Between Hell and Texas (9 page)

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Authors: Dusty Richards

BOOK: Between Hell and Texas
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“Is that his horse?” Chet asked, already knowing the answer.
“It's Toby Brown's, alright. What're you doing?”
“Loosening their girths in case they get back to them and try to escape.” Chet pulled the latigoes loose on the nearest saddle.
With a grin, Reg holstered his Colt and joined him. In minutes, the girths were loose enough so anyone who grabbed the horn to get on would fall on their butts. The job complete, Chet heard someone coming. He held out his arm and both men backed quietly to the wall as the man grumbled about something.
Obviously unaware of their presence, he came into the dark shed. Reg stepped over and stuck his Colt muzzle on the man's back. “Don't say a word.”
“Oooh—” Trembling like a freezing dog, the short freckle-faced man stood shaking in his boots. “I—I—didn't do any of this—”
“Shut up. What's your name?”
“He's Cliff Thomas,” Reg said taking a lariat down from a saddle to tie him up with.
“Who does he work for?” Chet asked.
“Some of their kin.”
“I never shot no one. I swear—”
“Shut up. Who's at the house?”
“T-Toby—Cecil—”
Chet frowned at him. “Cecil who?”
“Crown.”
Reg shook his head. He didn't know the name. Chet did. “He came from New Mexico.”
“Oh. One of those three?” Reg shook his head.
“I think so. Is there a kid in there?” At Thomas's nod, Chet decided they were the two who had escaped from Kathren's.
“His name's Doolin.”
Chet turned his head. “Did you hear some boots running?”
Reg drew his gun and went to the door; then he fired his revolver rapidly. Chet swept up his rifle and moved to join him. There was only one target when he got past the door and took aim. The Winchester spoke and the man went down. No others were in sight.
“Guard him,” he said to Reg about Thomas and set out in a run. He stopped and took the Colt out of the fallen Toby Brown's hand. The man on the ground withered in pain. “Stay right there. You move and Reg will shoot you.”
Brown gave him a garbled reply. Chet dismissed it and ran to the porch. He hugged the wall. Had the pair gone inside, or were they headed for cover? The drip off the porch prevented any small sounds from being detected.
Past two shuttered slits in the wall, Chet shoved open the front door with his boot and stepped back. Nothing. Notions began mounting. They might not be concealed inside. Still, he didn't dare risk them not being in there.
Rain had increased. His nauseated belly told him it was mid-afternoon. With stealth he stepped into the room and flattened to the wall. Nothing. He dried his right hand on the side of his pants and re-gripped the wooden stock. Nothing but the pitter-pat of rain could be heard, besides his heart beating in his chest and breath flowing in and out of his nose.
The staircase was obvious. He searched the various rooms—nothing but a scurrying pack rat that made his heart stop for a second. Then, believing he'd taken the wrong trail, he charged the stairs with his six-gun cocked in his fist. The upstairs was empty. He raced to the window on the east side, but there was no sign of the fleeing outlaws. In the thick brush without bloodhounds, they'd never catch them. Besides, the rain would soon wash out any tracks. At the glassless window, moisture dampened his face. Those two hired guns had escaped. Damn them. He'd get them—they wouldn't be that lucky next time.
Back at the shed with Thomas tied up, Chet and Reg, not too kindly, dragged the wounded Brown out of the rain and put him on a canvas groundcloth in the shed. The man begged for whiskey. Chet ignored him.
“What did you do with the woman you kidnapped?” he asked Thomas.
“I didn't have anything to do with her. I swear.”
“Listen, if you don't want your ears notched, you better start talking.” Chet drew out his sharp hunting knife from its sheath. “Tell me. Now.”
“They stopped a ways back and I rode on. I swear I never touched her. They told me to build a fire and cook something when I got down here and they'd meet me at this place. There was no wood here, and I had no food to cook.”
“What happened to her?”
“I don't know.” He shook his head rapidly like it was uncontrolled.
“One more time, you damn sure know what they did to her.”
“I-I asked them. They all laughed, and the Kid drew the side of his hand over his throat.”
“Why did they do that?”
“How in the hell should I know?” he screamed hysterically.
