Can You Keep a Secret

September 1947

Me and Billy had been on the road for almost two weeks as I chauffeured him to say goodbye to all his surviving friends. And for all my effort, he promised me a chest full of gold. I wasn’t sure exactly how he would deliver his promised bounty, but I wanted to see how this adventure was going to end.

I had been fired from Taggart Transportation after missing a deadline in my delivery of a nuclear payload to an army test site. Instead of returning, I decided to go on this joyride with Billy Smith. He found me when I was lost in the desert and he talked about his life through the Lincoln County War and riding with Pancho Villa. He was the oldest person I had met up until that time. We arrived at the place he told me he had hidden the gold.

As it turned out the trail up the mesa was rocky and steep, but I did my best to keep up with him. When we reached the summit, we sat down for a breather. That’s when he asked me a stunner of a question. 

"Kid, can you keep a secret?" Billy asked as he walked up an incline on the rocky path.

"Sure Billy. " I panted out of breath from our hard trek up the narrow mesa trail. With my shirt soaked in my own sweat, it was hard to believe Billy was fifty years my senior, but he was able to set a rigorous pace up the steep trail While distancing me the entire way.  

"Hey, here it is, right where I left it fifty years ago. " His voice echoed from the cave he was in.

 "Great." I leaned one hand against a rock at the opening off the cave, bent over at the waist and struggling for my next breath.

Billy walked out of the cave holding a dusty old, locked case. With a smile on his face, he handed me what appeared to be a pirate’s chest. It was heavier than I expected. I put the chest on a flat rock. Billy picked up a rock that fit easily in his head and bashed it against the padlock. After two vigorous strikes, the lock opened. Quickly he tossed the padlock aside and opened the chest. I could not believe my eyes. As the late afternoon sun shined down on the open chest, I was nearly blinded by the glittering gold inside.

“I am a man of my word, Kid.” He grinned up at me squatting next to the open treasure box. “You took me to say goodbye to all my compadres. I can now rest in peace.” 

“Billy, what is all this talk about resting in peace?” I asked, running my fingers through the gold nuggets.  

“My time is coming to an end, and I’ve never been one who tries to escape from the inevitable.” He removed his cowboy hat, “I am old. I have outlived most of my companions. I am the last Regulator. Even the Dalton gang is just a whisper on the wind through the canyons. You will take the gold with you when you leave, but I will not be accompanying you any further.”

“I don’t want to leave you here.” I shook my head.

“Kid, you have been good to me and I want you to have the gold I promised you.” Billy’s voice was just a raspy whisper, “Just keep on the lookout for that State Policeman, Officer Longfella. He’s a real stern one, he is.”

His laugh sounded like an evil sprite that you might see when the late after sun is setting mirages. 

“Kid, remember, drive straight to Mexico, but keep a sharp eye out for Officer Longfella.”

“I will.” I promised.

“Now let me tell ya the story of how I came to have that gold.” Billy leaned back until he was looking up at the purple sky overhead. “I don’t reckon many people would know the story offhand, but what the reporters came up with was something straight out of those dime novels. Fools that they is.” 

March 21, 1889

Cibola Wilderness, NM

“Hey Billy.” A tall man armed with a Springfield rifle walked next to elderly man.  

“Yup, Charlie Winger, this is the place. 

“Sure.” 

“Find some cover so the stagecoach drivers don’t see ya.” Billy sniffed. “Over there behind them trees might be wise.” 

“What time is the stagecoach due by these parts?” Charlie asked.

“I reckon if they’re running on schedule, they might be here in half an hour.” Billy took out his pocket watch to czech the time, “Now some of those drivers have been known to be early, especially when they are carrying a payroll. Now the Dalton Gang has always insisted on running the payroll in gold. Ever since they cleared out all the desperados and renegades from these parts, things have gone a lot smoother, but not today. No sir, not today.” 

