Ambush Valley (23 page)

She agreed. “I understand. We talked about it all the way home.”

Chet nodded. “I spoke to Roamer. I never asked about his wounds. He said Blake Ryder and another called Bender were the ones robbing the store.”

Times shook his head. “I never heard of them.”

“I imagine they were miners.”

“Sure, lots of them I don't know.”

“They have a good head start on us.”

“We'll get some descriptions down there tomorrow and then maybe we'll get a direction they went.”

“You don't have any ideas?”

Chet shook his head. “But anyone that moves leaves tracks.”

“Thank you,” Times said to Marge for handing him bowl of gravy.

“No problem.”

“One of my hands is coming to ride with us. I figure to leave about four a.m. We can meet you at the Black Canyon turn in the morning.”

“Thanks. I'm proud to ride with you. I will be there.”

“No, it's something we need to do.”

“Has the sheriff sent someone?”

Chet shook his head. “I have no idea but he didn't send anyone, really, the last time, nor the time before.”

“I know. So do many of the people in this county.”

“I'll tell you something when we have these two criminals behind bars.”

“What is that?”

Chet smiled. “I'll tell you that when they are in jail.”

“Oh, yes, I understand. This was a wonderful meal. I'm headed home to load up and I will met you in the morning.”

“Bring a bedroll, a slicker, and a rifle. Hampt and I will have the rest.”

“Thanks again. I will be there.”

Chet showed him to the front door and stood on the porch. “Ride easy, Leif.”

“Thanks, Chet.” He rode off.

Hampt arrived about ten that evening. Marge asked if he had supper and he told her, with a big smile, “I had it at the ranch before leaving. Thanks, ma'am. Is Roamer doing all right?”

“He was alive this afternoon.”

“How far ahead are the men who shot him?”

“By the time we get to Crown King, they'll be gone two days.”

“That's a big lead.”

“I agree, but everyone leaves tracks.”

“I'm with you. Jesus says I can sleep in the bunkhouse. You may need to get me up but I'm with you.”

“No problem. I'll get you up. Leif Times is going to meet you at the Black Canyon Road and ride along.”

“I don't know him.”

“Nice sincere young man.”

“No problem. See you then.”

After Hampt went to the bunkhouse, they went to bed. Four a.m. was going to be early and he wanted to be on the trail of these shooters. They whispered to each other and then laughed.

“Who in the hell will hear us?” he finally asked.

“I have no idea.” They kissed then went to sleep.

 

 

When he and Hampt reached the Black Canyon Road, Times was waiting for them. Under the stars in the predawn coldness, he introduced the two men and they rode on. It was a long ride through the pine forests over the top of the Bradshaw Mountains to the mining camp. Past midday they were at the general store where Roamer had been shot.

Chet introduced himself to the store man. “My friend, Deputy Sheriff Roamer, was shot here two days ago. I came to hear the story of who did it.”

“I told the sheriff.”

“He didn't tell me. I want to hear your side of it.”

“Two guys who'd been hanging around up here came in the store with masks. One was Blake Ryder and his pal John Bender. Ryder told me to open the safe and I did. I guess Roamer came in about then and caught them. They fired two shots at him and he returned fire, but he was shot by one of them and lying on the floor. Then Ryder snatched all the money he could and stuffed that in his shirt. They ran out and got on some horses and rode out.”

“Tell me what Ryder looked like.”

The store man looked at the other two. “You the law?”

“What did Ryder look like?”

“He's in his thirties, about six feet tall. Brown eyes, uncut brown hair. He weights about 190 pounds.”

“Dress?”

“He wore a dirty shirt. It was stained. And some brown pants.”

“How was it stained?”

“Tobacco.”

“Beard or none?”

“He ain't shaved in a week.”

“Hat?” Chet asked.

“Beat up.”

“Kerchief?”

“It was red checkered.”

“Suspenders?”

“Yeah.”

“What color?”

“I don't recall.”

“What kind of a gun did he have?”

“A bulldog-handled one. Not like yours. Round handle.”

“Holster?”

“No, I saw it was in his waistband when he came in before.”

“He ever say where he came from?”

“Yuma.”

“Prison?”

“He said Yuma.”

Chet turned to the others. “Anything else?”

“He have any scars?” Hampt asked.

“Some on his—ah—left cheek.”

“Now describe the other guy.”

“Small, five two or three and about thirty years old. Had whiskers like a rat. Brown eyes. He was the lookout. I only saw him once or twice before. They said his name was John Bender.”

“How did he talk?”

“Squeaky with an accent.”

“What kinda accent.”

“Foreign, he was strange.”

“Who shot Roamer?”

“I'm not sure, the place was full of gun smoke. My ears were ringing and I was afraid for my own life.”

“How much money did they get?”

“Three hundred and twelve dollars.”

“Which way did they go?”

“I'm not sure.” The man shook his head. “They rode brown horses.”

“Give me ten cents worth of hard peppermint candy.” Chet hoped one of the three of them would recognize the pair when they met up with them.

“What did the sheriff tell you?” Times asked.

“He'd get the men responsible for this.”

“No one went after them?” Chet asked.

“No. The only deputy we had was Roamer. He did a good job. But they ain't sent another one down here—yet.”

“Thanks,” Chet said, sucking on a piece of candy from the small sack. He offered it to the others and they each took one too. It was the only nice thing that happened all day since he'd kissed his wife good-bye. Outside on the porch, he studied the dusty street and cloister of log-slab buildings.

The two got on their horses and led Chet's. He'd told them he wanted to see the liveryman. A whiskered individual in some dirt-stained overalls asked him what he needed.

“The two men shot Roamer.”

“They run off. Never paid me the bill they had for leaving their horses here.”

