A Good Day To Kill (20 page)

“Thanks.”

They rode up the wagon tracks that went north through the brown grass and century plants to finally rein up at the hand painted sign.
SCOTT RANCH
.

Turning up the lane, they rode up to the house. A woman in her forties came out on the porch in a new-looking dress. Tall and straight backed, she looked on the tough side when she pushed the graying waves of hair back from her face and gave them a pinned-on smile.

“Carol Scott?” Chet asked, leaning a little on the saddle horn.

“Yes. What'cha boys need?” Kind of like she'd perked up, expecting some business from two strange waddies at her door.

“A little information.”

“Oh.”

“They say Trent Marks shot his brother.”

“How would I know?”

“I understood you were friendly with them.”

“Friendly? What does that mean?”

“That you were having relationships with them.”

“What if I was? I never shot him.”

“Ma'am, I'm trying to find out who shot the man. I could haul you to Tombstone and have you talk to a judge about this case.”

“No, thanks. What do you need to know?”

“A brother named Abraham was shot?”

She nodded her head. “They found him.”

“Who was that?”

“Rick Harmon, Clyde Bloomer, they found him. Said he was shot and they took his body to Tombstone.”

“No one has seen Trent since then, have they?”

“I haven't seen him.”

“Do you think he shot his brother?”

“How would I know that?”

“People tell me you were close with both of them.”

Her brows knit close; she glared at him. “You're saying I'm a whore?”

Chet shook his head. “I don't give a damn whether you are or are not. There was a man killed. If his brother did it, I want him brought in to face charges.”

She turned up her palms. “I have no idea where you would find him.”

“I may be back. Where can I find the two men who found his body?”

She snorted. “Those dumb dinks don't know anything about it.”

“I have to talk to them.”

“The second place north of my gate goes to their place. I can warn you, they're too dumb to think. Good day.” She turned on her heels and closed the door.

Shawn looked at him with a grin. “I guess she settled with us, Marshal Byrnes.”

Chet reined his horse around. “I guess she did. Was that a brand-new dress she had on?”

“I reckon so.” Shawn snuck a peek back at the closed door. “Why do you ask?”

“Details. It may not amount to a hill of beans. But I'd say that was an expensive new dress to wear around the house doing housework.”

Shawn nodded. “Thanks, I'd never have noticed that. But I seen when she figured we wasn't looking for her company, she was sure wanting rid of us.”

With a nod, he booted his horse for the road. “She knows a lot more than she told us.”

“Could be,” Shawn agreed. “A woman like her would have buffaloed me ten times more than she did you. I guess my mother taught me to respect all ladies.”

“Not a bad idea. We touched on a sore point. I'm not so sure she told us all she knew about the killing.”

“Well, I bet you're going to have to pull her teeth out, one at a time, to learn more.”

Chet laughed and they rode on up the dusty wagon tracks.

They passed the low-walled cabin set back off the road under some drab cottonwood trees.

“That must be the brothers' place. We can check it later.”

Up the road, they found a white-whiskered man soaking a buckboard wheel in a tank of water to swell the spokes.

Chet introduced themselves as U.S. Marshal Chet Byrnes and Shawn.

“Clyde Bloomer.” He dried off his hands to shake with them. “Well, Marshal, what brings you up here?”

“The Trent murder. Can you tell me anything about what you found?”

Clyde squeezed his beard and then tilted his old weather-aged hat back, exposing the untanned part of his forehead. “He was sure enough dead. Been so for a couple of days. We hadn't seen them boys in near a week, so went to check on them. Boy, it wasn't a good thing to find, either. Hot weather and all. No sign of his brother around there anywhere.”

“Was there a horse gone?”

Clyde spit to the side and wiped his mouth on his age-spotted hand. “Funny thing you asked, he must not took a horse, 'cause they were all turned out. I seen them a few days ago out west. A couple of bay geldings.”

“How would a man skip out of here, if not on a horse?”

“Ain't no telling. He's simply gone. I figured they was arguing over her and had a shoot-out. They did that a lot. Even had a few good fistfights. But I never figured he'd kill him over her.”

