Between Hell and Texas (29 page)
Read Between Hell and Texas Online
Authors: Dusty Richards
The other letter explained that Reg, despite his mother's fits over the upcoming event, was going to marry the kitchen girl, Juanita. Obviously, Louise thought the brown-skinned girl was beneath her son's station in life. They planned to wait until he was back in Texas to tie the knot.
Must be no sign of trouble; Susie never mentioned a thing about the Reynoldses in either of the letters. Maybe she was concealing what was going on back there. No way they could go for months without an incident between the Reynoldses and his family.
Too late to ride back to the ranch. Chet chewed on his lower lip. And there would be too much temptation for him to ride out to Marge's place and spend the night. No, he'd played the game straightâdespite the notions in his head that passed through from time to time. Marge was a very tempting woman.
Still full from the magnificent late lunch he had with her, he went by Jenny's and drank some coffee. Told the bunch of hangers-on and her about the arrest deal, since the town buzzed about it. Several people walking on the street going over there stopped and thanked him as well.
Arms folded over her chest and her butt against the back counter, Jenny shook her head in amazement. “You're a jim-dandy kind of guy, and we've been needing you around here for a long time. When're you coming back?”
“I figure it will take a year to close out my Texas business. Tom Flowers is going to run the ranch here. I should be back next spring with my family and outfit.”
Smiling like she was pleased to the core, Jenny laughed. “We get lots of big deals that move out here. They don't pan out. But my, my you've done good here.”
“Hey, you've been a big help. Hoot takes care of the ranch boys and found me the crew. I won't leave for a few more days. But I need to get home.”
“Sure you won't eat?”
“No, Jen, I'm going to catch some sleep and head back in the morning. But I'll see you at breakfast.”
“We'll sure be here.”
Chet walked back to the hotel and took a room. Bigger fools than him in this world would have invited themselves to Marge's for the night. Damn. He undressed, then drew back the sheet and blanket. Windows open, he'd sure appreciate that blanket by dawn, for it really cooled off up here at night.
Better head back to the ranch at first light. What was happening in Texas? He tossed and turned, concerned about his family.
Chapter 27
Past lunch time the next day, Chet was back at the Quarter Circle Z. Hoot came out on the porch and smiled at him. “No problems?”
He dismounted and shook his head. “Not even a whisper of one.”
“None here, either.” The older man looked at the passing clouds. “Sure ain't rained either. Getting dry.”
Half-turning to check the sky, Chet packed his saddle to the porch. “None today.”
“Right. What else did you learn?”
“I saw a sign in town that they're planing a big picnic on the 4
th
. They're having roping and bronc-riding competition.”
th
. They're having roping and bronc-riding competition.”
“The boys will want to attend. Some may even enter. It's a big show. Folks come from everywhere to attend. Bigger than the county fair. The ranchers all bring in the saltiest broncs they've got for the cowboys to try to ride them.”
“Who runs it?”
“Ah, some town folks do part of it, and the rest just happens. The sheriff puts on two dozen extra deputies. You know them boys. They get drunk and then they fight. But they're all pretty friendly.”
“They do something like that down at Mason, Texas. Fire an old cannon off to celebrate the nation's birthday and boy, do the horses break reins if you ain't there to quiet 'em down.”
Hoot laughed. “The planners usually come around and ask for a fat yearling to barbeque. I bet they hit you up at the dance for one. Why, there's more cooks at that deal than you can shake a stick at.”
Chet agreed with a bob of his head. “As many as want to can go. Ryan in jail, it should be pretty quiet up this valley.”
“Sure. Boss, would you ride up to the Indian camp and tell them there is a crippled yearling up on Beautreau Creek that they can have to eat? He's got a star in his face. Boys said he must have got his hoof caught in a crevass and he tore half of it off. They asked me to do that this morning, but I'm busy baking a cake for Wiley's birthday.”
“I can do that.”
“Ride due west along the Verde. You can't miss the camp.”
“They know where that creek is at.”
“Yeah. They know this country like the back of their hand.”
“Alright, I'll get a fresh horse and go do that right now.”
“I better see how it's baking. I've still got to put frosting on it.”
In a short while Chet was headed west, and in a few miles he could smell the wood smoke of a campfire on the wind. Next he dropped down on the flat and rode closer to the river.
