Arizona Territory (14 page)

“Should I?”

“Hell, no. Is there anything you regret about us?”

“Yes.”

“What is that?”

“I didn't find you sooner.”

“Maybe it was best you were a widow all that time. I never looked at another woman when I was married to Marge. You could have come and gone. I really was as faithful with her as I am to you today.”

“Then I will stop telling myself how foolish I was not having a man in those times.”

“Those two that ride with me will tell you I never let any woman bother me, except for my wife. The two were shocked, I think, when I met you, but they pushed me in your direction.”

“I know Jesus found me a bath. Boy, I had to swallow a lot to get the nerve up to ask you to wash me. You were not shocked, were you?”

“No, and yes. That was an exciting event. I was shaking inside so bad, I couldn't dare touch you.”

“What a horrible thing to do. Here I was like some
puta
showing you my body, trying to be intimate with you so you could never forget me—I hoped. No, I prayed for God to forgive me for my wild ways, but I had faith you would not forget me, either.”

“The diffused sunlight coming through that old canvas shone on your tan skin. I can see it now—all over again.”

“I washed your shoulders later and thought how powerful you must be.”

Then they were in each other's arms, making love again. All his concerns dissolved about taking off for the time they spent making love. Cattle drive or no cattle drive, he had her for himself.

To get things rolling the next morning, they sent Apache Joe and his two wranglers north first. That way, the horse herd didn't get scrambled up in the herding operations. Then Mott and his skinner took the chuckwagon, and the three stick-like figures of the cook's party on horseback followed it. Poor Orientals looked like the round bottom boys, bouncing on their mounts in a stiff fashion going north.

Decker was riding around blowing a trumpet, no music involved, just blasts like some bull bellowing, and the ear-shattering bawling of upset cattle accompanied him. The great bell on the lead steer clanged, plus, at the same time, all the horses with their riders that cussed a blue streak filled his ears, too. The lost herd began the long trail that crawled northward.

This day would challenge them. Cole's estimate was thirty miles. But it was the first adequate water source and, no doubt, why Decker stopped where he did on the Canadian where there was water. At last, under way, he wanted the cattle's body condition to improve, not get worse. They had obviously been out of water too often, and run too hard in a combination of events before, so they needed to heal. Decker was already balking at some of the ways Lou James said they must go on this trip. Lou's way was to zigzag on short daily trips northward to water sources, something Decker didn't like. No doubt, that was why he stopped where he did and threw his hands up. So Chet had to stubbornly deal with him to overcome his reluctance, but so far he'd heeded Chet's plans.

He could tell that part wasn't over. In the old Chisholm Trail days, there was usually adequate water sources back east to follow a straight trail, but in this arid country you had to crisscross to get to water. And if it took two weeks more, who cared, just so the cattle put back on some of their earlier weight loss.

Hampt had done a helluva job of making soldiers out of those black cowboys. That first morning, Chet rode beside his wife parallel to the herd and avoided the dust of thousands of cloven hooves. He could only hope Hampt's efforts were enough to hold off any attack they encountered from any renegade Indians.

The day was hot, and the distance long, and he hoped the
playa
had enough water to satisfy their thirst. Hour by hour crept by. Noontime came and went. Thank God, the summer days were long. He watched a distant wall cloud build in the west and then vanish.

Cole and Lou joined him. He knew they must be close to their first destination. He and Liz shared a nod of approval at their appearance.

“See any Injuns?” he asked.

Both men shook their head.

Cole looked over at the long line of cattle. “You made good time today.”

“Perfect trail drive boredom. If there's enough water up here, I say we rest tomorrow.”

“There is.”

“What will Decker say?” Cole asked.

“He will grumble. He's either hurry up or totally stop. But I run this drive and he works for me.”

The two men nodded.

“Do the point men know how to swing the herd into this place?”

“We told them,” Lou said. “The rest are not bad hands on keeping them rolling. Today has been a damn long one.”

“Yes, but they have been resting, too.”

“Oh, yeah, day after day will take a toll.”

“Have you seen any buffalo?” Liz asked. “I have never seen one. I hope to get to see them one time.”

Cole shook his head. “None yet. But they have sure killed a lot up here 'cause bones are all over the place.”

“If we find some, we can go look at them,” Chet promised her.

“Good.”

“I better go tell Decker we'll stay here for one day. You two ride with Liz.”

“We will.”

