Brothers in Blood (24 page)

At the livery barn he told the brothers, “By now, they know we're here. From here on, be careful every minute.”

“And they know why we came,” Ortega said with a nod.

“We need to keep up a guard tonight.”

“You take the first. Wake Bronco when it's his turn. I'll take the last one.”

“That sounds fair, but wake me if either of you see anything suspicious.”

Both agreed, so he sat his shift, then woke Bronco for his turn to listen to the night sounds.

An edge of discomfort went along with him to his bedroll. Not over the brothers, they were tough and would fight tooth and nail for him. It was the situation. An enemy he could not measure, nor did he know them on sight or their strength. And any unknown weakness they had that he could use to take them down. Sleep buried his concerns.

“We have company
, señor
,” Ortega whispered in his ear.

Colt in his fist, he nodded. “How many?”

“Five or six. They rode up and tied their horses a block away about a half hour ago. Then they went and drank some whiskey with some
putas
. I heard them say there are only three to kill. I cut their cinches and came back here. That three means us. And at dawn.”

Bronco joined them and squatted down. “What do we do?”

“Stealth. We need to get one or two of them before the sun comes up.”

“Bronco and I will handle it.” Ortega nodded and his brother stood to join him.

Chet told them, “Be back here before dawn.”

They nodded, then were gone in the night. He checked all the rifles to be sure their chambers were full. His cartridge pistol was loaded. He moved some empty crates to make barricades. Later, he put the stuffed bedrolls out in front so they looked like someone was sleeping in them.

The night was quiet, except for crickets and sleeping horses grunting. He shifted the Colt from his fist to the other hand and dried his palm on his pants several times. At last he heard his men coming back.

When they rejoined him, there was a crease of pink on the horizon. Guns at hand, and behind the crates, they faced the two open doors backlit by the budding dawn.

Ortega said, “There are only three left. The ones in back won't help them.”

“Thanks. We needed that advantage. Get down. They'll think we're sleeping in our bedrolls.”

“There they are!” Gunshots rocked the building and when the gunsmoke cleared, three silhouettes stood in the smoky doorway. The three bedrolls smoldered from the bullets in them. Their laughter rang out in the empty warehouse.

“We got them three
bastardos
,” a loud voice declared as they holstered their guns.

“Not yet,” Chet said in Spanish.

Three rifles shattered the silence. The three gunmen crumpled to the dust.

“We will go get the others,” Ortega said, and he and his brother went out the back door. Chet stood over the men still in the throes of death and kicked their guns aside.

Curious townspeople had begun to dare look from across the street. Women caught up their children and dragged them back to the safety of the onlookers. Then a few brave men ventured halfway across the street.

“Are they dead?” one man asked.

Chet was aware of every man in the crowd. He didn't feel a threat from any of them. “If they aren't dead, they're dying.”

“Those are bad men,” an older woman said, tossing her head toward them.

“No, ma'am. They're only dead men now.”

Ortega and Bronco came around the corner with five horses and two dead bodies on them. They dumped the bodies beside the others.

“We need their guns?” Bronco asked.

“Round them up. We need a wagon and a team.”

A man stepped forward, sombrero in hand. “I have a wagon and team,
señor.
”

“I need you to take my wounded man back to Arizona. I'll pay you fifty dollars.”

“I will take him for you.”

“Find two thick mattresses for him to lie on. I'll pay you for them. Meet me at the doctor's in thirty minutes. Now, where is the undertaker?”

Another man stepped forward. “I am,
señor.
What can I do for you?”

“I want them buried.” He indicated the men on the ground.

“Oh,
señor,
I will need coffins and services. Let me see, that would be—”

“Hey, I said buried. Ten bucks apiece and cover them up.”

“That is very unusual,
señor.
”

“Not for trash. I can get several people to dig a grave for all five and bury them for that. Take it or leave it.”

“I will bury them.”

“Good.

“Okay. Come load them up and you get the money.”

“
Sí.
”

Ortega returned to say the packhorses were loaded and ready to go, and the man with the wagon and team were there.

“Good. Take him to the doctor's office and get Jesus comfortable in the wagon. Make sure he has two mattresses. I'll be there after this man loads these bodies.”

“We can handle loading Jesus.”

The undertaker returned and loaded the bodies into a hearse. Chet paid the man, then swung on the roan horse. He scattered a handful of pennies in the street for the children. They rushed screaming to find them and he rode off.