“Reg, take the paint and ride for the ranch. The sheriff should be there by the time you get there. Tell him we'll need a search party to look for her body. Have someone bring a wagon by the road for these two prisoners.”
“What about those other two? Will they come back?”
“I doubt it. They're damn good at running.”
“But they don't have horses.” Reg began tightening the cinch on the paint.
“I think they'll steal some mounts off someone and keep going.”
“I hate to leave you here with them two alone.”
“I'll be fine. You be careful. The road will be the shorter way back.”
Reg led the gelding out in the rain and it circled around him. He ignored the pony's anxious ways and stepped up into the saddle. “I'll be back.” With a sharp jerk on the reins, he set him down. “Helluva stout horse.” Then he rode off into the hard curtain of rain.
Chet watched him disappear, and could barely see the house in the downpour. He found some dried jerky in one of their saddlebags and took a place to sit on the boards of the hay manger where the angled slats had been taken out. His rifle beside him, all he had to do was wait, and that would be hours.
The pair might circle and come back. Hard rain could be a real tough thing when a person needed to get somewhere and had no transportation. But if they came, he'd be ready for them.
“I've got to pee,” Thomas said.
“Well, pee in your pants then. I'm not untying you.”
“I-I can't do that.”
“Listen, I'm not your friend. If I'd had my way I'd've already hung you, but we're doing this by the letter of the law. So if you think I'm doing one damn thing for you, think again. You can rot in hell. I don't care.” He went to gnawing on the tough jerky. Rifle across his lap—
come on back you two, I'm itching to take you out as well.
Chapter 12
The late winter sun had set. The slicker Chet wore proved no cloak of warmth. He had put a blanket over the moaning, wounded man on the ground. The rain still dripped off the eaves and he thought he heard horses coming. Then the jingle of harness and the big Belgium hooves clopping over the muddy ground.
“Hey, Chet are you still here?” Reg called out.
“What took so long?' Then he laughed when Trent got off his horse, produced a lantern, and came inside to light it.
“Reg said there were four raiders. The other two didn't come back?”
Chet put his rifle down. “Nope, they ran.”
Trent handed the lantern to Reg and knelt to speak to Brown on the floor. “You'll be on your way to jail, shortly,” he said and rose to his feet. Brown sat on his butt, head downcast after Trent spoke to him.
“I never hurt no one,” Thomas confessed when Trent asked him. “They said we were only going to scare them
Messican
s off. I didn't know what they planned. I didn't shoot anyone or touch a woman.”
Trent rose, shaking his head. “Did he say what they did with her?”
Chet nodded. “He said the kid showed him that they cut her throat when he asked them where she was at.”
“I never did a thing.”
Trent nodded at the prisoner's words. “But you're still guilty. We better form a posse come daylight and search for her.”
Chet agreed. “Let's go back to the ranch. Is everything there alright?”
“Fine,” Reg said. “Susie wanted to come down here and help you. I made her stay home.”
“Good. You okay, Heck?” he asked, noticing the boy standing in the edge of the lamplight.
“Oh, yes, sir. Been some day for me.”
“You did good. Let's load these two hombres, get back to the ranch.”
Trent agreed with a wary head shake. “What did they hope to do?”
“To scare our farm help off, according to Thomas.”
“Shoot down innocent men and women—rape women. Who in the hell leads them?”
Chet chuckled. “Now if they tell you who that is, you'll have someone else to hang. Sorry I laughed, but this crazy killing business has been going on too long.”
Prisoners loaded, the extra horses on a lead line, Reg drove the wagon and Heck led the horse string. The dark night was hard to maneuver over the dim road, but Reg was a patient driver and managed to hold them in the shallow ruts.
Worn out, Chet rode ahead the three hours or so it required to get home. At the lighted front porch, Heck pushed in close to Chet. “Why does that damn Thomas smell so pissy?”
“Guess he had to go.”
Heck nodded, then he shook his head. “I'll put the horses up. I don't want to have to unload him. Yuck.”
“You can simply handcuff them for now,” Trent said. “We can lock them up after we eat. I bet she's got lots of food ready for us.”