“Wish I couldda been here for all the action.” Charlie sat behind a small shrub and loaded his rifle.

“Be glad you weren’t.” Billy spit out some chew, “Lost a lot of friends on the trail. Only a few of us are left. All the violence left a bad taste in my mouth. Them Dalton boys murdered my mentor, John Tunstill when I was tending his fields. They just rode up on him while he was in his buckboard and killed him in cold blood. I was the one who found him dead in his wagon.”

Billy paused and spit. “He was the only man I would lay my life down for.”

“Sounds like a good man.” Charlie shook his head.

“Sure was. I’ve had men who rode next to me with the Regulators during the Lincoln County Wars.

“Are them wars still going on?” Charlie scratched his red hair.

“Naw, this will be the last salvo.” Billy laughed. “After we done this, I’m gonna ride off to Texas and disappear into thin air like I done before.” He grinned as he climbed a cottonwood tree that offered a strategic view of the trail. “I may even consider goin’ cross the border. Heard there’s trouble brewin.’”  

“Can I go with ya, Billy?” Charlie asked.

“I reckon as long as you can keep up with my pace.” He chuckled, “Been told, I ride hard over some of these rough trails.” He gins, “Ain’ caught me yet and I aim to keep it that way.” 

“I’ve done a few cattle drives with my pa.” Charlie nodded. 

“Some of the trails can be a bit tricky, ya know.” 

“Sure, Billy, but I promise I’ll be a good companion.” Charlie assured Billy. 

“Remember once we are in the clear, we split this gold fifty-fifty.” Billy squinted. “I see a stagecoach headed this way. Cloud of dust just over the ridge. It’ll be here in a few minutes. Get ready. Don’t shoot unless I give the word.”

“Sure thing, Billy.” Charlie smiled as the rattle of the rigging began to sound from just over the ridge.  

I hate the Dalton Gang for all they did to us ten years ago. Those boys started this whole Lincoln County War to begin with. They tried to elbow John Tunstall out of business by rustling his cattle and burning his silos. If there’s to be a final chapter to this, I want to be the one to write it. I want to be the one to remedy them of who I am. Of all of the fallen, I will mark my revenge in this one final act.

“I see the stagecoach, Billy.” Charlie called from his hiding place.

“You stay put.” Billy shimmied down the tree and stood in the middle of the trail with his Colt in his hand and his bandana pulled over his nose and mouth. 

“Whoa.” The driver pulled on the reins of his team. The horse obeyed and the stage came to a stop.

“What is the meaning of this?” The shotgun messenger asked as he stood up pointing his weapon at Billy.

“We have heard that you are carrying a payroll for the Dalton Gang.” Billy announced. 

“I will not divulge the contents of our cargo, stranger.” The driver shook his head.

“May I have a look, see?” Billy began to walk to the stagecoach, keeping a wary eye on the shotgun messenger.

“You may not.” The shotgun messenger pulled back the double hammer on his shotgun, “Stay where you are or I will be forced to fire.” 

“Shoot, is that you Gilbert Hollins?” Billy stopped walking.

“Yes, sir and who may I ask is wanting to know.” The shotgun messenger put the stock on his shoulder as he closed one eye.  

“It’s me, Billy.” Billy pulled down his bandana.

“The war’s over, Billy.” Gilbert replied. 

“It ain’t ever really over is it, Gil.” Billy spit on the ground. “As long as the rich and powerful can push us around, this whole thing will never be over.”

“Billy, please go back to whatever cave you crawled out of and let us be on our way.” Gilbert glanced over at the driver who was now holding a pistol. “We just need to get to Fort Sumner.”

“I will let you get to Fort Sumner, but you will get there without the payroll.” Billy took a deep breath. He was tempted to glance up at Charlie who was still concealed by the bushes he was hiding behind. Billy was glad Charlie had complied with his instructions about the hold up. “C’mon Gil, are you working for them? Are you working for the enemy?”

