Blood on the Verde River (13 page)

“Come blow out your candles.” Marge said. “Before they burn the house down.”

He kissed Susie on the forehead and saw her big smile along with the grip on her man's arm. They were bonded. Marge had told her the way and it worked. He didn't bother to ask if she had caught any fish.

The cake candles were finally put out. Monica brought him a plate of food for his supper while the rest feasted on his cake and asked him where he had been all day.

“I was checking the books and let the day slip by. Guess I kind of misplaced the time. Tom and I talked. Guess he knew you all had plans for me. He tried to push me away, but not obviously. November sixth is my day.”

“Well, I wasn't sure you'd even come back,” Marge teased him. “Oh. A letter came, but I didn't open it.” She handed him an envelope.

“From who?” He looked at the return address—JD Byrnes, General Delivery Socorro, New Mexico Territory. Chet tore open the envelope.

Chet handed the letter to his wife. “Here Marge. You all read it. Maybe that boy has found himself a place to perch.”

“Where?” Susie asked.

“Socorro, New Mexico, is his address.” Chet smiled at her. “He wished you two the best of luck.”

“How did he get clear over there?” Leif asked.

Chet shook his head. “I don't know. He said he met Billy the Kid again. We met him at the end of Fort Worth to Denver tracks when we landed there and took the wagons on from there. He's a famous scoundrel in New Mexico. He's into a range war. JD said that he has no part in it—which means he has gained some sense.”

“John Chisum, the big rancher in those parts, hired The Kid to run off homesteaders and stop rustling,” Leif said.

“No telling,” Chet said, shaking his head.

“It was my fault for introducing him to Kay,” Marge said.

“No, he'd have met her anyhow. We couldn't help what they did.”

“I heard she married Tom Hannagan in front of the JP in Prescott,” Susie said and turned to her husband. “Where did we hear that?”

“Camp Verde yesterday, coming up here.”

“Fine.” Chet dropped his chin and rubbed his short whiskers. “I'm glad you two are together. Did you fish? Those nephews are going to ask you that first thing.”

“Hey we did, and even caught some,” Leif said. “They were good eating, too.”

Chet laughed. “Poor May. Those boys will nag her to death to visit you when they hear about that.”

“Why didn't we ever know she could sing?” Susie asked. “That was so beautiful at our wedding.”

“Yes it was.” Chet shook his head. “My brother, I will swear, married her to take care of his kids, God rest his soul. We all thought she was the quiet daughter of her family, but I guess we never gave her a chance. Hampt took her on and brought all that out of her.”

“She's very happy with him,” Marge said. “I think she even gave up wanting you.”

Susie quickly agreed.

“May never appealed to me—nice girl—good mother—but not for me,” Chet protested.

They all laughed at his words.

The evening passed quickly. His guests left save for Susie and Leif who Marge had offered the guest cabin to. Chet walked them outside and smiled. The two were holding on to each other going across in the starlit cool night.

When the lamplight went on inside the guest cabin, he went back inside the house and hugged his wife. “Thanks. Nice birthday, nice to be home, nice to be thinking about going to bed with you.”

“Yes, it is. Are the books all right? You looked at them for a long time, you said.”

“Books are fine. When we get paid for the two shipments of cattle to the Navajos we'll be over a hundred thousand better off. That is really going to work. When we buy more cattle to resell we won't be that rich, but the ranch is comfortable with a good backlog of money.”

“Wonderful. Let's go to bed,” Marge said.

“I could hardly wait for you to ask me.”

Whew. Things were sure all right in his world.

The next morning, Chet looked up from the kitchen table at the sound of a buggy in the yard. Marge was still asleep and so were the newlyweds. Monica had made him fresh coffee and was frying eggs, baking biscuits, and making gravy with chopped ham in it.

Who was driving in? He rose and looked out the window. The driver, by himself on the seat, had pulled around behind the house to use the back door. Chet answered his knock.

“Morning, Mr. Byrnes. My name is Hailey Rasmussen and I'd like a word with you.” He was about five-eight with white whiskers and blue eyes and looked the part of a horseman as well as a stockman.

“Come inside. It's cold out there.”

“Aw, I've got on my working clothes. I can't go in your nice house.”

“Hailey, this is a working ranch, too. Monica is making breakfast and you can sure have some.”

The man stepped inside. He took off his canvas coat and hung it on the wall along with his red wool scarf and weather-beaten, once-gray Stetson.

“Have a seat, Hailey. This is Monica, my wonderful cook.”

“Howdy Mrs. Byrnes,” Hailey said, ready to take a seat.

“No. Monica is our housekeeper. My wife is still asleep,” Chet explained.

“Oh, excuse me, ma'am.”

Monica smiled. “I am very flattered, but you sit down. No harm done. How do you like your eggs, sir?” She poured him a cup of coffee and refilled Chet's mug.

“The way you cook them. I haven't been asked that since I was kid.” Hailey laughed, settled in the chair, and drank the coffee.

“What can I do for you?” Chet asked him.

“Someone's been rustling my cattle and I'd like you to catch them.”

“That's a tall order, Hailey. You talk to the sheriff?”

