Blood on the Verde River (25 page)

“You will find one, too.”

Susie hugged her arms. “Oh dear God, I hope so. Now I'll fix you supper so you can get some rest tonight and I promise I will go see Marge. My land, I underestimated her so bad.” She rose and set to fixing supper.

Cole arrived, knocking on the door. Chet invited him in, took his hat and coat, and led him to the living room. “Have a chair and I'll explain the entire deal.”

After he explained the whole story, the young man smiled and said, “I'd love to ride with you and Jesus to Utah. I'm honored you'd ask me to go along.”

“Make sure you have plenty of warm clothes because there is no place to stock any on the way. We can get some here, but we won't see many faces between here and there.”

“I do have some. I spent a winter in Nebraska with a cow outfit and learned about cold.”

“Good. We'll head north in the morning when Jesus gets here. I imagine it will be before daylight.”

“Come eat you two,” Susie called from the doorway.

“Yes, thank you ma'am.” Cole about blushed at her words.

Chet grinned. “He's been telling me that he cowboyed in Nebraska.”

“One winter is all.” Cole held up one finger to show her. “That was all.”

Susie shuddered. “I imagine that was real cold.”

“Yes, ma'am. Stark cold and forever.”

“I bet it was an experience, though.” Susie turned back to the kitchen as the men walked in.

“Mighty one for me. Thanks for having me for supper.” Cole stood behind a chair at the table.

Susie waved him to sit down. “No problem. I used to cook for the whole ranch.”

“I took her job away, Cole,” Chet explained.

“Yes, he really did. Made me so mad I almost shot him.” Susie grinned.

Cole smiled. “I'm glad you didn't. I might not have a job here and this is the greatest ranch I ever worked on.”

“Thanks,” Chet said.

They ate her chicken fried steak, mashed potatoes, biscuits and gravy. Then her apple raisin pie as well.

Cole thanked her again, told Chet he'd be ready whenever, and left.

Susie watched him go. “He's nice young man.”

“Yes. A good man, too. Tom and I talked about his shooting those two Indians. Tom said he took it in stride and said he was glad to be with us like he told you. His dad died young and he went north on his first cattle drive at fourteen to help his mom out. So he's ridden the rivers and that is a real test for a young man. On that drive, he went from cook's helper to a full cowboy job when they lost some hands. His boss paid him full wages as a hand when they got to Abilene.”

“Did he go home?”

“Yes. He told Tom, when he got back to Texas he practiced swimming all summer long.”

“Is his mom still alive?”

“Yes. She remarried and he decided she didn't need him so he moved on.”

“She raised him right. He's very polite.”

Chet changed the subject. “Will you look in on Marge? How is May?”

“Ready for a baby and still happy as can be with Hampt. I swear she is not the same person.”

“No, she bloomed.”

“Bloomed again and again.” Susie nodded. “I will go see Marge. She will be upset, I know. This is no small job you're taking on.”

“Right. I'm going to sleep better knowing you are checking on her. I am going to bed now. Get me up about five.”

“No problem. I will set an alarm.”

He hugged her. “Maybe we can find a replacement for Sarge's next trip. Would you like that?”

“Yes.”

“Tom might be able to handle it.”

“Thanks.” She put her face against his shirt. “Be careful for me, too.”

“Always.” He headed up the stairs.

 

 

Chet slept deep.

Susie's words from the doorway woke him.

He opened one eye. “Is Jesus here already?”

“Yes. He is downstairs with Cole, eating breakfast.”

“I'm coming. Be right down.”

“I'll save some for you.” She laughed and left him.

In a few minutes, he dressed, went downstairs and smiled at his men. “Well, the posse is here, anyway. Good morning. It is something to be sleeping while my crew is ready to go.”

“We aren't that ready,” Cole said.

Jesus looked up. “We are not in that big a hurry.”

Chet grinned. “Cold outside?”

“Cold enough not to hurry,” Jesus said, busy eating pancakes in syrup.

Chet considered his answer and nodded. “We'll get plenty of cold, I guess, going up to Utah and coming back.”

“They get the roan horse for you?”

Jesus nodded. “He's saddled to go. I made sure of that. I am proud you let me ride him.”

“You deserve a good horse on this trip.” Chet ate his scrambled eggs before starting on his pancakes. Food is great. Thanks, sis.”

Susie grinned at the compliment. “You three are too easy to please.”

Chet finished and left the young men eating more that she offered. He found Tom in the cook shack and they talked privately about getting Sarge out of the next drive so he could
maybe
marry Susie.”

Tom smiled. “Can I send Hampt? He's been up to Windmill Ranch. Those cowboys know all the details, but he could handle a wreck.”

“On the quiet, all right?”

“You bet. Where will they live if they do get married?”

Chet shrugged. “Maybe in a wagon.”

“I simply wondered.”

“Take care of things while I'm gone. We need to bring Scales back. Sims wrote it off as it was in Utah.”

“He sure won't run for reelection on what he's done here.”

“I can't help it. I have to do it. Leroy Scales is a husband and a father.”

“Be careful.”

They rode out before the sun came up in the east, crossed the shallow Verde and headed north for the military road. Four packhorses trailed them, but moved smartly. Jesus knew the animals and had chosen them well. On the rim, they stopped at the sawmill. Chet spoke to Robert for only a few minutes and they pushed on.

