Blood on the Verde River (21 page)

Tom, standing by, closed his eyes and shook his head. “Trouble never will end, will it?”

“Big as we are growing, I doubt it. Can't steal much from some homesteader with a dirt floor,” Chet pointed out.

“That's true. Some day I'll tell you how much Millie and I appreciate working here. I thought my stubbornness, reacting to Ryan, and getting fired had cut my chances of ever having anything for the rest of my life. But despite problems like this, we are living as comfortable as any rich people.”

Chet clapped him on the shoulder. “We all are the luckiest people in the world.”

Kneeling beside Utah, trying to comfort him, Millie looked up. “Thanks for the prayer, Chet. It helped us all.”

“Good.”

Tom left to check on the men. There was nothing he could do for the unconscious cowboy. Chet felt the same and went in the kitchen to get some coffee. Poor Marge, she had to do without him again. At least she understood or always seemed to.

“Can you think who those rustlers might be?” Susie held the coffeepot.

He shook his head and nodded for her to fill him a cup. “But we'll find them.”

“Just be careful.” She poured it and then took a cup in for Millie.

He sat at the kitchen table and mulled over how he'd done things differently since coming to Arizona. But it hadn't made any difference. He'd just traded feudists in Texas for outlaws in the territory.

Chet and his three-man posse woke more than twenty-four hours later in their camp up on the rim and crowded the roaring fire. Jesus made coffee and the lanky cowboy Cole was heating water to stir in the oatmeal. He had no idea how cold it was, but his steaming breath marked a point way down the mercury tube.

The rustlers were still ahead of them, but they had tracks to follow, a description of their horses, and the deep determination of their leader to capture them. Doc had told them before they left the ranch that Utah had a chance to live. Chet hoped he was right.

“Does it ever get this cold in Texas where you lived?” Leif asked.

Chet shook his head. “Maybe once or twice, but not over two days.”

Leif shook his head in mild amazement. “We'll see some warm days, but altitude and all, we will have winter up here. Where will these men go, do you figure?”

“I know little about this country. I have been to Hackberry which is north. Never farther west to what they say is desert on the way to California. I've seen the Grand Canyon. That is about all.”

“They can go to California, but it's a helluva trip across that desert. They can go around the Grand Canyon and there is a ferry around there that's run by some old Mormon named Lee. It is the only place you can cross the Colorado River and go north into Utah. You came from the east so you know there are only a few stations on that Marcy Road.”

“Rustlers stole some of our cattle and took them down on the Bill Williams River and sold them to some miners there. I sent Hampt to check on them, but they were gone. These rustlers wouldn't have gone up that damn mountain we rode up yesterday unless they had a market for them.”

Leif laughed and then sipped his fresh-made coffee. “You're right Chet, you'd need a damn good reason to herd cattle over that goat trail.”

Cole had the oatmeal, raisins, and sugar mix ready so he filled bowls around the circle and they ate breakfast with the fire's sharp smoke twisting around them from the wind. The hot cereal warmed them up. They washed the bowls afterward in boiling water, then saddled the horses.

In no time, they were on the trail headed north. The sun was slow to warm the air, but everyone was dressed well and they soon were on the flat rolling country on top of the Mogollon Rim. The open grassland spread out before them with islands of small hills covered in black looking pines called Ponderosa.

Chet liked this country better than the valley, but that area had less winter and produced lots of strong forage for livestock. Still, up on top it looked like a land untouched by man spread north, east, and west where a cowboy could ride all day and not see a farmer or a town.

At the Marcy Road they found the riders' tracks went east. Jesus said they weren't more than half a day ahead of the posse. Everyone was to keep their eyes open.

Chet was trying to figure if they were past Hackberry or still west of there. When he'd found his way up on top to capture Ryan and his henchmen, he knew he'd been farther west. Satisfied he'd figured it out, he said, “We are past our ranch up here.”

“Where can they be going?” Cole asked, twisting around in the saddle.

“None of us know where they were going or why they were driving them up here,” Chet said, feeling itchy that they were so exposed on the wagon track. “Let's ride.”

