A Good Day To Kill (16 page)

“Oh, you have a telegram. May and Hampt have a boy, named him Miles. Reg and Lucie have a girl they named Carla.”

“Well, our diaper team begins. All we have left is sis to have one.”

“You will need more ranches,” Jesus teased.

“We have enough of them.” Chet went to turn in. Hell, he had plenty of them to look after as it was. He hoped his men held up managing them. With an attempt to put things aside, he went to sleep still thinking about all the things that needed done.

Chet looked for Roamer and Ortega to be back soon. Breakfast for the three went quiet. He planned to write his wife a letter and notes to congratulate the two sets of new parents. Hampt must be busting his buttons over a boy. Reg would be equally glad to have a girl. Hell, his wife was his equal as a ranch hand—her offspring could hardly be less of one.

The day passed and his deputies didn't return. Perhaps he should go see about them. Maria picked on him some about his enlarging family. Her comments were attempts to tease him, but even her tries didn't make him laugh. He went to sleep at dark and woke up in the night.

Cole was back. He went to meet him and lit a lamp. “You're getting around late. Something wrong?”

“We had a few problems, but they're straight now. They're low on supplies. I think it will be a great cattle ranch. I'm impressed with what we've seen. There are about a hundred sixty mother cows in that end of the ranch. So you did good buying them, but no way are there any two hundred or three like we first heard about. But we're out of food. I guess when Masters left, they never got any more supplies.”

“I'm going to send Jesus with you to Tucson in the morning. You two can buy a wagon and team and Jesus can find us a good supplier. I'm sure Mr. Holmes at the First Arizona Bank will back my needs with the supplier. Go by and get a letter from Holmes to present to whichever store you two decide to use.” Jesus had joined them and nodded that he understood.

“I don't dare leave here until we hear from Roamer and Ortega. In the morning, you two can go handle that. Will that be soon enough?”

“I think so. Those men he hired will damn sure work, but they all have families. They've saved us lots of time counting cows. And we saw lots of places to develop water, where it simply goes in the ground now.”

“Sounds good. Does JD like it?”

Cole, weary from his trip, nodded and sat back. “He's really learning a lot. About people and his job as their boss. I think he'll do damn good over there. We're just short on food and a few things. Weeks never overfed them, according to what we've found out.”

“I'll write Holmes the letter tonight for you to carry to him. I want you to wire Marge to send his bank five thousand dollars and sign it with my name. I'll write it out. I should have seen to more details. We left Tucson too soon. Jesus, do you know a good supplier in Tucson?”

“My choice would be one run by a Mexican that my family uses. They are fair. Andre Santos Mercantile.”

Chet nodded in agreement. “We'll use your selection. Can you find a team and wagon there to use as a chuckwagon later?”

“Since it isn't a buckboard, could we buy mules, if they're available?” Cole asked.

“You two are my purchasers for a team. Just get it done.”

“We can handle it,” Jesus said. “Let us get some sleep.”

“Amen, and thanks,” Chet said.

The next morning, he wrote the congratulations letters and worded the telegram to send to Marge. That job done, he ate Maria's breakfast. Jesus and Cole headed out for Tucson to settle the food situation, and things in camp settled down.

Midday, a boy of twelve or so rode in on a drawn small horse.

“Are you Chet Byrnes?”

“I am, sir. What do you need?”

“I'm a messenger for a man calls himself Roamer. He said to give you this letter.” He pulled a folded paper from inside his shirt and handed it to Chet.

He unfolded the paper and read:

“Where are they?” he asked the boy.

“Canner Creek.”

Chet frowned at him. “I never saw it on the map.”

The boy shook his head. “It don't got a post office there. I kin show you there.”

“I savvy no post office. We'll see.”

“He expects us,” Shawn put in.

“Yes. You need to load a packhorse. Bedrolls.”

“What's your name?” Chet asked the boy.

“Frank Peters.”