They camped near the forks of the Marcy Road. No tent was set up. They ate a hot meal and went to sleep.

Before dawn, they had the fire going, boiling coffee and oatmeal. Breakfast was eaten, pans and dishes washed, and they rode east on the Marcy Road to circle the snowcapped San Francisco Peaks.

The weather was bright and warm enough to ride with their jackets open. They passed many Navajos herding sheep and goats. Most were women wrapped in blankets using small dogs to control the animals. It was a wide space of land painted in many colors.

They reached the Cameron Trading Post on the Little Colorado River at an early sundown. They ate Indian fried tacos filled with chili beef. The Navajo girl inside the trading post who waited on them took good care and treated them like they were special.

After the meal, she brought them each a large taco with sweet apple filling inside.

Under his breath, Cole said he might marry her.

“Don't ask her till we come back,” Chet said and they laughed.

They turned in right after supper and slept in their bedrolls.

Up early the next morning, Chet saw the young Navajo girl standing back in the shadows. He nudged Cole and told him he'd finish the packhorse.

“Oh—thanks.” Cole swept off his hat and went to speak to her . . . so softly Chet and Jesus couldn't hear him. Cole and the girl exchanged some things. She gave him something. He gave her something.

Chet slapped down his saddle stirrup to warn him and Cole came on the run. They mounted up and took the cable ferry across the Little Colorado, the dark waters slapping the sides. The ride was short, but they were grateful not to have to ford it.

“By the way,” Jesus asked, “what is her name?”

“Nana—I can't say the rest of it.”

“Nana will do,” Chet said and winked at Jesus.

It was a hundred miles north to Lee's Ferry. Chet knew they'd not reach it in one day, but they pushed hard with the Vermillion Cliffs on their right and the Grand Canyon on the left. For sure, it was not great grazing country and he had no desire to own any of the rocks that fell off the towering cliffs.

“Those Navajos didn't get the best land,” Cole said, standing in the stirrups.

“They wanted it bad,” Jesus said. “They were being held down in New Mexico in a place worse than this. Many were dying. Then the government said they could go home. Many more died on the way back here. I know some of them that live around Preskitt.”

Chet continued the story. “When we came out here just out of Rio Grande Valley with our ranch wagon train, we met a woman whose horse had died in harness. We hooked her to us and in the end gave her a horse to get home with. Her name was Blue Bird. She told us some of the history of her people.”

“Oh. Okay. Well, how far will we get today?” Cole asked.

“Part of the way to the Ferry. I think we will be there by tomorrow night. Two days later, we'll be in Honey Grove.”

“Sounds like it is long way. I rode back from Nebraska to Texas and swore I'd never get home. Took me months.” Cole shook his head at the memory.

They laughed at him.

Standing in the stirrups, Cole held his slim hips and stretched. “Boy. Crossing this country in a saddle gets old.”

Jesus spoke next. “I walked from my home down in Mexico to Nogales. I found a loose burro and rode him to Hayden Mills. Then I rode on a freight wagon to Preskitt. That was long ride, and I had to eat off the land. I didn't get much.”

“You win that contest,” Cole said. “That must have been bad.”

“Real bad.”

“But this trip, we've got good horses and we should make it, so simply ride,” Chet said.

“We weren't complaining about the job,” Cole said.

Jesus agreed. “We like this job. I would be shoveling horse shit at home.”

Chet nodded. “Good.”

They rode on through the sterile-looking land. They camped, made a meal, and turned in early. Chet slept well and dreamed of his wife at home. He always missed her.

They slept till daylight and, making breakfast, found they had invaders.

“Hello, buzzards,” Cole whooped at the low flying birds, waving his hat at them.

“Something is dead around here,” Chet said, whirling around and seeing nothing.

“Keep your gun handy,” he said to Jesus, who was working over the cooking.

He and Cole spread out and found the body of a man lying behind a rock. He'd been moved there by three men according to the tracks.

“What killed him?” Jesus asked.

“I'd say a bullet in the back of his head,” Cole said.

Jesus shook his head. “Damn.”

Chet gave orders. “Search his pockets for any ID. We need to bury him.”

“Take several hours,” Cole said.

“If you were dead, would you like the ones behind you to bury your earthly remains or let buzzards eat you?”

“No case, boss man. I'll get a shovel.”

“Here is a letter.” Jesus handed it to Chet. It was flat from being in the man's hind pocket and sat on when he rode.

Chet unfolded the note. Water stained, the script was difficult to read.

Chet looked at his young posse. “His name is Joseph Smith, same as the Mormon prophet. His wife lives in St. David down by Tombstone. He was settling an estate, I guess in Utah, and she hopes he's bringing money. He must have settled the estate and was riding south toward home.”

“How much did he have?” Cole asked.

“It doesn't say, but he was killed in Arizona and in Sims's county.”

Jesus stood. “He doesn't have any money on him. Whoever killed him even took his boots.”

“Had we not come along, no one would have known who or where he was,” Cole said.

Chet nodded. “Right and his killers are a day or so ahead of us. The ferry people will know. They can tell us who the killers are.”

They shoveled out a grave, buried him, and put a big rock on top to save wolves from digging him up. Then they trotted half the night to reach the ferry before sun up.