He found Decker and told him the point men really knew how to circle them in on the water. “It's been a good long day. We'll graze them here tomorrow and move on the next day. It's only ten miles.”

“I suppose it's sideways, too,” Decker grumbled.

“Listen, we need more beef on those steers. That will set the price. I know cattle, too, and we'll eventually get there, but they'll be in much better condition.”

“Hmm. You can do dat up there.”

“Listen, don't challenge my judgment. These cattle will be fatter this way.”

“Bunch of foolish bullshit—alright, you be dee boss. But it be worthless doing it dis way.”

“That's how it will be.” Chet didn't intend to argue another minute. Decker knew that, too.

“Get it straight?” Liz asked, smiling when he returned.

“We had some words. We'll camp here a day.”

Jesus returned.

“See any sign of them?”

He shook his head. “There are some scouts out there. I cut sign of them, but I never saw a camp or any smoke out there.”

“Good job. I can't believe that with us being the last herd this spring that they won't try to at least steal our horses. To an Indian, to own more horses is wealth. Since we've got some better horses, I think they will try to steal them. You seen Hampt today?”

Chet looked around for him. He had not seen him since morning. Had he even seen him then? Where was the big man? Not unusual, he didn't check in sometimes. They had washed up, when a couple of horsemen driving some horses ahead of them came in their direction. One of them was Hampt, and the other a horse wrangler of Apache Joe's.

Hampt sent the boy on to the cavvy with his dozen head.

“Those our horses?” Chet asked.

Hampt took off his hat for Liz. “They are now. I came up here with Joe and the
remuda
this morning, and as we crossed a grassy ridge, I thought I saw someone driving some horses. I got Dickey Joe and we went after them. I soon seen they was only some teenage bucks, and they'd probably stolen somebody's ranch horses for a lark.

“I shot two of them. Dickey caught their horses and the bunch they stole. Well, since there ain't no ranches we can find, I said we'd take them back to ours. So we brought them back to use.”

“You need to be careful and take more guns along doing that.”

Hampt wrinkled his nose. “The rest were somewhere else.”

“They could have come to their rescue. I don't aim to go home and tell May I let you kill yourself.”

“Alright. I'll take more help next time, but we've got fourteen more horses. Two that you got to mount on the other side.”

“That was the good part. Better eat.”

“Hampt,” Liz said, “you did wonderful.”

“Thanks, ma'am.”

“I just don't want him killed,” Chet said.

“I know, but he's such a big, wonderful bear. I see why May is so happy to have him.”

“He does better for May than my brother ever treated her. He's great.”

When they were alone, she asked, “Why did he treat her so badly?”

“He never beat her, he just married her to raise his kids. He spent hours working by himself on farm machinery; we didn't have a buggy, wagon, or farm implement that wasn't in top shape. We never lacked a fixed thing.”

“Why?”

“He did that like some people drink. He lost his first wife having a baby girl. That event scarred him. It was like he couldn't find himself. He argued all the damn time about my decisions. Then he met May and eloped with her. Her parents disowned her. She had a prettier sister they just idolized and who could do no wrong. Poor May had a lot to deal with especially how to handle Dale Allen's kids. Heck, his oldest son, was a rebel and who his father ignored. Even those two little boys treed her.”

“They made her cry?”

“Oh, yes. I had to get them to promise not to do that.

“Heck went to Kansas with his dad on that last drive. They shot Dale Allen. How he ever did it, I will never know, but Heck rode clear back to Texas to get me.”

“He's the boy—”

“Yes, the one. We'd bought the big ranch and were headed back to move the family out there. Stage robbers killed him, and when Marge got word, she came down there and saved me.”

“And then some silly widow came looking for a golden horse.”

Chet closed his eyes. “Best deal I ever made in my life.”

“You are easy pleased.” She laughed and shook her head.

“Oh, darling, but there is no telling what will happen next.”

“Yes, there is. You will be off on another adventure. I hope I can ride along.”

“You were married how long?”

“Three long years. He had about built the
hacienda
when he took me for his wife. Oh, I just knew when I married him that I would have a hundred children for him.”

“A hundred?”

“Well, lots. But none came.

“A doctor had us do many things. None worked. He did not know why, so we saw another. He didn't know, either. Then, one day, bandits shot my husband, in our own
casa
. That was a very bad day in my life. I was upstairs, dressing to go to an occasion in the village. There were shots. I knew they were happening down in the entranceway of the house.

