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This bad man from the Pecos had a pretty sorrel pony and the deputy, who was in the place on civil business, happened to notice the animal at the hitching-rack in front of the hotel. "Say," he said to its possessor, who was standing near by, "that's a nice horse; where'd you get him?"
The Lincoln County War, fully speaking, embraced three wars; the Pecos War of the early '70's, the Harold War of 1874, and the Lincoln County War proper, which may be said to have begun in 1874 and to have ended in 1879. The actors in these different conflicts were all intermingled. There was no blood feud at the bottom of this fighting.
The Pecos war was mostly an indiscriminate killing among cow men and cattle thieves, and it cost many lives, though it had no beginning and no end. The Texas men, hard riders and cheerful shooters for the most part, came pushing up the Pecos and into the Bonito cañon. Among these, in 1874, were four brothers known as the Harold boys, Bill, Jack, Tom and Bob, who had come from Texas in 1872.
No wonder he looked anxiously for the night no wonder he rode with impatient eagerness towards that lone rendezvous on the Pecos. Night had come again; and, leading his horse down the slope in front of the cave, he mounted and rode off toward the mouth of the canon. The dog Cibolo trotted in advance of him. The man-hunters had not long to wait. They had anticipated this.
"To catch Capt'n Jack," he drawled; "after that for a little ride down to th' Pecos or over in Chihuahua somewhere a couple hundred miles. I decline with enthusiasm to fall in love on th' spur of th' moment for any damned outfit!" "You come on back," Parker called, "Skinny'll have to do it. He can have all his time for it and just pretend he's in love and sort of entertain her.
He meant th' Pecos Valley an th' Davis Mountains country. All th' rustlers would have to do if they were in th' Panhandle would be to cross th' Canadian an th' Cimarron an' hit th' trail for th' railroad. Good fords, good grass an' water all th' way, cattle fat when they are delivered an plenty of room. Th' more I thinks about it th' more I cottons to the Panhandle."
One contingent crossed the Pecos at an Indian trail about twenty-five miles below Horsehead, another still below, while the third continued on down the left bank of the river. Yankee Bill and "Mocho" Wilson, a one-armed man, followed the latter trail, sighting them late in the evening, but keeping well in the open.
Senor Mariano Ortiz of the Upper Pecos affirms upon the faith of a descendant of the Conquistadores that this is so, and he ought to know, for he and the bears have been joint occupants of the ranch for years.
"I'm just a rollin' stone," he confessed, "and I just naturally roll toward trouble. If yo' evah need me again, yo'll find me where the lead flies thickest. As soon as I turn this express money ovah to the authorities, I'll be on my way again. Maybe it'll be the Rio Grande, perhaps the Chisholm Trail, and maybe well, maybe I'll stay west of the Pecos and see what I can see. Quién sabe?"
I made known to them my plans, and succeeded in inducing about thirty braves to take part in the rash undertaking. "Leaving the village under the pretense of hunting, we crossed the "Llano Estacado," to the head waters of the Pecos; and descending that stream nearly to its mouth, diverged to the west and crossed the Rio Grande.
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