“What kinda saddles did they ride?”

“They was dried out and curled on the edges.” The old man shook his head like they weren't worth much.

“They have good horses?”

“Looked like half-starved Indian mustangs.”

“Brown?”

“Yeah, they wasn't worth much.”

“How far would they go.”

“Not far.”

“Thanks.”

“You a lawman?”

“We're looking for them.”

He nodded. “Catch 'em. They shot Roamer and he was a helluva good one.”

“Thanks. I think so too. That's why we came.”

“My name's Nabb. Anyway I can help, call on me.”

He shook the man's hand. “I'm Byrnes, that's Times and Tate. We'll find them.”

Nabb waved at them. “Hang them somewhere and let them be a lesson for all of them would-be crooks to see.”

Chet mounted his horse close to him and checked him. “Where did they go?”

“Hassayampa to catch the stage, I figure.”

“Thanks.” He booted the gray out on the road and they left Crown King. In late afternoon, halfway off the mountain, they found a dead horse beside the road. Chet was trying to piece it all together. It was still a long ways to the stage stop.

At dark, they rode up to a ranch house and woman in her twenties came out with a .22 rifle in both hands. The stock dogs barked. Chet rode up until she aimed the gun at his heart. Then he shut down the gray. “Sorry to spook you, ma'am. We're ranch folks from Preskit. We're looking for two outlaws that shot a deputy at Crown King two days ago and robbed the store. Did they stop here?”

She shook her head, but he could see she was about to cry.

“I reckon your man is gone. We don't aim you no harm. Could we water our horses?”

“I'd—rather—you rode on.”

“Did those men stop here two days ago—”

Her knees collapsed and she fainted. He held his hand out for them to stay, dismounted, and went to her, removing the gun and setting it aside. When he got on his knees and lifted her into a sitting position, she tried to twist away, unable to look at him, and began crying. “Don't touch me. Oh, dear God don't let them rape me—again.”

His partners were there to help him. Hampt opened the door and Chet carefully carried her inside and put her on the couch.

“Ma'am, we want those men that hurt you,” Chet assured her. “How long were they here?”

“The whole night.” Seated on the couch, she turned her head away from him so he couldn't see her face.

“They leave at daylight?”

“Yes.”

“Did they steal a horse?”

“Two of them, and left me some old plugs. My husband will be so mad.”

“No, he won't, ma'am. He'll be glad you are still alive and those mad men didn't kill you. My name is Chet Byrnes, that's Leif Times, and the big man is one of my foremen, Hampt Tate. I ranch in the Verde Valley. My wife used to be Margaret Stephenson.”

She gulped, then said, “I have met her. I am Gail Cloud. My husband's Clay. He's packing salt to his cows that are up in the mountains for the summer.” She blew her nose in a handkerchief from her dress pocket. “I'm sorry to impose on you men. This has been the worst day in my entire life. Twice today I even considered suicide.”

“Don't do that,” Times told her. “Nothing is worth that.”

“Lord, no Missus Cloud, those two worthless birds aren't worth the powder to blow them up, let alone them drive you do to that.”

She nodded. “I know you men came a long ways today. See about your stock. I can make us breakfast—that's fast.” She sniffed. “Will that be all right?”

“I can take care of the stock,” Hampt said. “You show my boss man where things are and I know he can cook it and Leif can help him.” The big cowboy went for the door.

“There's grain in the barn if you need some.”

“No ma'am,” he shouted back from outside. “We've got all that.”

“I-I can make it.”

Chet agreed and was glad she'd recovered a lot. “Just show us and we can do that and you be the boss.”

Leif and she made the biscuits. Chet chopped up the potatoes and some onions for hash browns. He heated a skillet for them to fry in and worried about the flame under it heating it up. He put a couple tablespoons of lard in it to melt and went to cracking open brown shell eggs from a bowl she set out.

“You guys don't need a wife, I can see that. My, you have done this before.”

“Mrs. Cloud,” Leif said, “I need one. He has Marge.”

“Well, a nice looking guy like you could find one in a minute up here.”

“I have one in mind. But I fear someone has taken her.”

Stopped for a minute, Chet turned his ear that way for a second to listen.

“Who is that?” she asked, putting a big steel sheet with floury sourdough biscuits on it in the oven to bake.

“Chet knows her. It's his sister, Susan Byrnes. Well, big brother, what do you say to that?”

“My sister Susie has been a big part of my managing our ranch operations in Texas. She is a very outspoken woman and you may be right, Leif, she is currently dating a man who ranches near Preskit.”

“I know my competition, Tom Hanager—I know him real well, and if we ever can catch these two felons, I am going to pitch in and compete with him.”

Chet shook his head. The boy was damn sure serious.

“Does he know your father, Chet?” she asked.

“Both my parents have died. I guess I am the patriarch for the Byrnes clan.”

“See,” she said. “You have an in right there, Leif.”

Chet held his hands up. “I am not choosing husbands for my sister. No way.”

“I am intrigued by all this. Why are you ranchers doing this?”

“Tell her, Leif,” Chet said. The grease sizzled when he poured the potatoes in the skillet.

“How do I tell her nicely?”

“Tell her, she's a big girl.”

“The sheriff is an office man. It all started when Chet was buying the Quarter Circle Z. The foreman who ran it, Ryan, had everyone who dealt with him afraid. Even the owner in the East wouldn't come back out here. Chet bought the ranch and ran him off, but Ryan shot a good horse out from under Chet. Then he ran and Chet went after him all the way to Hackberry. Then he hired a man and his boy to haul them back. He's in prison now at Yuma. Sheriff Sims took offense at that.

“Then someone stole horses from Mr. McClure's place. Shot his foreman and another cowboy in the chase. And Chet got them.”