Chapter One
Stepping down from his horse, Captain, Bill Anderson looked over the jagged land and thought if there was one thing that south Texas was known for, it was dust. The brown and white four-footed steed had carried him safely through four years of the Civil War, and a strong, emotional bond had formed. Anderson figured he would never be a captain, so at least his horse should be one. After four years of fighting, the two had a bond due to bullets and bayonets and battles of war. Anderson figured Jack was the closest friend he had. After all they had been through, Anderson thought his horse should have a human name. Four years of bullets, blood, and travel had bonded horse and rider.
When Anderson retired, he planned to put his horse “out to pasture” so he could enjoy peace and retirement.
Anderson gave a grim smile as his boots touched the dirt of Rio Bravo. He was familiar with the town. He had often visited before the war and fought in more than one brawl in the Rio Bravo streets. At that time, before the war, the sheriff was Duke Higgins, a six-foot-two man with a star who didn’t put up with any nonsense. He was a fair man, but more than once, Anderson found himself looking out behind cell bars when he had been partying too often.
The morning the day after the jail door had closed on him, Sheriff Higgins would open it up again and say, “Have a good time last night, did you, Bill?” And both would laugh.
Twice, when Sheriff Higgins needed a deputy, Anderson put on a star and rode with a posse to find outlaws.
Anderson chuckled. He had enjoyed those days. The rough riding, the hot sun, smiling at the bits of green turf among the brown grass. The southwest area of Texas might not be a popular spot with most men, but it was his home, and he told himself he would never leave again.
As he turned to go into the saloon, an angry voice yelled at him.
“Anderson! You no-good mongrel dog! I’ve been waiting to kill you for three years. I’m impatient to get it done. You remember me, don’t you!”
“A loudmouth, blowhard who’s a fool? Not really. We’ve got a lot of loudmouth fools in south Texas. Which one are you?” Anderson said. “And how come you’ve stayed alive this long?”
“I’m Stoney Markham. You killed my brother before the war. I’ve waited for you.”
Anderson thought for a moment. It took a few seconds before he remembered the man. Then he wondered how he could have forgotten. He shook his head. He still couldn’t remember the man’s first name.
“Your brother was a no-good back shooter. Like other dark creatures, he hid in the rocks and shot men in the back that he didn’t have the guts to face.”
“Liar.”
“No, every man on this street knows I’m telling the truth. I may have forgotten his first name, but I’m sure people here remember it. I don’t know what his first name was, but I know he ran when there was a danger of a fair fight.”
“You’re a liar. You’re lying got to burning in me and I plan to put a stop to it,” Markham said. He was a red-faced man with a big nose but dark, burning eyes. His mouth sent spittle to the ground as he spoke. “I would have killed you before, but I was away at the time of the shooting. Didn’t get back here for three weeks. But by that time, you had run away.”
“By that time, I was wearing a Confederate uniform. But I see you stayed safe here during the war. Shoot a few other people in the back while I was away?
He looked around and several townspeople had gathered in the street.
“I’m surprised you would take me on one to one. I wanted to be through with wars, both small and big ones. But if you want to, you just call it, knowing in three seconds you’ll be dead,” Anderson said.
Sheriff Higgins had come out of his office but only looked at the two men. He didn’t interfere.
Markam went for his gun, but it was only half out of his holster when Anderson’s bullet crashed into his chest. The bullet knocked him back, and he tripped in the dusty street and fell on his back.
“Good. Maybe we have finally got rid of the Markams. That’s a plus for the land. And for the law. He and his brother were a black mark on the land.”
Sheriff Higgins waved at two men and pointed for them to pick up the dead man and take him to the funeral hall.
“Sorry to mess up the street with a dead body. A lot of businessmen don’t like to see that,” Anderson said.
Sheriff Higgins laughed. “In this case, they won’t mind at all. They didn’t like the two brothers. They will be very happy now they’re gone. In their view, and in my view for that matter, the town and the area have been improved. You might get an award.”