Some females screamed and before he knew it, bare brown butts were gathering up their clothes and running to the willows for cover. Most of them looked like teenage girls. Chet reined the big dun horse back up the bank to the next level to avoid any more scares. The camp wasn't like the Comanche ones with their tall, colorful tepees. They had small brush huts with pieces of canvas over them to shed rain and sun.
A tall Indian woman appeared. She stood much taller than the rest. Dressed in a white woman's blue dress, she acted in charge. Her dark hair was in thick braids that looked like they pulled on the corners of her large eyes.
Chet nodded to her and tipped his hat. “Good day. My name's Chet Byrnes.”
“Yes, you own this ranch. We are very grateful that you let us stay here. There is a sweet spring comes out upstream. The water is cool and healthy. Do you need a drink?”
He stepped down off his horse. “You did not tell me your name.”
“My name in English is Mary Green, but my people call me Tall Pine. The Indian Service gave us those names when they put them down on the rolls.”
This woman was educated. “Are your people Apaches?”
“We are Yavapai.”
“Are you part of the Apache family?”
“We have been.” She used the side of her hand to shield the strong sun from her eyes.
“May we go in the shade and talk?” Chet wanted her more at ease to visit with him.
“Yes.” She spoke the word so correctly he could hardly believe it.
At a safe distance, small children dressed in rags watched this white-eye with his cold, suspicious ways. The disturbed bathers or swimmers giggled from behind lodges. And a few old women with shrunken faces like dried apples and no expression watched their show.
“Are the men gone?”
“They went looking for game today, and took the boys along to show them how.”
“I see. There is a crippled yearling on Beautreau Creek that you may eat. I could go up there and rope him for you since your men are gone. Do you have a horse to ride up there?”
Tall Pine shook her head, standing under the leaf-rattling cottonwoods. “We have no horses. But I can run with you up there.”
“Run?” Chet frowned at her.
“Mr. Byrnes, if you don't have horses, then you learn to run.”
“I guess you do. Please call me Chet.”
“I will get the girls you obviously chased out of the river coming to see us.”
“I didn't knowâ”
“I am, how you say, teasing you.”
He laughed. But in a few minutes she had over a half-dozen girls, each carrying everything from old gray canvas to wrap the meat in to baskets to transport the entrails. Tall Pine pointed to the west and set to trotting with her army behind. Chet had to spur the dun horse to keep up on their heels.
Tall Pine pointed out the tree-lined creek coming out of the north. Chet nodded and then shook loose a lariat, setting the dun on a lope headed up the bottom. He had gone some distance when a dark brown yearling jumped to his feet. He might have been three-legged, but he could move. The dun soon closed in on him and Chet threw the rope over his knobby horns, then pressed the horse to pass him, and whipped the lariat over the calf's hip. The rope wrapped hard on the saddlehorn, Chet went straight left, and the steer did a somersault in the air to land on his back. To his shock, the woman and her assistants rushed in to keep the steer down. In the process, she cut his throat before he could even hardly bawl. As the last of his life ran out of him, her helpers avoided his thrashing legs.
Chet rode back and asked her, “Want to hang him in a tree to skin him?”
Tall Pine shook her head. They were already starting to skin him on the ground. Chet coiled up his rope and tied it on the saddle. These people were dead serious about supper.
His dun busy grazing, he went over and squatted down to watch them. “You have a good crew.”
“Your crippled horses and the big bulls have been very important for us to eat. Has the agent complained yet?”
Chet shook his head as her workers stood the steer on his back. With a sharp knife to cut the flesh away in his flank, another girl with a hatchet stepped in and cut off his hip bone. The skinned hind leg was soon wrapped in canvas. Two other girls were putting his entrails into a great basket. Another skinned leg was detached and wrapped up. Then the calf's head was detached with an axe, skinned, and also wrapped.
“We can tie some of that meat on my horse.”
Mary looked at first like she would decline his offer, then she spoke, “That would be very nice of you to loan him to us. To carry it would take us many trips to get it back to camp.”
Mary rose, and he saw the blood had dried on her hands and forearms. She went to the shallow creek and knelt down to wash them. Soon others, with their work complete, came to do the same thing.
Flinging the water off, Mary smiled. “See, not bad for lazy Indians, was it?”
