Between Hell and Texas (27 page)

Read Between Hell and Texas Online

Authors: Dusty Richards

BOOK: Between Hell and Texas
13.64Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
She shrugged. “It smelled so good I couldn't wait, I guess. Do you know why good things are always the prohibited things?”
“I don't understand why coffee isn't good for you.”
She smiled and shook her head. “I've been reading the book of Mormon and I don't know, either.”
“Is there a road north of here?” he asked her again.
“Yes, the Marcy Road is maybe a day's ride north of here. But it runs east and west where the railroad someday will run.”
Chet blew on his coffee, anxious to drink it. At last he dared a sip and agreed, despite the tongue bit, it was a rich-tasting concoction. There was nothing she did or said, but he felt wary about the spaces in their conversations. Like she acted as if she had something to tell him and didn't know how to broach the subject. He didn't know what, but he wanted to get on his way in pursuit of the horse killers.
“You know, it gets lonely at times down here.”
“I imagine it does.”
“I've had lots of company this week.”
He rose and went to refill his cup. “Plenty more. You want another cup?”
“No, you drink it. I'm not supposed to. You married?”
“No. But I am engaged to a lady in Texas.”
She bobbed her head like she heard him. “At times it gets real lonely up here.”
“I bet it does.”
“Mister, would you consider staying over a few days. Here with me. I ain't a wanton woman, but—”
“Edna, I simply can't. Those men shot my horse and tried to kill me and my nephew. I want them arrested. They're getting away.”
Edna made a pained face. “Then simply hold me for a few minutes.”
“I could do that. But don't expect more.”
“I won't.”
“When is your husband coming back with supplies for you?”
She pressed her face in his vest and hugged him. “That's why I feel so sad. I don't know.”
Sobs wracked her body in his arms, and he felt a knot he couldn't swallow behind his tongue. How did he get into these sticky deals? That bunch was getting farther away. Was she simply stalling him from catching them? Damn, it was uncomfortable as hell holding a vibrant woman against his body. Lord help me.
At last Chet excused himself, and she collapsed on a chair and swept the wavy, dark hair back from her face. “I'm so sorry. I must have lost my mind. I'll be fine. Thanks for what you have done here now. I won't forget you. I had no right to ask you to heal me.”
Then she buried her face in her arms and cried. He made her look up at him.
“You need to be strong. This won't last forever. When I get home, I will send a man over with some supplies and to check on you.”
“But what if Howard is here?” Her brown lashes flooded with tears sprung open. “No, no, you better not send him.”
“If your husband is here, he'll ride on like nothing has ever happened.”
“Thank you. You will be my best friend forever.”
Edna hugged his arm possessively and followed him out to Dyer, who was busy grazing on the new wild oats. He kissed her on the forehead, mounted up and wondered what Kathren was doing in Texas. Then he waved good-bye and rode off.
A half day later, Chet had been tracking them eastward on the Marcy Road when a crude sign said
P
EACH
S
PRINGS—FIVE MILES
. They'd turned off there and went north. The country was rolling, with lots of grass and sagebrush. Junipers and groves of pines dotted the country.
Peach Springs looked like some fresh-cut, rough-board buildings lining a short street that Chet knew, if it ever rained, would turn into a sea of mud. From a distance at Edna's place, he'd seen their horses. He recognized the bay, a paint, and two that he recalled. All stood hipshot outside a bar called the Eagle Saloon.
Chet checked his Colt. Five of the cylinders loaded. And an empty under the hammer. Then he decided to go in with the Greener cocked. They might have given up on him following them. He rode Dyer around to the back. Most such places had a rear exit for customers to go outside and vent their bladders. There he found a door half-open. He hitched Dyer, then drew the double-barrel out of the boot and loaded both tubes. Dodging the heaps of discarded brown bottles, he climbed the three steps quietly. He listened. He could hear a slur or two, like they'd had enough to drink. Good. Drunks were reckless and usually poor shots.
The hall gave a clear shot down a short way to the main part, where Chet decided they were all standing at the bar. He eased inside, and on soft footfall was soon in sight of the five men.
Was that all of them? Chet had to be certain. When he stepped inside the barroom, the bartender saw him first and his blue eyes widened in shock. Then the others.
“What's going—”
“If you ain't wanting buckshot in you, put your hands on the bar. One wrong move and you're going to meet your maker. Bartender, you get around out here, too.”
They obeyed, and so did the white-shirted man.
Ryan twisted some. “You ain't the damn law, you can't arrest us.”
“Face the back bar, and move again like that, I'll kill you. I don't need to be the law, I'm taking all of you in. Not you, bartender.”
Shotgun in his right hand, Chet went down the row, disarming them. Their handguns on the floor, he kicked them aside. Then he drew another from the next man's holster. At last he felt they were partially disarmed, and herded them to the doorway under a barrage of questions about how he was getting them back and what for. He ignored them and used the Greener for a prod. He made them lie on the ground outside. With care, he tied each man's hands behind his back with his own neckerchief.
Chet had drawn a small, curious crowd. He spotted a boy in a one-strap pair of overalls, looking over things. “Come over here. I want you to go down to that store and buy me a hundred feet of light chain and five padlocks. Here's the money. If you can get back here in five minutes with it, I'll pay you two dollars.”
“You the law, mister?” The youth peered hard at Chet.
He nodded privately at him.
“I thought so. I want them two bucks.” He left on the fly.
“Hell, anyone would have gone for that much money,” a bystander said, and spat tobacco off to the side.
Chet nodded at him.
“Let's talk deals,” Ryan said from his place lying on his belly. “I've got some money I could pay you.”
