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What to do with a day off
A chapter in the book Ben Paul Persons
Ben Paul Persons, Ch. 5
by Wayne Fowler
In the last part Ben Paul preached his first engagement in Santa Fe.
Chapter 5
“Well, we have the afternoon off,” Ben Paul announced.
“You aren’t preaching this evening’s service?”
“I called the Reverend Bass’s house just now, while you were in the bathroom. I think he was happy that I’d canceled. My guess is that he wants a prayer and worship service tonight.”
“What about your pay?”
“Honey, I’ve already been paid plenty! But I’d guess there’ll be a check waiting for us at home.”
“Yes, we have,” Sylvia replied, hugging him tightly. “So what do you want to do? Oh, there’s a Civil War site close to here, Glorieta Pass. I remember reading about it way back in school. I remember being shocked that the Civil War reached so far west.”
“First, I learned it as the War Between the States. Second, I’d love to. Let’s go. You know where it is?”
“We have a state map, remember? I saw it on there yesterday.”
On the short drive, Sylvia explained what she remembered: that troops from Texas thought to capture the Colorado gold country and with that, finance the war, perhaps gain England’s recognition as a sovereign nation. Instead, they got their chops busted, nearly starving to death having to walk back to Texas. “And it happened right here. Imagine,” she said.
Pointing toward a drop-off as they walked the area, Ben Paul said, “According to this sign, right down there is where the Texans' store wagons were all burned, all their food, ammo, supplies, everything. And their mules were either killed or taken.”
+++
At breakfast the next morning they decided to head toward Route 66 and stop wherever they pleased. They had a week to get to Amarillo, Texas, only a five-hour drive away.
“Oh look!” Sylvi nearly shouted. “A stagecoach stop. It looks just like I would imagine. I wish Slim could see this.”
“He might have,” Ben Paul said as he turned into the lot. “The stables and corrals look like they’re as old as he is.”
“They have a café. Let’s get a cup a’ coffee. What we had this morning might as well have been water.”
Ben Paul remembered that she’d not asked for a refill. “They had these about every fifteen miles. Probably not as elaborate as this place. This looks like it might’ve been an overnight stop.”
“Kozlowski’s,” Sylvia said, returning from a tourist sales counter. “It was, still is, a ranch and livery stable.”
“Probably why so many corrals and barns. They more than likely sold horses and mules. Maybe even keep beef stock up close for sale.”
“This place really puts you back.”
“Railroads put a lot of stage lines out of business back in the day, but not all.”
Back on the road, Sylvia called out the Pecos River. “Remember Pecos Bill?” she asked.
“Pecos Bill could lasso a tornado.”
“Cyclone,” Sylvia corrected.
“And Paul Bunyan.”
“With his blue ox.”
“Babe,” Ben Paul corrected.
They both laughed
“A thousand miles apart and we learned the same children’s fables. Do you think the clothes really make the man?” Sylvia asked.
Ben Paul recalled the story, The Clothes Makes the Man. “Sure. The bank robber who was assigned to dress up and act like the security guard actually arrested his partners. I mean, that’s a bit far-fetched, but put a suit on a hobo, and all of a sudden he has table manners. I’ve seen it. Or hippies in church. They clean up and you can’t tell ‘em from Sunday School kids, the way they act.”
“Or do they revert back to the nice kids they were before leaving home?”
Ben Paul shrugged.
“It’s a little out of our way, but Las Vegas, New Mexico, is supposed to be really nice, a beautiful downtown.”
“And this is the Santa Fe Trail,” Ben Paul added. It traveled right through the center of Las Vegas, I’ve read somewhere.”
“Ben Persons, your father, rode his horse right here, and right through Las Vegas,” Sylvia said unnecessarily, but appreciated by Ben Paul.
In the center of the old town, they strolled across the Las Vegas Plaza. “Can you imagine?” Sylvia said, nodding toward the Plaza Hotel. “That historic hotel built in 1882 was just being built when your dad came through.”
Ben Paul nodded taking in the area, trying to see what his father might have. “Fort Union’s just up the road. Let’s have a nice supper, get a room somewhere, and tomorrow go see the wagon ruts that are still there.”
“I’d love that. Mexican?” She asked, meaning what to eat for supper.
“You sure you’re up for that for the evening meal?” he asked.
“We could go into one of the authentic Mexican food cafes. They’re not as spicy. Unless you add it, of course.”
The place they chose to eat was a simple café just off the plaza, the dining area would be crowded with a dozen people, but being off-season, there were only two other customers, a middle-aged couple who hadn’t said a word to one another the entire time Ben Paul and Sylvia were there. Ben Paul recalled the vanity plate on the only car out front: NLUV, thinking that the endearment must have been chosen several arguments past.
