Ambush Valley (17 page)

“Get busy. It will be over before you know it.”

He shook both men's hands. They were big callused-hand galoots. They'd sober him up. “Need more help, holler. Jenny can get me word.”

The bigger man, Green, shook his head. “No worries, Mr. Byrnes, we can handle this situation—and thanks for the job.”

“Wait, wait,” Bo said in a worried tone. “I'll do all you say. Don't leave me here with these gorillas. Chet . . .”

He shook his head. “You do as they say and you will be out of their care in no time.”

Then he waved to everyone and kissed Jenny good-bye on the cheek.

 

 

He arrived back at Marge's house. Chet stepped off the buckboard by the saddle shed. Jesus made him stop taking the harness off the horses. “That is my job,
señor
.”

Chet looked hard at the youth. “You telling me that you want me to hitch my horse at the rack, too?”

“I will hurry and unsaddle him. If you wish to ride on, hitch him out front and I will ask for your wishes,
señor
.”

He paused holding his elbow and squeezed his chin. Then he nodded, “I've got it now. Thanks, Jesus.”

“Same to you,
señor
.”

He was already on the run to ambush his wife and peddled backwards to tell the youth, “Thanks, you do good work.”

“Well?” She flew in his arms. “What did you learn today?”

“I have two men hired to keep Bo sober. We will be learning about this man in Saint Louis shortly.”

Wrapped tight in his arms, she closed one eye and used the right one to examine his face. “You did what?”

“Bo was living with some drunken slut in a shack. I removed him and hired two tough men to sober him up and keep him that way so we can make the land deal.”

She laughed and shook her head, still in disbelief. He kissed her, still amazed how tall she was and how easy it was to kiss her.

“He's too damn good a man to hide in a bottle. It will work, trust me.”

“Chet Byrnes, I always trust you to do the right thing. But sober a man up for him to do business for you is another side to you I can hardly imagine.”

“All I can say is he's worth it, darling.”

“My father is gone to Hayden's Mill. Some deal he is looking at—so supper is the two of us.”

“I don't mind. I'm going to the ranch tomorrow. Then the next day we can drive out and see if my nephew JD needs anything.”

“Good. I'll visit with Kay while you two talk.”

They went to the house as arm-locked lovers. Monica greeted him. “Good to have you back. She walks the floor when you're gone.”

“Maybe you could show her how to crochet.”

Marge looked at the ceiling for help. “I don't need that. But I may go to the ranch tomorrow with you. I suppose you want to get up at four a.m.?”

“It's a good ride down there and I'd like to be there before the men ride out.”

“Yes, slave master.”

“Hey—”

She pressed a finger to his mouth. “I was teasing. I know how spread out you are these days.”

“Does this place need me to do something?”

“No, it's fine.”

He seated her at the supper table. There were things about their camping out he'd really liked—maybe the sitting around the campfire with her so casual. You had to trade some things to have a wife as great as her. In the morning, they'd go in the dark to the ranch. Be good to have her company.

Monica served a tasty beef roast with mashed potatoes, fresh green beans, homemade fresh bread, and cow butter. Her coffee was just right, along with delicious blackberry cobbler under whipped cream. He'd damn sure get fat eating at her table. Maybe he could work it off. Wonderful food. He bragged on her and she smiled.

“Breakfast at four a.m.?”

“He says so.”

“I will have the oatmeal cooked.” Then she laughed and left the dining room.

 

 

The next morning in the cool air, the two arrived at the ranch while the men were saddling up to ride out. Marge went to the house to see Susie and May. He headed to get a cup of Hoot's coffee. The place smelled of fresh cut pine and the frameworks of the bunkhouse and the cook shack were in the sky.

“Wow, you musta got up at midnight to get here.” The gray whiskered older man poured him a steaming cup. “Did yah see the Grand Canyon on your honeymoon?”

Chet nodded. “Hell of a big hole, ain't it.”

“They got another over on the Rio Salado in the 'pache country. I was packing mules for Crook once and saw it. What a damn hole it is. How's married life?”

He blew on his steaming coffee and nodded. “I'm doing fine, Hoot. How is the ranch?”

“Tom's got her running good. He's been driving in lots of those shelly cows he told you about. Looks like it'll rain somewhere today. I figure the monsoons are about to start.”

“I saw a few clouds. We can damn sure use it.” The coffee was cool enough to sip and not burn his tongue.

