eat early, then have the porter turn my bed down. I have discovered that the more I can sleep on this accursed trip, the better it is.”
“Yes,” Hendel said. “I have discovered that as well.”
Matt hid his smile.
Chapter Fifteen
The Western Flyer arrived in Denver at ten o’clock in the morning. There, it was necessary for Matt to collect his luggage and leave the Union Pacific depot. Boarding an omnibus that was drawn up outside the depot, he rode across town to the depot of the Denver and Rio Grande. There, he learned that the train for El Paso would not leave until two that afternoon.
Resolving himself to a four-hour wait in the depot, Matt decided to use the opportunity to get a haircut and take a bath. Coming out of the bathhouse a while later, he looked like a different man. Gone was the suit he had been wearing, to be replaced by jeans, a gray denim shirt, and a Stetson hat. He also strapped on his pistol, feeling comfortable in reacquiring that which he had abandoned during his trip to St. Louis.
Much more refreshed now, Matt had his lunch, then bought a newspaper and settled down to read.
INDIAN UPRISING!
Yesterday morning, in the dark hours of predawn, neighbors who lived near the Doogan ranch near Phoenix, Arizona Territory, reported seeing a fire. They gathered quickly for what they thought would be an excursion to extinguish the flames, and made haste to reach the scene in order that they might provide assistance to their neighbor.
When they arrived at the Doogan ranch, however, they were greeted with a sight that is almost too gruesome to describe. Mr. Doogan, his wife, and two sons lay mortally wounded in the yard. Their bodies had been riddled with gunfire and with arrows. The barn had burned to the ground, killing three horses and two cows, but the house was undamaged.
This newspaper has learned that markings on the arrows found in the bodies are consistent with the markings of arrows used by Chiricahua Apache. As the Apache renegade Geronimo is Chiricahua, it was believed at first that Geronimo, long an adversary to the army, might be responsible for the foul deed. But those who are knowledgeable in the ways of the wily Apache chief say that it is very rare for him to range this far north for his nefarious deeds.
A recent telegram was dispatched from Indian Agent Baker at the San Carlos reservation to the Department of the Missouri Army headquarters in Chicago, telling of the unauthorized departure from the reservation of the Indian Delshay. Word then went out to General George Crook to widen his campaign against Geronimo to include Delshay.
Delshay is described as a man in his late twenties with the appeal of a medicine man to the other Apache. He is known to have ridden with Geronimo and, no doubt, has acquired much of the Apache chief’s skills as well as his savagery.
Matt had just finished the paper when he heard the by now familiar, and unpleasant, voice of Jay Peerless Bixby. Looking up, he saw Bixby standing at the ticket counter, arguing with the clerk.
“El Paso? But isn’t that in Texas?”
“Yes, sir, it is.”
“But why must we go through Texas? I may not live out here, but I do know my geography, and I know that it is not necessary to go through Texas to get to Arizona Territory.”
“It is, sir, if you are going by railroad,” the ticket clerk said. “You will take the Denver and Rio Grande to El Paso, where you must change trains again, this time boarding the Southern Pacific cars.”
“And how many more times must I change trains?” Bixby asked, his voice getting louder and more irritating.
“That will be your last train.”
“Well, thank heavens for small favors,” he said. “So, this train will take us directly to Phoenix?”
“No, you’ll have board a coach from the Sun Valley Stage Coach Line at Maricopa for the last twenty miles into Phoenix.”
“Oh, for heavens sake, when will the West catch up with the rest of the country?”
Earlier in the day, when Matt had stepped off the Union Pacific train in Denver, he considered waiting to take a later train down to El Paso, just so he would not have to put up with Bixby any longer. But he found that he actually liked Hendel, and he believed that somehow his being present helped Hendel bear the burden of being Bixby’s employee. Although he had not known Hendel all that long, he felt that leaving now would be the same as deserting a friend, so he decided to continue his trip as planned.
“Mr. Jensen,” Bixby said when he and the others came over to join him in the waiting room. “I didn’t see you at the cab stand so I thought perhaps you might be on a different train. I’m glad to see that we shall be continuing our journey together. You have adopted a different mode of dress, I see.”
“No,” Matt said. “This is my normal mode of dress. I adopted a different mode of dress when I went to St. Louis.”
“Well, I think it becomes you,” Cynthia said with a pleasant smile.
“Thank you, ma’am,” Matt responded, touching the brim of his hat.
“Oh, my, I see that you are wearing a pistol,” Bixby said. “Is the West really so unsettled that one must wear a pistol?”
“It’s sort of a habit I’ve gotten into,” Matt replied. “You might be more comfortable, by the way, if you would