“Hell—excuse me, ma'am. I won't go ask that stiff dude for a damn thing. Sorry Miss Monica. I'm use to talking to unbroken horses and the like—understand?”

Monica smiled. “Perfectly. Don't worry. Go on.”

“Yes, ma'am. Well, ain't no need in telling Sims anything. He won't send anyone out to look. They say you can track down ants.”

Chet laughed. “I am not that good. When did they rustle the last ones?”

“Three days ago. They butchered a fat cow and calf up in the canyon and hauled them out, I guess, on packhorses. But they can blotch up a trail so I can't track them nowhere.”

“Anyone see them getting away?”

“Not that I've talked to. I never asked many of the folks on the road, but the two I did ask never saw no packhorses.”

“How often are they taking one or two?”

Monica brought them eggs. She set a plate before Hailey and said, “I scrambled them.”

“Just how I wanted them, ma'am. My, those biscuits look wonderful.”

Monica beamed at his praise. “I have butter and I made ham gravy.”

“You eat like this all the time?” he asked Chet.

“Yes.” Amused, Chet smiled.

“Ma'am, could I ask you a question?”

“Sure. What do you want to know, Mr. Rasmussen?”

“Are you married?”

“No, I am a widow.”

“Now ain't that neat. I am one, too.” Hailey smiled.

“Oh. I am sorry.”

“So am I. My Sarah died four years ago. Rest her soul. Would you call me a damn, I mean, a fool to ask . . . if I cleaned up and came by one Sunday afternoon would you go on a picnic with me?”

“I would have to ask for the day off.” Monica stood ready to pour more coffee.

“If you want to go—”

Her frown cut Chet off from saying that she could go.

“I will ask Mrs. Byrnes if I might have the afternoon off,” Monica said.

“Good. I can fix the lunch and repay you for this meal.” Hailey smiled again.

“Thank you.” She poured more coffee and turned to put the coffeepot back on the stove.

“How many cattle have they stolen?” Chet asked him.

“Maybe twenty over the course of time.”

“In a year?” Chet picked up his coffee cup.

“Yeah, that's about the right amount. They usually take them to some isolated spot, I figure, to kill and slaughter them. Then I see the buzzards gathering a day or so later. I never found a real fresh kill, but I'm searching harder these days. They're still slipping in and taking them.”

“Where could they sell that much beef?”

“If I knew that, I'd have caught them already.”

“Let's try that end. I'll meet you in town tomorrow and we can start asking folks who sells beef in the valley.”

Hailey shook his head, looking amazed. “Now why didn't I think of that?”

“You know cattle and how to handle them. You hadn't thought about the end product. They represent food—meat in particular. Where can you sell it? To merchants and café owners and boardinghouses and anyone else feeding folks, for that matter. Did the rustlers take the hides?”

“Sure. Why?”

“They may have them in their possession or have sold the branded ones. What is your brand?”

“I see that now. Double K Bar.” Hailey shook his head. “I never thought about that, either. All they left behind were the heads and guts.”

“Oh, we have company,” Marge said, coming into the kitchen.

“This is my wife, Marge, Hailey.” Chet introduced him as they both rose for her.

“Yes ma'am. Sure nice to meet you,” Hailey said.

“He mistook Monica for you earlier,” Chet explained.

“Oh, she is a wonderful cook, isn't she?” Marge took a chair.

“Golly, she's more than that,” Hailey said. “She's a nice-looking lady, as well.”

“She certainly is that.” Marge turned to Monica. All I want is some oatmeal, Monica.”

“I have that ready.”

“That will be fine.”

Chet explained, “Hailey's having some problems with cattle rustlers. He can't catch them. He asked for some help—”

“Why did he not ask the law?” Marge asked.

“He has little faith in their methods. We are working out some plans to entrap them.”

Marge sat at the table. “Hailey, you have a good man on your side. He usually gets them.”

“I sure appreciate you letting me have him for this job. And I asked Miss Monica if she'd go on a picnic with me Sunday. She said she'd have to ask for your permission.”

“Certainly.”

“Can she be off at ten? So I can bring dinner in my basket?”

“Sure.”

“I better get back to the ranch. I'll meet you in town tomorrow, Chet. What time?” Hailey asked.

“Eight o'clock at Jenn's Café. We can start from there.”

Hailey stood and said to Marge, “Ma'am, you sure serve good meals to an old wrangler and I appreciate your letting Miss Monica off, as well.” He looked at Chet. “See you in the morning.” To Monica, he said, “And I'll bring my buckboard for you Sunday morning if that is all right?”

“Yes,” Monica said quietly. “Thank you for asking me.”

“It is my privilege.” He turned and thanked Chet and Marge again.

Chet nodded and started to rise, but he saw Monica already had Hailey's coat, hat, and scarf ready for him and they talked going out onto the back porch.

When the back door closed, Marge asked, “How long has he known Monica?”

“About fifteen more minutes than you.”

Marge threw her head back and laughed. “Short courtship, huh?”

Monica stayed outside despite the cool wind and talked with Hailey.

The back door opened and closed, and Monica headed right to the range.