Anderson headed for the saloon. He wondered if he would see any other old friends. As he looked around, he saw the devastation of the area and shook his head. It didn’t look like there was a great deal of prosperity in the place. The locale didn’t look much different than it did when he left to fight. The war did not make him any richer either.
“Mr. Anderson, it’s good to see you again. Thought maybe the Yankees might have cut you down. Glad to see you made it back.”
He turned around and gave a big smile when he saw the speaker.
“Jack. How have you been?”
“One jump ahead of the gravedigger.”
The two men hugged one another. For a great deal of the war, Hank Anderson and Jack Chandler had fought together. They yelled and clapped each other on the back when celebrating.
Chandler looked around and then lowered his voice. “I want to talk to you about something, Hank, something that may be profitable,”
Anderson’s first reaction was a skeptical frown. “Profitable? In South Texas. You must be kidding.
Chandler shook his head. “Not a bit. I think I might have an opportunity for us.”
Anderson chuckled and slapped his friend on the back. “Then by all means sit down and tell me about it.”
***
The two sat down at a table and signaled the bartender. “Whisky,” Chandler said. “The best you’ve got.”
The bartender came over with two glasses and set a bottle of whiskey on the table. Chandler grabbed and filled the glasses. He left the bottle uncapped.
“My friend, this is still not the place to find prosperity. We have a couple of solid dirt farms, or we did before the war. I haven’t looked at my place yet. It always had a low chance of yielding a profitable crop. I hate to imagine what it looks like now.” He shook his head. “This place has never been profitable.”
“Truer words have never been spoken.”
Chandler sipped from his glass. “I know that everybody else sees only weeds and ruin here, but I think, with a little luck, we might make a considerable sum just across the border.”
Anderson gave him a skeptical look. “Across this border?”
“Give me about five minutes, and I think I can convince you of what I just said.”
“Well, I’m an unemployed military veteran with time on his hands and no job. By all means, go ahead and take five minutes. Go ahead and tell me how I can get rich. I know how to get broke,” Anderson said.
Chandler refilled their whiskey glasses. “We both had those small farms, which provided barely enough to live on. But if you remember, a Wells Fargo stage disappeared shortly before the start of the war. Rumors are that it carried twenty-five thousand pounds of gold and money and was headed into Mexico. After that, no one heard about it. It was assumed to be lost or robbed. Maybe it ran over a cliff. There are no rumors of it, and as far as I know, there were no sightings, but there was a stagecoach. It’s still out there … somewhere. You catching my drift?”
Anderson had swallowed his whiskey and held his now empty glass again. “Jack, I only heard a few lines, and this already sounds dubious. But as long as I’m getting a few whiskeys, please continue.”
“I hear a note of sarcasm. But just listen and listen closely. About five years ago, a stagecoach crossed the border and disappeared. It could be anywhere.” Chandler leaned across the table and dropped his voice into a whisper. “That stage carried gold, my friend.
“Gold? You’re talking about that yellow stuff that’s very valuable. Men kill and die for it. Some become rich due to it.” Anderson smiled and swallowed his whiskey. “But, also, most gold rumors turn out to be nothing.”
“I can understand your skepticism,” Chandler said. “This makes looking for a needle in a haystack seem easy. However, what if I told you we do have a minor advantage in our hunt?
“I would ask you how minor?” Anderson said.
“I know the last place the coach was seen, and at that time, it was not damaged, nor was it running from outlaws or the French army. The last I know of it, the stage was intact, and the money and gold were in place.”
“Did you see them?” Anderson said.
“No, not up close. I couldn’t get close to the stage. There was a Mexican patrol nearby. Sadly, when the patrol left, we had a French patrol come close by, and too close for comfort, so I had to skedaddle. But I know where it is. I can take us there. If we find it, Wells Fargo would probably demand a cut, but that would still leave us a considerable amount of money.”
Anderson said nothing, simply looked at the whiskey glass. “This appears to be worth looking into. But, my friend, if that stage was left out in the air, don’t expect it to be there now. After four years, it would have been stripped to the bones. There won’t be any money there now. Only a dirty, wrecked stage. You can’t leave something like that in the open. Especially in Mexico.”
