Ambush Valley (20 page)

He rode back to Preskit Valley and hitched the horse at the saddle shed. Jesus, already on the job, came on the run.

“You rested?” Chet asked him.

“No, but I had a wonderful time. It was exciting when you took them.”

“Dangerous too. Remember that.”

“I will,
señor
.”

He caught Marge in his arms on the back porch, kissed her, and said, “I need a bath, a shave, and some overtime with you.”

She laughed. “I love you, big man. How did it go?”

“Things went to hell. Sims threatened the posse to get them to leave.”

“Oh, no.”

“Oh, yes. I think he's hung himself. He acted like we had the wrong men as prisoners.”

“He turned them down?”

“No, but he challenged us.”

From the shelf in the back hall, he took a towel and soap bar, and left his boots to come back barefoot. She grabbed a sleeping shirt of her father's and smiled.

They headed for the sheepherder's shower. He hung his gun belt on the wall peg and his clothes with his hat. The shower was warm and he soaped down. She did his back, then stepped quickly aside to get out of the rinse.

“You can shave at the house where I have hot water.”

“Good.” He dried off and slipped on the sleep shirt, laughing. “I have not seen your foreman in a long time.”

“Raphael works every day. I swear he knows where every horse, cow, and calf are at all the time. He's a good man.”

“Damn right.”

“Sit on a kitchen chair and I'll try not to cut your throat. I'm a good hand at shaving.”

“I won't argue. I may sleep for twenty-four hours.”

“I can tell you're tired.” She lathered his face with the hog bristle brush and then took careful strips of his beard off. She was steady and her razor was sharp. He enjoyed the attention and just being close. Marriage was a nice place to be. All his years of being single never really produced a situation he enjoyed more than their union. Her ringing laughter sounded like special bells—and to think he almost ran her off. He thought she was some rich girl spoiled to death and would be harder than hell to please. Nothing like that—oh, well, he didn't lose her after all.

“Do you think the ranch deal will go through?”

“Yes, Bo is sober and working hard on it.”

“Tell me about Reg? When will he get here?”

“Reg is a tall, square-shouldered guy about, oh, twenty-two. He can ride any horse, rope any bull, and throw his opponents over a wagon.”

“He takes after his uncle, huh?”

“He's a hand.”

She swished off the last of the soap from the razor. “It would be hard to lose your wife or husband like that.”

“Damn hard. Those two were lovebirds. She was about the prettiest girl, too, in that country.”

“What are you going to do with him when he gets here?”

“Put him on a saw and an axe and let him build the ranch house up there. He needs to be occupied. Building a ranch headquarters can eat up lots of sorrow. I built a lot of things on the old ranch to take up some spaces in my life. It's good therapy.”

“Those boys are like your sons, aren't they?”

“And they're a lot better than their father. He was a dreamer. My dad was a hard worker and didn't know when to quit. That's what killed him, 'cause he came home the last time and knew nothing. Dad's brother Mark—well, I figured he'd show up some day. He was supposedly killed at the end of the war—but there were no records in those last days. I expected to look up one day and he'd ride in on a good horse. But he never did. He does now, they'll laugh at him.”

“Will he come out here and find you?”

“I always thought he'd be back. Guess he won't never do that now. It's been over seven years.”

“Does your aunt think he is alive?”

“My aunt is contrary. Spoiled. I sent her back to Louisiana once and she discovered that the white folks didn't live much better back there than their ex-slaves. Some hired killers grabbed her and thought she was Susie. I ran them down and brought them in for the law.”

“What were they going to do to her?”

“Rape and then kill her. They thought she was Susie. Maybe sell her in the slave trade in Mexico.”

“Oh, my God, Chet.”

“It was grueling on her and I never wanted it to happen. But she don't chew my ass out anymore.”

She rinsed off his face with a warm wet towel, then dropped in his lap and kissed him. “I'm glad you're home in one piece and back with me.”

Later, Roamer came by about dark. He didn't get off his horse. Chet stood on the head of the porch stairs with one hand hung on the ceiling trim over his head.

