“Hablas Espanol?” the man asked.
“I read and write Spanish. But I don’t converse worth a damn. The words go too fast for me.”
“The reading and writing do you no good in this country.” The man spoke with a slight accent.
Jordy shrugged. He did not offer his hand. “I am Jordy Jackson. I work for the Lucky Five.”
“At least you are not a liar. I know who your boss is, too. He was a Texas Ranger, possibly the most hated when he was terrorizing us poor trading folks. And he is leading those who are bringing the wagons here. This makes no sense to me. Would you like to explain?”
Jordy did not like the direction of the conversation but figured it was time to test his lying talent. He hoped hanging around with Uncle Rudy had helped hone his skills. “Jack Wills hasn’t been a Ranger for fifteen years or more. He’s a businessman. I’m sure you are aware he has a good-sized ranching operation northwest of Fort Concho and San Angelo. But his most profitable enterprise is a freight outfit that moves goods all over Texas.”
“That doesn’t tell me why he came to Lookout Canyon. It seems like he would be too busy to come all this way.”
“He’s looking to grow the freight business. He thinks he could run wagons west to El Paso and pickup freight customers along the way. He wanted to see the country for himself, especially Castle Gap and Horsehead Crossing. Figured he could make a connection with Fort Davis easy enough. He already does a good amount of Army freight. He heard folks had sort of a town at a place called Lookout Canyon. He thought when he checked out the possibilities he would find out if there would be some business to be done here on a regular basis—maybe talk about setting up a way station here, make this a relay for wagons and merchandise. Jack says there could be some money in it for the right people with brains and ambition.”
Potter eyed him suspiciously. “He’s not making money on this run. Too many men and animals tied up in it.”
“Jack didn’t know what he would be facing out here. Ordinarily, he has a driver and a single guard or backup. Damn glad he brought a crew. Apaches hit us at Castle Gap, but the Indian problems are fading fast. He also figures that if he handles Army shipments, he might get some protection at the gap on scheduled days.”
“I guess that makes some sense. But there is something not right about this. I don’t know that I believe even half of your tale, but I have enough men to take you down quick if you make trouble, and I am curious to meet the great Jack Wills.” He turned to Smack. “If the inspection doesn’t turn up bad news, bring the wagons in. They can set up shop in the middle of the compound. And then you bring the great Jack Wills over here for a talk.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Jack listened to Jordy’s story of his visit with Amos Potter, as the Comancheros completed their inspection of the merchandise stacked in the wagons. With boxes covering most of the wagon floors and an aisle down the middle of the wagon box that a man could barely squeeze through, discovery of the false floor was a near impossibility. In the unlikely event the weapons hideaway should be discovered, however, Jack had a backup story. The guns were simply merchandise hidden for resale because they were particularly vulnerable to theft.
Jack knelt and scratched Thor’s ears while Jordy talked, keeping his eye on Rudy, who limped around the outside of the two Studebakers, watching the Comancheros rummage through the cargo in the wagons and yelling at them when he thought a box was being handled too roughly. “You’re damn well paying for it, if you break one of them whiskey bottles,” he scolded.
Tige, Swede and Abel were huddled some distance away, seemingly engaged in serious conversation. Tige was key to getting the crews out of the canyon, so Jack figured the former horse soldier was rehearsing again.
Jordy said, “Amos Potter knows you by reputation, Jack, and I get the feeling you may have met up sometime. That worries me because, if you did, you weren’t likely on the same side of the law. He wants to talk with you in private, I gather.”
“I don’t remember any Amos Potter, but names have a way of changing in Texas. You say he is part Mexican and wanted to speak Spanish? And on the short side? How old?”
“Hard to say. Younger than you by ten years maybe—sixty, give or take a few years on either side.”
“Old from your perspective. Just a kid from mine. Years have a way of changing definitions when it comes to age. Some days, I admit to being an old dog, but most of the time, an old man is somebody that’s ten years older than I am.” Jack stood up, took off his hat and ran his fingers through his thick hair. “Hot enough to sunburn a horned toad.”
Jordy said, “You don’t think you know the man then?”
“Don’t know. I’m wondering if it could be Alfonso Perez. Came from an old Spanish family that went bust and lost their grant fifty miles north of San Antonio not long after statehood back in ‘45. He would have been about your age then. He took up trading with the Indians, hired on a rough bunch that raided settlers. Got himself a reputation. He was sort of an outcast in his own family because he