“That’s why they hid it. To a place I can find. I have a map,” Chandler said. “It took me a while. It took me a long and tedious while. It’s difficult to pin anything down below the border. It’s chaos. Mexico decided to take over the nation a year or so ago, so their army moved in with a lot of troops. The French army is fighting its share of battles and probably will be for the next couple of years. I have a map that will lead us to the stagecoach. It will take some riding and riding in dangerous country. But if we can find it, we can split twenty-five thousand dollars, possibly more. We take it. Then, we leave and let the Mexicans and the French fight it out.”
For a minute, neither man said anything. For a moment, they had visions of gold dancing in their heads. And other visions of packing money into sacks and carrying it back to Texas. Chandler eased back in his chair.
“My plan is simple. Find the gold. Grab it. Take it back to Texas. And we live well for the rest of our lives,” he said.
“By the way, whose gold is it?” Anderson said.
“That’s a mystery,” Chandler said, “I figure it belongs to who finds it and keeps it. That will be us. To the best of my knowledge neither the French nor the Mexicans have any legal claim to the gold. We don’t know where it came from. We would have to talk to Wells Fargo because maybe they may know the owners, but I don’t plan on making any stops at Wells Fargo offices. I plan on coming back and buying off half of Texas, and then we will both have very big ranches. I know that’s a big plan, and many men with common sense and logic would tell you this is not the time to take a chance. But I figure if you never take a chance and never bet against the odds, then you will never become rich.” He raised his glass. “So what do you think?”
“To be honest, it still might be a fool’s quest,” Anderson said. “The chances of everything going right are close to zero. But I was just fighting a fool’s errand for four years. A lot of people were trying to kill me, and I wasn’t getting paid much. We were fighting a fool’s mission. I guess you could say I was fighting a fool’s errand during the Civil War. We were stupid. We were fighting for rich white guys and risking our lives for them while they sat home eating their rich meals when we had hardtack. This time at least I’m fighting for me and fighting for big money.” He raised his hand and extended his finger toward his friend. Let’s find the money. The North and South were fighting. Mexico and France are fighting.” He raised his glass. “Let’s just focus on the money, my friend. We are indeed facing dangerous work. But as you noted, the pay is very good.”
“So I have convinced you about the gold,” Chandler said. “Convinced you it’s not just fool’s gold.”
“Yes, at least you convinced me we should look into it.” He leaned back in his chair and sipped the bourbon. “When do we start?”
“Well, we need to get a few things. Food mostly. Also, we need to move slowly. I want to move in the shadows. I prefer no one knows we’re doing any hunting … for gold that is. If anyone sees us – and I hope no one does – they will not pay us any mind. I hope we get in and out of Mexico with no one noticing us.”
“OK, I’ve been to Mexico several times, but I am not an expert on the real estate. And you’ve been over there, but I don’t think you’re that much of an expert either. So we need someone more of an expert than we are.”
“You know I thought of that,” Chandler said. “I think we may need at least a third man. I think we know just the man we need. Do you remember a red-headed dependable gun named Smiling Ben Watson, who has a quick laugh but an even quicker draw and is an excellent shot? He was happy most of the time and laughed a lot. He’s one of the best gunmen around, and he’s honest. If he gives you his word, he will keep it. No matter how much gold or money is at stake, Smiling Ben will keep to his word.”
“Yes, I vaguely remember him. He is a likable cuss. If I remember correctly, he was not just good with his gun; he was amazing. If we could get him to join us, we should,” Anderson said
Chandler nodded. “I think the stagecoach will be found but a great many people will die before the gold gets back to Texas. They have created another Civil War – this time in Mexico, and it’s just as deadly as the American one. But the difference is we may make some money from this one.”
The two stayed silent for a few minutes.