“What'cha need, Hoss?” Chet asked.

“I don't think I'm supposed to stop and talk to you. But what the hell, I figure you know the answers that I need. What happened to the Artmans' money?”

“One of two things.”

“I appreciate any help I can get.”

“Either no one found it or it's buried in coffee cans.”

“What theory you hanging to the hardest?”

“His brother went over and found them dead. Knew where the three thousand dollars was at. He got it, then hid it before he went for help. I asked him how much money did they have and real quick he said three thousand dollars. I think he went and got some ranchers who he figured would lynch them as killers and the money never would be found. If you tell anyone that's my theory I'll shoot you.”

“I won't tell anyone, but you damn sure changed my mind. Never would have thought of that, pard. I can handle it.”

“How's the wife?”

He stopped, turning his horse around. “Feeling good. Getting closer.”

“Tell her hi and she has my sympathy for putting up with you.”

“Go get some rest, you look tired.”

“I am,” he said to himself and went back in to see his wife.

“Did you solve it for him?” she asked

“I'd bet so.”

Another busy week passed. Reg had not arrived, but Chet thought it was too soon. He had probably come on horseback to see the country. Bo was in the process of completing the Hackberry ranch deal via telegrams. Sober as a judge and bright-eyed, he even had sold a house to a new family coming to live in Preskit. Davis Green was his office companion that day. Both of the men were guarding him well. Chet decided they would also be very versed in the news from reading newspapers cover to cover. But his plan to wean Bo off booze was working very well.

The crew were building more corrals at the Verde ranch. He was anxious to move them north when the finishing touches were on the cook shack. Hoot was using it and bragged on the convenience of it all. In their spare time they greased the chuck wagon wheels and made some repairs to haul it up north when the time came.

The Fourth of July celebration was fixing to bust loose out at the grounds. He donated two beeves to the event committee. He met one of the top hands at the events, a handsome man with black hair named Tom Horn. Horn worked for General Crook as the number two man over the Apache scouts, but he always came to compete at Preskit. There was gossip galore about him living with an Apache squaw and his efforts to get the bronco Apaches to come in and surrender.

Marge introduced them a few days before things started.

“I've heard about you,” Horn said when they were alone and she was off to see about something.

“Not much to tell,” Chet said.

“Oh, you tracked down some horse thieves to a place called—Rye. I've been there over by Four Peaks and they said you hung them.”

“They say I did.”

Horn laughed. That day he wore a brown suit coat and white shirt, no tie. “I've been in that wild country with General Crook and his forces. It's damn tough country even for the Dinea.”

That was their word for Apaches—the people.

“I don't know. I went across it pretty quick.”

“Word also got out about you heading a posse ran down three killers.” Horn took off his hat and scratched his head. “I'd say you're a tough man, Chet Byrnes. There's one more about store robbers you drug in.” Horn shook his head as if amazed. “Why do they pay old Sims to be sheriff?”

“I have no war with Sims. I have two ranches to run.”

“No. These folks don't appreciate all you have done up here. I've done some of that work. It ain't easy.”

“Someone has to do it.”

“I agree. You came here from Texas, right?”

“I left Texas in the middle of a feud. Hey, you have a history book on me?”

“No, I just wanted to meet you. Your wife—” He tossed his head in the direction she'd gone. “My God, man, what a beautiful woman. Ranches, a darling wife, and you ride damn good horses—you can't beat that
mi amigo
.”

“They say you know Geronimo. Tell me about this man.”

The two men squatted on their haunches, shifting their weight from time to time. Horn drew things in the dirt with a stick.

“He's a medicine man. You know three times that old fox told me something was going to happen and by damn it did. He once told me Lieutenant Gatewood would ride up on a white horse to meet us. The army didn't have a white horse. I thought he was crazy. But down in the Madres here Gates came—his own horse got colic and died, so he bought this one from the Mexicans.”

“Tell me about your friend the Captain Crawford who got shot. I heard bits and pieces of that story.”

“Maybe next time. That was the saddest day in my life. Captain Crawford was a great soldier. Your wife's coming and I need to meet a man.”