Jesus looked stronger lying under covers in the morning coolness. Chet rode up to pay the nurse for her care. The woman took his twenty and thanked him. “He is a kind man,” she added. “I will pray for him.”

“Thank you,” he said, and rode after the wagon.

With few problems, they reached Nogales in three days, and a doctor there examined Jesus. He told Chet, “He is recovering and healing, but his body needs time. He must have lost a lot of blood. I think if he takes things easy, in a few weeks he'll be his old self.”

They loaded him back in the wagon and went on to Tubac. When they arrived at the Ortega ranch, everyone was excited.

Chet paid the Mexican wagon driver and thanked him. “You can stay and rest a day before you go home, if you like.”

“They say they will have a fiesta tonight?” he asked.

“I bet they'll have one for him. You're welcome to stay for it.”

“
Gracias, señor.
”

As soon as they were settled, Chet went over the mail. In his absence, things had been quiet. He read his wife's letter carefully. The bank had received more government money for the cattle. Things were smooth with Sarge, Tom, and Hampt. Everything was all right with Reg and Lucie. She missed him.

After a visit with his men, he left Roamer in charge and planned to catch the stage in Tubac that night. JD rode with him to town to bring his horse back to camp, leaving the party makers celebrating Jesus's return. At last, it was his turn to go home, carrying letters for their wives from JD and Cole.

“You still think a ranch west of here could work?” JD asked.

“You interested?”

“Yes.”

“Could your wife stand the isolation out there?” Chet asked him.

“I think so. If I can afford to send her home every few months.”

“Think on it then. Bo can put us one together, I'm certain. Be lots of work.”

“I like the warmer climate. This desert is different, but there's grass over there and it needs more water development. If you decide to do it, I'd like a shot at the job.”

“I'll consider it and talk to Bo some when I'm at home. This task force business suiting you now?”

“Yes, it is. I think people really appreciate what we're doing.”

“You've sure done your share to make it work.”

“Thanks. You have a safe trip.”

JD went back to the ranch and Chet waited in the stage office. Fresh horses were soon hitched for the trip to Tucson. They'd make one more horses change and he'd be in Tucson after daylight. From there, he'd take the stage north to Hayden's Ferry, then the Black Canyon Stage from that point on home. He'd damn sure be tired of rocking stages by then.

The trip was uneventful, with mostly drummers and one stuffy army officer going to the fort. Usually, there was at least one woman, but none rode this time. When they started up the steep grades north of Hayden's Ferry, he knew the temperature would drop sharply, so he had on his jumper and a blanket to wrap up in.

They arrived in Preskitt in the dark and Jiminez met him. They loaded his gear into the buckboard and the young man drove him home under the stars. On the way, the stable hand told him things were going smooth at the upper place.

When they reached the ranch, the lights were on in the house and several rigs parked around in the yard. Marge came out on the porch in a coat that didn't hide her growing pregnancy. They held one another for a long while and kissed.

“How is Jesus?”

“He'll be fine. He's getting his strength back. The doctor in Nogales said he must have lost a lot of blood. But he'll be fine.”

“You didn't bring him home?”

“Not to ride on those swinging coaches. My back feels broken now.”

“Come in. Everyone is here. I'm sorry you don't feel good.”

“I feel good enough to see you and the rest of our family.”

“Good.” She kissed him on the cheek and they went inside. It was damn sure wintertime up here—still cold.

Everyone was there—the expecting wives, Susie and May, and their men. Millie and Tom. Hugs and kisses from all, and he even kissed Monica who beamed at him.

His butt braced against the wall, he looked over all of them in the living room. “I can say it's sure good to be home. We still have more work to do down there, but we're making progress. I was gone a week to get Jesus and no telegrams reporting crimes came in.

“Jesus is doing fine, but it's a sad story. The girl waiting for him was kidnapped and sold. The priest said she couldn't stand what had happened to her and committed suicide. Jesus was evening the score for her and was shot in the back. Those men who did that to him no longer live in this world.”

There was a room full of nods of approval. “He'll be back to duty in a few weeks. JD is more himself than I can recall. He's anxious to have a ranch to run down in southern Arizona. Warmer down there.”

They all got a chuckle out of that.

“Chet,” Tom said. “I hate to tell you, but Hoot passed away this week. I know how he helped you get that ranch and what he did for the rest of us when you went to gather up this crew. We laid him in the ground two days ago.”