“I never called you that.”
“Others have. Has Mr. Swartz been to see you?'
“No. Who's he?”
“The agent who is over the Camp Verde reservation.”
“No. Should I have met him?”
“He sent an Indian Police man named Gill to tell us if we did not move back to the reservation, he would put us in chains and drive us back there with whips.”
“When was that?”
“A week ago.”
“I will ride up there tomorrow and ask to see the food he has to feed your people.”
“There is none. His so-called month's supplies only lasted us for a few days. They were moldy and rotten. We were given two old toothless cows for a month's supply. They were piles of bones.”
“I will go tomorrow and see him.”
“I hope he does not harm you.”
“Mary, trust me, he won't.”
She nodded her head as if considering him. “Your cowboys say that you are a tough hombre. I can see that you are one. But don't let him hurt you because of us. I can tell you if he is at the fort by Preskit, go see Nan Tan Lupan, who is a friend of the Yavapai.”
“Who's he?”
“General Crook.”
“If I have to, I'll go see him. Let's load my horse.”
“Yes.” She clapped her hands and the girls fell in, almost without words. One of them took the reins from him and then pointed at her chest, then the horse. She intended to lead him back to camp.
Chet hoped they all did not run back, and he felt certain that they could outrun him.
At last, everything and everyone was back in camp. Mary very eloquently invited him to stay for supper, and he thanked her but said he needed to get back to the house. Besides, he wasn't too interested in eating raw liver and heart, an Indian delicacy.
“You must come again to our camp, Chet.”
He agreed and noted that all the blood from the meat had been scrubbed from his saddle leather. No doubt at her insistence.
How old was she? Twenty, maybe more. She wasn't bad to look at either. A very much in-charge, well-educated woman.
Chet short-loped the dun. They must be getting closer to the longest day in the year. In the morning he'd go see this Swartz.
Drive them home with a whip, his ass. He'd see about that, too.
Drive them home with a whip, his ass. He'd see about that, too.
Chapter 28
The crew was all at the ranch when Chet got back. Bixsby took his horse to put him up while Chet washed up on the back porch with Heck asking him lots of questions. What had Chet heard from Aunt Susie and a million more things. Chet dried his hands and smiled. “Everything is fine, they say.”
“They say?” Heck frowned at him.
“Yes, they don't want to worry me.”
“I bet that's right.”
“We'll head back there as soon as we get the deed recorded and things set here. I may speak to a banker. We need about a hundred more cows or some young stuff to grow out.”
Heck agreed and they went to eat. The conversation during supper turned to building a bunkhouse.
“We need a bunch of logs cut this winter and hauled in here. Any of you fellars part loggers?”
Wiley said he knew how to use a double-bitted axe. The others acted like cross-cut saws were poison. Chet finally smiled while blowing steam off his coffee. “I bet there's some loggers up by the San Francisco Peaks that would cut the trees down and you could haul them down here. Tom will need a residence for his family. You all will need a bunkhouse when my family gets here. My Aunt Louise will probably need a cabin of her own. The list goes on and on.”
“Charlie Simpson and his brother Archie are real mechanics with wood and building. They can build anything, and last I knew they were short on work.” Hoot said.
“What would they cost?”
“For lots of steady work oh, thirty and found a month.”
“Who can you send to get them?” Chet asked his cook.
“One of the men can ride over there and get them.”
“Do that, then. But it will take all of you helping them.”
The crew agreed, and looked relieved that part of the job was off them. Chet was satisfied that with hiring some craftsmen, he'd have better buildings.
No one was expecting the birthday surprise. Hoot brought out the frosted cake, and they really razzed Wiley about how old he was getting. Twenty-seven sounded like rheumatism was right around the corner for him. They laughed and ate the whole cake at one sitting.
Afterwards, Heck told him he had mixed thoughts about staying there or going back to Texas with him. But Chet explained that he needed Heck to go home and help him close out the Texas ranch deal. The boy agreed. They parted, with no time set for their leaving.
After the men had gone to bed, Chet sat out on the porch as the evening cooled down, and listened to some coyotes wailing at the moon. Hampt joined him.