“He shouted, ‘Stay up there.' Then more shots in the house. I took my pistol and rushed out. I met one bandit on the stairs and shot him in the chest. Then another shot at me from the foyer. I steadied the pistol and shot him, too. He died also, but beside him, in a pool of his own blood, was my dearest husband—dead.

“I didn't know which one killed him. But I shot both of them again in the head until I ran out of bullets.”

“Oh, my God, Liz, that was horrible.”

“Do you know on that day in the Santa Cruz River with me wading in that water, that whole terrifying day of his death evaporated. Like a flash of lightning, it faded for the first time, and then you washed my feet and I thought about the Christ-like thing you were doing to me.”

“I see why you did that. In reality, all I wanted to do was get my hands on you.”

“And when you could have, you gripped the edge of that bathtub so hard your knuckles were white.”

“Oh, girl—that was a great day.”

“I felt sixteen again.”

“Me, too. I better do some checking. We need to see if everything is ready for tomorrow. I won't be long.”

“Take care. I will go to the tent.”

He kissed her forehead and went to find Yeager. He found the man squatted on his heels by the chuckwagon wheel. “Did he tell you about tomorrow?”

“He grumbled about it. But he done told me we'd stay over a day here for the cattle to gain weight.”

“We need more meat on them. We will gain it going slow up north.”

“I savvy what you plan. I'll check things tomorrow, too.”

“Good. No Indians today.”

“And the big man he bring in mo' horses. He be a big man alright. I never hear of any one steal an Injun's hoss before. Dey usual steals dee other folks' hosses.”

“Hampt's alright. See you in the morning.”

They turned in early. Sure was nice to have her along. He wouldn't ever forget the worst day in her life, either, and knew the reason why she'd never told him about it before. Whew, that much bloodshed had to have been a real sorry day in anyone's life.

And here they were, honeymooning again, and her laughter ringing out. Wasn't hard to tickle her, that was for sure.

Three more grimy, dust-eating days north, and in the early pre-dawn hours, Jesus woke them. His words whispered in Chet's ear, jarred both him and Liz into instant awareness.

“Apache Joe brought the horse herd into camp. Said he heard too many daytime bird calls out there in the darkness.”

“Smart.”

“They are waking everyone up. Hampt is organizing things. We figure they want our horses.”

“Yes.” Chet had his pants on by then. “Liz, you get in the chuckwagon and stay low. Keep your head down.”

“I'll be fine.”

“Do as I say.”

“Yes, boss man.”

There was lots of activity going on. Hampt ordered his gunmen to spread out on the ground, either kneeling or flat. “Shoot horses if you can't shoot Indians.”

Yeager doubled his herd guards to try to hold the cattle, when all hell broke loose.

“Don't blow that trumpet, it might spook the cattle. We don't need to run them down.”

“What will they do when they come screaming in here?” Decker asked.

“We'll have to shoot them.”

“I hope to hell it works.”

Chet got in Decker's face. “So do I. They don't want the cattle; they want the horses.”

“How many you figure?”

“Indians are strange. They may fight, they may not. The cavalry had been hounding them. I don't think there are any big camps out here like years before.”

Dawn became a pink rim out east. A roar went up and the drum of many horse hooves came from the east. At first, he thought maybe he was wrong, but there were a lot of them coming. The first volley of shots laid down several attacking riders and horses. The screaming, shot horses thrashing on the ground made it more difficult for them to come back through. But they did charge again and had hell coming through the field. But the endless rifle shots blocked that charge and not an Indian came within seventy yards. By then, most of the warriors' horses were shot or the rider shot off of it.

In full daylight, the sun's great ball blasted his shooters' eyes, so Hampt led the charge on foot at the Indians. They shot wounded Indians and horses until they were on the eastern brink of the rise. Then more shots rattled the air.

Chet rode around the far side and found the herd riders had the cattle herd secure. A lot of cattle were on their feet, but they'd held them. He met Yeager on the west side and shook his hand. “Great job.”

“No. Hampt and his shooting done did that.”

He agreed. “But your men held the herd.”

“I be pretty proud of us all.”

“Me, too.”

“We'd never done dis wit'out you. That bank man he must of heard what my old daddy say, ‘Don't you's send me no gawdamn boy when I's needs a man.' Chet Byrnes, you be dee man.”

“Thank the men every chance you get. They deserve it.”

Yeager promised he would.

Chet rode back to the chuckwagon and dismounted.

Liz climbed down off the wagon. “Me and the cooks are unharmed.”

He hugged her and swung her in a circle.