“With the French in the nation, how are the Mexicans treating foreigners nowadays? You want us to travel into a country where there is a war going on. You could be killed accidentally or deliberately. Bodies add up in that situation. I would not be surprised if bodies dropped like flies in Mexico.
“It seems more like you need a company, not just two or three men, depending on if Smiling Jack accepts our offer.”
“Mexicans are used to foreigners nowadays. But if you are not French, they don’t seem to mind you. A lot of Americans are going south nowadays for a variety of reasons. There are a lot of Americans in this way. Some are coming down to fight with the Mexicans. Others are being paid to fight with the French. The French military leaders know there are a lot of good, veteran soldiers looking for work. They have hired some. So there are Americans on both sides of this war. But I think it’s another lost cause.”
“You think so. You don’t think they can hold the country?” Anderson said.
“No, not for long. They don’t have the men to keep a country under subjugation, and Mexico is a pretty big nation. The French have the better weapons, but I don’t think much of their officers. The French know nothing about Mexico. The Mexicans are not going to have pitched battles, not now. But they can kill one or two Frenchmen every time they have a raid. As for the French, wherever they go, they have people shooting at them. But while they are shooting at each other, we should be able to slip into the nation and slip out with … a considerable amount of gold.”
Anderson nodded. “I remember what we learned in the war. Plan ahead, and take enough men, and don’t allow yourself to be surprised.” He lit a cigarette and stuck it between his lips. “And take enough men to win the battle and use the men you have wisely so that you come away alive and leave the enemy dead. Since we’re going down to a nation where there are two armies, I suggest we first try to get Smiling Jack Watson on our side, just to make things a little easier. We both know him and know he’s good in a fight.”
“Jack is not just intelligent; he is clever. The two are not the same. We need clever and intelligent in this job. He fits the bill. I don’t know if he knows anything about Mexico, but he’s a fast learner.”
“OK, but you know where he is.”
“I heard he was over in Pecosville about two days ago. I’ll send a telegram and see what he says.”
The wind blew fiercely. They could see the dust and sand blow down the streets from inside the saloon. Chandler grinned, but there was a wariness in his voice. “You realize we are taking on two armies and the nation of Mexico. The Mexicans may not like anyone who is trying to steal their gold.”
“It’s not their gold. The gold belongs to anybody who has the courage and wisdom to take it. Let the Mexicans and the Spaniards fight it out. We can just slip in, take the gold, and slip out. And let the Mexicans and Spaniards continue their war. I wish the Mexicans well. The French have no business over here. But no one owns that gold. It belongs to whoever is clever enough to take it. And that is us.”
Chapter Two
Chandler pulled out a cigar and lit it. He blew smoke out of his mouth. “Let’s stretch our legs a bit. Also, I don’t want anyone trying to overhear us.”
Anderson walked beside his partner as they strode the town’s streets.
“Today, Mexico is a busy place,” Chandler said. “You have the French trying to take it over and establish a dictatorship, and, of course, the Mexican forces fighting back. A few random outlaw armies selling to the highest bidder, usually the French. However, one rule of getting rich in war is to invade rich countries, not poor areas. Mexico isn’t abounding in wealth.”
“Yes, well, should have told that to the French before they invaded.”
“That’s true,” his partner said. “But nations have been known to make terrible decisions when deciding to declare war. In addition to everything else, outlaw bands can make a lot of money working both sides of the gun barrel in wartime. That’s why a lot of innocent people get caught in a war. Plus it’s very difficult to know what is going on in a war.”
“That’s true. That’s why I suggest we look up Smiling Jack Watson as soon as possible. He has a quick laugh and quicker draw and is an excellent shot. He’s a redhead who is not quick-tempered, as redheads are rumored to me. He can tell us what is going on. I hear he was over in Pecosville.”
“But we don’t know where he is?”
“I heard a rumor he was down McAllen. That’s not far from here. I telegrammed him and asked him to come by and say hello,” Chandler said.
“Think we might find other Americans across the river?”
