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  Looking up at the sky, John estimated it was only about an hour until dawn. There was no reason to go back to bed. Sleep was over. He pulled on his boots and strapped on his gun belt. John stoked the fire and heated up the left-over coffee. When the fire was blazing, he roasted a bit of bacon and had two more of the biscuits Charlotte had packed for him.

  “Well boy, I’m sure glad to see you’re all right.”

  Midnight whinnied again.

  “For a few minutes I thought we were both done for.” Midnight moved a bit closer to the fire so John got up and patted the great horse on the neck. It only took a few minutes for John to get him saddled and to put out the fire. Mounting Midnight, he kept the steed to a walk as he waited for the sky to lighten.

  Taking the road south, John planned to make it as far as possible before he stopped for dinner. Somewhere around midday, John saw a house not far from the road and what looked like the beginnings of a town. He pulled up to the hitching rail in front of a non-descript building that had a porch that ran the length of the unpainted building. There were several chairs on the porch and a large barrel that could have been filled with pickles, crackers, or any one of several items. One of the chairs was filled with an old man who was snoozing. At his feet was a dog that was sound asleep.

  John swung down and said, “Howdy.”

  “Howdy back to you,” said the old man. The dog opened its eyes without ever moving its head. It looked at John for a moment and closed it eyes again.

  “I wonder if you have any food inside. I’d sure like to buy something to eat if you have it.”

  “Of course I do, youngster,” said the old man. “I’ve got just ‘bout anything you can think of inside.”

  John smiled to himself as he considered the statement of the old man. While he might have a nice stock of goods, John didn’t think there would be much inside to brag about.

  But the store was filled with items of all kinds. There were blankets and various clothing items. There were pots and pans, cooking utensils, farm implements, assorted hardware items including nuts and bolts, tools of every variety, wagon parts, bridles, saddles and other tack, windmill parts—from the looks of things, the proprietor did seem to have just about everything.

  John went to a section of the store that was stacked high with canned goods. There was a good stock of vegetables and fruit, soups in several varieties, beef, lamb, and a number of things John had not seen outside of New York, like canned oysters. He smiled to himself as he thought about how he thought the old man was simply bragging.

  “What’s the name of this community?”

  “You are right now standin’ in the heart of Nicksville. I’m John L. Nicks and this is my store. I’m also the justice of the peace and the postmaster. Some people ‘round here call me mayor but that ain’t right.”

  John smiled to himself. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Nicks. My name’s John Crudder. You were shor tellin’ me straight about your store. You have might near everything in here.”

  The old man nodded and pursed his lips a bit as though to say, “Told you so, John.”

  John got a can of beans and a can of peaches and then took a handful of soda crackers from a barrel and placed his selections on the counter. The old man looked at the items and said, “That’ll be half a dollar.” John put a fifty-cent piece on the counter when the old man continued. “Want me to open those for you?” He pulled a can opener from under the counter and proceeded to open both cans as John nodded his approval. “You can eat out on the porch with me and Blue.”

  Outside, John took a seat and the old man went back to his chair and shouted at his dog. “Get out of the way, Blue!” The dog lazily got up and moved about two feet away and dropped back to the porch, seemingly asleep before as soon as he landed.

  John took a spoon from his saddlebag and ate the beans and crackers. For dessert he enjoyed the luxury of the canned peaches. He recalled when he was in New York and later in Boston, he hadn’t thought of peaches as being special. Since coming to Texas, he had fallen in love with the fruit. Savoring each bite, John tried to carry on a conversation with the old man.

  “Mr. Nicks, how long you been here in Nicksville?”

  “I’m just Nicks. No mister to it. I’ve been here nigh onto twenty years. I was the first settler in these parts. Then every few years, others moved in. Don’t know why anyone would want to live anywhere else.”

  John continued eating his peaches and waited to see if Nicks had more to add. There was only silence so John said, “It does look like a nice place to live.” The old man just rocked and said nothing more. John finished his peaches, got up and nodded at the old man. “Much obliged, Nicks. I’ll probably be seein’ you again when I ride back through.”

  “Stop anytime, youngster. I’ve got plenty of things to choose from. Next time, you might find you need something more than just a couple of cans of food.”

  “You may be right about that. Thanks again.” John swung up and turned Midnight south. Midnight broke into a run just a few yards from the store and continued running until John reined him in about twenty minutes later. For the rest of the afternoon, John alternated between a gentle lope and holding Midnight to a walk.

  John got into Moore a couple of hours later and watered Midnight at the well near the center of town. There was no activity in town other than a couple of dogs that followed Midnight to the water trough. John saw a few saddled horses in front of what looked to be a saloon but there was no other evidence of life.

  Riding out of Moore, John saw a sign that said Frio City was thirteen miles ahead. Looking at the sky, he knew he could easily make it by nightfall. While he didn’t know anything about the city, it sounded like he might actually be able to have another night sleeping in a bed.

  Just before dark, John rode into Frio City. He passed a large stone courthouse, a café and a rooming house. At the end of town John went to the livery stable. John swung down and unsaddled Midnight. He gave his horse a good brushing and arranged for him to have a bucket of oats and asked to have him saddled at first light.

