe six or eight buildings had been added since he was here so many years ago, but that was about it. There was no obvious sign of prosperity or growth. For now, the livery was right where he remembered it, so he rode in and got his horse settled with a stall, feed and water. The massive chinks in the slab sides let plenty of air flow through. It felt darned good on a hot southern Colorado afternoon. The stableman was no more than a boy and he didn't know anything about Frank or even the railroad, but he did know it'd be okay for Matt to sleep in the hayloft if he couldn't find a room: twenty cents a night extra though.

The sheriff's office was locked up; no sign of anybody around. It was pretty typical of towns this size with the law mostly forgotten. The guy could be dead, could be home sleeping, could be gone fishing. But the saloons were never locked up, so Matt headed to the Exchange. It was the newest of the four in town and without question the busiest. Matt walked in and surveyed the place. The crowd of working-class men didn't fit with only four horses tied out front, and they sure didn't look like cowboys. He grabbed a spot at the end of the bar; the barkeep was usually a better source of information than the girls.

"Beer. The colder the better, thanks," Matt replied to the barkeep's question. "And maybe a little information. I'm looking for Frank Reardon."

Normally in a hurry with such a crowd, the man stopped, looked Matt up and down, and then broke out in a big grin.

"Ahhh," the man pointed at Matt's badge. "El jefe de policia!" He laughed. "You want Frankie? What the hell has Frankie done now?"

"Maybe you tell me."

"Wouldn't try! He ain't no friend of mine!" The guy was still grinning. "It's always something with our Frankie boy. Find him yourself! Go see Juana at the restaurant. She knows all about Frankie."

"What restaurant?"

"Maria's. Best in town. Juana's there all the time."

Working on his beer, Matt studied the room. All the men, even the one standing next to him, looked rougher than trail hands. Even more mysterious were the languages. Some sounded like Spanish and he could even make out a lot of their words. The rest sounded harsh and mysterious. None of them sounded like anything he'd heard in the nations, and none of the men looked native, either. But they babbled on, oblivious to his presence. He had the eerie feeling he'd been dropped into another world. No conversation possible or to be had, he headed out the door for Maria's restaurant.

It was early enough that the restaurant wasn't crowded yet. He ordered a beer and the mashed pintos with warm tortillas, then decided to make a game out of figuring out which of the half dozen young waitresses was Juana. He could only guess she did more than just "know all about" Frank. He hadn't seen Frank, much less Frank with a woman, for ten years when his friend came through Dodge on his way north, and most of their time together had been well before that when they rode together in Texas. Boy oh boy, did they have some women then! His guess was spot on. When he asked his waitress to bring Juana to his table, she was the one he would have picked. Her raven black hair was piled up in ringlets on her head, with seductive wisps hanging down both sides of her heart shaped face. Her deep brown eyes literally sparkled. She had the sensuous full lips he and Frank used to talk about, and just the perfect balance of curves from breasts to butt. It wasn't much of a contest.

"Si, Senor?" Her smile was seductive. Matt had no idea the situation with Frank, so he lowered his voice.

"Frank Reardon. You know him?"

She matched his discretion with a lowered voice. "Yes, si, mi Franco, I know. He not here. He send you for Juana?"

Matt stared at her for way too long trying to figure out what to say. Did she really think Frank wanted him set up? It was a whole new town with all new players.

"Where is Frank?"

"Yo no se. If he send you, there is time. Plenty of time. I get off at nine. You see me then. You eat now. You see me then."

She was a mystery. She jumped in and out of bits of English smattered with gutter Spanish in short little sentences, repeated herself too much, and never used shortened words. He had no idea what she meant "you see me then," but he sure planned to find out. So he did exactly what she suggested: He filled up on the best plate of enchiladas he'd had in years, and decided to walk it off around town. What he saw just at dusk solved one of the mysteries.