Chandler nodded. “Maybe, sometimes a war zone is the destination for men or outfits who want to try to make a quick buck. But we don’t want a quick buck. I want our bucks to be long-lasting. I don’t want more causes that pay less than the Confederate army did. That’s why we’re after gold, not cases. But I think we should take a brief visit across the river. Just to look around. To scout out the territory.”
Anderson nodded. “Oh, but I don’t think we’ll see much.”
He could see the Rio Grande from where he stood. The river flowed smoothly, and there was no sign or sound of the war raging in Mexico. They waited for a few minutes and crossed the Rio Grande. They crossed the river, and though Mexico looked similar to the United States, Anderson looked back as they rode over. He realized it might be good to memorize the exact place where the Rio was –a few French soldiers might be running after them when they headed back to the States. If so, it would be good to know the exact position of the river.
Anderson shook his head. The fiery sun was in a bland sky, and Anderson felt the heat and sweat form on his shirt. “In Mexico, you fight in a high climate. There is no cold weather below the Arizona and Texas border. But the army doesn’t get its choice on whether to fight in hot or cold weather. You just go where the shooting starts.”
“No, we just always fought in summer. During the winters, most armies camp. Six feet of snow is not good for fighting. But you’re not going to get any snow in Mexico, in summer or winter.”
Chandler saw a patrol of soldiers coming toward them. He silently cussed and then tried to smile.
“Look alert,” he told his partner. “These ten soldiers don’t look friendly to me.”
“No soldiers down here look friendly.”
“You want to do the talking? You can talk even irritable soldiers into meowing like a pussycat.”
“No, even silver-tongue salesmen couldn’t pull that off.”
Chandler looked down the road, and the French horse riders kept coming. Several of them sweated. But none of them had drawn their guns yet.
The two pulled off the road. The French captain didn’t ride on by. He stopped his horse and looked at the two Americans. It wasn’t a friendly look. Maybe he doesn’t know English, Chandler thought. He will have to send hand signals to us.
Two of the French officers rode toward the two Americans.
Chandler nodded and gave a greeting. “Nice uniforms. Very colorful.”
The French officer didn’t reply at first. When he did speak, he didn’t sound friendly. “I trust you are not in Mexico to interfere with our work. There is no work in Mexico unless you desire to be a gun for the rebels, and that would not be a good choice. It would get you swiftly killed. I suggest you stay away from the war here. You would make little wages in such a war, and you would die broke.”
Chandler smiled. “We have no interest in your war, Captain. We fought for the South in the Civil War to the North and got nothing out of it. The government’s money wasn’t even worth anything when it was over. I like to get paid, especially if I’m risking my life. I hate to be a fool. Besides, we both know the rag-tag army the Mexican army has can’t defeat the French. Your troops look impressive and certainly can defeat the rebels here. We’re traveling down to see a friend who might be useful as a cowpuncher. We will be better at punching cows than fighting troops. I’m not risking my life for anybody except for me. I’m not fighting anybody’s wars anymore. All you get is broke.”
The captain nodded. “That is a wise philosophy. Hope you stick to it.”
“We will.”
“Then good day, hombre.” The captain wore a goatee that seemed to bristle and had a scar close to his left ear He clearly disliked the two but decided to ignore them. He kept his eyes on the two Americans but put his hands on the saddle horn. He had a deep voice and one with vengeance in it – perhaps an Americano had given him the scar.
“Understand this. I do not like Americans. They don’t belong here. France has claimed this land. Do your business here, get out, and don’t give us any trouble. In times of crisis, deceitful, malicious men arrive to try to make money. We are seeing that here. There is a war going on. Don’t take a side, or you will face death by a firing squad, and you will be dumped into a shallow grave. If I see you again, you will be shot. I won’t listen to explanations about why you are here. I will simply have you shot and leave you for the buzzards. I have heard that, for some reason, the buzzards prefer American flesh. Perhaps Mexican flesh is too tough. If I see you again, the buzzards will eat their fill. Do you understand, amigo?”
Chandler nodded. “Oh, I think you made yourself very clear.”
“Good. Then we don’t have to talk again.”
