Between Hell and Texas (3 page)

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Authors: Dusty Richards

BOOK: Between Hell and Texas
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Reg quickly agreed. “That's about all that we've not tried on him so far.”
“Good, let's do that first thing.” The horse matter closed, Chet excused himself and went with a cup of steaming coffee into the living room to the large rollback desk and swung the swivel chair in under his butt. His second-largest job, after being ranch ramrod, was keeping the books. A job that he hated worse than shoveling out a hog pen. He studied his list of items needing to be taken care of. He must make a payment to Grossman's Mercantile to settle the ranch's monthly account.
Among items on the bill was a glaring charge for three hundred dollars made by Louise for some special-order millinery items. A subject she'd never discussed with him before spending that large a sum. There would be hell over that between the two of them. No one else on the ranch abused his or her part in this outfit's finances except Louise. With her free spending to gouge him, he also knew she did less work than the rest, other than throwing her weight around on the other folks.
In a short while, with the house cleared out, he walked back in the kitchen for another cup of coffee before he went outside. Seated at the kitchen table, he found his father Rocky, head down, slurping up too-liquid oatmeal from a tablespoon. Disheveled, unshaven, he looked up and then shook his head in disapproval at Chet.
“Now, by nab, I checked last night. Wasn't an armed guard on duty nowheres around this place. I tell you, boy, them sneaking red devils will be in here and murder us all in our sleep.” He used the big spoon to make his point. “Them sonsabitches will swarm in here and murder us all. You can mark my words. You may be in charge, but you're doing a damn sorry job of keeping up the guard around here.”
“I'll check on it,” Chet said.
“Check on it, hell—why we'll all be dead. Bring me some more of that oatmeal.” He handed the bowl to Susie, who shrugged on the other side of him, looking at Chet.
“Was it alright? The oatmeal I mean?” she asked him, loud enough to overcome his hearing loss.
“Just right, darling. Just right.”
“I'm going to check on the boys,” Chet said, setting down his empty cup.
Susie gave Rocky the cereal and patted his shoulder. “Now you eat big, daddy.”
Chet saw her actions were to distract his father, and nodded his approval, then left. A cold blast swept his face first, and the bright sun did not much warm the air. The confusion and dust down in the corral told him the taming of the gray was in process. He climbed the corral rails, and in time saw the struggling gelding being laid on the canvas sheet. The running W was a device of ropes on his legs that, with two men behind him pulling on the ropes, could trip him down. Then the crew tied his four feet together with soft cotton ropes. His older three boys, hands on their hips, studied the helpless pony on the ground.
“Looks good. What do you call him?” Chet asked.
“George, for George Washington, who once rode a gray horse.”
Squinting against the sun, the three nodded in approval. J.D. said, “And it says in the Bible to beware of the rider on the gray horse.”
“I heard that. How are the fattening pigs?” Chet asked them.
“They'll be fat enough to butcher pretty soon,” Heck, the youngest of the three, said, about to bust his buttons with pride about the swine-fattening project.
“Reg, you better get the wood supply up for the scalding. Those Mexicans down there need the work and a share of the meat. We'll plan on it for next week.”
“I'll get it done,” Reg promised. “How long does George need to lay here?”
“You can let him up after lunch. If he don't tame down, do it every day for a week. He'll learn some time that we aren't to be messed with.”
“You small boys better go gather eggs,” Reg said to the two youngsters on the top rail, who moaned about it, but took his orders and, hang-dog acting, went toward the house for their baskets.
The four got down on their heels, and Reg asked Chet about the day before, while the younger ones went off to pick up eggs and were out of hearing.
“I was about as far south as our land goes. They tried to ambush me, but I made it to some cover and held them off.”
“Who were they?”
“Joe Clayton.”
“He's a brother-in-law,” J.D. said.
Chet agreed. “Adrian Claus.”
“He used to haul freight from San Antonio. They must have hired him.” Reg made a frown. “Who else?”
“Someone named Carley.”
“Frank Carley,” Heck said in disgust. “He did some day work around. Must have needed money real bad to join them two.”
“Three against one ain't bad odds.” Chet said.
“No—are they all three dead?”
“They're in hell shoveling coal for the devil, you can bet on that.”
“What will the law do about it?” Heck searched the others' faces.
“They may need to have a court hearing.” Chet shook his head, with no idea about the outcome.
