Between Hell and Texas (24 page)
Read Between Hell and Texas Online
Authors: Dusty Richards
Chapter 25
Sipping coffee, Chet talked to the kitchen crew, Hoot and Cory, as they worked around getting breakfast ready before sunup. He went outside the back door with his cup and studied the stars. Cool air swept his face. So far, the crew's estimate was about a hundred fifty mother cows with maybe ninety calves on them. Either they'd had lots of wolves, cats, and grizzly predator losses, or theft. His cowhands had not developed any theory that explained it. He decided he needed to really take a look at those things when he settled more of his town business.
The horses they found later were mostly crow bait, and Chet told them to take the starving Indians the ones suitable to eat. Like the horse bitten some time before by a snake, with a front ankle that was twice normal size, and nothing reduced it. In good flesh, they led him off to the camp along with other animals that bore problems too big to ever be usable again.
The number of good ones was down to forty-eight sound-enough horses. Chet would need to find at least thirty more head for the coming roundupâthe men felt they had all the ranch horses they could find on the range. More headaches to keep him in Arizona. This morning, he was going back to Preskit and eat fried chicken with Margeâhe'd promised her. Oh, well, it would work out.
Chet and Roamer left out, sharing the buggy seat on Marge's fine rig and leading their saddlehorses behind. Since they had the buggy with a lid, it would be easier to talk together.
“Your wife ever have that baby?” Chet asked.
“A big boy. We named him Ralston. She's doing fine now. Her younger sister came over to help her while I'm out chasing outlaws.”
“How many kids you have?”
“Four.”
“That's a nice-size family.”
“My wife don't think so. She wants a dozen.” Roamer laughed.
“My lands, Roamer, why so many?”
“She comes from a big family.” He put his dusty boots on the dashboard. “Says she wants lots of company.”
“Good luck.”
“I'll need it. Do you have a big place in Texas?”
“Not by Texas standards, but it's a good one. Live oak and cedar, like your juniper on the small hills, and clear water in the creeks. Usually have lots of water, springs, shallow wells. It's a great country. I hate to leave it. But in the case of a feud, you have to jerk up roots and move on.”
Chet flicked the team into a faster trot. Good horses, no telling what they cost. He could almost taste the fried chicken, cooking miles ahead.
“The Texas law couldn't stop them?”
“No. He's tried. They came from all sides of their kinfolks. Before I left, three of them cut me off out riding the range. Me all cold and hunkered over in the saddle. Lucky I busted my horse into a cedar thicket and we had a shootout on the south end of my land. I rode home alone in the end.”
“Whew, even sounds tough to me.”
“They ambushed my brother a year ago, way up on the Indian Territory with a herd of steers headed for Abilene. Heck hurried back and got me. He rode two horses to near death coming for me. Maybe rode five hundred or more miles.”
“Damn, I believe I'll stay here.”
“Good idea. I aim to.” He could look up and see the mountain's face and some buzzards on the updraft.
“I figured I'd have Ryan run down by now. He can't hide for long.”
They let the horses breathe and had a beer apiece in the same small saloon before they climbed the mountain. Roamer asked about Ryan being around there and the man shook his head. No answer there. Chet paid the twenty-cent bill, and they climbed back on the seat and drove up the steep road.
Near noon by the sun, they came down the lane to Marge's father's place. It was a neat enough outfit. The rambling one-story was made of logs and rocks. Impressive enough place. The Mexican boy Chet saw at the dance came out and took the horses. Calling him Mr. Byrnes politely, he drove them to the corral and promised to water their mounts as well.
Bareheaded, Marge came from the house in a blue dress with lots of ruffles, smiling big as all get-out. She nodded to Roamer and hooked her arm in Chet's. “Nice to have you two here. Lunch is about ready. Me and Malinda have been slaving over the meal all morning. Dad had to go to Dewey on business, so he's missing the best part. Eating hot fried chicken.
“I heard you have new baby boy, Roamer?” she asked.
“We named him Ralston, and him and her are doing fine.”
“Congratulations.”
“Thanks, ma'am.”
They washed their hands and faces on the shady porch; then after Chet took a good look at the wide rolling valley, he nodded. “Nice place.”
He took the towel from her and dried off. “You been alright?”
“Certainly. Are you hungry?”
“Near starved to death.”
Marge poked him. “We'll see.”
The great table was set for three. The woman she called Malinda had brown skin, with black-as-coal hair in a bun. Her droopy eyelids looked sleepy, but her dark pupils danced when she smiled. He guessed her past twenty and tall for a Hispanic, with a ripe body. She welcomed him, and then took both of their hats from them. “We are so glad to have you here.”
“Our pleasure,” Chet said, and put the chair under Marge at the table. “We're sure anxious to enjoy your ladies' chicken.”
Malinda began serving the bowls of food on the table, and the aroma of the freshly-fried bird parts filled his nose and tickled the taste buds on his tongue. Mashed potatoes and flour gravy, new peas, and sourdough bread a bear could have smelled from a mile away. There was little talking by the men until Chet realized Malinda had joined them with her own plate at Marge's invitation.
“Whose recipe?” he asked, chewing on a drumstick.
“We both cooked it. We do lots of cooking as a team. I help her when I'm home.”