“You are talking about Carol?”

Clyde gave a high-pitched laugh. “Hee, hee. Them two was paying her well for the privilege, mind you.”

“You mean for having sex?”

He spit. “Durn tooting. Trent got drunk one night and told me and my partner she was better than any cathouse girl he ever used.”

Chet nodded. “Them boys have much money?”

“Strange you should ask. They got some money a while back. Their uncle left them a farm in Illinois and a lawyer sold it and sent them the proceeds in a check. Them boys both went right to Tombstone and cashed it. Neither one of them trusted a bank and told us that on several occasions. I guess the money is still down there somewheres.”

“A large sum?”

“I'd have to ask Rick, my pard, but I think around eight thousand dollars. It was more money than they ever had in their life that I knew about, but they were kinda stingy. I bet they never spent more than a hundred dollars of it, unless her prices went up.” He chuckled about that.

“You guys ever use her services?” Chet asked.

“Naw, she was too damn high priced. There's a
chiquita
named Rosita down at Gleason will do it for fifty cents, and she ain't bad, if you're interested.”

“Not today. What did Carol want?”

“Two dollars a round, she told my pard, was her lowest price. That wasn't all night, either. Them boys used her. Not me or Rick. We liked that Messican sandwich better at her prices.” Then he slapped the knee of his wash-worn pants and the dust flew.

“Wonder what happened to the money they had?”

“I figured Trent took it with him when he hightailed it out of here.”

“But he didn't ride a horse away?”

“Hell, he could have waved down the buckboard mail carrier that goes through here and went over to catch the Overland Stage at Bowie.”

By then, the three were squatted on their boot heels in the shade, discussing the disappearance of the second brother. Shawn was taking it all in, listening, and Chet figured from his solemn facial expression that he was making a case out of it all.

“I sure thank you. Who owns that place now they're gone or dead?”

“I don't have any idea. They've got a good well and it ain't a bad place. It's been proved on as a deeded homestead. If they had more water, some of it could be farmed. Three hundred twenty acres is the desert homestead size.”

“I know, thanks. Well, Shawn and I need to go look at the place before it gets dark. I appreciate your help. We may turn up something yet.”

“I hope you do. A shame he's dead and his brother lit a shuck. They were two good neighbors.”

“I bet they were.”

They rode back to the homestead and hitched their horses. Shawn had asked Chet a few small questions on the ride back. One was, did he think the money was still there?

“I have every reason to believe that the second brother took the money, if he left here.”

“If. That's a big question. He'd never have left on foot, right?” Shawn asked.

“He didn't take a horse. They were out on the range.”

“The mailman could solve that for us. Where will we find him?”

“We can ride over and check at Bowie. The answer may be closer than we think.” He forced the door open with his shoulder. The copper smell of death struck his nose.

“Whew, it's going to be bad in here. Go get some candles from my saddlebags. We'll need some light in here. A few rows of bottle glass windows don't let in much light.”

He used a couple of unwashed tin plates from the dry sink to put the candles on. Each man had a light. Chet found the dark spot on the wood floor where the deceased must have laid and bled to death. Shawn counted two saddles and bridles in the room.

There was a large flour canister out and flour spilled around it.

“They must have been making biscuits,” Shawn said.

“Or someone withdrawed the money that was in it.”

“There you go, outthinking me again.”

“All we've got right now is I supposes.”

“I agree. But it's the way a lawman has to think.”

“Yes. Now all we need is the other brother's body.”

“Oh, hell. You think he's dead?” Shawn asked.

Chet nodded. “We have one prime suspect.”

“Her, huh?”

“Those two up north could have done it as well. But I'm thinking we didn't make the one that was home upset when we asked him questions about the murder. I think he was very open with us. The lady, she acted put out and not wanting us to know anything—makes her the prime suspect at the moment.”

“But where is Trent Marks?”

Chet put down the candle plate on the table, folded his hands together, and poked his finger atop his lip in deep thought. He finally moved his hands apart and spoke. “Let's search her place tomorrow. We might get lucky and find some evidence there.”