They stood up and shook hands. “Horn, some day you may need to write a book on your adventures.”

“Take me a year to write it.”

“Maybe longer.”

“What will take longer?” Marge asked.

“Rubbing sticks together to make fire,” Horn laughed and then hugged her lightly. “You've got a helluva great guy.”

“I think so. Always good to see you, Tom. I'll tell dad I saw you too.”

“Give him my regards.”

They parted.

“What were you and Tom talking about?”

“Geronimo, mostly.”

“He knows those Apaches and has lived with them. He's also a helluva a roper.”

“I imagine so.” He chuckled at her swearing; she must be taking up his bad habits.

“What is wrong?”

“I love you and we better get home or Monica will think we died.”

 

 

In the morning he set out for the Verde ranch. Marge had things she wanted done at home and he rode his gray, starting out at dawn. He arrived and talked to Tom and the cowboys before they rode off for their day's work. Nothing sounded wrong and Millie thanked him from the porch of her new house.

“I love it, Chet. Just love it.”

“Good, you were supposed to.”

When he arrived at Susie's kitchen, May's baby Donna was trying to walk around and explore things. His sister grabbed a pot and cup for him, avoiding the child.

“How is the romance going?”

“Which one?” his aunt asked, coming in the kitchen.

“Oh, am I behind on the news?”

“Days behind,” she said, and Susie was busy frowning so Chet knew this gossip would be good.

“Mr. Hanager and his daughter Caylin were here for supper this week. And May got some hard candy from Worley—is that his name, dear?”

“His name is Waverly and it was just some hard candy. Nothing more.”

“And I met a man named Parker.”

“This house sounds empty already.”

“Not so fast,” Susie said. “None of us are leaving or planning on it.”

“Good. I was hoping we'd hear from Reg by now. But I guess he's still coming.”

His aunt gave a hard nod. “This place is not easy to find.”

“We are closing the Hackberry ranch deal this week or next.”

“Bo is still sober?” Susie asked with a smile.

“Yes. He even sold a house this week.”

“Will we all be at the dance this Saturday night?” Susie asked.

“Marge and I will be there.”

“Good. I'd like to have this family get together, we've all been so scattered. Now tell us all about the men who killed the Artman couple.”

He told them his story, then he and Tom looked at the ranch books. There was lots of outgo and only the beef sales.

“I think we can gather a hundred and fifty big steers,” Tom said.

“Where will we sell them and get a good price for them?” he asked his foreman.

“If they ever build a railroad we could ship them. Maybe we could sell them to the Navajo reservation?”

“That bunch down on the border and the Tucson ring has most of that beef contract business in southern Arizona for the reservations and the army tied up. Ike Clanton is the old man that rules that business.”

Chet had heard lots about the Clantons' other deeds, plus their mining camp business. They were busy down there. Tombstone was the largest city between Saint Louis and San Francisco. There had to be a market somewhere for their beef. Navajos might be a good market.

“Marge and I may take a trip over there and see what we can learn.”

Tom agreed. “If the railroad is coming, their work camps would make a good place to sell them.”

“I think that one is still coming from Kansas, then across New Mexico. But we can check on them.”

“Keep it in mind,” Tom said.

“No sign of the Hartley Brothers' cow expansion, is there?”

Tom shook his head. “I think you bluffed them out of it.”

“No, money is too tight for them. They haven't figured how to make any money out of all this range cow business. Too scattered to gather the increase and as far as they are from them, the more get eaten by folks who considered them lease money for eating their grass.”

Tom laughed. “I agree.”

“Don't scoff them away. They could get desperate and blow up.”

“Maybe they thought they could use that west country of ours to gather them and keep them in that region.”

“They will still need watching.”

“Where are you headed today?” Tom asked.

“Back to Marge's house. Millie is excited about her house. She never expected such a place. It is nice. Keep your eye out for my nephew Reg who may show up any day.”

“We'll give him a big welcome.”

“I'm excited. Oh, let's look and see if we are making any money hauling logs up there. You're getting good at the books. Look at the costs.”