“Frank, you can lead us over there as soon as we get ready. When did you eat last?”

“Early this morning.”

Maria had come on the run to find out about the messenger, and he pointed the boy toward her. “Maria will feed you. Tie your horse, though I doubt he will run away.”

“He's a good horse, mister. I rode him from way over there. I started before the sun came up this morning.”

“You live over there?”

“Me and my maw do.”

Shawn nodded at the boy. “How old are you, Frank?”

“Twelve.”

“You're mighty young to be doing this kinda work,” Shawn said.

“Mister Roamer didn't think so.”

Chet clapped him on the shoulder. “Shawn is just kidding you.”

They both laughed.

Maria fed him while they loaded a packhorse and saddled their own horses. Chet had one of his good roans to ride and Shawn picked a big stout bay gelding. With rifles in their scabbards and plenty of ammunition, they loaded Frank on his horse and started east.

Chet told Maria they were going to help Roamer and her husband with some bandits on the border. He figured she knew the bandits must be in Mexico and they wanted him along to apprehend them. Another no badge deal. He hoped this one worked as well as the other two.

The boy on his short-legged horse kept up with them. The next day, they were in a place Chet had never been before in the live oak and juniper country. The road would have been rough on anyone trying to sit on a wagon seat pitching them from side to side. There were some signs of mining dumps and several shacks on the hillsides. Then Frank pointed out a corral with horses. “That's where he's at.”

Roamer came to the doorway of a rambling building with his hat cocked on his head. “Where've you guys been?”

“Following Frank,” Shawn said. The three shook hands. A tall thin woman in a wash-faded dress in her thirties came in the room and nodded at them.

“Frank's mother runs this boardinghouse. Carol, this is Chet and Shawn,” Roamer said.

“Nice to meet'cha guys,” she said. “We'll have supper shortly. As soon as the miners that live here come in.”

“Thanks, ma'am. We appreciate Frank riding over there and finding us, too.”

She smiled and hugged the boy. “He's my man. His paw died in a mine explosion couple of years ago. We had this boardinghouse and the miners asked me to stay. I've got a hundred proposals, but they just never fit, so me and Frank live here and run the boardinghouse for Mill Town. We used to have a post office.”

“Well, he's sure a big, grown-up boy. Shawn asked him if he wasn't kinda young to do this job. He told him Mr. Roamer didn't think so.”

They all laughed. Roamer nodded his approval. “He's my man. Let's put your horses up.”

Chet, Shawn, and Roamer took the horses to the corral while Roamer filled them in.

“Ortega has been watching this bunch. There's a half-dozen of them down there in some
jacales
. I think they're satisfied no one can go down there and get them. They've made several raids over the border. They've been raiding ranches along the border, hitting Mexican families and white folks, too. Really have had a reign of terror, and no one has been able to stop them.”

“Who's the leader?”

“They say a guy called Manuel Robles. He's a tough
hombre
. One Mexican family we talked to said he's a prison escapee. Supposedly murdered a family and was sentenced to life in prison, but he busted out. He raped some women up here, but I doubt any of those women will testify against him. I do have enough men say they will.”

“That's what we need, and any evidence of things they stole, if we can find them.”

“I bet we can do that down there. They stole several saddles that are marked and can be identified, if they still have them. They also took an old pistol from a man named Decker Coleman. It's one of those first Paterson Colts, and his father's name, also Decker, is engraved on it. He was a Texas Ranger. I have a list of other things, but that revolver would really tie them to the crimes.”

“You know, someday, we are going to get caught by the
Federales
down there arresting these outlaws. We've been real lucky so far.”

“Want to wait till they make another raid?” Roamer asked.

“No, someone might get hurt. Early tomorrow morning, we ride in and arrest them.”

Roamer nodded in agreement.

They left before daybreak. Carol had made them breakfast. Chet paid and thanked her for keeping his men and for Frank's help.

“Anytime you need something, I'll be here till these mines peter out.”

