Blood on the Verde River (27 page)

“Hell, no.”

Jesus shook his head again. “Even a dumb Mexican like me can read—some.”

Drying the dishes, Cole shook his head. “I heard Chet say it, but you three are really dumb.”

“Go to hell,” Riley said.

“I may, but at least I can read.” Cole put the dish he was drying back in a packsaddle.

 

 

They took turns guarding the prisoners who were cuffed together. While Chet watched them with a rifle over his lap, coyotes cut the night. He watched for the big dipper and waited for his time to wake Cole to relieve him. His mind wandered as he waited. The night wasn't too cold. He kept going over what to do with the Marconis while he, Jesus, and Cole chased down the kidnappers. He had no idea. No prison wagon was going to come along to take them back to Preskitt for trial. They'd lived like kings in Utah or wherever they settled. He had two more saddlebags to check. More victims, no doubt. Damn, damn he wished he was home in his own bed with his wife, instead of sharing coyote country with the bloody Marconis.

He was relieved when his shift was over.

 

 

In the morning, they had sweet raisin oatmeal and coffee, then began the steep road that went on to Joseph's Lake on top of the Kaibab plateau, according to the crude map Lee had made. A store and ranch was all Chet knew about it. They reached it in late afternoon.

A man in a suit came out on the porch of the log building to meet them when they reined up. “Good day. Welcome to Joseph's Lake, gentlemen. My name is Kimes. How can I help you?”

“Do you have a prison here?” Chet asked.

“Sort of one. It is made of thick logs and has an iron door.”

“Cole, go look at it.”

Kimes dispatched a towheaded boy to show him. “Why do you need a jail? I see those three in irons. You must be the law.”

Chet dismounted. “We need to talk privately.”

“Come inside. We can talk better in there.”

He followed the shorter man inside. The store smelled of usual things. Half of the items he recognized.

Chet quickly explained his plight of being a marshal and what he needed to do up north. Could he hire Kimes and his crew to watch the prisoners while they tried to save the kidnapped Mormon Leroy Scales?

Kimes nodded. “I can hire two men to guard them, but I'd have to feed them.”

“I can pay you five dollars a day. They're killers and you need to always watch them.”

“For how long?”

“Not over ten days. I need to get back home. We are also leaving some horses, too.”

“Fifty cents a day per horse. I have to have all the hay hauled in here, but we will take care of them.”

“I understand. For the sake of the kidnapped man none of this must get out. Those men outside killed a man named Joseph Smith on the Navajo Trail. We found his body three days ago, maybe less, then we ran those three down.”

“Oh. Smith stopped by here a few days ago to rest. Nice man and they murdered him?”

“Yes, they're killers.”

“They won't get out of the building. I will also chain their legs so they can't run.”

“Good.”

Cole came in. “They won't get out and chained will be better. One of them was scratched by a bullet in our shoot-out. But that won't kill him.”

“My wife will have supper in a short while. Let's put them up. We can get some chains and locks here in the store.”

Prisoners in the
jail house,
legs chained, Kimes locked the door.

“Thanks. We appreciate your help. We'll leave in the first light for Honey Grove. How big is it?”

“Small town. Maybe a dozen businesses is all. What are you doing up there?”

“Some guy has a Mormon husband held hostage for two thousand dollars or they will kill him. I gave his wife money to send them in bits and pieces so they don't kill him and when they pick it up we can follow them. It is a general delivery pickup.”

“You may catch them that way. Who'd thought of that?”

“Me. These men are my workers on my ranch down at Camp Verde. We came to save Leroy and on the way we found these killers.”

“You must have a large ranch to afford to do all this.”

“I have several. One ranch is at Hackberry. My nephew runs it. We are starting it up. I have nine sections of those railroad plots in deeded land there. Another ranch sits between Camp Verde and just south of the Marcy Road. Then at Camp Verde the ranch stretches up the river. My wife has a place in Preskitt Valley.” Chet didn't even mention Hampt's part.

“You've been busy. Nice of you to help folks out like that man's wife. I bet she ain't got the money.”

“No, she doesn't, but she is a nice lady in trouble.”

“There ain't much law here. The federal government squared Arizona to cut back Utah, but no one told them this triangle is out of touch with the rest of the territory, save for the ferry.”

“I'm learning. But they won't ever learn that. You know your county headquarters is in Preskitt, yes?”

“Right. Hundreds of miles away. We have no law up here.”

“I understand.”

“My wife has the food ready and my boys can help you unload and unsaddle after we eat.” Kimes ushered the men into the house.

“Mrs. Kimes, it was so nice of you to have all this lovely food and to share it with me and my men,” Chet said.

“No problem, Mr. Byrnes. Be seated, and your men, too.”

“Mrs. Kimes, if you ever come to Camp Verde, come out to my ranch or to my house in Preskitt Valley. We will treat you like a queen.”

“I would hardly know about that kind of treatment, but thanks, I will.” She appeared amused by the attention laid on her. “You young men eat like you were at home.”

They nodded.

Her food was tasty and after the bean and oatmeal diet, Chet could see the pleasure on his two men's faces, chowing down on a real meal.

He thanked God and went back to eating. After the meal, their horses all put up, they went to a guest cabin and put down their bedrolls. Chet fell asleep quickly. No doubt his concerns over his prisoners were set aside. They'd make it to Honey Grove the next day, and begin their intended business to find the kidnappers.

A teen boy woke them before dawn like he had requested and informed them their food was ready.

Dressed, they went to the house with steamy breaths in the night's cold air. Of course, no coffee, Chet noted, but breakfast was hot, fresh, and there were plenty of choices. The guys bragged on her berry jelly and choke cherry syrup. In a short time, with help, their packhorses were loaded and saddle horses made ready.