“I don’t think so. Good day, Captain.”
The squad of horsemen rode on, and Chandler laughed. “Think he’s suspicious?”
“Yes, of course. He would be. I would be suspicious of any American in this country right about now. If there were eight of us, he might be more suspicious. I don’t think he will worry about two Americans. Let’s hope not. Let’s hope we look peaceful. I’m guessing many Americans have crossed the border to try to make a fortune down here. Doubt many succeed, but maybe a few will, and I want to be among the few.
“The French Army is down here, and I don’t want them watching us all the time or sending spies after us.”
“I think he is probably suspicious of any American or anyone else riding across the Mexican border. More than a few Americans are coming down this way. He doesn’t have time to bother with all of them. We are just a few Americans coming down for jobs, nothing more. He doesn’t like it but can’t do much to stop it. He can’t do anything to stop it, for that matter. He’s stuck with us. Besides, there is no government of Mexico now, at least not one that can enforce any rules or laws. The French dictate what is going on now. They make the law, and they carry the laws out, and they don’t have time to worry about a few Americans drifting down across the border. They have more important things to think about. They merely steal all the gold they can find and take it to Paris. And the second most important thing they are trying to do is defeat the Mexican rebels.”
“Frankly, I’m not paying attention to other people’s problems, just mine. I wish the Mexican soldiers well, but I have my own problems to worry about, or rather, I have my own gold to steal while they are going to get back their country. Did they try to take back Vera Cruz but failed about a month ago? I’m guessing they will try again. Militarily, that’s a very important port. How many others do they have in the nation? I think Vera Cruz is the biggest port in the land. If the Mexicans managed to take it, the French would suffer a big setback. The port allows them to move their ships in and out with no trouble. You have to keep a lot of troops in a country if you want to keep it under subjugation for a while. You can’t do it forever. The Mexicans will wear them out sooner or later, probably sooner. By that time, we should have the gold, be many miles from Mexico, and be living well. I regret what the Mexican people are going through, but it’s easy to lift some gold from a country that is battling for survival.”
“Heck, you make us sound a bit … bloodthirsty.”
“Which is a fact of life, my friend. The Mexicans are somewhat busy with the French. They have their hands full shooting at the French. And the French are shooting at the Mexicans. Both armies are planning important campaigns. They don’t have time to worry about Americans. They may be looking for jobs, but the French army is not hiring. They don’t have time to worry about a few Americans who are hunting for gold that few people think exists. But let’s assume there is a load of gold both sides are looking for – the French and the Mexicans. Both sides might need money. Wars can be expensive. Smart men hope to get a little personal gain on the side. That happens in war,” Anderson said.
“Fine. Let them fight and ignore us. Which I assume they will do.”
“Quest for the Lost Gold” is an Amazon Best-Selling novel, check it out here!
In the aftermath of the Civil War, Bill Anderson, a Confederate soldier with no home left to claim returns to South Texas. His land, once promising, now lies in ruins, a stark reminder of the war’s devastation. Faced with the bleak prospect of rebuilding from ashes, Bill stumbles upon a whispered legend—a Wells Fargo stagecoach, heavy with gold, that vanished on its way to Mexico…
Could this lost treasure be the key to a new beginning?
Jack Chandler, having fought for the North, shares a bond with Bill that transcends their divided loyalties. With his own farm reduced to rubble, Jack’s familiarity with the treacherous Mexican frontier makes him an invaluable ally in their quest. Together, they embark on a daring journey into a land where danger lurks in every shadowy corner…
Will his expertise be enough to navigate the dangers that lie ahead?
As Bill and Jack navigate a landscape rife with adversaries, their resolve is tested at every turn. Can they outwit the forces that will stand against them and recover the gold, or will they become just another casualty in the relentless pursuit of fortune?
“Quest for the Lost Gold” is a historical adventure novel of approximately 60,000 words. No cliffhangers, only pure unadulterated action.
Hi there, I hope you enjoyed this sneak peek of my latest story! I will be impatiently waiting for your comments below.