“I been thinking about you. On my journey, I met a woman named Edna. I can't tell you where she lives, but I can draw you a map to her place. I figure I owe her a sack of pinto beans for her troubles in steering me onto their trail. Also, take her two pounds of coffee and a small sack of sugar. Hoot can fix you up. She may even need some things fixed around her place that she can't handle. May take you a few days to get it all done.”
Hampt nodded. “I can handle it. What's her last name?”
Chet shook his head, “Edna is all I know.” He made sure they were alone before he said, “Don't tell the rest of them.”
“Oh, trust me, I won't.”
So Saturday morning, Hampt rode out on a mission for the boss man. He left leading a pack horse, whistling “Yankee Doodle Dandy,” and had assured Chet he'd be careful crossing the rock slide. Also, if her man was there, to simply ride on. Chet was pleased that the matter was in good hands and he joined the excitement about the dance.
On the road to town, Chet wondered how well his big man Hampt and Edna would get along. Smiling to himself, he straightened and went to trotting his dun horse. Looking forward to the evening, he decided Marge would be good company to distract his attention from worrying about how things in Texas were going.
Heck was even going along with them. Cory and Hoot stayed home to watch the place. The crew left in mid-afternoon, planning to eat with Marge's bunch. She'd know better next time than to invite the entire Quarter Circle Z outfit to eat with them. They'd all show up.
When they arrived, Heck strung a picket line up for their horses, and soon Marge had Chet under her wing and swept him away. Her father, Harold McClure, spoke with him about the outlaw chase, and they had a double shot of Kentucky whiskey together to chase off the dust.
“Is it always this dry in Arizona?” Chet asked, with his throat cleared by the liquor.
“Sometimes it rains and you can't stop, too.” Marge's dad chuckled lighting his pipe. “Rains usually starts in June and we have scattered afternoon showers most every day somewhere in the mountains the rest of the summer.”
“I'm ready for some.”
“Oh, it'll come.”
“Tell me about bankers in Preskit. I met one at the Territory Bank where I stashed the ranch money. Are there others? I need make some improvements and to buy some more cattle.”
McClure took out his pipe. “How much money do you need?”
“Cattle and buildings and all? Oh, I'd say twenty thousand, and what I have should do the rest of the things I need done.”
“I'd loan you that on your livestock as security.”
“That's a lot of money.” Chet looked hard into the man's steel-blue eyes.
“I agree, but you have the livestock as your collateral, and that should get better with your herd additions.”
“What interest rate?'
“One percent under the Territory Bank's rate.”
“You have a deal. Thanks.” They shook hands. So his plans to build and add on more livestock sounded on the move. He wanted to find some more cows, but with not much time left before he went home, he'd be pressed to buy them. Maybe someone at the dance had some for sale. No matter, Chet liked her fatherâconsidered him a man who shot from the hip.
Marge and her help made a fancy spreadâlinen tablecloths, and silverware. The cowboys about jumped back like a rattlesnake was about to bite them from the shock of seeing the setup under the tent. She kind of herded them on inside and told them to act like they were at home. Pleased, she introduced herself to each one and they acted very grateful to be her guests.
The cowboys ate everything brought to them from the soup on. Though a few of them slurped it too loud.
“They really can eat,” Marge whispered to him as the roast beef, mashed potatoes, green beans, and fresh-sliced sourdough bread disappeared and were replaced by her help.
“Sorry I didn't warn you. Hoot spoils them.”
“No, I love it, they are dandies.”
Chet made a face at her. “Don't tell them that. They might misunderstand your usage of the word.”
They both laughed. Chet noticed that Marge's father and Heck shared lots at the meal. The boy didn't act as stiff in the situation as the men did.
At last, Bixsby stood up and swallowed hard, then said thanks to everyone from the crew. “Best damn meal we've had in our lives.” And the rest agreed. Then he offered for them to do the dishes, but Marge thanked him and said they had that task handled. A big relief swept over the faces of some of the hands. The dance came next.
“Do we need to stay and help clean up?” Chet asked her.
“No. I came to dance with you. The women will do it in a short time. Now I hear the fiddler playing.”
“Yes, ma'am.” Chet rose and gave her his arm.
And they waltzed. They polkaed and square-danced. He couldn't recall in years having that much fun or doing that many dances. Marge danced with some of the ranch hands. Chet danced with some of the ranch wives, including Marge's friend Kay whose husband ignored her. It was a shame J.D. wasn't there; he and the shorter woman would make a pair to dance together.