They stopped a freight train scout mid-morning on the road. The buckskin clad man with a gray-flecked beard carried a .50 caliber rifle over his lap.

“We're tracking three men who shot a ranch hand and went this way, sir,” Chet said. “You seen them?”

“I suppose. I spoke to a man I know as Karnes a ways back. He wondered how far it was to Shakes Ranch.”

“What did you tell him?”

“Take the road north to the ferry. It was on the edge of the Navajo Reservation, this side of the little Colorado and that Cameron trading post.”

“He say where he was going?” Chet asked.

“Not directly.”

“What kind of horse was he riding?”

“A gray, I think.”

“You catch any other names?”

“No sir. The other two were real closemouthed.”

“Thanks. You said you know him?”

“Oh yes. He sells butchered beef to freighters like us on this road. He never mentioned having any this time.”

Chet closed his eyes. They butcher beef and sell it to freighters on the road. “Aw hell.”

The crew laughed and the scout frowned at all of them.

“It's a private joke. Thank you, sir,” Chet said.

“You are welcome, sir.” He nodded and rode off on his thin dun horse.

When he was gone, Leif booted his horse in close to Chet. “This guy's been stealing cattle to sell to freighters on this road.”

“Exactly. They need meat, never ask many questions, and pay cash.”

“Sounds like the rustlers have been stealing from others and selling along here for a while.”

“Oh, I imagine so. But a leak like this was damn hard to find.”

“They could have sold them elk meat,” Leif said.

“No, that would be too hard. They'd have to hunt and dress the animals a long way off. They can bunch the stolen cattle, slaughter somewhere close, and not have to hunt them down.”

“I guess you're right. Damn. I'd never thought about that.”

“Neither would I.” Chet pushed them in a long trot to gain ground on the road.

When they met a long oxen wagon train hauling west, he halted to speak to the man in charge.

He wore a Scottish tam and kilts with high, loud, plaid socks. “Aye, Mr. Byrnes. That man yea mentioned, Karnes, talked to us a few hours ago. He's a butcher and has sold me beef many times from a tent he had set up.”

“I have not seen his tent. He shot a ranch hand while stealing cattle from my ranch a few days ago. I don't even know if my man Utah lived, but I want Karnes to answer for shooting him.”

“Aye and he should, but I don't know where he went.”

“Thanks. If he's that close, we'll find him.”

“God be with you, sir.”

The posse trotted on. Jesus found the fresh tracks and they rode farther. A few miles past the military road they came to a hand-painted sign. It said W
ADES
B
AR AND
S
TORE
with an arrow pointing through the pines.

Chet could see a gray horse hitched in front of a log building. “Jesus ride around and cover the back with your rifle. If they're armed and shooting, shoot them.”

“Sí.”
He took off on his horse, making a wide circle to the back of the building.

“Take the left and don't shoot us,” Chet said to Cole.

The man was gone in that direction. Chet and Leif charged toward the log building, jerking out their rifles on the run.

In the confusion, someone ran out of the building from the front door, looked shocked, and drew his pistol. That was a mistake. Cole reined up his horse and fired his rifle. The bullet struck the man in the chest and he staggered backward, firing his gun into his own foot, and fell down, screaming in pain.

“Get off your horse,” Chet shouted at Leif. Sliding his horse to a halt, Chet took aim at a shooter blasting with a Winchester from the doorway. Leif's horse fell and Chet drove a bullet into the rifleman at the door. He fell face forward.

He rushed to see about Leif. The young man was unconscious. Chet's heart stopped as he sat on his knees holding Leif up. “Talk to me, Leif.”

Leif's head was strangely loose. Chet let him down and heard more shooting out back.

A whiskered man in a stained apron came out hands high. Two Indian whores joined him. “We ain't got no hand in this mister.”

Chet covered them all. “Good. I have a man hurt. Come see what you can do for him.” The knot in his throat was choking him and his stomach was in a knot. Susie's new husband had to be just unconscious. Anything else was too hard to think.