  He walked to the café and ordered a beefsteak and cup of coffee. While the food was good, it was not nearly as good as Charlotte’s cooking. After supper, he went next door and got a room for the evening.

  Just before dawn, John went back to the café and ordered sausage and a couple of fried eggs. At the livery stable, he found Midnight saddled and waiting out front. John paid the stable owner and continued his journey south.

  By noon, John was in Darlington. He rode up to the general store and went inside to look for something to eat. Anticipating another wonderful selection of canned goods, he was disappointed to find they only had canned beans and soup. While the store didn’t have any crackers, they did have a pickle barrel. John selected a can of beans and fished a pickle from the barrel. It didn’t take but a few minutes to eat. After watering Midnight, he continued south toward Cotulla.

  As it turned out, Cotulla was actually a large cattle ranch instead of a town. John rode out to the ranch house late in the afternoon. It looked to him like the hands were gathering for supper. John swung down and asked for the ranch foreman.

  “I’m Joe,” came a voice behind him. John turned around to see a medium height man with dark brown skin, wearing a dirty shirt and a rumpled hat. He appeared to be about John’s age or maybe just a bit older. “How can I help you?”

  “My name is John. I’m just ridin’ through on my way to Laredo. I wonder if I the owner would let me buy my supper here?”

  “I recon he will. This is my ranch. I’m Joseph Cotulla.” The man was short of stature though taller than Crudder. He had an accent that John thought was Polish. The man extended his hand.

  John shook his hand and said, “I’m John Crudder from Bandera.”

  “Bandera? Do you know Slim Hanson?” asked Joe.

  “Yup. He’s my father-in-law.”

  “Well then, I’m sorry but you can’t buy your supper here,”
said Joe. “But since you’re Slim’s son-in-law, you will please help yourself to all you can eat.”

  John followed Joe and the rest of the cowboys into a dining hall that looked remarkably like the one on the H&F. After filling his plate with steak, fried potatoes, and cornbread, John took a seat beside Joe. John found the food to be as good as what was served on the H&F.

  Cotulla was easy to talk to and delighted in telling his story of emigrating from Poland and eventually starting his ranch. John listened intently so he didn’t miss a word due to Cotulla’s accent. Cotulla told him that someday the railroad would run right through the middle of his ranch and take his cattle to market for him with out him having to organize trail drives. He also told him there would be a town there and people would want to move there because it was the best place on earth to live.

  “How did you get to know Slim?” asked John.

  “We met in Brownsville after the war,” replied Joe. “I fought for the Union Army and Slim fought for the Confederates. That was a problem for only about five minutes. After that, we realized we both had the dream of owning large cattle ranches but we didn’t have much money. Slim had already started the H&F and was helpful to me in showing me how to start a ranch. We decided to work together to see if could make more progress together.”

  “What did you do to make money?”

  “We had a little money and knew we could buy a few head of cattle but it was not nearly enough to make a start toward even one ranch.” Joe paused and took another big bite of steak. As he chewed he continued the story. “We went down into Mexico and bought our cattle there. The prices were a lot less than in Texas. Then we drove the cattle all the way to Kansas City and sold them. We made more money than we even dreamed of. Slim had already settled down in Bandera and I came back with intention of going back to Brownsville. This is as far as I got. I fell in love with the land and decided this is where I’d build my ranch.”

  “From the looks of it, you’ve done well,” said John.

  “Yes, I have. I even got up to Slim’s ranch a few years ago. I was in San Anton and decided I wanted to see where he settled down. Slim has built a fine ranch.” Joe lifted both arms and pointed with his knife and fork to the room. “You might even think you were back on the H&F when you sit in this room.”

  “I immediately noticed the similarity to the H&F. I thought it was just coincidence.”

  “No. I liked what Slim had built and decided this would work well on my ranch.”

  Joe and John continued to visit through the rest of their meal. The cook yelled out, “Apple cobbler!” A loud cheer went up from the men as they descended at once on the cook.

  “My cook is named Mo. He’s the most popular man on the ranch. After eating his cooking, you can see why. But just wait ’til you’ve had his apple cobbler.” Joe and John continued to talk above the commotion. When the hands were all satisfied, the cook brought two bowls of cobbler over to both men. As with the rest of the meal, it was delicious.

  When John finished his cobbler, he went back and got two more bowls and set one in front of Joe. They continued talking as John finished his second bowl of cobbler. As the conversation continued, Joe pushed his bowl in front of John indicating he wasn’t going to eat it. As Joe talked on, John finished his third bowl of cobbler.

  “John, you’re welcomed to bed down in the bunkhouse. In fact, if you would like to stay a few days, feel free to do so. You’ll be my guest.”

  “Thank you, Joe. I’ll take you up on the bunkhouse for tonight but I have business in Laredo that will not keep.”

  “I understand, John. At least stay for breakfast in the morning.”

  “I certainly will.”

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  After breakfast, John continued his journey south. Joe told him Encinal was a bit less than thirty miles. John rode through the day and made it to Encinal in early afternoon but didn’t stop. He continued to head south, eager to get to Laredo. At dusk, John swung down as he came alongside a small lake. He made camp, brushed Midnight and allowed his horse to drink and graze at will.