“You can bet on that, sir,” Heck said. Then he started off, leading his string.
“We need to do something for Brown,” Trent said quietly to Chet.
“You want us to take him to the doc in Mayfield?” Chet asked.
“He's in my custody. I'm responsible for him.”
“Let's eat first. Then Reg, J.D., or I'll take him there. Sorry I have no feelings for the man.”
“I understand that, but I have a job to do.”
“We'll help after we eat.”
“Fine. Thanks. I know you could have shot them both. I appreciate your holding them.”
“No, I'd have hung them right down there where you found them. You would never have had to worry about them. Killing unarmed men and children, raping women, they damn sure deserve to be hung.”
“They're my worry now.”
Chet agreed, and they went inside the house.
The women rushed about to put the food out. How Susie and her crew ever put all this together after the day at the village, he would never know—but the food was spread out and he asked grace. Then all hands set in on the meal as the mantel clock struck eleven
PM.
After the last bite was consumed, the menfolk headed out the door. Chet stopped Trent. “I'll drive the wagon into Mayfield for you.”
“Thanks.”
“You ain't going without me,” J.D. said. “The rest can take care of this place. I've missed all the excitement.”
Chet took his rifle, in case, and he and J.D. climbed onto the spring set and took off in the dark for town. The clouds had cleared out some and Trent led the way on his horse. By star and moonlight the way went easier. Near two o'clock, they woke Doc up and carried the groggy, wounded Brown upstairs and put him on a table. Then they went to Trent's deputy's house and woke Charlie Hat up. After that they drove back to the doc's place and left Hat to guard the wounded prisoner.
The rain had quit. They shook Trent's hand, ready to drive back to the ranch. He thanked them and said he'd be back up there with help to look for the missing woman's body. Trent parted with them, leading his other prisoner, Thomas, back to Mason to put in jail.
“Did that damn Thomas piss in his pants?” J.D. asked, shaking his head. “He sure stunk of it.”
“I wouldn't aid him. I guess he had to. I had no use for him,” Chet said, clucking to the team.
The two took turns trying to stay awake and not drive off into some canyon or ditch. The mares were good and knew the way. The jingle of the harness and the large hooves striking the soft ground made a song. But Chet found it harder and harder to stay awake. They pulled over and slept a short while in the back, then woke and drove on in, hearing the bell ringing when they splashed through Yellowhammer Creek less than a quarter mile from the homestead.
Susie came out to welcome them. “If you two ain't too tired, breakfast is on.”
Stiff and sore, Chet jumped down and pulled his clammy britches from his skin and then hugged her. Good to be back. He wasn't sure he could eat, but a cup of strong coffee might clear the cobwebs out of his brain. She led him along to the dry sink and he washed his face on the back porch. Hands lathered, he shook his head. “Guess you and Trent had no time for a word.”
“That was about it.”
“You invite Trent to the dance?”
“No.”
“He's coming back to look for her remains.”
“We'll see.” She looked across the dark pens and outbuildings.
“Damn, I shouldn't complain. I haven't asked Kathren either.”
He stopped before they went inside and gazed hard at her. “Running a damn ranch ain't all it's cut out to be.”
“I agree. Get in there, they won't eat till you say grace.”
“Yes, ma'am.”
Seated at the table, he thought about the pair of killers who'd escaped him. Cecil Crown and the kid called Doolin. Blowing on the vapors over his cup, he wondered how far they'd run. He'd get word in a few days where they went through and he'd have a lead to chase them down.
“What are we going to do today?” Reg asked.
“Saddle me a horse and one to pack her body on. A sheet to roll her up in. I'll sleep a couple hours and be ready to ride.”
“I want to go,” Heck said.
“No, I'm afraid this will be a grisly job for anyone.”
“But I saw Dad dead—”
Slapped by the boy's words, Chet nodded. “Alright. You and Reg can go along. Reg remembers the way we went, is why I'm asking him. J.D., go and see if they need anything at the village. Get it for them.”
“I'll go with him,” Susie said.