“Let's get out of this stinking house, too. I seen some split firewood, so we can cook something we brought. I'm starved, even with breathing in this foul-smelling air in here.”

“I can put up the horses while you start that,” Chet said. “It's a good idea.”

“Coming up here, I really never thought we'd ever find a dang thing but the place where they found him.”

“There's always answers to a crime. They aren't always easy to find. You simply have to search for them and then get lucky. Today, we might have got lucky. Word we had was that he fled. But how did he do that without taking a horse? Two saddles in that cabin means to me he didn't ride out of here. The fact his horse is still here is number two. Next question is, where is he?”

“Now you're thinking he's dead and the finger's been pointed at him for running away?”

Chet agreed. “It did, until two hours ago.”

They ate the beans and bacon supper Shawn fixed, drank some good coffee, and rolled out their bedrolls. Chet thought a lot about his new baby and wife up north until he fell asleep. Good chance they might solve this murder—maybe?

Dawn had a chill to it that Chet's long-sleeved cotton shirt couldn't quite cover. A greasewood and juniper smell filled the air, mixed with live oak wood smoke. In the early morning air that spoke of a push toward fall, his senses sharpened to a keen edge.

“Shawn, you may make a cook yet. These sourdough biscuits are almost real good.”

The young man laughed. “I bet Jesus was a real cook.”

“That, or he'd find a good Mexican woman vendor. He's a real good man, but so are the rest of you. I got shot at by an Apache while we were taking cattle east once. His arrow struck in my saddle swell and I ran him down. Cole shot another one on horseback and came down there. I told him to tie him up and bring him along. Pretty soon he came back by himself. I asked where the Indian was. He said he drew a knife on him and he shot him. Poor boy killed two Indians in ten minutes. That was his first two.”

“I heard he was tough. I've been in some of those shooting scrapes right beside him and he's really a scout to have along. I hope I can do the same someday.”

“That, and your cooking, and you'll do fine.” They both laughed.

Leaving the packhorse there, they saddled up and rode over to Carol Scott's place. They'd return to spend the night before leaving the country.

They rode up in the yard and saw Carol Scott in her garden. Chet dismounted and walked over to the fence while Shawn hitched the horses.

“I guess you found the place,” she said rather curtly.

“We did, ma'am. Shawn and I want to look around your place.”

She leaned on the long hoe handle. “What for?”

“Did you know that Trent never rode off on a horse after the shooting?”

“No. I supposed that he had.”

“No. His horse is out on the range and his saddle is still in the house.”

Back at her hoeing, she said, “I guess he left on foot then.”

“Not too likely, is it? I'm going to search your place.”

“You don't have my permission.”

“I can search it anyway.”

“I'll file a protest in the Cochise County Court against you.”

“Go right ahead. You must have something to hide.”

At that point, she threw down her hoe. “Search all you want. You won't find a damn thing here.” She went to the gate, closed it, and stalked off to the back door, which she slammed.

“She upset?” Shawn asked.

“Yes, I'd say very upset.”

They searched the cow shed area and then the chicken house. Behind it, he scraped aside some loose hay with his boot and decided the new turned dirt there just might be a grave.

“Is he under there?” Shawn asked.

Looking hard at the closed back door of the white clapboard house, Chet said, “I think we'll find him under here. I'm going up there and ask her if he's here.”

Shawn made a disapproving face. “She may shoot you. Be damn careful.”

“I will.”

“Do we need to dig him up?”

“Wait till I ask her.” He set out for the house. His guts were crawling. She might shoot at him. If she'd shot two men, he might be the third one.

On the back steps, he knocked and called for her. No answer. He did it again. Nothing.

He turned the knob and the door opened. He saw the spilled-over ladder-back chair first, and then the hem of her dress and button-up shoes above the floor. She'd hung herself.

There was no note. He went to the back door and yelled at Shawn, “You need to ride to Tombstone, get a justice of the peace, the coroner, and some men, to exhume his body. She's hung herself.”

Shawn made a sour face after he saw her. “We need to get her down?”

