Between Hell and Texas (17 page)
Read Between Hell and Texas Online
Authors: Dusty Richards
Chapter 18
Chet went upstairs with his rifle and kept an eye out for any sign of dust on the road or movement, while his helpers fixed the meal. No sign of anyone in his field glasses. But he felt certain it was only a matter of time before Ryan and his force came back for their loot. The sun soon began to melt in the west. Supper consisted of biscuits and beans with fried, smoked side meat to season them, and they wound the meal up with sweetened rice and raisins that Tom concocted. Not half bad, Chet decided, recalling his sister's fine cooking.
With a few candles lit after supper, they began to count the recovered pile of bills. There were so many bills, they looked like chicken feathers at a fowl dressing party. Lots more money than Chet even imagined. Stacks and stacks of it in large billsâfives, tens, twenties, fifties, and hundreds piled in a mountain on the long dining-room table. Tom had only seen a few hundreds in his life, and it was Heck's first time to stretch one out and look at it. As they worked into the night counting and recounting, Chet began to realize that Ryan would not sit still and simply lose this much money. No way he'd let it go without a fight.
At long last, their tally showed ten thousand, four hundred and ten bucks. In the candlelight, seated on the floor, they shook their heads at one another. The great ranch robbery loot all stacked neatly on the large table, Chet decided there was no telling how much more Ryan had taken and used for himself.
“Guess he didn't have lots of places to spend this money out here.” Tom said. “Why, I couldn't have spent that much in my lifetime.”
“What do we do next?” Heck asked.
“We'll get a bank count on the amount to certify it. Then we'll have them put it in a safety deposit box until we can work it out with Talley who gets what.”
“That means we need to move it to Preskit?” Heck looked upset.
“That means, yes, we need to take it to the bank in Preskit.”
“You figure Ryan's going to be blocking that steep road up that mountain?”
“Heck, he may be standing anywhere he can to stop us. I'm not afraid of Ryan or his men. I understand your concern. But there are things that you must do in this world. This money is not ours simply because we took it from Ryan's wife, but we have a claim on it.”
Heck screwed up his face. “Things can sure get complicatedâfast, huh?”
“I agree. Right now, I hate to leave this ranch and have Ryan come back and burn it down in revenge.”
“There's some other trails that can get you up on the mountaintop and on to Preskit,” Tom said.
“How dangerous are they?” Chet asked.
“I've been over them before on a sure-footed horse like your roan.”
“He's a good mountain horse. Could you get all this money to the bank?”
“I could, I'm pretty sure.”
Chet used the edge of his front teeth on his chapped lower lip, considering the plan. He needed to remain here. With his experience, he could hold off any drunks that Ryan rounded up in the bars to attack the place.
“When do you want to leave?” he asked Tom.
“Right now. I want to be at the base when the sun comes up, or partially up the trail.”
“Ryan may already have guards stationed around the ranch.”
Tom shook his head. “I can avoid them. They'd expect us to go out by Camp Verde.”
Chet agreed. He simply hated sending someone else on such a dangerous mission that he should be doing. Tom knew the trail; he didn't. The roan was the most sure-footed horse he'd ever ridden except for a few he owned in Texas.
“Alright, we'll put this money in a canvas cover so it looks like a bedroll.”
Heck rushed over to get his, and unwound his ground cloth to spread it out on the floor.
“Deliver it to the bank president, Albert Tanner, in the morning. Have him get a count of the money and put it in a safety deposit box. It isn't mine to trust a bank not failing while the loot is in there. I want a receipt for it, too.”
Heck was shaping the stacks in the center of the roll. They brought him handfuls of money until the dough was wrapped much like a bean burrito about four feet long. Then they folded in the ends and tied it every foot with leather strings. Heck shook it several times and nothing opened.
“It'll work,” Tom said. “They won't know it's money.”
“When you come back, bring along four more cowboys. Hoot, who's eating at Jenny's place, will help you find them. I want all of you armed with riflesâget some and ammo at the big store. I'll pay him when I get back there.”
“I know Mr. Newman. He'll let me have them.”
“Good.” Chet blew out the candles. “I don't want them to see our moves if they're around the place.”
In a small voice, Heck asked, “Do you think they're out there now?”
“I have no idea, but we're not taking any chances.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Grab my rifle,” Chet said to Tom.
Tom frowned at them in the dim light. “But you and him will need it.”
“We'll figure it outâsome way. You try to be back by dark tomorrow with guns and hands. We'll hold them off till then.”
Tom agreed. “Fast as I can.”
Roan was saddled and the bedroll tied on. Chet listened and peered into the starlight outside the dim-lit grove of cottonwoods where they stood. All he heard were some crickets and frogs. At last, with the rifle in his scabbard, Tom took the reins and set out on foot.
Chet understood his method. The man wanted to be certain that he didn't run into any resistance out there, and he knew the place well enough to avoid them. Chet crouched to listen to the night insects, and thought he heard a horse cough that was not one of their animals. He crouched and Heck followed suit. Both soon had six-guns in their hands.
“See anything?” Heck asked in a low whisper.
Chet, creeping toward the house, stopped and listened. Then he shook his head. “I don't believe they're close right now. Let's get inside and bar the doors.”
“I'm right behind you. I bet you never thought buying a ranch would be this damn hard.”
“Heck, I had no idea.”
Inside, they barred all the doors and shuttered the lower-floor windows. Taking turns sleeping with the other one standing guard, they spent the night upstairs, ready for anything. Before dawn, in the coolness of the night air, Chet smelled smoke. It came from the southâthen he saw the red flicker of flames. The fire was near the gate, and someone was clanging some iron kettles. He really wished he had the rifle back. But Tom might need it worse if he got into a gunfight going over the ridge.