Two huge stock-sided wagons rolled into town and stopped right in front of the Exchange. Four big dray horses pulled each, and they were obviously needed to haul the thirty some men in each wagon. At least half of the men in each wagon disembarked at the saloon, but there was yet another stop; the wagons moved on to a large building south of town. The men who got off at the Exchange were quiet. They looked tired. Their faces and clothes were covered with black soot. Miners!

XOXOXO

Matt showed up at Maria's promptly at nine. Customers all gone, the employees, including Juana, were eating at a large table in the corner. But she recognized him immediately and approached him privately, rubbing his arm.

"I take you upstairs, Senor." Ever the lawman, he caught a glimpse of all the others watching them as they walked up.

The room she led him to was sparsely furnished. It had a double bed, two chairs and one vanity. But it was clean and smelled of a woman's scent. She locked the door behind them, then approached Matt, stroking him on the chest.

"Franco send you, eh? He do good! You are beautiful man! You give me the root, I give you such pleasure."

Matt pulled away from her and sat in one of the chairs. He needed to figure something out, and quickly.

"Look, Juana, Frank did NOT send me. I'm looking for Frank. Do you understand that?"

The woman knelt at his feet and stroked his calves, moving suggestively up to his thighs.

"Si. You say but nobody hears us here. Now you give me the root, I give you much pleasure!"

What the hell was "the root?" Matt's head was spinning. Frank had something going on with this woman. Maybe Frank wasn't the man he remembered him to be. This was crazy! He stood up, needing to disengage her. That was when he heard the tumbler in the lock turning slowly. There wasn't time to hide. Instinctively, he drew his gun, trained it on the door, and waited. The door opened slowly. He and Frank Reardon were looking down the barrels of each other's .45's.

Each man studied the other, but Frank melted first. He lowered his gun; Matt immediately followed, holstering his.

"Maaaattt?" A grin crept across Frank's face. He strung Matt's name out in a flat tone just like he'd always done fifteen years ago in Texas. Matt grinned back.

"Maaaattt! Is that really you? Biggest man I ever knew!

"You weren't gonna shoot me."

"Might still, you sorry ass cowboy! What the hell are you doing here?" Frank holstered his .45 and wrapped his arms around Matt, pounding him on the back. Juana let go of Matt's leg and looked up from the floor, more than confused and all but forgotten, watching Matt return the greeting just as heartily.

"Seth Bullock sent me. Said you were lookin' for work."

"Maaaattt," by gosh we got a lot to catch up on!" Frank's eyes were dancing. "How long you here?"

"Probably till you say yes."

"Yes."

"Okay, it's settled then. We're done. Get your things together, we'll leave in the morning."

Matt was almost enjoying the game, but he knew it was only a game and there was a lot to talk about. He was anything but comfortable with Juana sitting on the floor at their feet.

"Can we go to your place?"

"This IS my place."

"But Juana . . ."

"She stays here too, Matt. And by the way, what are you doing up here with her?"

"Damn, Frank! She brought me up here when I told her I was looking for you. Something about giving her 'the root,' she said."

Frank was back to the big grin. He never took his eyes off Matt, but he slid the saddle bag from his left shoulder and tossed it on the floor next to the girl.

"Juana, take this downstairs. I'll see you later." She eagerly grabbed the saddlebags and disappeared out the door.

Frank locked the door, then retrieved a bottle of whiskey and two glasses and poured with a heavy hand. Matt took a generous gulp. Where to start? It was already almost ten o'clock. He and Frank only had a decade to catch up on.

"The root was in the bags, eh?" Matt Dillon wasn't new at investigations.

"Yeah. Juana sells it for me. Sit down, Matt. I'll fill you in."

"I work for the Santa Fe. I'm a guard. Seth tell you that?"

"Yep. And he told me he got your letter from Trinidad. And that's all I know. So you might want to start from there."

"Not so fast, Cowboy! I see that badge on your shirt. You haven't quit or got killed yet." Frank was back to the big grin.

"Nope. Still in Dodge, still the marshal."