Tom joined him. “I got a price of ten cents on the cows we need to sell at this agency and Fort McDowell.”

“Sounds good. Better than them dying out on the range eventually.”

“Some won't make the drive to McDowell.”

“Give them to these Indians here for free. May make us some friends. Those people were starving last year and I got the military to intercede for them in Washington.”

“I recall us doing all that. This new agent is a preacher. He's more concerned about those people. They don't complain either so they must be getting better supplied.”

“Any word on the Hartley brothers?”

“No. But we're listening. I don't know where they'd buy that many cows let alone drive them in here.”

“They didn't send that crew over here for no good reason.”

“Maybe they were testing our strength?”

“They went to a helluva lot of trouble to do that. All they had to do was ask me.”

“I think our new bulls are spreading out. I feel certain we have all the longhorn ones neutered. Next year's calves will be lots better.”

“This ranch should be using second generation British cross cows. Ryan was an idiot. All he knew how to do was steal.”

“Someone said there was large herd of pure Herefords coming from New Mexico this direction. Straight Hereford cattle. You remember ever meeting the mailman that came from Gallup in a buckboard that used your route?”

“Yes, only vaguely.”

“He said they had lots of cattle coming slow.”

“Are they the Hartleys'?”

“No, they're some ranch moving out here from all I can hear. He ain't hurrying them none. Must be graze up there.”

“There is lots of grass, but we had to haul water to make it over here.”

“No way to do that.” Tom shook his head.

“I better ride up there and see what I can learn.”

“Want me to send someone?” Tom asked.

“No, I'll go. I heard that a man named John Chisum over in New Mexico has cows for sale.”

“You know him?”

Chet about chuckled. “JD and I met one of his enforcers. Billy the Kid they called him in Texas. He wanted to work for me. Said he knew the way.”

“I've heard of him.”

“He's a buck-toothed kid, but I think he's deadly with a gun. Had some teenage
puta
hanging on him most of the time.”

“I know the kind. What are you going to do today?”

“Probably make arrangements to go meet that herd. Can you spare Victor?”

“Sure, do you want the same outfit you two took to Hackberry?”

“Yes. Hook it up and send him to her place this afternoon. We can get supplies tomorrow in Preskit and be on our way the next day. Keep culling cows, we can find some more. Do you have most of the mavericks caught up?”

“Yes. We all knew Ryan wasn't doing much ranch work. But we found over a hundred cows and calves not branded in the past year.”

“We knew it would be work. Thanks, Tom. I'll go check on the girls and tell Victor to bring his guitar.”

The two shook hands.

He found Marge, Susie, May, and Millie all talking a hundred miles an hour at the table. “Well, do you all have the world in shape?”

“Not yet, Marge told us about you sobering up your land agent.”

“I have that in hand. Susie, do you recall a mail carrier who brought the mail from Gallup to Preskit? In a buckboard, I guess.”

“Yes, he was a big hunk of a guy. We talked to him several times when he stopped at our camp.”

“His name is Guy Nelson. You ever heard his story?” Marge asked.

“No, fill us in.”

“This Nelson came along one year when the mail was getting waylaid time after time by outlaws, and the letters opened to find money and then scattered by those bandits. He told them he wanted to try and get it through. It was getting up toward Christmastime. Folks were upset, too. He took over and there were no more robberies. Folks said he left them to lie and die by the road if they tried to hold him up. When that got around the holdups ceased. The Christmas mail came through and everyone heralded him as the hero of the holidays. The service still works perfect.”

“We talked to him about taking the cutoff. I recall that,” Susie said.

“He told someone here, there was a large herd of Hereford cows coming out of Kansas, slow like. The owners want to set up a ranch in Arizona according to what they say. I'd try to buy some good cows from them if they would sell.”

“What are the plans?” Marge asked.

“Victor's coming to our house this evening. We can get supplies tomorrow and the next day we ride east if you want to go along.”

“My dear husband, you couldn't tie me down and leave me,” Marge said.

Everyone laughed.

“I'll go check on JD tomorrow then, and let you all know anything I can find out, if things have changed.”

“Good,” Susie said. “Guess you two will miss the dance this week then?”

“This week, but save us some dances.”

His wife laughed. “You all have fun. We are going traipsing again. And I like it, too.”

They rode back with her listing what they'd need for supplies.