The dreamy night went on until a drunk made a scene on the dance floor. The couples began to stop and back away, in silence except for the man's threats.
“You're a worthless bunchâthe whole lot of you. Some of you been stealing my stock.” He waved a whiskey bottle around in his left hand. “I'm goin' to kill the next sumbitch steals a calf from me.”
Chet was to him in a few steps. He spun him around by the arm and gave him an uppercut with his right fist that raised him on his dusty boot-toes. He crumpled to the floor. The whiskey bottle didn't break, but some poured out on the floor. Wiley snatched it before much ran out on the floor, and nodded firmly at his boss. “Thanks, boss. You beat me to that filthy, mouthy rascal.”
“What do we need to do with him?” Bixsby asked.
“Haul him outside and tie him to a tree until he sobers up.”
The men crowded around nodding, and the moaning man was carried feet-first for the door. By then Marge was at Chet's side and drew his fist up to examine it.
“You break anything?” Her blue eyes looking serious at him.
Chet dismissed her concern. “He'd not been so drunk I'd talked him out of his business.” He forced a smile. “Guess he went all over meâcussing in a crowd like this.”
“I saw that before you even stepped up to him.”
“Sorry.”
“Don't be,” Marge's father said. “You did all of us a favor. That was Erv Holmes. He's a real loser. You need to be on roundup with him someday. He mouths all day and is always saying someone is cheating on him.”
Others pushed in to shake Chet's stinging hand and thank him. He hid any discomfort.
“Let's make the musicians play,” he said. “No sense in someone that stupid ruining a dance.” Marge's hand in his, Chet led her off at the first note.
“I saw a mountain lion move fast one time. You were like one. Wow, it don't take much to tick you off.”
“If he wasn't raised any better than thatâ” He glanced over his shoulder to be sure it was clear to spin her to the left. “Then he needed some lessons in manners.”
“I'm anxious to meet your family. They must be something.”
Marge whirled around the floor at his lead. Chet felt the anger drain out of his body and with his hand in the middle of her back, he felt her muscular, smooth movement. Chet could hardly wait to be back in this country as a resident. The fiddler sawed away as their feet took wings. He wondered how she learned to dance so well. Perhaps her late husbands had shown her, or he figured, as rich as her father appeared to be, she probably learned that in finishing school.
“You ever attend finishing school?” he asked softy.
“Do I show it?”
“Sometimes.”
“Oh, I was supposed to be a lady and marry some well-to-do sissy. Actually I wanted to ride horses and jump. Which I still do, but not publicly.”
“I always see you in a buggy.”
“I guess they reached me that far. Ladies drive, not ride, except on hunts and such.”
Chet laughed. “You're full of surprises.”
“So are you. Everyone stood around in shock, and you jumped in and solved the problem before it broke up the dance.”
Chet hugged her a little tighter. “I'm glad I did.”
“So is everyone here but Holmes? Let's get some fresh air.” The dance set over, he herded her toward the door. The bonfire blazing to light up the yard, he saw a young man step out in it.
“Mister, that was my dad you knocked out in there.” Feet apart and armed, he stood challenging him.
“I don't know who you are, but there won't be any gunplay in this yard. There's children and women all over. You want to settle anything, I'll meet you tomorrow in the daylight and we can continue this.”
“No. I want you now. You have a gun, go for it.”
“No.” Chet moved Marge back. “I said there were too many people here who could get hurt.”
Then Chet saw someone step behind the boy and smash him over the head with a gun barrel. Disarmed by the force of his attacker, who jerked the gun away from the boy's holster, his knees crumpled and he hit the dirt face-down. Then Sarge waved everyone back. “Sorry, Chet, I didn't think he had that much backbone to challenge you. We'll tie him up with the other one.”
“Who's he? The one who did that?” Marge asked from behind him.
“One of the ranch hands.”
“Whew, they sure back you.”
“I'm grateful, too.”
Chet reached back and took her hand. They swiftly crossed the yard to escape the questions and then were alone behind a wagon, standing in each other's arms. Before he could explain anything, she put her finger to his lips and then kissed him.
She buried her face in his shoulder. He could feel her trembling in his arms.
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