“And señor, I miss her when she is gone. She really does help me.”
“Your father have many hands to feed?”
Marge wiped her fingers on a cloth napkin, then she looked up. “We usually have half a dozen besides dad at every meal. They carried their lunch today. They're catching some colts.”
Chet didn't feel as comfortable being with her as he had at the dance. Something wasn't as smooth, but what did he expect? They hardly knew each other. One night at a dance was nothing, but the notion bothered him. Maybe he'd read too much into their relationship. Still, things were not right, and he had no answer for his feelings.
The women served them each a big wedge of sweet cinnamon-flavored apple pie from dried apples grown on the ranch. After they finished, Chet wiped his mouth on the napkin and thanked her.
“I guess you are here on business today?”
“I'm sure Roamer is, and I have lots to do in town. So thanks for the great food, and it was delightful chicken.”
Roamer agreed.
Marge showed him to the doorway and let the deputy go ahead. “I'll get the horses,” Roamer said over his shoulder.
“Fine,” Chet said after him.
“Did today disappoint you?” she asked with her arm linked in his, standing beside him.
“I guess I have lots on my mind. Ryan, closing the deal, and what's happening in Texas with me gone.”
She nodded. “Will you be at Camp Verde schoolhouse next Saturday night?”
“I'll do my level best to be there.”
“Good. Come and bring your crew in for supper with us.” She stood on her toes and pecked him on the cheek. “I'll see you then.”
“Thanks, Marge.”
“You take care. Remember that Ryan is a killer.”
“I will.” And he hurried to his horse that Roamer brought in. Chet waved and mounted, then they left in a long trot.
When they reached the end of the lane, Roamer looked over at him. “Something wrong?”
“No. Guess I wasn't feeling real friendly today.”
The deputy nodded like he knew enough, and they rode on in silence for a long ways. Crossing over the pass at the end of the valley deep in the pines, Chet looked back and tried to put everything about her into a new perspective. What wall had came between them?
Once in town, after shaking Roamer's hand and parting with his companion, who was headed for the sheriff's office to give his boss a report, Chet went on to the post office to mail Heck's letter to Susie. He'd added a few lines about his ranch purchase and the lovely Verde River that flowed by the place.
A letter from Susie awaited him as well. Everything sounded alright, so he hoped nothing was wrong that they were keeping from him. Reports from the Johnson brothers taking their cattle north were all, so far, good.
J.D. was stiff from the gray horse throwing him. But everyone said he made a good ride. Gray was turned out until you come back
. He laughed, folded up the letter and put it in his vest pocket, then mailed Heck's letter with the clerk.
J.D. was stiff from the gray horse throwing him. But everyone said he made a good ride. Gray was turned out until you come back
. He laughed, folded up the letter and put it in his vest pocket, then mailed Heck's letter with the clerk.
“You enjoying Arizona so far, sir?” the stoic clerk asked.
“Yes sir. It's a fine place.”
“Too close to hell for me.”
“Where are you from?”
“New York.”
“Hey, what's wrong with Arizona?”
“Those drunk Indians lying all over. They say they are the harmless ones.”
“They probably are.”
“Why doesn't the government dress them different so you can tell them apart, the harmless from the harmful ones? Then you would know for sure which ones to avoid.”
“I don't know a thing about that. Thanks.” He left the post office before he started laughing and was two blocks away, still chuckling about a dress code for Indians when he went inside Jenny's Café.
“What's so funny, big man?” she asked.
“Oh, Lord. The postman wants the government to dress the mean Indians different from the harmless ones so he can avoid the bad who are passed out in the street.”
Jenny laughed, and two cowboys on the stools eating joined in. They passed it on to the cook who came out wiping his hands on his apron to learn the humor going on. He shook his head in disbelief. “That's a dude for you. Always got some damn answer to everything.”
“What can I get you?” Jenny asked.
“Kinda early for supper, but bring me a plate.”
“I've got it.” She put a steamy cup of coffee in front of him and some silverware. “How are things going on the ranch deal?”
“Fine, I guess. I need to find Bo Harold and talk to him.”
“He's at the Palace Bar.”
“You talked to him today?”
“He had breakfast here and said he was flush with money from some land deal and was going to play poker there today. So if his money is still holding out, that's where he should be. He even paid his long overdue bill here, so I know he has money.”
There were times Chet really enjoyed the big woman's friendly company. She was open and had a free way about her. He simply felt easy being around her. Maybe that was why he headed there at four o'clock in the afternoonâlooking for some relief.
She was back in a short while with his plate of food and some sourdough biscuits. The butter melted on the opened ones and his mouth flowed with saliva. When the two cowboys left, she came and stood with her back to the screened pie safe, her arms folded. “How is the boy doing?”
“Good. He's riding with a hand every day and having fun. He even laughs a lot.”
“I guess he misses his dad?”
“I'm not certain. He never talks about him. But Dale Allen turned his back on his family when his first wife died. He and Heck only renewed knowing each other a few weeks before they left for Kansas.” He put down his fork. “I guess that's why I brought him along out here. Him and his stepmother were having a row. Reg, my other nephew, was in charge while I was recovering from a beating I got from some hired thugs. Part of the feud deal. Anyway, he moved Heck to the bunkhouse, and we thought he was doing better there.”
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