“I've never been over there,” she said. “I'd like to see the country.”

“We will see it and probably lots more. I love camping with you, and Victor makes a great hand.”

She took off her hat and shook loose her curls. “Chet Byrnes, I like going anywhere with you.”

He rode in close and hugged her. “That makes two of us.”

“Good. I knew I'd enjoy your whirlwind ways if I ever got on your boat.”

“Well good. I know I do things quick, but I don't regret leaving Texas one minute.” He gazed off in the south at the gathering thunderheads. “We better ride for the house. That rain's coming.”

Thunder rolled in the distance and they ran for the driveway, then the house. They were wet before they made it. Finally they were standing kissing on the porch as the flood of water came off the eaves and the drum of each strike rolled across Preskit Valley. The dark wall was sweeping down on them. The monsoons had started like Hoot promised him earlier. Every afternoon there would be chance of a rain starting to fall. Some would not settle the dust. Others would flood the dry washes.

“Maybe we should go hide upstairs.”

“Great idea,” he said. “You think of the best things to do.”

Shaking her head in amusement, she led him inside the house. He took a last deep breath of the rain—he loved it.

In town the next morning he found his land agent, Bo, a little haggard, in his office with his guard Bud Carter reading the newspaper close by.

“I have sent off several telegrams to Saint Louis to locate this man Boxley. It will take several days to receive an answer, I am certain. Now can I go on living my own life?”

“Keep busy working.” Then he turned to his man. “You are doing a great job. Thanks.”

Carter gave him a sure nod.

He left the pleading Bo and went across to the Palace Saloon. In the darker interior, his eyes adjusted and he smiled as Jane came across the large room with a tray under her arm. “Bo is sobering up under guard. He is not drinking.”

She smiled, smug like. “Good, I'll take him some straight lemonade one day.”

“You might do that. How are things going? Any talk about a herd of cattle coming?”

“No. But I can get you word if I learn anything.”

He handed her a ten dollar gold piece. “I appreciate any news I need.”

“Certainly. You think this plan of yours will work on his hard head?”

“He's worth saving.”

“Thank you, Chet.”

He left her and met Marge at the mercantile three blocks over. She and a stout boy doing the hauling about had the buckboard loaded with their needed supplies. He helped her on the seat, tipped the boy a dime, and joined her. He swung the team around and they headed for Kay's place west of town.

JD was off checking on cattle and they found Kay cooking a large roast in her wood burning kitchen range.

“I can slice some off for us to eat,” she said, hugging her friend Marge.

“We can eat,” he told her.

The two women laughed at him.

“Where are your children?” Marge asked.

“My parents took them for a week. They knew I was under lots of strain after the funeral and all.”

Kay soon had the roast out, cut some slabs off it, and returned it to the oven. She sliced some fresh white bread and made coffee for them. The meat was tasty and they decided they better head for home after lunch.

“If JD needs anything, send word. Tom is at the ranch and has men that can help him,” Chet said.

“I'm certain we will be fine,” she said. “But Marge said that you two won't be at the dance this weekend?”

Marge shook her head. “We're off on another camping trip—to buy cows this time.”

Kay frowned.

“Don't worry about me. We have lots of fun and I enjoy them.”

“You always were the horsey one of us girls.” She wrinkled her nose.

“Thanks for lunch.” Chet said.

They drove off and headed back for her place.

“What do you think?” he asked.

“I think she's happy. She should be, he no doubt is paying her some attention.”

“If he does any at all, she's better off,” he said.

“Oh, I can tell she's a lot more settled.”

“Will she marry him?”

Marge nodded. “There is no long line of suitors is there.”

“Pardon me. I thought you had one.”

“If I did I ignored him when I met you on the stagecoach.”

He clucked at the team to make them step out. “We did ride up here together. I'd almost forgotten that—I remember you best though in my darkest hours. You driving clear down there to save me with the boy's body.”

She agreed and kissed his cheek.

They left her place in the morning. Victor acted so pleased to be along he played his guitar part of the way off Mingus Mountain. By evening they reached the small lake northeast of the Verde Valley. Chet took some catgut line and a hook with a fat earthworm and used a willow switch pole to fish. On the first cast he caught a fat cutthroat trout, and then as the sun set, caught his twin. Gutted, cleaned, and rolled in cornmeal, Marge fried them crisp and that was their supper in the dark night full of crickets and a blazing campfire.