“They're all dead,” Jesus shouted, coming around the building. “Where is Leif?”

When Chet didn't answer, he ran to join him. Cole came, too, on the double. The bearded man put his ear to Leif's chest and rose, shaking his head. “This man is dead.”

Dead?
Chet closed his eyes. His mind went back to the wounded highwayman telling him outlaws had cut his nephew Heck's throat. Chet had emptied his six-gun into the highwayman's body at close range.

He collapsed on his butt, his hands braced behind him.
What in the hell will I ever tell my sister?

The toughest two-day ride of his life was leading his dead brother-in-law's mount, laden with his body wrapped in a blanket, back to Camp Verde. Leif must have broken his neck when his horse went down head over tail from the bullet intended for him. No one but Chet saw it happen.

Solemn-faced, they reached the sawmill and Robert Brown rushed out to see what was wrong. “Who is it?”

“Leif Times,” Chet said. “We were after some rustlers.” He swallowed hard. “They shot his horse and he broke his neck in the fall.”

“When did it happen?”

“Yesterday. Up at a place called Wade's on the Marcy Road.”

“What can I do?”

Chet dropped heavily from the saddle. “I don't know, Robert. I might have planned our raid on those rustlers better. Leif is dead. Nothing we can do for him, now.”

“Oh, hell. Your poor sister.”

“It will break her heart and it's all my fault.”

“I want to ride down with you and give everyone some support. I wouldn't have this job, if it wasn't for you. I came to you from Jenn and if you had not given me the chance, I'd be starving back in Preskitt. I'm going back to support you and Susie. She's a great lady.”

Chet nodded. He was short on words, bearing the weight of Leif's death heavy on his heart.

Cole and Jesus had tried to tell him it wasn't his fault. No tears ran down his cheeks. Only his heart pained him. But he had no answers, no way to speak about it more than a few sentences.
Leif dead
.

Chet didn't sleep—just lay in the bunkhouse bed with heavy eyelids that hardly stayed closed. He recalled burying his own brother on the prairie and going after his killers. How dark his days had been, how hard to keep centered on his mission to settle that matter. The three rustlers were dead, but he had to go back to the family and Susie and explain that an accident killed her newfound mate. Damn. At periods of this mad experience, he wanted to fade away.

The only woman in the world he held as high as his wife was his sister Susie. And in the next twenty hours he had to face her. God—he hated to do that. It would be worse than picking up Leif's limp body and getting no response.

Morning came. At breakfast the mill men offered their condolences to him. He thanked them quietly, mostly with nods of his head.

Chet, Cole, and Jesus saddled up in the cold air and rode for Camp Verde with the body tied over a good horse. Late afternoon, they rode up to the headquarters and the crew came hurrying to see who was dead.

Chet dismounted quickly and got around the men to head off his distraught sister. He caught her.

“It's Leif?” she cried out and then fainted.

He swept her up in his arms, calling to Cole. “Go tell the rest of the ranch Leif Times is dead.”

Chet carried her toward the house. “Tom, will you go tell my wife? Don't let her panic. I am staying with Susie.”

“We'll tell Hampt and May, also.”

“Go tell Sarge as well.”

“What about Reg?”

“I'll go tell him in time. Put Leif's body some place safe, first. We will decide the place to bury him. His father needs to know, too.”

“Damn shame,” Tom said. “He was making a real leader of men.”

“Put me down.” Susie struggled to her feet. “I want to see what they are going to do with his body.”

“Easy. You fainted,” Chet said.

She straightened her dress. “I want him in the living room. Not in some shed.”

Tom's wife Millie came on the run and took her arm. “What can I do?”

“I am having his body taken into the house.”

Millie looked up at the open front door. “I will fix a place for it.” She bolted for the entrance to set things up.

His arm around her, Chet headed Susie up the steps and inside. He didn't want to hurry her, but felt the sooner Leif's body was in the grave, the sooner he'd recover from the horrible burden of bringing him home.

Millie had a sheet to spread on the main table. A cowboy helped her and then stepped back.