Chet hoped his man was well on his way upward over the range. No telling. He sat down on his butt beside the open window. They were out there blocking their escape or working up their nerve to attack. Maybe simply sizing up Chet's force in the houseâ big force, him and a twelve-year-old. He closed his eyes, hoping for tears to ease their dryness. Once again, he had himself in a real tight corner and needed to hang on until help arrived.
Tom could gather men, guns, and horses and be back before sundown, if he was still alright. The man had to be that, or him and Heck would be in a hornets' nest when Ryan figured out there were only him and the boy inside. Still, for the ranch to be worth anything to him, he needed to save this large house.
Oh, well, time would tell. He'd whipped the Comanche a time or two as little more then a teenager. This crook couldn't be any slyer than a Comanche warrior.
Chet would never forget crawling on his belly for a long way in the underbrush with the nine-pound Walker Colt in his fist. Expecting to hear a rattler any minute, 'cause he was in the Willow Creek bottoms near water, and they liked such places. A situation developed rapidly before him when some near-naked buck bent over to scalp Jim Cross, who was lying face-down in the grassâChet could see the face-down man's spur rowels from his cover. Then the buck straightened up, holding the blood-dripping hair, screaming like a madman. Chet shot him in the back of the head where his braids came from, and he could recall the greasy eagle feather tied in his hair. Chet still had that as a souvenirâat home among his things.
He heard a horse in a gallop coming down the lane toward the house. Hard to make out in the starlight, due to all the shadows under the cottonwoods. Then a bullet report slapped the adobe plaster on the side of the house. Chet stepped to the window and took a steady shot. The .44 bucked in his fist. The rider went off the other sideâhit.
We ain't sleeping, Ryan. Your decoy was shot. What now?
We ain't sleeping, Ryan. Your decoy was shot. What now?
Heck was up and in the room, keeping low. “Who was it?”
“Some dumb gunman who thought he was invisible, I guess. He wasn't.”
“Are more of them coming?”
“I don't hear anything but his horse running away.”
Heck made a puzzled look on his face. “Did he think we wouldn't shoot him?”
On his knees reloading the chamber, Chet shook his head. “I'm not sure of anything, except we took out one of his hands.”
Heck silently agreed.
Then a rooster crowed. There had been some hens and males around the house and pens, but he had never paid them much mind. Chet sat down on his butt on the pine-board flooring. “It's going to be a long day ahead of us.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Heck, I appreciate you. I didn't aim to get you in a mess like this, but you take in life what life wants you to have. Right now, it's us against them.”
“I know and I know why. It's that money. That's the glue going to keep them out there trying to recover it. Ain't that it?”
“Good way to put it. I know little about Ryan. Many people hate him, but I don't have any inclination how he thinks. Why he sent a man up here shooting like that, I'll probably never know for sure. He damn sure knows now that we're here, if he had any doubts before.
“Bring us some of those leftover cold biscuits upstairs for our breakfast and some water. With that pitcher pump in the kitchen, we should have water enough to hold out.”
“Right, I'm on my way.” The youth scrambled to his feet and he heard him rush down the stairs.
Chet used his field glasses and could make out the wagon and team parked down by the end of the drive. In the lens, he could see several women were busy cooking. The sharp smell of their cooking fire carried on the wind. He saw a shorter man remove his hat and wipe his forehead on his sleeve. That could be his manâa fifty-caliber Sharps buffalo gun might have brought him down, but Chet didn't have one of those, or any rifle for that matter.
“Chet,” Heck called up. “In the front hall closet I just found a Spencer rifle and tubes of ammo. There's two shotguns and brass shells for them, twelve-gauge.”
He took a quick look outside and at their camp. No movement. “I'm coming down.”
In minutes, Chet was working the action on the Spencer. A good, well-kept firearm; and when he looked inside the closet he saw a canvas bucket full of loaded tubes. Plenty of ammo. He should have searched the place better. They had fire power. He and Heck totted them upstairs. The boy went back for the biscuits and soon rejoined him.
The rifle, loaded by a tube that slid in the butt section, sat close by. He loaded both shotguns, too. One was a double-barrel Greener made in England, twelve-gauge. An expensive firearm, but accurate as any scattergun. The other, a new pump Winchester with a goose barrel. It probably had as much kick as a Missouri mule, but a powerful load of buckshot from it would damn sure stop anything.
Chet and Heck sat cross-legged and chewed on the dry biscuits, and washed them down with cool water. The firearms discovery evened the playing field.
Between bites, Heck said, “I'm sure glad I looked in there.”
“Hey, you may have saved our hides. Lucky breakâ” His speech was shattered by the crack of a rifle and a bullet shattering some wood on the window frame in their room in the southwest corner of the house.
“He must have a sharpshooter down there in the trees.”
The youth looked bug-eyed. “How're we going to get to him?”
When Chet edged to the window, he could see the remains of gunsmoke in a treetop about halfway to the gate. Grateful the wind had not begun to disperse it, he dropped down and drew Heck a map in the dust on the floor.
“That shooter is right here. I saw a large dead limb pointing east out of that tree. Take the Greener and go in the next room. Have the butt against your shoulder when you fire it and shoot high over that tree top where you think the main trunk is at. Then get down. I'm going to shoot at him, too. The range is long, but if we hit him, he may fall out of the tree.”
Heck made a serious nod. “I think I recall seeing that dead branch.”
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