“No, the coroner can do that. I'm going to look for the money while you're gone.”

“Hell, she couldn't stand it, could she? Us finding the body. Man, oh man, I am sure glad you are getting some men to dig up his body. I was about sick, thinking about us doing it. I'll be back when I can. May take me the rest of the day.”

“No rush now. I'll be here waiting.”

Shawn soon rode off for Tombstone. In a few hours, two men came by. Seeing his horse grazing there, they stopped. Clyde introduced his partner, Rick, to Chet.

“What's happening? Where's she at?”

“She's in the kitchen. She hung herself a while ago. I think we've found the other brother's grave.”

“Well, damn almighty,” Rick said. “I was about to offer her two bucks for a toss in the hay.”

“She mighta wanted more money with her two customers gone,” his partner teased.

“Where you figure he's at?” Clyde asked with a frown.

“I believe he's in a grave behind the chicken house. That's why she hung herself.”

“She tell you that?”

Chet shook his head. “She didn't have to.”

Late afternoon, Shawn showed up in a cloud of dust with the coroner, a funeral home wagon, and four Mexican workers to exhume the body. A justice of the peace also came. In his prowling, Chet found over six thousand dollars in cash. Also a recent receipt where she'd paid off a fifteen-hundred-dollar loan on her place at the Tombstone Bank. It was dated after the brothers' deaths.

Before sundown, the digging crew found a corpse in the shallow grave. Clyde and Rick identified him as the other brother. They told the JP that he had a nephew in Silver City, New Mexico, named Rory Marks who could be the heir. The justice took all that down and gave Chet a receipt for the money.

“This crime would have gone untouched save for your efforts,” JP Crowley said, and shook both their hands.

They went back to their packhorse, slept a few hours on the ground, and then headed for Tombstone to a reunion that evening with his crews. Chet felt much better. He wired Marge to say things were going better in the southland and he might take a break and come home for a short while. His left shoulder only hurt at times and that was when he overused it.

His four deputies were all waiting at the livery in Tombstone. They met him with smiles, telling him that word was out already that they'd solved a double murder. A stable boy took his horse and another got Shawn's and the pack animal.

“Sounds like you had good luck,” Roamer said.

“Long story; we can tell it later. That case is solved.”

“Cole and I got three horses back of the four stolen. But the rustlers got off to New Mexico. The owner from up in Florence is coming after the horses we recovered. We considered going after the rustlers, but they had a two-day lead.”

Jesus smiled. “Hunter and Blandon are in the Cochise County Jail and the prosecutor says he will have a good case against them.”

“Any news from Maria at the telegraph office?”

“Nothing is there for you,” Jesus said.

“Roamer, you're in charge. Cole, you're the other married man. You want to go home with me for two weeks?” Chet asked.

“I'd sure like to go home.”

“You go,” Roamer said. “You two can catch the late stage for Tucson tonight.”

“Fine. The rest of you are okay?” he asked.

Head bobs and smiles went around the circle.

“Let's go eat Nellie Cashman's good food. Cole, you run up and get us two stagecoach passes for Tucson, and verify the time we leave. Here's the money. We don't want to miss it.”

They all walked to the restaurant through the crowd of mine-floured men and flirty whores on the boardwalks. It was a nice evening, cooling down after the sun set. The food and talk were congenial. The meal, as always, proved good and they had an easy relaxed evening.

Walking back to the livery, Chet took Roamer aside. “You okay staying down here for two more weeks? Then you can take a break and go home.”

“I'm fine. She writes me every week and I try to answer her. No problem. You know, with the rewards and all, we've been banking our money. I never did that before in my life. No, I have no problem staying here. I'm grateful for the opportunity.”

Chet clapped him on the shoulder. “It really has worked with all of us pulling so hard. I'll check on everything up there and be back.”

“Don't rush. I know your ranch interests are important.”