“You mean pay for my horse?”
“I mean pay you to forget this entire thing.”
Chet's mind went to work on how he'd ever get them back to Preskit. “No deal. Anyone got a wagon and team? I'll pay a hundred dollars for them to carry these men to Preskit.”
No one moved or offered him any help. Then a tall, thin man with gray hair stepped out. “Make it two hundred, and me and my boy will go with you.”
“Go get him and the rig. I'll pay you half now and the rest in Preskit.”
The man nodded. “I'll be back in an hour.”
“Bring your bedrolls. I'll get us supplies.”
With a store clerk helping him carry it, the boy came back with the chain. Chet made a tight loop in the chain and then locked it around the first man's throat; then he did the next one with about eight feet between them. Ryan started to protest, and he rapped him hard over the head with the barrel of his .44.
“One more move like that and they'll have to carry you.” Chet clicked the brass lock shut and Ryan coughed, but he didn't try anything else. Their hands tied behind their backs, he soon jerked each one to his feet. They looked downcast as he jammed their hats on their heads.
“Now the rules are, if you try anything I'll shoot you, and maybe the man beside you as well. So you will have to make everyone behave or risk your own life. Do you understand me?”
Their dull yeses told him it would be a long trip back to Preskit. And he would certainly miss the Saturday night dance in Camp Verde—maybe Mrs. Christianson would understand. But he really needed to get back to Texas. This business of him buying the ranch must surely be over soon.
Nick Donaldson and his eighteen-year-old son Troy were back with the wagon and team in the time promised. Chet had ordered enough food from the store to keep his bunch fed for a week. They only had to load the supplies into the wagon and then get his prisoners on board. With the chains in place on each of them, Chet untied their hands, but promised them that any slipup or incident, and they'd be bound hand and foot. The bartender brought him their guns and, in a tow sack, he hung them on his saddlehorn.
Nick said he'd drive the large team of black Shires. Troy would ride and lead the outlaws' ponies. Nick, wearing his best felt hat and a new pair of overalls, clucked to the big horses and they were underway. Chet wondered what Edna was doing. She'd sure been surprised to learn how swiftly he had caught them unaware and had them in chain-gang fashion, where they'd stay until they got to the Yavapai County courthouse in Preskit.
Nick explained they'd have to go east to the base of the San Francisco Peaks and south on the military road to Camp Verde. Then go up over the hump to Preskit. He judged the trip as requiring five or six days and waved away Chet's offer to pay him half of the fare. He'd get it all later.
The big horses made lots of miles, and Chet bought grain for them at an outpost to keep them churning up dust. His prisoners drew some stares at the isolated places where they stopped. Chet had a chance to see this higher range country, and liked the grass and grazing conditions. Maybe summer stock in this country and winter them in the valley. Nick said many years they got too much snow this close to the peaks, and if he left them up there, he would have to feed them hay.
By Chet's count they had been on the way three and a half days when they headed south for the valley. Nick promised they'd be in the valley in another long day.
After dark, on schedule, they pulled up into the ranch yard. Hoot came out with a lamp. “Where in tarnation have you been? Boys been riding looking all over for ya. What'cha got with you?”
“Ryan and his gang.”
“Uncle Chet? Uncle Chet, you alright?” Heck came blazing out of the house and tackled him around the waist. “I was plumb worried they'd kilt you.”
The rest of the boys were up and busy peering at the prisoners, using candle reflectors.
“Why if it ain't ole Ryan,” Bixsby said, looking hard at his ex-boss. “They've got you going right where they ought to have you. In jail.”
Chet introduced Nick and Troy, then told Hoot they all needed to be fed.
“If I had some slop and moldy bread I'd make that sumbitch eat it. I really would. Cory, you go stoke the stove. We've got some food fixing to do.”
“Yes, siree. You hear the boss arrested all them outlaws hisself?”
“Ain't nothing he ain't done before. Now quit palavering, we've got work to do.”
Tom asked Chet what they needed to do for him.
“Guard the prisoners and let us three have a night's sleep. We've been on the road a while.”
“We can do that,” Bixsby said. “Mrs. Christianson sure asked about you Saturday night. Couldn't hardly believe we didn't know where you were.”
“Nothing I could do about that. I trailed them to a place called Peach Springs, then Nick and his boy hauled them back from there.”
Wiley closed his eyes and stared in disbelief at him. “That's way up on the Marcy Road, isn't it?”
“Yes.”
“Heavens, you were a couple hundred miles away from here. No wonder we never found you.”
“Where's Hampt tonight?”
“He took a pack horse and rode west to look for you two days ago.”
“Sorry, I had no way to tell anyone anything.”
“Bet Bo Harold will be glad to see you. He's been out here almost every day, asking where you were. Think he was scared you were dead and so was his deal.”
“I'll see him in town tomorrow. Thanks. Are things going alright?”
“Good. We expect to find a few strays during roundup, but I bet that count you have is close to being right.”
A big yawn overtook Chet. “Thanks, Tom. You want to foreman this place while I'm in Texas?”
“I'd be proud to do that. Could I move my wife and kids up here?”
“Move her into the big house for now, and we'll build a bunkhouse and one for you and your family this winter.”
“Wow, she'll be tickled.”
“I don't expect her to feed the crew either. Hoot can do that. My family gets here, we'll spread out some more.”

Other books

My Lady Rival by Ashley March
Notorious by Vicki Lewis Thompson
Life in the No-Dating Zone by Patricia B. Tighe
The Feminist Porn Book: The Politics of Producing Pleasure by Tristan Taormino, Constance Penley, Celine Parrenas Shimizu, Mireille Miller-Young
In Too Deep by Ronica Black
Identical by Ellen Hopkins
The Sunfire by Mike Smith