“He's a polite nice guy,” Chet said.

She brought the coffee over and refilled the mugs. “He is very polite and a nice man with manners.”

“Good. I thought so, too.”

Marge shook her head. “If he takes you away from me, I'll—kiss him.”

Her words embarrassed their housekeeper who was shaking her head. “It is only a picnic.”

“That's how things happen,” Chet said as she started to leave the kitchen. “Monica, we love you.”

She stopped and smiled. “I know that. I was impressed by him and flattered he made such a nice invitation.”

Chet agreed. “It was a nice one. Go on the picnic and learn all about him.”

“I am voting for you,” Marge said.

“Thanks.”

Monica left them and Chet considered the slaughter of Hailey's beef. Jenn may know more about it. He might ride into town and talk to her. If he could find some suspects, he could check them out. He'd do that.

He said to Marge, “I'm going into town and poke around about the butchering deal. Jenn may know something. Peddlers come around all the time. It is cold outside today, but I'll take the buckboard if you want to go along.”

“Tie on a horse in case you need one. I will go along. I'll dress warm. I'll tell Monica we will not eat lunch here.”

“I am going to hitch up the team if Jesus will let me.”

“I promise I won't hold you up.”

“No worry.” He laughed.

They left in a short while and ate lunch with Jenn in the cafe. When the crowd left, she slipped into the booth and asked why they were there.

“We're looking for someone who sells beef to restaurants,” Chet explained.

“Why?”

“Someone who didn't buy the cattle on the hoof is selling the meat.”

“Rustled them.” Jenn frowned.

“Who brings you the beef you buy?”

“Old Jules. He has a van and comes around. He'll bring a hind quarter into our kitchen, fills our needs, and keeps the rest.”

“Anyone else ever offer you meat for sale?”

“Oh sure. Let me think. A guy named Olson comes around every couple weeks and tells me he has a bargain. I bought one quarter one time. It was tough as shoe leather.”

“Where does he live?”

“I can find out.” Jenn slipped out of the booth, went to the counter, and spoke to a man sitting on a stool. He nodded and she thanked him.

She slid back into the booth. “He lives in Boulder Canyon. That's off the Black Canyon Road and south. It is a kinda all alone place. A wrecked wagon on the right marks the way in. What will you do now?”

“I'll ride up there and take a peek,” Chet said.

“What are you looking for?”

“Evidence to shove under their noses.”

Jenn shook her head. “I bet someone came and asked you to help him find the bad guys.”

Marge laughed and squeezed his arm. “Of course.”

“Is this Olson very valuable to society?” Chet asked.

“No.”

“You keep Marge company. I'll be back by for supper.”

“Be careful.”

He agreed, went outside, saddled his roan Jack and rode for the Black Canyon Road. The wind from the north was cooler and high level clouds were rolling in. He hunched some under his jumper and rode on.

The wrecked wagon parts were beside the main road like Jenn had said. Wagon tracks went in and out of the narrow road that wound back into the pines. The steep walled canyon was lined with sheer rock walls, tall skinny pines, and brushy junipers.

He turned the horse into the road and wondered how far he had to go to find the place. From where he was, he saw the canyon wind back into the mountains. From watermarks, he could tell there had been floods from violent rains, but little sign water ever ran much in other times. He shrugged. The crevice wouldn't have a flood that day.

Farther on, he caught sight of a cabin and stopped his horse. He concealed the roan in a deep side place in the canyon and tied him. Then he looked at scaling the wall and decided it was the best way to get by the cabin undetected and search beyond it.

The climb was not easy. Hand over hand he pulled himself up. Out of breath and crouched in some brush, he gratefully saw lots of cover farther up the mountainside. Ducking to keep concealed, he moved along swiftly, taking stops to be sure no one had seen him. Reaching the top, he ran along the edge until he heard pigs fighting in a pen. Back of the cabin, he saw a woman walk to the outhouse. On his haunches, he held his place until she went back inside.

Close enough, he heard someone cussing. When that quieted down, Chet started the climb down. It was tough, but he found ledges for toeholds. He checked his six-gun after he reached the soil under his soles.

Four horses were in the corral, and recently worn packsaddles were set on top of the top rail. They showed the sweat marks of the pads. He made the first shed and slipped inside. It stunk of raw hides. In the near-dark shed, he peeled back the top of two stinking piles and lit a match. It about burned his finger before he saw the KKs—the brand of the Double K Bar. He had the evidence, and sighed.

On his feet, he felt for the gun butt in his holster. Satisfied, he went to the door and cracked it until he saw a man in a red underwear top with suspenders holding up his dirty pants coming from the house.

Gun in hand, Chet swung back the door and ordered him to put his hands in the air.

Shock-faced, the man did raise his hand. Then he shouted, “Winny, shoot this sumbitch!”

The back door cracked and a barrel appeared. “Make one move and I'll shoot you,” A voice called to Chet.

In response, he put a bullet in the door high enough to miss her.

She fired the gun into the ground and her man ducked as the bullet's impact spread hot sand all over him.

“Get out here unarmed or I'll shoot you, lady,” Chet ordered.