Before midnight, they caught the stage to Benson and connected with the Overland one to Tucson. Saddles and gear in the back, they found the coach empty and slept during the trip north. Before sunup, at Benson, they caught the more crowded westbound stage and headed for Tucson. Cole sat on top with the driver. Chet wedged in beside a large banker, and they reached Tucson by lunchtime. Chet recalled the Mexican restaurant Jesus took them to, so they had lunch there. He went by to see his lawyer, but Craft was in court. U.S. Marshal Blevins was also out of pocket. The stage didn't leave until nine that night, so they had a street vendor meal and hung out at the stage office.

“You met your wife on this stage ride, didn't you?” Cole asked.

“We had a long ride together. Interesting woman. I never imagined we'd someday be married and have a son. It was never in my plans or thoughts. I wanted a ranch my family could live on and be at peace from that feud in Texas.”

“And now you have a good ranch or two, well, seven of them.” Cole ticked them off on his fingers. “The Verde River Ranch; you and Marge's place—the Prescott Valley one; Lucie and Reg's up on the Mogollon Rim; the Windmill Ranch that Sarge and Susie run; Hampt and May's place at the East Verde Ranch; the Oak Creek Orchards; and now the Rancho Diablo that JD has.”

“We've got lots of them.”

“Sure do.”

Chet shook his head, considering the situation up there. “I wired Marge earlier, so she knows we're coming.”

They made it to Hayden's Ferry the next day and then took the Black Canyon Stage on to Preskitt. He'd had all the rocking around in a coach he needed when they climbed down. Marge ran to hug him. Valerie kissed her husband, and then came over and kissed Chet on the cheek. “Thanks, I needed him.”

“Hey, he said you did.”

They laughed and he helped his wife in the buckboard.

“If you need me,” Cole said, “send word.”

“I won't go anywhere without someone with me. Raphael has some good men, and I can use one of them. But if I need you, I'll holler. Have a good time together.”

Valerie waved. “We will. Thanks, again.”

Chet drove the team for the ranch. He told Marge about their last case, and how well it went.

She hugged his arm. “I am simply glad to have you home. Oh, Reg and Lucie's girl, Carla, is doing fine.”

“Great. May?”

“Their boy Miles is good, too.”

“Everything going okay, you think?”

“Oh, I think May will be fine. She's the veteran at this baby business.”

“Well, JD said we'd have diaper country. Our boy alright?”

“Perfect baby. He's growing in leaps and bounds. And I'm back to riding my horses.”

“Good. I know you're happy to be doing that again.”

“I enjoy it. But I am very proud of Adam. He is a miracle in my life. I never imagined I'd have a child of my own, and having him with you makes it even greater.”

“Marge, I know it's hard for us to be apart so much, but we're making Arizona a better place. If I didn't think it was worth it, I'd quit and come home.”

She clamped a hand on his leg. “I understand you, Chet Byrnes, and it's the flame in your heart. How is JD?”

“Busy getting a couple of windmills set. The adobe brick crew that Jesus set up is working full steam ahead. They'll soon begin building houses for JD and Ortega. Those people down there are like your
vaqueros
up here. Loyal and hardworking. They're excited about the improvements. We'll expand their houses as soon as the main houses are finished.”

“The government has paid us for more past cattle sales. Tanner sent me notice that several were paid.”

“We're fortunate to have that market.”

“Yes, it gives us lots of flexibility. Susie is staying at the Verde Ranch. She had a scare and thought she might lose the baby, so Sarge moved her back there. So far, she's staying down a lot. Monica found her a housekeeper. She's an older widow woman and a good one. We think and pray that Susie will be alright.”

“It's good to know about those things. And it's good to be home for two weeks and be sure we are doing what we need to be doing.”

She hugged his shoulder. “It's always good to have you home.”

“I made that ride again that we shared back when we first met. Made me remember.”

“You may not recall, but I grew more interested in this tall Texan as we rolled north. It was the quickest trip I ever made from down there. Now, how was I ever going to show him how much I wanted to turn his head?”

“Marge, I don't regret a thing you did. I think about you all the time I'm away, and when I'm here.”

“Good.”

After she showed him his sleeping son in his crib, they went to bed. They fell asleep quickly in each other's arms.