Episode 80
New Folks in Town
Cal’s fondest wish was a drink, a steak and a bath.
Only they’d have to wait until he’d reported on another dull round in the broad circle he and Nestor’d ridden around Eagle Flat. They’d seen some squatters in a two-wagon train on the old stage road. They followed along after them to make sure they kept moving. They found signs of a sizeable camp that had been set up near one of the played-out mines near the north banks of the Horsehead. Whoever had been there was gone before he rode up. Probably did enough rooting to see there was no paydirt there.
There was also plenty of Indian sign south of town. The prints of unshod ponies in the sand of the Chihuahua where it approached the start of the Chisos range. They’d be Apache and a bold bunch given that they’d done little to hide their passage.
He was prepared to share this with Mr. Withers and collect the hundred dollars owed to him and Nestor. But the squirrely little telegraph puncher cut him off when he stepped into the office.
“We have some new folks showed up today on the El Paso train,” Withers said and seemed heated up over it.
“New folks?” That usually meant women as well as men and Cal’s interest was engaged. “I seen some fresh tents set up across the tracks.”
“Those are navvies setting up to run a spur of tracks south from here.”
“South? Across the desert? To where?”
“Nowhere. The mines. It’s just a forty-mile spur.”
Cal knew he’d get no more on the subject from Withers.
“So, who’s the folks you’re talking about?” he asked.
“Four of them. They look like foreigners. City folks. Sound English to my ear. Except of them who looks to be a Chinee or maybe a nigger of some kind.”
“Where they from?”
“They’re from England, dummy! I said they sounded English. And the Chinee along with them.”
“I see your meaning now, sir,” Cal said. “Is there something you’re looking for me to do about them?”
“I want you to ask around, find what brings them to Eagle Flat. They came with a carload of freight, so it looks like they mean to stay a while.”
“What kind of freight?”
“You can find that out too. Let me know if any of it looks like surveying equipment or tools for mining.”
“Is all this part of my duties, Mr. Withers?”
“Consider it so. Take a few days extra in town and find what you can,” Withers said and turned his head as the sounder on his telegraph table commenced to clicking and tapping.
Cal stepped into the sun leaving his boss absorbed with incoming message. He’d sure enjoy staying off the trail a few days to find out all he could about these strangers from England and their Chinee. But before anything else he was going to buy a stiff drink or two and get a plate of steak and eggs in his belly.
“You get my pay?” Nestor said from where he leaned on a hitch rail where their mounts were tied.
“Naw. Mr. Withers is all worked up over some English folks come to town,” Cal said, undoing the reins of his horse.
“I want my dollars,” Nestor said.
“And you’ll get ’em, compadre. We ain’t goin’ nowhere for a few days,” Cal said. “The jefe wants us off the trail till we find out what this new bunch in town is up to.”
“What is a few days in town to me if I have no money to get drunk or have a woman?” Nestor scowled.
“Or give it all away playing monte. Tell you what, you take our horses over to the livery and meet me at the Silk Hat. I’ll stand you a shot and a beer and even a roll with Molly, if you want it.”
“If I want it!” Nestor snorted and took the reins of both horses in hand and led them to the livery while Cal walked on to the saloon.
As he approached along the dusty street, Cal could hear the sounds of breaking glass and shouts from inside the Silk Hat. For just a moment his thirst battled with his better judgement. The drink he’d been thinking about for the past twenty dry miles was waiting inside. Sure, he could get a glass of that varnish they served at the shot house back in the mine camp. Only he’d promised himself a beer and a snort of some real store-bottled stuff.
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