"There’s been a double murder north of Fort Hancock. Leave Corporal Combs in charge of the camp. Take Corporal Rice, and Privates Brown, Parker, and Snow. We need to step ‘bout, old Bob’s holding the south bound train for us."
In just a little over an hour, the Rangers had loaded their horse in a boxcar on the Southern Pacific train and settle in for the fifty mile trip.
Jake took a seat near the window. He had no more than sat down when the train shuddered and shook and a giant cloud of black smoke filled the early morning air as the massive pile of steel started to move. For a short time the Captain tried counting telegraph poles as they went by, but as the train picked up speed the notion quickly faded. Leaning back, he pulled his hat down and closed his eyes.
He had known both Lester and Paul Blackburn since they had come to this country. The two brothers had bought the old Wingate place north of Fort Hancock after Eli Wingate died. And since the last of the Apache, and Comanche had been forced from Texas and with Fort Hancock setting between the Blackburn Ranch and the banks of the Rio Grande River they had not lost many cattle to rustlers and their spread had really grown. But now that Fort Hancock and Fort Quitman were both closed-down the gangs of Mexican cow-thieves seemed to be crossing when and where ever they took the notion within the two hundred mile strip between Fort Bliss to the north, and Fort Davis to the south. And when they did cross they showed very little mercy to anyone standing in their way, be them man, woman, or child.
Excerpt from The Border Bandits
It was after mid day when the train sounded its whistle and drew to a bone-jarring stop under the water spout at Fort Hancock. While Tillie and the men unloaded the horse, Jake made his way across the wide, dusty street to the trading post where he found Brownie Hale and a second man loading supplies into a wagon. "Got your message," Jake said.
Brownie looked up from his work, "By heavens, Cap., I’m glad you’re here. If we don’t stop ‘em they’re going to take over. Why in the world did the government ever close the fort?"
"I’m a-figuring the lack of money had something to do with it," Jake answered.
"Money," Brownie shouted, "Hell, they’re killing us. They’re just ridin’ in here and killing us. I’ve known Lester and Paul Blackburn for years and I’m telling you, Jake, two finer men never lived."
"How did it happen," Jake asked.
"I don’t know for sure … all I know is, Mel Thomson from over at the M Bar T brought their bodies in here the night before last and said he found ‘em there on the north side of their place just south of Finlay Mountains. Both had been shot several times, and Mel said he saw where a good many cattle was driven toward the river. But by him being by himself he didn’t go after ‘em, and I don’t blame ‘im one bit for not taking to their trail. A stunt like that would have got ‘im killed for sure."
"You’re probably right ‘bout that," Jake replied, "Did this Thomson feller happen to say how he come to find ‘em, or why he was riding by himself?"
Brownie shook his head, "Now that you mention it, Jake, no he didn’t. I just kinda figured he was looking for strays. He owns the place just west of the Blackburn spread."
"Anyway we’re going to ride out that direction and have a look." Turning, Jake threw up a good-bye hand as he headed back toward the loading dock where the men waited with the horses.