“I hope that's all,” Reg said, looking sour about the whole thing.
“Here on, we just need to go in pairs. We need to add a few more tough hands to help us and maybe that'll stop their part of these ambushes.”
“Maybe,” J.D. added.
“If we can't stop them, we'll be forced to move out of Texas and find some new country.”
“I'd hate like hell to ever figure them damn worthless Reynoldses ran us out,” Reg said, and shook his head in disgust.
“It could be better than burying more of our own,” Chet added, and the heads around the circle agreed.
The gray horse struggled on his side and everyone turned to watch him. This would be a long, exhaustive struggle to convince this horse that he belonged to—
, and he might as well relax.
Chapter 3
Late that afternoon, Chet noticed two riders coming across the valley. He thought he recognized one of them—Sheriff Bob Trent. Susie came out on the porch, drying her hands on a towel.
“Who's coming?” she asked with a hard look at the far-off pair.
“Looks like one's the sheriff.”
“Does my hair look alright?' she asked, feeling to see if it was out of place.
With a casual look at her, he nodded. “You look great.”
“Damn you.” She gave him a shove on the back. “Chet Byrnes, you wouldn't tell me a thing that was wrong.”
“What am I supposed to do?”
She smoothed down her dress. “Nothing.”
“He kinda stopped coming out here. You discourage him?”
“No.”
“Sorry. Wasn't digging into your business.”
“That's alright. I'll go be sure we have enough food for them for supper.”
“I bet they'd eat fried grasshoppers and scorched armadillo if you served them.”
“Yuck.” She disappeared inside, and Chet smiled at his teasing her.
He stepped off the porch and went to the hitch rail to greet the lawman and his partner when they finally arrived.
“Howdy, Chet,” Trent called out. “This is Billy Moore, a new deputy of mine.”
He moved in and shook both their hands. “What brings you two out this late in the day?”
“Three dead men,” Trent said.
“Unload, get down. We can go inside and talk. Susie's busy adding more water to the soup.”
Both men laughed and swung down.
“He's teasing you, Billy,” Trent said. “She's a damn good cook, and I'd bet good money she ain't watering down no soup.”
“Good,” the man in his mid-thirties said, sounding relieved.
They took seats in the leather-covered furniture around the living room. Hats and coats on the wall pegs, they held a council near the crackling large hearth.
“They brought three bodies into Mayfield last night and I happened to be there,” the lawman began. “Tried to raise a lynch mob, buying whiskey for everyone, until I shut the damn saloons down and sent all of those drunks home.”
Chet nodded, leaning on his knees. “Guess you want to know what happened?”
Trent nodded. “We came out to hear your side.”
“I was checking stock in the south end. It was a cold and windy mid-afternoon. A rifle shot popped off and I headed like a flushed turkey into a dry wash for some cedar cover. They exchanged some gunshots with me. I saw one in an open spot and picked Joe off.
“Then the one named Claus come busting through the cedars shooting, and I got him. Number three was up on the ridge and swung around on horseback. He showed up in my gunsights and I used the Winchester on him. I think he was Carley. Happened so fast, I wasn't sure of much but the fact they wanted me dead.”
“Well, Carley, Claus, and Clayton are all dead,” Trent said.
“You see the corpses?” Chet asked.
Moore nodded. “We did before they buried them.”
“Any of them shot in the back or at close range?”
“One of them shot himself, they figured, 'cause he was left to die.”
“I was riding my own land, checking on my own stock, and they chose that site to die on.”
Trent made a hard face of disapproval, leaning forward with his hands clasping his knees. “I sure wished you'd came to me last night before they got everything stirred up.”
Chet nodded he'd heard him. “I damn sure didn't murder them, and anyone in this country except the Reynoldses will tell you that.”
“Don't make my job any easier. State of Texas tells me I have to investigate all shootings, right or wrong. It ain't for me to decide.”
“Who do you believe? Them or me?”
“Chet, we've talked about this feud between you and them for near onto two years. I have to try to stop it as the chief lawman in this county.”
“Good. You go tell them Reynoldses to stop trying to kill me and my family and go mind their own business. We ain't looking for trouble, but they can't do like them boys did and expect us not to react. If you shoot at me or my kin, you better have a coffin ready.”