“We did this one, darling. We did it.”

Someone had taken Hampt his horse. In the midst of it all, he was giving orders. The men were making certain all the Indians and shot-up horses were dead.

They also were taking guns, arms, knives, and trophies.

“There's several good saddles out there that these men can use,” Hampt told him. “No doubt, stolen from white men.”

“Have them gather them. We'll have a saddle lottery for the men, to see who gets to ride them.”

Hampt agreed and sent more men to get horses to pull the saddles off the slain horses.

“We stay here today?” No Ling Ling asked.

“Yes, but after breakfast, we'll move your camp over there.” Chet pointed north a ways. “I know the buzzards will be bad.”

Mott came about then and the head cook yakked at him.

“What does that damn crazy chink need now?” he asked Chet.

“After breakfast, move him north a good quarter mile. There will be too many buzzards around here in a short while.”

Mott wiped his face and neck with a rag. “Boy, that was a helluva fight. That Hampt be some Injun fighter.”

Chet agreed.

Hampt rode back. He was holding a great eagle-feather headdress that about drug the ground. “Miss Liz, this trophy belongs at the Preskitt Ranch house. I don't know his name who wore it, but he won't need it where he is now.”

“Why, Hampt Tate, I will be honored to have it. That is perfect.”

Chet agreed. “We can hang it on the bows in the chuckwagon for now.”

Some returning men set their rifles down and volunteered to put it up. Coffee was soon ready for everyone. They brought in twelve good to usable saddles. Liz set out to make raffle tickets while they drank coffee at the host table.

When Decker and Yeager joined them, Chet told them about the raffle. They thought that was a good thing to do, and told Liz the headdress was great. Cole, Lou, and Jesus joined them.

“The rest of them are gone,” said Cole. “My last count, eighteen Indians were left dead. We have nine good horses. We collected about twenty rifles. Ones don't work, we bent the barrels and busted off the stocks. Nine pistols and a big crate of knives, tomahawks, and hatchets. Lots of gunpowder and ammo. There's a like-new .52 caliber Sharps buffalo gun and a dozen cartridges. I figure they got that from a buffalo hunter they caught out here.”

“That should be Hampt's trophy,” Chet said.

“Yes.” Liz applauded. The hangers-on agreed.

The first hungry, sky-drifting buzzard must have sent a signal up. Hundreds of them soon glided in, ignoring the nearby people. They began their clumsy stalking about, fighting, and trying to be the first to peck the eyeballs out of the dead. That was their delicacy and they sought them before anything else.

Only four of the men were scratched, and none seriously wounded. Decker told them when they finished eating to go relieve the herders and scatter them out for the day. They'd move ten miles the next day.

“You men did good today. I won't ever doubt you again. I thought we'd be slaughtered,” Decker said. “You saved us. Why, I never saw such a bunch attack a train like they did.”

“Decker, your men did that job, not me.”

“These bucks be Comanche?”

Chet nodded. “Yes. Back in Texas, they took two of my brothers and a sister. I don't have much use for them.”

Decker nodded. “You evened the score today.”

“No, you can't ever take a life for one taken. Humans are too valuable for that.”

“Move these dozen saddles to our camp,” Liz said. “We will draw tonight for them.”

Hampt said, “Don't fret none. Soon as we eat, I'll see they are taken up there.”

They went northeast the next day. Decker grumbled, but Chet ignored him. The cattle had begun to fill out. Some of the range they stopped to graze had gotten rain earlier, and the green grass mixed in with the dry forage made a rich mix and their sides began to swell. Orderly watering of the stock, driving them short distances, and finding better graze, all meant improved conditions for putting weight on the mixed-age steers.

Lou took him aside. “You ready to duck into Kansas for a few
playas
?”

“How far in?”

“Not too far. But there's some good water over there. No one lives out here. We've been scouting and haven't seen a Kansas lawman.”

“These cattle are doing great.”

“The water is a short run.”

“Let's do it and say we lost our compass.”

They slowed the drive to a crawl, making five miles a day, watering, and resting. In a week, they only made forty miles, but the cattle were recovering. They stayed three days on the Arkansas River close to the western trail, then they went north. They were getting close to Nebraska.

One afternoon, when they were camped for the cattle to graze, three men wearing suits rode up. Decker came by and told Chet they looked like trouble.

He agreed, seated outside his tent. “Tell every man not to shoot them. I'll handle it.”