Frank took a deep breath. "What do you want?"

"I want you in Dodge. I need a deputy. Can't do it alone anymore."

"Go to hell!"

"Probably will. But I'm going back to Dodge first. Thought I'd find you and collect on that little debt you owe me."

"I got a real good deal here, Matt. I'm gonna have to keep owin' you on that debt. Bullock had a better deal in Montana and I told him to go to hell too. I don't have any lawman in me."

"What was in the bags, Frank? You fencing down here?"

"You know me better than that." Frank refilled their glasses. "Here's the deal. I'm a railroad guard. The railroad has to lay track from here to Pueblo and from here to Ashland. The Utes are the biggest security problem down here. I figured out a way to pay them off for cooperation. Beats the hell out of Indian wars, and I make money on the deal without getting shot on my day job. They've got this stuff called 'Bear root.' It only grows in Colorado, and the Utes know how to find it and harvest it. It's a medicine, Matt. It cures sick people. And if you put it in a wound the fever and the infection don't come like they always did for us. This town is booming with coal mining right now. There's a big barracks south of town, probably got a hundred guys there from all over the world. They come here for the work and then they go back home thinking they're rich cause they get three dollars a day. But it's not all roses. The miners get hurt in the blasts and they get sick from the air. Juana and her friends sell the Bear root to them downstairs. She takes a cut and I pay the Utes a little something to keep them happy. The miners can keep working, the coal can keep coming out of the ground. And the railroad is going to be richer than rich when they can haul that coal to Pueblo and on to Denver by train instead of in wagons. It's big business, Matt, and I'm right in the middle of it. Ride out with me tomorrow. I'll show you how it works."

XOXOXO

Matt paid the stable boy his money for him and his horse for the night, saddled up, and met Frank at the restaurant. They made small talk over their meal, knowing they'd get plenty of private time to talk when they rode out.

"Maaaattt." Frank was back to his exaggerated pet name for his friend as they rode along. "We're gonna stay in a Ute camp tonight. You'll meet a couple of the prettiest little Ute muchachas you ever laid eyes on! We'll get you some extra Bear root to take home, too. You still got Doctor Adams there in Dodge?"

"He's there."

"You give him some of the root. If he likes it then there's a whole new market in Dodge and I'll partner up with you."

"Frank, you're talkin' crazy. I'm a lawman, not a drug drummer."

"Maaaattt! You gotta open your horizons a little. The straight and narrow is for straight and narrow people. You had more piss and vinegar than I did when we rode together. What happened?"

"Like I said. I'm a lawman."

They rode in silence for what seemed like an eternity listening to nothing but the creaking of saddle leather.

"That damned ring on your finger is bigger than your badge. Kinda risky bein' a lawman and a family man at the same time."

"I could sure use a good deputy."

"Not gonna happen, Matt. I got everything I need down here. I get my pay right on time every month and I only work maybe one out of three days. I get a real nice income thanks to the Utes. I got three women, Matt. You met Juana. I got two more up here in the nation. You only got one. I get all the honey I can handle. It's a damned nice deal."

Frank had not exaggerated. The two Ute girls who ran to greet him at their camp were nothing short of stunning. He abandoned his horse and pulled both into his arms at once, then proudly turned both of them to face Matt.

"Matt, my mamaci! This is Tavaci, and this is Goci." Matt stayed on his horse, not having been invited down, and nodded to the girls. He was keenly aware of the native men, including three braves, approaching behind the girls. But Frank knew his way around the camp.

"C'mon, buddy," he laughed. "These guys are just here to take the horses. My mamaci have food for us in the teepee, and we'll do our trade."

"You speak their language?" Matt asked while they feasted on meat and fresh fruit.

"Not a word, Matt. I just get along real good with women. Always did. You know that."

"How'd you ever start the business?"

"Tavaci found me with an arrow in my thigh last summer. She saved my life."

"Why?"