  That night, John slept well after a dinner consisting of bacon and coffee. As he leaned into his upturned saddle, he marveled that his trip had gone so well. He was expecting to eat bacon at each meal and to sleep under the stars each night. As it turned out, he had fine meals each day and a bed all but one night. He figured he should be in Laredo shortly after noon the next day.

  Things would surely take a turn then. He expected to spend his time tracking Marie’s killer. While he didn’t know what danger he faced he was sure it would require his best. Little did he know Laredo could turn out to be the end of the road for the Midnight Marauder

  .

  Chapter 10

  LAREDO, TEXAS

  As John made way into Laredo, he wasn’t sure what he was expecting but he found it to be a larger city than he had imagined. He saw some similarities to Bandera and that made him feel very much at home. Immediately he noticed most of the residents were dark-skinned and spoke in Spanish more than English.

  It seems Laredo had a push, pull relationship with the United States and Mexico almost since its inception. Laredo was capital of the independent Republic of the Rio Grande in 1840. It was set up in opposition to the Mexican General Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna and effectively became its own country. But such a tiny country could not survive with the great nations to the north and the south. Less than a year after declaring itself a republic, Mexico brought Laredo back by military force. But then after the Mexican-American War in 1846, the town was once again made a part of the United States.

  Regardless of the country that claimed it, Laredo was populated mostly by Tejanos, which is Spanish for Mexican-American residents of Texas. That is, they were of Mexican decent and had lived in Laredo for generations. Because of their heritage, they wanted the town to be part of Mexico. The citizens of Laredo got up a petition to ask the American military to return the town to Mexico. The petition was soundly rejected. In response, most of the population moved across the Rio Grande and founded the town of Nuevo Laredo.

  John continued through Laredo riding down San Augustin Avenue until he got to the cathedral by the same name. Across the street from the church was a central square that was just a few yards from the Rio Grande River. John looked across the river and knew he was seeing Mexico for the first time. There were a few men milling around the central square. But he saw several men sleeping in the shade of the oak trees that surrounded the square. He knew of the Mexican practice of taking a siesta after lunch. He had seen some of the Mexican hands on the H&F Ranch taking a siesta while the rest of the hands ate. The men on the H&F poked fun at those taking siestas and said they were just not cut out for hard work. But John had observed that the hands of Mexican descent worked just as hard if not harder than the men who had grown up in Bandera.

  Swinging down from Midnight, John tied his horse at the hitching rail, removed his hat and walked into the church. He was captivated by the soring ceiling that was arched from one end to the other. The altar at the end of the cathedral was made of white marble and was carved in intricate detail. He slowly walked through the church as he took in the beauty of the building. John walked to the altar and stood for a few minutes and then took a seat in one of the pews, knelt and bowed his head.

  Lord, I’m not sure what I’m doing here or why I’m even talking to you. But I get the feeling I’m really going to need your help in the next few days. You know I’m not the superstitious type. Yet I find myself thinking something is going to happen that may be beyond what I can handle. Anyway, whatever is waiting for me, I ask that you will watch over me. Let me make it back home to my wife and daughters.

  As John got up from his pew, an elderly priest walked down the aisle. His back was crooked and he was stooped deeply. The priest had a deeply lined face that was dark brown. John realized that the robe the priest was wearing was once white but had taken on a tinge of orange from the red dirt that wa
s held aloft when the wind blew. He carried a tall staff that he used to steady his movements. John held his hat in his hands and greeted him.

  “Howdy, Padre.”

  “Buenos tardes mi hijo.”

  “I’m sorry, Father, but I don’t understand Spanish.”

  “I just said ‘good afternoon, my son.’ I don’t believe I have seen you in church before. Do you live in Laredo?”

  “No, Father. I live in Bandera. I’m here looking for someone.”

  “If you are looking in church,” said the old parson, “he must be a very good man.”

  “No, he’s not,” replied John. “I wasn’t intending to find him here. I just saw the church and thought I would come inside. It was just an impulse. I’m not sure why I’m even here.”

  “It looked to me like you were praying.”

  John paused, looked at the hat he was rolling in his hands. “I guess I was, Father. I do that from time to time but I don’t often get into a church to do it.”

  “My son, it seems like something is troubling you. Would you like to talk about it?”

  John sat back down in the pew and the elderly priest sat beside him. Dropping his hat onto the pew, John looked up at the altar and contemplated what he was going to say. He turned his head to the side and took in the beauty of the stained-glass windows. Patiently the old man waited until John was ready to talk.

  “Well, Padre, the man I’m looking for, is not a good man at all. He murdered a woman right here in Laredo a few weeks ago.”

  “What is the woman’s name? Perhaps I know her.”

  “Her name was Marie Hanson.”

  The old man’s eyes sparkled and spoke with excitement. “Consuelo Marie de Zavala Morales Hanson! Si, señor, I knew her very well. She and little Richie were here for mass every week. They never missed. Not once. She was well thought of by everyone in Laredo.”