A big man under a wide-brim Stetson Boss of the Plains hat rode up. “Whose camp is this?”

“What do you need to know?”

“You the ramrod?”

“I am. Who are you?” Chet rose from his chair to face him.

“My name's Trumbo Rodman. I'm a chief of the Kansas State Police.”

“What are you looking for?” Chet asked.

“Trespassers.”

“Oh, you've been tracking them?”

“I have been for days, and you have been trespassing.”

“No, I'm in Colorado.”

“You have violated the acts of the Kansas legislature driving Texas cattle through our state.”

Chet noticed that many of the cowboys had quietly come to sit on the ground nearby with their Winchesters on their laps. Rodman started frowning. “I am a state policeman.”

“In Kansas. You're not a lawman in Colorado.”

“Why have all these blacks got rifles?”

“Comanche tried us. We turned them back.”

“What the hell does that mean?” A cross look swept his face.

“Tell your men to sit real tight on their horses. These men of mine are all experienced Indian fighters. They don't take any prisoners.”

“You threatening me?”

“Mister, you're a simple camp robber in Colorado at this time.”

“I'm—”

“How far is Kansas from here? A couple miles?”

“I don't know.”

“I guess there isn't a fence. I never saw a sign for the past fifty miles. Why don't you ride back to Kansas?”

“I'm going to arrest you and your men for trespassing.”

Chet dropped his head and shook it. “No, you don't understand. You're not in Kansas. You try to arrest us where you have no authority and I will say you were camp robbers and we killed you in the act.”

“You can't do that.”

“Lower your voice. Those boys killed Comanche 'cause they tried to rob our camp. All I have to say is ‘shoot them,' and you'll be dead. Now, get back across that line. Walk back to your horse and mount up and go back to Kansas.”

Chet rose and held out his hands to stay his crew. “These good men are riding back to Kansas. No one has got hurt.”

“You ain't seen the last of me.”

He walked him to his horse and the lawman mounted.

“I better have.”

When the three men turned their mounts to the east, Chet reached up over his head like he had a gun and pulled the trigger. His men mimicked his action with their rifles, and their shots made the riders' horses near bolt out from under them as they tore off for Kansas. The crew cheered and laughed.

“That was more dangerous than the Comanche,” Liz said, holding his arm, standing beside him.

“Not when you have an army.”

“I guess we better stay in Colorado till we get to Nebraska.”

Chet agreed. “We better.”

“Sorry I got you in that situation,” his scout Lou said, riding up and dismounting.

Chet shook his head. “We're moving north in the morning. Things are fine.”

Lou nodded.

Decker had his arms folded and nodded. “They really be that dumb?”

“They had no authority over here. But most folks listen to them and go in and pay a fine. I didn't have time for them today.”

Decker snorted out his nose and slapped his pants legs. “You sure be dee man.”

“I want Lou and Cole to head for Nebraska and find us some pasture, so we can sort these cattle into three classes. Yearlings, two-year-olds, and the big steers.”

“You ain't going to just sell them?”

“No. Those big ones are a premium class. Midwest farmers want them to fatten. The twos can be wintered easy and sold next year. Those yearlings will require lots of feed and are two years from turning a profit.”

“Why, we be weeks sorting them.”

“I don't think that long. No matter, we need to sort them.”

Decker left him, shaking his head. Yeager caught Chet later. “What be happening?”

“I told him when we get up there we'll have to sort the cattle into the three classes.”

“That will be work.”

“My share of this deal depends on the total sale. I want the most out of them.”

“It pays everyone's wages, huh? When we be down dere, I never thought I'd get a penny fur dis job. Now it looks better, we can sort cattle.”

“We'll get them sold.”

Yeager agreed.

The next day, Lou and Cole went to find or rent sorting ground. That day, the cattle buyers rode out to meet them and frowned at the mixed herd.

“We'll sort them when we get there,” Chet assured them.

The next day a man with three cowboys rode out and spoke to him.

“Rusty Harold. These are my boys. Not sons, my cowboys.” He laughed.

“This is my wife, Liz. I'm Chet Byrnes. What can I do for you?”

Harold removed his hat. “Ma'am,
buenos dias
.”

“I speak English, Mister Harold. Nice to meet you.”

“I was a little homesick for some
el español
.”

She rattled some Spanish greeting off and he laughed. “Thanks. Made me homesick already. How did you two get hooked up?”

“She stopped at a ranch where I stayed to buy a Barbarossa horse in southern Arizona.”