“I am enjoying that. Susie is a big help and explains lots to me.”

“We may lose her some day.”

“I think he's serious too.”

“Don't get me wrong, I want her to have a life of her own.” Chet shook his head.

“Damned if you do, damned if you don't.”

They shook hands and he went home. Caught in an afternoon shower, he hurried his big gray for the house. He still got soaked and laughed coming in the back door.

She had a towel and dry clothes on her arm.

“Great rain,” he said, and hugged her.

When he looked up, Reg stood in the doorway behind her. He looked taller than he recalled.

“He asked in town where his uncle Chet lived and someone said, “Oh he lives with that woman out in Preskit Valley. ‘Lived with'?” She was laughing and shaking her head.

“Maybe we should buy a big ad that we are married.” He shook Reg's hand and then hugged him.

“You all right?”

“Long trip. I finally sold my horse and took the stage. I already saw you've got plenty of horses here. Yeah, your friend at the livery gave me a good one to use.”

“Frye is a good man. He has a new wife too.”

“Very nice lady. How is Susie?”

“Anxious to see you.”

“JD?”

“That is a big story. Let me change and we can go in and—”

She put a finger on his lip. “We are going to eat and talk. We just sat down when I heard you war whooping in the rain coming in.”

Reg smiled like he did that all the time in Texas. “We brought back our remuda that some men had stolen. The three of us rushed for the house and he beat us.”

They laughed. Marge took Reg in the kitchen and Chet changed.

Seated at the table after filling their plates, Chet told his nephew about his brother.

“I met Kay Kent last year at a dance and she was a good friend of Marge's. Everyone knew she had a problem; her husband wouldn't even dance with her. Marge knew more. Her husband wouldn't sleep with her anymore either. They had three nice kids and no one knew what his problem was. We think—” He paused and Marge nodded. “We thought she was at the end of her rope. JD came along and she convinced him to get her out of it. I don't blame her. So he took her and her children to the Verde ranch.

“When they started for town, we sent some hands with them. Her husband met them on the road out there and got into it with our men. He was drunk and a cowboy named Hampt took his rifle away and hit him over the head to shut him up. They said he was out cold when they took him off the road, and they kept his rifle. They sent a sheriff's deputy back to check on him and he had committed suicide with his pistol in the meantime.

“Marge and I went down there to check on them. We got a cold reception and JD was off checking on her cattle. Was that all?”

“I think she is upset is all.” Marge shook her head.

“I may need to go check on him.” Reg looked over his coffee cup.

“After you see Susie down at the Verde ranch.”

“Yeah, she'd beat me with a broom if I didn't.” Reg laughed between eating.

“There is an area dance and potluck meal at the Camp Verde schoolhouse on Saturday night, which is north of here. We will all be there.”

“She also has a serious suitor?”

Marge nodded like she knew all about it.

“Wow. How is May?”

“I don't know. Some cowboy gave her a sack of hard candy.”

Reg snickered. “What else do I need to know?”

“I'm buying a raw ranch up on the rim. Interested?”

“Oh, sure. I need something hard and tough to dig my teeth in.”

Chet agreed.

“You running for sheriff?” Reg asked.

Chet was taken aback. “Who told you that?”

“Marge had time to tell me all about your efforts to catch the criminals around here.”

Chet shook his head. “We have a stick in the office sheriff, who doesn't like citizens to do anything.”

Marge interrupted him. “He doesn't like anyone to solve crimes that he doesn't get the credit for doing.”

“I wish I'd been there at—Rye? To help you. I read that story in the newspaper Marge showed me.”

“Did your friend Roamer solve the lost money deal?” she asked.

“Sims will take that credit.”

“You are as much in Arizona's welfare as you were at home in Texas.” Reg smiled and shook his head.

The rain shower was over when Chet and his nephew rode for the ranch. On the top of Mingus Mountain, ready to go down into the Verde, Reg looked impressed at the vast valley.

He shook his head as if taken aback. “This is one helluva a big country.”

Chet agreed and they went down to the ranch. When they rode up to the main house, the two women must have been looking for them. They ran out shouting.