As Ben Paul and Sylvia were finishing their meal, somewhat chagrinned that the waitress hadn’t refilled their water glasses, a shriek came from the kitchen area. A young, bosomy girl who Sylvia estimated to be about sixteen bolted out. “Will you take me home? Please?” she pleaded of Sylvia.
“Of course,” Sylvia answered.
Ben Paul gestured to the empty plates, wondering how to pay, who, and where to pay for the meals.
“Free,” the girl said. “Can we go?”
It was then that Ben Paul noticed the blood on her arm, a pretty serious cut dripping to her hand. Her eyes held terror.
With a bandana from his pocket, he wrapped her arm as he ushered her out the door, fast-stepping the block to their car.
The other couple had yet to say a word, or look to up from their plates.
Sylvia quickly drew two fives from her wallet, wishing she’d had time to come closer to what she thought they owed.
Just before exiting, she glanced back toward the kitchen where a 200-pound, five-and-a-half-foot tall, thick-set Latino man stood glaring at her, murder in his eyes. Sylvia quickly caught up with the two.
“Where do you live?” Ben Paul asked. “Do you want to go to the police?”
“No police. They dón like us. And they neber belieb a Mexicali.
“Can we go?” she asked gesturing with her hands. “That way,” she said, pointing to the left, against traffic on a one-way street. Being no cars on the road, Ben Paul drove left for the block before turning left again.
“I lib past the springs caliente, the hot springs.”
“That man cut you,” Sylvia charged. “You should report him.”
“He is my stepfather. It will go bad for me.”
“Then we can’t take you home,” Ben Paul said, slowing the car. “What’s your name, anyway?”
“Juanita. My friends call me Tia. My friend’s house. My home is that way.” She gestured indiscriminately over her shoulder.
“What are you going to do?” Sylvia asked.
“My girlfriend brother want to marry me. I dón like him much. But he dón hurt me. He leeb on a ranch. I can go there.”
The next morning Ben Paul and Sylvia found the girl asleep in the backseat of their car, having forgotten to lock the back doors.
“Oh!” she said. “Can you take me away? The police…” Tia looked about, reminding Sylvia of a skittish bird.
“Why would they be after you?” Ben Paul asked.
“Navarro is dead. They think I killed him.”
“Navarro is the heavy man?” Sylvia asked. “That’s crazy! I saw him alive when we left. You… you didn’t go back, did you?”
“No, senora. My friend’s family all told the police I was there all night. But when they dón belieb them, I ran.”
“How did you find us?” Sylvia asked.
“Only so many hotels gringos like – old and fancy. Much money, Or low price with good heat.”
“Smart girl,” Ben Paul said, snickering. “But we can’t help you run away. You’ll live your whole life running. We can give our statements. Testify in court, if necessary.”
“They will not belieb you. They will say you dón know what you are talking about. They will not belieb you.”
“Tia, my husband is a very persuasive man,” Sylvia said, smiling brightly.
Tia looked all about the car, through all the windows. “I cannot run from here on my feet. I will be caught.”
+++
“If I take you back to your friend’s house, can they get you out of town? Maybe to the brother’s ranch… where he works?”
“M-maybe,” Tia answered.
As Ben Paul pulled in front of the house, the car was immediately surrounded by three police cars, deputies racing to the Ford Galaxy with guns drawn.
“Out of the car!” two or three of them shouted. “Now!”
Once at the Sheriff’s Office and able to tell their story, the first thing the detective said was, “I don’t believe you. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Ben Persons: young man called of God (1861-1890)
Ben Paul Persons: 81-year-old son of Ben Persons (1891-)
Sylvia Adams Persons: grand-daughter of Livvy (1904-)
Slim Goldman (Herschell Diddleknopper): miner who Ben (senior) rescued in 1886
Mary Goldman/Diddleknopper: wife of Slim
Tony Bertelli: protegeâÃÂàof Ben persons (Sr)
Al Fresco: St. Louis man who raped and impregnated Elsabeth, wife of Tony
Pays
one point
and 2 member cents. Ben Paul Persons: 81-year-old son of Ben Persons (1891-)
Sylvia Adams Persons: grand-daughter of Livvy (1904-)
Slim Goldman (Herschell Diddleknopper): miner who Ben (senior) rescued in 1886
Mary Goldman/Diddleknopper: wife of Slim
Tony Bertelli: protegeâÃÂàof Ben persons (Sr)
Al Fresco: St. Louis man who raped and impregnated Elsabeth, wife of Tony
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