Frank grinned. "Don't know for sure. She had to look at me and touch me in a lot of places women like to touch while she was nursing me. Maybe she found something she liked. Maybe it was the color of my skin. What d'ya think Matt?" He left Matt to interpret what he meant, and his grin broadened. Then he got serious and gestured toward the girl, his hand still full of meat. "But that's how I found out about the root. Never got the infection, and I was walking in two days."

The trade was nothing short of fascinating in its simplicity. Frank counted out a small pile of silver coins for the girls, and in turn they stuffed his and Matt's saddlebags with the gnarly looking orange root. No communication was needed. It was practiced.

"I'll share my girls with you tonight, buddy. You can have your choice."

"Not my way anymore, Frank."

"You really are serious about this one woman thing!" Frank looked incredulous. "How long's it been since you tried somethin' new?"

"You and me on the trail was a lot of years ago Frank. We're both different now."

"You're a long way from home. My girls don't even speak English. Nobody's gonna know. You oughta take a taste of one of 'em anyhow. They cuddle right up and put out all the satisfaction you need."

XOXOXO

Matt woke up a few feet from the cavvy the men had set up for the horses. He was far enough from the teepee that it didn't matter to him what Frank and his girls did in there. But he had no fire, no coffee, and nothing to cook with, so he rested on his saddle pad and waited. Two nights in a row sleeping with his horse. Plenty of time to do some thinking. He had one last chance to pitch Frank and then it'd be over and he might never see him again. Was Frank the right guy anymore? He was staying alive down here in this hell hole of a place full of people who couldn't even speak English. Frank would always be a survivor. Matt wasn't ready to give up yet.

"I suppose you're expecting coffee, Cowboy." Frank was walking toward him with a hand-hewn pail of something. The grin on his face made it clear it wasn't coffee.

"They drink sumac tea here. Give it a try." He handed the pail to Matt and sat down next to him.

"Not bad. Kinda sweet. It's not coffee, though. Don't you ever miss livin' with your own people?"

"Everybody misses something. I suppose I do. Might not even remember how, Matt."

"Makes things a lot hotter when you can talk to a woman while you're makin' love to her."

Frank was silent. He knew exactly what Matt meant, and it was a big void in his life. Matt let the silence hang there while Frank dug some tortillas out of his saddle bags and sat back down to share the food and tea. Finally, it was time to put a new thought into Frank's head.

"You're all wrapped up in this business you got goin' down here, Frankie. You ever stop to think that some coyote is gonna come along and take it away from you? Your hot little Juana was real ready to do business with me when she took me up to your room. REAL ready. All I needed was a little root. She was rubbin' all over me wantin' me to hop on. She'd have traded her body for root and then she'd have ALL the money she collected downstairs. She didn't even know what my badge was. Damn, Frank, don't you see it's the money?"

Frank's half-eaten tortilla flew through the air when he opened his hand and smashed the back of it viciously alongside of Matt's jaw. He was strong as a bull. But Matt regained his seat and never said a word. He picked up the bucket of tea, swished his mouth, and spit out the blood that had started to flow inside his cheek. Then he drank some and went back to work on his tortilla. Just as Matt had guessed, the silence was more than Frank could handle.

"Am I supposed to apologize to you?"

"Nope. I'm not gonna apologize to you either."

"You deserved that."

"Don't think so. You know I'm speakin' the truth. You're waitin' to get flattened down here one of these days Frank, and only your friends will care. Except you don't have any friends here. Nobody has your back. You remember Del Rio? We never would've gotten out of there alive if we didn't have each other's backs. How about El Paso?"

"You're still sayin' I owe you, then."

"Nope. You owe me nothing." Matt didn't even look at him.

"Then I'll ride with you back to Trinidad. I gotta go out on the line. You keep the root that's in your bag. If I hear you traded it to Juana I'll catch you before you make Pueblo, Matt. So help me, I'll catch you and you won't like what I do to you."

tbc