Chet agreed. Then he went to the bunkhouse and his room. He sprawled face-down and collapsed. A few hours later he woke, rose, went out, and washed his face. Heck jumped up from a bench outside the bunkhouse and told him their horses were ready and Reg would met them at the village. He and the boy rode to where he waited for them.
Upon seeing them ride in, Chet saw Reg doff his hat at some pretty senorita and remount his cow pony. Chet joined them.
“The girl's name they killed is LaLana.”
Not expecting a good answer, Chet asked, “Ain't no one seen a sign of her?”
“I figured they killed her, from what Thomas told us,” Reg said. “I was hoping, since he supposedly wasn't there, they might have lied to him.”
Chet agreed with a stiff nod. The search process proved slow, and he dreaded the results of their efforts deep in his gut. They rode up various side canyons and sidetracked until, in late afternoon, Heck spotted some turkey buzzards.
“They're up on the next ridge.” Heck came riding in fast, reining up and setting his horse down hard.
In a quick agreement, they put Heck in the lead and tore out of the cedars. Hooves scrambled over the rock ledges and soon gained the overlook; then they rode off to the right. Chet decided this was where Thomas probably parted with them. He pushed in behind Heck as half a dozen vultures took off from the ground in a clearing and exposed her naked body.
Filled with rage over their eating on her corpse, Reg began to shoot vultures. He emptied his revolver at them, and several fell to the ground, squawking in an explosion of black feathers. Some wounded ones rushed for cover on foot.
“Sonsabitches,” he swore and slapped his empty gun away.
Chet waved the boy back, carrying the sheet to cover her. “Bring a rope to tie this on.”
On his knees to help and seeing the work of her killers, Reg swore again. “You're right. We should have hung them.” Then he shook his head at the sight of the gaping cut across her throat. “Damn them, anyway. Chet, they don't even deserve a trial.”
Chet stopped and steadied himself as they tied the sheet on with a lariat.
“Tough deal?” Heck asked, working beside him to tie her up.
No way Chet could swallow the lump in his throat. No way. He finally managed. “Yes.”
With her body loaded over the spare horse, they started back. Grim-faced, the three came into a line. Only a short ways back they met the sheriff. Trent saw the body over the saddle, and in a hoarse voice asked, “That her?”
“What's left of her,” Chet said and booted his horse on by him.
“Sorry you all had to do this, this is really my job,” Trent said.
“No,” Chet said. “This is every man in this county's job. Worthless trash like those bastards shouldn't live to see another sundown. That woman had a child who will grow up without a mother. Never recognize her. They don't deserve another breath in this world.”
“The law will handle them.”
“I know, Trent, but somehow, these things get swept under the rug somewhere. Hell, as some would say, they were just Mexicans. If the law turns them loose for this—their life ain't worth ten cents. Trust me, pard. Trust me.”
“Word came this morning those other two had stolen some horses and saddles from a bunch of cowboys and headed west.”
Chet simply nodded. “Let them ride. I'll find 'em.”
“I'll swear out a warrant for both of them. You want to put a reward on them?”
“I'd pay a hundred dollars apiece on each of them.”
“I can do that.”
“Trent, I need three good men that aren't scared of being in a shootout or sleeping with a six-gun. Reg's going need them to help him run this outfit.”
Trent pushed his horse in closer. “I guess that you're going looking for them two.”
“I may do that, too, but I really need a new home for the bar-C and I better get to looking for it.”
“Where will you go?”
“I ain't certain. Maybe look in Arizona. Heard the Apaches are about rounded up out there.”
“I've heard it's an uneasy peace.”
Chet checked his horse to look across the hills. “There damn sure ain't no peace here with them Reynoldses till they're all planted in the ground.”
“I'd hate to see you go. I'd sure like to court your sister, too.”
“Trent, I'm sorry you two haven't had more time together. But me personally, I'm loaded with family, babies, and I can't have them hurt. By God, there has to be some real estate somewhere that I can live in peace on. But I have no hold on Susie.”
“She won't leave you in the lurch. She told me so. The old man in the condition he's in, she has her hands full.”
“Kathren has the same problems, pard. She can't leave either. Life's dealt us some tough hands in this card game, but I know now there will be no peace for any of my kin as long as we live in this land.”

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