With care the four men carried Leif's body inside and laid it out on the table. Millie began to herd everyone outside. She stopped Chet. “Stay. Susie needs you. Tom has gone for Marge. He's sent the rest to tell others. Leif needs to buried today. That is not much notice, but we must do it that way.”

“Thanks.” Chet let Susie go back into the kitchen, sobbing.

Cole stood at the door. “Tom put me in charge. Should we start a grave next to that boy's?”

“Yes. If she wants him elsewhere we can change. Thanks, Cole.”

“We have a fat steer hanging in the cooler, so we will start a fire and barbecue him. We are cutting the carcass up now so we can have him done by afternoon. The men are working hard to have lots of food ready 'cause when the word gets out we will have plenty of folks coming in. They are even baking bread. What else do I need to do?”

“Set up some rough tables. Rewash all the tin dishes we have so they're clean. How is Hoot?”

“He's sitting down and directing things. He says he's fine, but he's weak. I'll watch him. John is making a casket for the body.”

“Good. We will need a row of chairs for the family to sit. Oh, a minister, we need one.”

“I am not sure about that. The men want you to do it.”

“Are you serious? Why?”

“They know that you and him were close. He rode with you on posses and you've prayed with us. If our request is too hard, we can get the minister who married Susie and Leif.”

“Stay here. I need to ask her.”

“Sure.”

Chet went back into the kitchen. Susie looked up and met his gaze.

“What?” she asked.

“The cowboys have asked me to give the graveside services at the funeral.”

Numb, she nodded. “You were his hero. Yes, he would have liked that. I know that is a burden to put on your shoulders after all you have been through, but I would be pleased, too.”

“I will do it. We have many things taking place. The whole crew is cooking food for the guests they expect today. They are really pitching in to get things done and they will be ready. I will ask May to sing a hymn if she can do it.”

“Good. Millie and I will dress him in his best clothes.”

“Fine. I am going to try to sleep a few hours.”

“Its near midnight now. Get some rest.”

“If I can sleep.”

“Chet. Thanks. You always get things done. We all appreciate you. Good night, brother.”

He went back and told Cole he would handle the services.

A soft smile crossed his mouth and then a nod. “Good. I will tell the men.”

“Aren't you shorthanded?” Chet asked, concerned.

“The women and men from the wagon train came, as soon as they heard, to help us.”

“Good. I am going to try to sleep a few hours.”

“Yes, you will need it. Things are moving. We will be ready. We'll dig the grave after daylight.”

“Good. We can talk in the morning.”

“Yes sir.”

“Thanks.” Chet clapped Cole on the shoulder. Tom had picked a good man to put in charge. Upstairs, Chet fell into bed and was soon asleep. Some time in the night his wife quietly joined him.

When he awoke and sat up, she caught and hugged him from behind. “I am so sorry I wasn't there. I know you have had two hard days.”

“Nothing anyone could do. I feel more sorry for Susie. I didn't take him along to get him killed.”

“It will be hard, but I survived it. Hurts like someone kicked you in the guts, but you survive. We talked last night. She's a strong person. Married only a few months and he's already been taken away from her.”

“First Heck, now Leif. What am I?” Chet took in a deep breath, letting it out in a sigh.

“A strong family man. What now? I brought some good clothes. Tom and his wife are so nice and this cowboy Cole Emerson, he's a good one. Things look in place to me.”

“I need to write a script.”

“You want a bath and shave?”

“Yes, I better have that.”

“I'll arrange for it. Anything else?” Marge asked.

“Coffee and some breakfast when someone gets time.”

“They will. You can write up here. I'll arrange the rest.”

Chet kissed her. Then she got up and dressed.

At the desk, he began scribbling ideas on paper. He'd need a prayer to start. Then he must write about the young man who'd come and asked to ride with him. Leif wanted to help and rode with the posse who went after the killers of the old couple. He went along to find Roamer's shooters and holdup men. He'd proved himself and became part of the Quarter Circle Z crew. He courted Susie and they married a short while before this tragic accident occurred, running down three worthless rustlers.