“I work for the stagecoach line.” He sniffed.

“And aren’t you boys bonded?” 

“Sure, Billy, but some of our customers drive a hard line on the cargo.” Gilbert explained.

“Those scoundrels you are delivering this gold to are the same bastards who killed your brother in cold blood.” Billy continued to walk toward the stagecoach, “Doncha remember? It wasn’t that long ago as I recall. I heard him beg for his life when them bastards gunned him down in cold blood.” Billy stared straight into Gilbert's dark eyes. For a brief moment, Gilbert let the shotgun fall from his shoulder.  

“Gil.” The driver said.

“It’s over, Billy. Now please put your shooting iron in your holster.” Gil swallowed hard.  

“I command you to put your weapon on the ground.” The driver aimed his pistol at Billy. “If you do not do as I say, I will be forced to use deadly force.”

“Dale, let’s not-” Gilbert said as the driver shot his pistol. The bullet grazed Billy's arm holding his Colt.  

Kaboom!

Gilbert grabbed his chest and fell from his perch. 

Kaboom!

Charlie cried out in pain.

With no recourse, Billy aimed his pistol at the driver and shot him in the chest. He cried out, dropped his pistol and fell to the ground.  

Billy walked over to Gilbert Hollins who lay face up, his eyes open looking at the pale empty sky. Billy wiped the tears from his eyes. There was nothing he could do for his friend now. Next he went to check the driver. He lay face down in the dirt. When Billy turned him over he saw that he was also deceased.

He stumbled over to where Charlie was. When he reached his partner, he saw that the driver’s bullet had hit him right between the eyes. There was no need to check for a pulse either. 

Billy would spend the night digging three graves. It was a solemn task, but he felt it was the least he could do for each of them. He lit a fire to keep the coyotes away, but he did not get any sleep.

The sun exploded in orange splendor as he played a sad tune on his harmonica. He had tethered the horses to the cottonwood tree he had climbed. Three of the team he sent into the canyon with a flick of his hat, but the fourth horse he kept for his journey out of the wilderness. Horses on stagecoach teams were well trained and reliable for long journeys.  

As his campfire died out, he took one of the charcoal sticks and wrote on the three crosses the names of fallen: Gilbert Hollins, Charlie Winger, and Dale Spencer. Removing his hat, he said a prayer over each of their graves. As he turned away, he heard a hawk screech overhead as if their souls had ascended upward where they would rest for eternity.  

September 1947

Ciluba National Forest 

“So that was it?” I chuckled, “That’s your secret?”

“Sure is.” He sniffed as fire began to flicker as the sky lightened from the first rays of the dawn. “So, you bes’ be movin’ out soon. I know that Officer Longfella is putting out a dragnet to scoop you up.”

“I’m not afraid of him.” I waved my hand.

“I would be.” He smirked. “Now get. I have things to do.” 

“Billy, I can’t thank you enough for whacha done.” I picked up the chest filled with gold. It was heavy, but just the thought of what it contained was enough motivation to get me down that steep jagged path that brought us up here.

“I don’t need no thanks. Whacha got there in your hands was plenty expensive. Just enjoy whacha got as long as ya got it.” 

He waved as I began my trek down the rocky path. I had no way of knowing that as soon as I got in my rig, he would take the potion Chief Walama had given him so he could drift off into his own eternity. As it turned out there was a lot, I didn’t know about the events that took place after I drove away.

I would have to ditch the rig once I got to Mexico since my boss had already reported the truck as stolen. I would take the backroads to the border and get to Juarez in about two hours or so.  

I glanced over at the chest filled with gold. A wide smile spread across my face.

“Well Grady, you really have outdone yourself.” I laughed and closed the lid on all that glittering gold. My luck had taken a turn for the best. For the first time in my life. All I had to do was get across the border.

If I had bothered to look in my rearview mirror, I would have seen the State Police patrol car driven by Officer Longfellow.