“Thanks, Carol. Good luck to you and that boy.”

“You guys are doing lots of hard work. The real people down here appreciate you.”

The way into Mexico was by pack train trails. Under the stars, they went through the tough mountain terrain and, at dawn, Ortega met them.

“You ever sleep?” Chet dismounted and shook his hand.

“They are all still here. There are some women and children, so we need to be careful.”

The other two agreed.

“The big man lives in the
jacal
on the rise. He has two wives. There are four more men that live in the other
jacales
. Some have women, some don't, but he'll be the toughest one. The others are not that tough.”

“You've done a helluva job of scouting them out. Thanks. Roamer, you take the
casa
on the right. Shawn, take the one on the left. Ortega, I'll take the main one. That leaves you the other one.”

“Unless you catch him empty-handed, he's going to fight like a
tigre
.”

“Goes with the job.” Chet scoffed it off.

Ortega shook his head. “I don't want anything to happen to you.”

“I'll be fine. Let's take them.”

The others nodded. Their horses hobbled and six-guns in hand, they started to slip up on the
jacales
. In the dim first light, Chet came in the clearing and headed for the one on the rise. He walked around the corner and heard someone snoring in a hammock. A smile crossed his mouth. The big man was sound asleep not ten feet from him. Ortega must not have been on the south side, and not able to see this hammock. He stepped softly until he was on the far side of the hammock. Then he stepped in and pressed the muzzle of his pistol in the man's face.

“Don't move an inch.”

The man's shocked eyes flew open. He realized the pistol was cocked and ready to send him to his reward.

“Who are you,
hombre
?” he demanded.

“I'm a rancher from Arizona. I'm taking you back there for trial for stealing and raiding ranchers.”

“You can't do that to me.”

Chet jammed the pistol's muzzle in his face harder. “You ready to die? I have no use for you. Roll out on your knees, get flat, and put your hands behind your back. I'm going to handcuff you, but if you make one move, I'll damn sure shoot you.”

“Who are you?”

“Chet Byrnes.”

“You can't do this in Mexico.”

“I might have been told I couldn't, but I am.”

No shot so far. He'd listened close. The others had their prisoners cuffed and on the ground outside the buildings.

“Did we get them?” he called out.

“Hell, yes,” Roamer said.

“Bunch these prisoners up and go find the evidence we need. Shawn, you guard them.”

When Chet went into the big man's house, the dark-eyed women backed away. He looked at the three saddles, no doubt stolen, but Roamer had the list. There on the table was an old pistol. He turned the six-gun to the light. D
ECKER
C
OLEMAN
was engraved in the barrel. He made sure the caps were off the nipples, then jammed it in his waist. That would send Manuel Robles to prison.

He found a large pot on a shelf and looked around. No one was in the room. He took it down and put it on the table. The jug was full of U.S. paper money, and underneath that were some gold rings. Taken from victims, no doubt. Two of the rings had diamonds. He pocketed them carefully and folded up the paper money. Lots of money. He'd count it later.

When he got to the door, Roamer was coming in.

“Three saddles in here. Shawn, you and Ortega better start saddling us horses.”

“We're on our way.” Both of them were smiling over their surprise attack and how well it worked. Chet felt the same.

“Those three saddles in there were stolen. I have them on my list.”

“Good. We're doing great. Let's get them to jail.”

“What will we do?” a woman asked in Spanish. “We have no money. No horses.”

“I have ten dollars, and I've seen several burros around here. You better use them. These men will be in prison for several years.”

Ortega translated his words for the ones who didn't understand English. The older woman took his money and told the other to go catch the burros.

They piled the saddles on some of the stolen horses. In a short while, the grumbling head outlaw was handcuffed to the saddle and on a lead line. Ortega led the chain of horses bearing the prisoners, and they wasted no time getting out of the hills. Chet took them wide of the mining village, so as to avoid any possible confrontations.