They never set up a tent that night so they could take off quicker the next day. In the predawn they left northeast on the road across the rolling high plains grassland. The third day they stopped in the camp of Colonel John McKay. The colonel was a rather dignified man who wore a suit. His wife Pauline, at least twenty years his junior, reminded him of some socialites he'd met at a fancy party in San Antonio.

After introductions, the colonel showed them to some folding canvas chairs under a canvas shade that popped some in the strong wind.

“My main purpose for this visit, sir, was to see if you'd sell me some of your Hereford cows.”

“You need to buy some cows?”

“I'd like to, sir. Have you considered selling any of them?”

“They may be way too high-priced for you to buy any.”

“You let me worry about that,” Chet said. “What will you sell me?”

“I'd cut three to four years old out for you at a hundred dollars a head.”

Chet did some quick math. The culls Tom was selling would bring half of that. He nodded as if in deep thought. “I'd consider them at ninety dollars a head.”

Marge never said a word. The Colonel's lady sat still. The wind popped the canvas overhead.

“I could do that, sir.”

Chet stuck out his hand. “You've got a deal.”

The Colonel shook it. “Where will we cut them out?”

“There's a lake about thirty miles southwest of here. I don't want it ruined by this many cattle but a stream flows out of it. We can water them in smaller bunches on that creek. I'll send Victor home in the morning to get my foreman and several hands to accept the cattle.”

“We'll have to do it careful. There are several small calves among them. That's why we have been so slow coming across—to save as many as we could.”

Chet nodded. “I have a water wagon I can have them bring if you'd like to use it to sort out the pairs.”

“That might be an idea. I'll speak to my foreman about it. Would you care for a drink?”

He shook his head. “My wife might want a glass of wine.”

Pauline rose and asked her what she might want.

Marge answered her and together they went for it.

“Bring me some scotch and water and my guest some water as well,” he said after them and his wife nodded.

“Victor will leave before dawn and bring the men back but the tank wagon will come slower. If you want it.”

“I'll use it. Thanks. Where is your operation?”

“West up the Verde River from Camp Verde.”

“How long have you had it?”

“About a year ago. I moved my family a few months ago here from the hill country of Texas.”

“Like this better than Texas?”

“I had to move. We were in the midst of a bad feud. They murdered my brother and it was too bloody to stay.”

The colonel nodded. “Tough deals, no one wins in those situations. How did you find this ranch?”

“The man who owned it was afraid of his foreman, who was robbing him blind. I ran him down before I was through and he's in Yuma Prison with some of his help.”

“We have a place down on the Mogollon Rim south of here.”

Chet nodded. “I guess you have seen it.”

“No, but it was examined by some friends of mine. So it will all be a surprise. I am shocked at the lack of water in this country. That is why I sold you those cows. To have enough water for my herd after this journey worries me. There is lots of grass, but you need water, too.”

“You really do. Have you ever seen the desert in the south part of the territory?”

“No, but I have seen some drawings of it. Rather spiny place, huh?”

Seated in the chair, Chet studied the clouds building in the south. It was raining on someone down there. He'd closed a good deal that would build his ranch. Things were going well.

 

 

The next day the Colonel moved his camp to the lake and whipped out his fly rod. In no time he was completely shocked at the great fishing.

He told Chet that officers he knew told him that the fishing in Arizona was wonderful. He never had believed them. Marge told him it was because the Apaches didn't eat fish; they were practically untouched.

The Colonel laughed. “I bet you are right.”

 

 

In two days, Tom arrived with a crew and some supplies. He and Chet rode quietly through the grazing Herefords.

“How many of these cows did you get?” Tom asked under his breath.

“A hundred. Young ones.”

“They are gorgeous. What did they cost?”

“Ninety bucks apiece. High, but we got forty or so for the culls, didn't we?”

Tom quickly agreed. “Would he sell more?”

“I don't think so.”

“You made a helluva deal.”

“We'll need to cut them out and separate them and then drive them home slow. Many have calves. The man's foreman—Jarvis is his name—has done a hell of a job nursemaiding them to get that many calves to here. At this rate in a few years we'll be all Hereford cows.”

Tom nodded. “I won't miss those wild longhorns either.”

“Memories is all we'll have.” Chet squeezed his saddle horn. Things had been happening fast. It was going to rain again somewhere that afternoon. They'd better get back to camp.