Trent closed his eyes as if to escape the senseless business. “Chet, me and my few deputies can't be everywhere. For God's sake, let's try to avoid these damn shootouts.”
“When a man or a gang shoots at me on my own land, I'm going to protect me and my family.”
Trent made a deep exhale. “This has gone on too damn long. I'd like to court your sister Susie, but the situation of me being sheriff won't let me.”
“You're welcome anytime you want to come. I won't ever impose on your or her privacy.”
“Gentlemen,” Susie announced from the doorway. “Everyone else came in the back door to avoid interrupting you three, but the food will soon be cold.”
Trent shook his head, as if weary of the matter. “Ma'am, we ain't missing any of your sweet food. Susie, this is Billy Moore, one of my new deputies.”
She made a short nod and smiled at him. “Nice to know you, sir.”
“All my pleasure, Miss Byrnes.”
“Come now, you all can talk later.” She herded them inside the dining room with a nod at Chet.
Moore was introduced around the table with everyone standing; then they bowed their heads for the prayer. That amened away, chairs scraped to take seats and not much was said. Tension hung in the dining room that made everyone talk softly to the ones beside them or not speak at all.
Chet had no idea whether he would be required to testify to a justice of the peace or a grand jury, or the whole thing would be simply dismissed. One thing: the presence of the sheriff made things sobering, and even a cough drew sharp eyes from the others.
“Sheriff Trent is here because some men tried to shoot me yesterday. They failed and are on their way to their maker. He tells me that I may have to go in and testify in court. That is real serious business.”
Everyone big and old nodded. But his words didn't relieve any of the uncertainty written on the family members' faces.
“This will work out,” he added to his explanation.
“You have a herd to take to Kansas next spring?” the sheriff asked, to make conversation.
“No, after last year, I don't have much heart to do it,” Chet said.
Trent's quick agreement spoke for him, saying he understood that the last year's losses of life were bad enough. Full conversation around the room never really opened up. Moore, the deputy, spoke some to May, and for the first time, Chet saw her open up a little. More than she had done in a long while. Good for her; she needed to perk up when a man spoke to her.
The sheriff and his deputy left after supper, but not before the lawman warned Chet that there might be a hearing. When they rode off in the darkness, he and Susie stood on the porch in the growing cold.
“Still like him?” Chet asked.
Holding her arms tight, she neither nodded nor shook her head. “He's a good man, but we don't have much time for either of us to have a life of our own.”
“Susie, I can hire more help. We might not have as good a place as we have now with you in charge, but we'd live.”
She shook her head, and in the light coming from the window he saw her bite her lower lip. Then she turned without a word and went back in. He followed her through the doorway and closed it. Going over the repercussions of the day before, he stood inside the warm front hallway. No time, she said—that was a big part of his life. Without Dale Allen, the shortage of leadership was there; this was so even with his brother alive. Dale had avoided it most of the time—lucky that he had two great boys to help him. But nothing ever relieved his needed command—his allegiance to the—
and family kept him yoked as much as it did his sister.
He looked around the living room at the checker players and readers. “Guess we know we may have some court time now.”
“How will you handle it?” Heck asked.
“When they decide to hold one, then I better go to San Antonio and see a good lawyer.”
“Can I go with?”
He looked at the twelve-year-old. “We'll see, Heck. We'll just have to see.”
Ready to turn in, he headed for the kitchen where the two Mexican girls, Juanita and Sonya, were finishing up the dishes. May busied herself sorting pinto beans at the table to be sure there was no trash or stones in them. She looked up at him.
“Susie's gone to bed,” she offered.
Chet nodded. The evening must have knifed his sister deep with something she probably felt was over him. “Ring the breakfast bell. Good night, ladies.”
The two teenagers giggled and he left them. Hat and jacket on, he told the crowd in the living room he was off to bed. The chorus told him good night and he headed for the bunkhouse. A sharp north wind cut his cheek under his right eye, walking in the starlight for the bunkhouse.
How long since he'd been to see her—Kathren? Too long. Maybe he'd simply drop by and offer to get something for her from San Antonio. He rubbed his beard-stubble-edged mouth. Somehow, he needed to try and rebuild their relationship if it wasn't too late.
Susie wasn't the only one having problems with old loves. He had his, right along with her. And there was that big charge Louise had made at Grossman's on the ranch account—he still needed an understanding with her on that matter.

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