With a loud thanks to the Kimes, they went out the gate and headed north with Chet in the lead. He was back to the smooth team of him and his men riding after kidnappers just a day's travel from this spot on the mountain to the Utah border in the north.

They rode off the plateau and back to the sagebrush-bunch grass desert. All day long the route crossed the rangeland on another nongraded road—more dusty sections without a soul living on the land. They found Honey Grove on a small river under some leafless cottonwoods and split up.

The young men made camp outside the village and Chet went for a meal and a bed in town. This separation was to cover their plans to find the kidnappers' headquarters. Jesus was to be available when someone picked up Betty Lou's letter.

Chet left the roan at Atkins livery to be rubbed down and grained. After finding a room in the hotel, he ate in a café and the waitress quietly told him which house the Postmaster Harold Clark lived in. He paid her a fifty-cent tip for her discretion, then casually walked along the boardwalk until he reached the house. His knock on the door was in the closing darkness.

A woman half opened the door. “May I help you?”

“I need to speak to your husband.”

“Harold, a man needs to talk to you,” she called over her shoulder.

He came to replace her. “What do you want?”

“I am a U.S. deputy marshal and I need to speak to you.” He held out the badge issued him. “My name is Chet Byrnes.”

“Come in, Marshal. Carmen, this is a federal officer.”

Chet held up his hands. “Please don't tell anyone. I am here to capture some kidnappers.”

“Oh. Have a seat on the couch.”

“May I get you something?” she asked.

“No, ma'am. I just finished supper. I am here to find the kidnappers who wrote Mrs. Scales demanding she send two thousand dollars or her husband would be killed. They get their mail sent here to a Sam Gordon, General Delivery, Honey Grove, Utah.”

“I don't know who he is. His wife—at least she says she is—comes and gets that mail. She's been by twice this week to get it.”

“Where does she live?”

“I don't know. She comes in, gets the mail, and I don't see her again.”

“Does she sign for it?” Chet asked.

The postmaster nodded. “Delia Gordon. She's not illiterate.”

“I want to save Leroy if he is still alive.”

“She usually comes before lunch. You can stay in the post office in back, and I can signal you when she comes in.”

“Don't scare her. My men can track her to their base.”

“Sure. I understand your plan and it should lead you to them.”

“What time do you open?”

“Eight in the morning and stay open till six.”

“Thank you. I will be there.”

Clark put his hands on his knees to get up. “I hope this works. How long have they held her husband?”

“Over a month.”

He shook his head in dismay. “I'll look for you in the morning.”

“Yes and thanks. Thanks to you too, ma'am.”

 

 

Breakfast came early in a café. After his meal, Chet stood in the shadows talking to Jesus who'd come into town alone.

“The postman said a woman came in and got Sam's mail. He doesn't know anything about her, but thinks she may come today. Stay close. He makes her sign for each one since she isn't the addressee on the letter. I'll be right out to point her out when she leaves. Jesus, you be careful. They'll kill you if they think you're the law.”

“I will. I'll be loafing around close by. Cole is still taking care of our horses this morning. We didn't learn anything last night when we came in and wandered about the town. But she must be coming in for the bait.”

“I figured that she would.”

“See you later.” Jesus turned and walked away.

Chet headed to the post office. The winter cold was deep enough for him despite his jacket. He'd have to get used to it living in this climate.

Clark was unlocking the back door in the darkness when Chet joined him.

Once inside, Clark lit a lamp. Split wood for the small cast iron stove was stacked along the wall.

“I'll start the fire. There is a desk and chair. No one can see anything back here. I will show you the peephole to look at anyone at the counter. When I have a coughing fit you will know she is here for the mail.”

Chet nodded. “Good. I can feed the stove with this wood stacked here. Go do what you have to do.”

“Thanks. I feel creepy about this deal. Do you think this man is alive?”

“I think they have him alive in case Mrs. Scales demands to see him before she pays them the total amount.”

“That makes sense. I never thought of that.”

“That is why they're in Utah. So Arizona law can't get to them. Of course, Arizona does so little up here anyway. The sheriff had no time for her.”

“I know of only one case investigated by the Utah side of the U.S. marshal's office. A man had sold land to someone by mail and instead of being an irrigated farm, it was all boulders.”

“What did the marshal do?”

“When the seller got the money, he left here with no forwarding address. I had dead mail for him, and the lawman opened it and read it. He told me the buyers were lucky. The man was supposed to sell them more rocks.”

Clark lit a second coal oil lamp for Chet and took the other one up front to hang for light while he sorted mail and put it in the boxes. In the back, Chet read wanted posters. There must have been a stack of a hundred on the desk.

Clark came back and put a coffeepot on to boil on the top of the stove. “You Mormon?”

Clark shook his head.

“I'm one because my wife was when we married. But I still need coffee in the morning and get none at home. I don't drink spirits, quit cigars, but I still need coffee in the morning. She knows it, but doesn't say anything. My sin for the day.” He looked at the ceiling. “Father forgive me.” Then he went back up front to continue sorting mail.

Amused, Chet returned to looking at the wanted posters. When the water boiled, Clark came back and added roasted coffee grounds.

“We'll have some shortly; I have two cups.”

“Thanks. Sounds and smells good.”

“If you are going to sin, sin with the best kind you can find, right?”

Chet laughed and nodded. “Best you can afford, I always said.”

“Are you married?”

“Yes I am. I was married last June to a great lady.”

“What do you do in Arizona beside marshal?”

“I have some large cattle ranches and some very good foremen running them.”

“I was the postmaster down in Chandler.”

“How did you get up here?”

“My wife wanted to come back to Utah. She told me to put in for a transfer. I think she expected I'd get Salt Lake. We didn't, but we are in Utah. She can't complain.”