Hampt came upstairs and stood in the doorway holding his hat.

“Come in, Hampt, and sit down,” Chet said, looking up for moment.

“I didn't come to trouble you.”

“You aren't.”

“May will sing ‘How Great Thou Art.' She cried some coming over, but when she heard you were doing the services, she straightened up and said, ‘Oh, I have to do it.'”

“She's a lovely lady and you have done more good for her than any of us.”

“Aw, hell, boss, I'm so lucky to have her. She's such a bright light in my life. I won't know what to do without her.”

“Great. Hug and kiss her for me. We did get those three thieves that caused Leif's death. They were rustling cattle, butchering them, and selling the meat to freighters on the road.”

“I didn't know there was a way up the mountain to March Road. Cole said it was steep going in lots of places.”

“Hard. How are things?”

“John and I talked some about making our own barbed wire this winter.”

“He says he knows how, but getting the stuff from the end of the tracks to here would be a helluva big job.”

“Hell, boss we can do that.”

Chet chuckled. “Oh, well go on. You say we can, then we can do it.”

“Good. We're going to find out how and how much.”

“Do it. I need to take a bath and shave. How cold is it outside today?”

“Warm enough. It will be fine by the time you have services.”

“Thanks and thank May for me.”

Hampt looked around. “I never knew before, but Sarge has a big crush on your sister. He knows it is way too early, but he told me he was not going miss getting her this time.”

Chet agreed. “He's a solid man.”

“Yeah, hardworking, too. I thought I'd share his intentions with you.”

Chet heard steps on the stairs. “I think my wife is coming up to tell me she has bathwater ready.”

“Hampt, how are you?” Marge asked, stepping into the room.

“Sad that we lost him, but I'll be fine.”

“Good.” She looked at Chet. “The water's hot.”

“Hampt and I were just talking. May will sing this afternoon.”

She nodded that she knew. “She will be the icing on the cake.”

“See you, Chet. Ma'am.” Hampt said and started out.

“You call me Marge. We're all family. I'm not someone special.”

“Yes, Marge. I will do that.”

She reached over, caught him, and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Marge is who I am.”

Hampt was embarrassed, but he was laughing. “I won't forget.”

Equally amused, Chet knew Hampt would not forget it.

They went downstairs—he to be bathed, shaved, and to eat an early lunch, Marge to welcome the people who were coming from everywhere, and Hampt to find his wife. The south wind swept the dust of churning wheels across the open land between the house and the road.

 

 

Dressed at last, Chet passed the coffin, noticing that the women had cleaned up the body and dressed it in a suit. Leif's father was in the kitchen and they shook hands, shared a few words, hugged, and patted each other on the back.

Chet's Aunt Louise and her man came to the house. Dressed in black, she looked straight-backed, but Chet could feel she was very devoted to the man. He could hardly believe how much she'd changed since they'd left Texas.

He made his way over to them. “Aunt Louise, I'm so glad you're here.”

“Chet, I know how this has stabbed you, but you are so important to this family. Keep your head high. You lead these people. I only wish JD would come back and be a part of us again. He sent me one sparse letter, but I guess I should be grateful for that. Reg's woman Lucy sends me short ones, but quite often. I do enjoy them. Lean down. I want to kiss you for all you've done for us and poor Susie.”

He did and her kiss burned a hole in his cheek. “Thanks,” he managed.

Two o'clock, six cowboys including Tom carried the coffin from the house to place it on the sawhorses at the gravesite beside Heck's monument. The family was seated in the front row chairs. Chet took his place before the crowd he estimated at over a hundred and fifty folks.

May sang the hymn. Her voice sounded so strong and he was moved as he thanked her.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we come before you today to lay to rest a fine husband, a fellow worker, Leif Times. His time here was cut short by a horse wreck as he bravely fought outlaws who had shot a cowboy while they were rustling cattle. This young man came to me wanting to help bring the lawless ones to justice. He never asked for any special treatment other than what the rest of us had on those days spent in the saddle. He never complained.