“Thanks. He was a great help to me and my start in the territory, and a good friend. I thought a lot of him. I know you must have given him a good send-off.” He looked down at his dusty boots and the room went quiet.

After a moment, he cleared his throat and turned to Sarge. “Are the cattle sales still going well?”

Conversations in the room started back up as Sarge answered him. “All our plans have worked well this winter. They have even been shocked that we delivered them on time.”

“We have a steady stream of cattle coming to us from the local ranchers,” Tom said.

Hampt spoke up. “I'm ready to plant when we get a weather break and it warms up.”

“I guess Reg and Lucie are all right?”

Marge nodded. “Their letters are cheerful.”

Susie agreed. “Our house is coming up, Sarge tells me.”

“I guess all I have to do is wait for the babies to get here. Raphael all right?”

“Oh, yes. He wanted to come tonight, but something came up.”

“I'll see him tomorrow or whenever. If you have a problem, you'd better tell me or it won't get fixed.”

Millie stood up. “I want to tell you how much I appreciate my house. Thank you, Chet Byrnes, we all love you.”

Susie came by and he kissed her forehead. “I look around and see four of us expecting. Must be the water out here.”

He hugged her close. “Ain't we lucky?”

“Yes, we are, brother. You be careful down there.”

“I will. Love you.”

He spoke to Tom and Millie next. “Sorry I missed Hoot's funeral.”

“He was fine, just slipped away peacefully in his rocker.”

“How is Robert?”

“The mill is still running near full capacity, and he's married, you know?”

“Yes, I remember, the tall blond girl.”

“By the way,” Tom said, “I bought those horses for the haying. We need to ship Reg the machinery and horses when spring comes. Sarge and Hampt have theirs and their horses. I can hire enough boys for those jobs next summer. I rented more alfalfa ground down in the valley. We'll need it.”

“Good. I count on all of you to keep these places going. Keep water development on your mind. People that succeed in this business solve those problems.”

They ate Monica's cake and goodies and then turned in.

In his own bed with his wife at last, he drew her close. “I was sure anxious to be back here with you.”

“Well, don't hold anything back; you won't hurt me or him.”

He chuckled. “I won't then.”

Marge said she'd stay home while he went to town and did his business. The cold snap had a good hold, and he rode horseback on one of her father's saddles. The big bay horse Jiminez called Baldy, because he had a white face, walked on eggs out to the crossbar. After that, he settled down and Chet short-loped him into town. The trip to town didn't even wind the big horse, and he stopped at Jenn's Café. He was mobbed by the two wives, and after kisses to his cheek, he handed out their much sought-after letters.

“How's Mexico?” Jenn asked.

“Dusty and poor.”

“Like always.”

“Like always.” He told her Jesus's story and about the task force.

“Sounds like you have it held down.”

“Only for a short while until some new warlord rises up and raids across the border again.”

“No one used to stop them. Oh, Hoot passed away last week. I knew he was bad off, but your people made him feel at home.”

“We did the old man right. I hate I wasn't back, but I'm certain he's forgiven me.”

“Oh, yes, I'm sure. What next?” she asked.

“We go back, for a while anyway.”

“I really believe those two girls are happy in their new lives. I hope so. I made some bad mistakes in my life at that age, but—aw, hell, I hope they make as good a deal as you have out of it.”

“Me, too.”

When he arrived at the bank, Tanner was happy. They had a nice visit over the growing ranch bank account. Ben at the mercantile smiled when he checked with him. He asked Chet to have a seat and closed the office door.

“Kathrin and I are going to have a baby. My divorce will be final any day and we'll be married. I never thought I'd have an heir. I'm lots older than you. But I'm about to bust my buttons, and that's because you saw something in her and gave her a chance.”

“I'm happy for both of you. You deserve happiness.” He reached out and shook his hand. “Ben, we're getting ready for hay. I guess all is well here?”

“Tom ordered more harness and it should be here soon. When will we ever get a railroad out this way?”

“It will be years away.”

“I suppose you're right. How is your outfit down south doing?”

“Fine. We're arresting a lot of thieves and murderers.”

He rode by Bo's and his office was closed. That struck him as funny and then he saw the note.

He remounted and rode to the doctor's office. He found Bo pacing the outer room.

“What's the matter?”

“Jane. She's losing the baby and I may even lose her. What will I do?”

“Stay sober.”

“I'll do that. There's the doctor coming out.” He turned and almost cried. “Oh, God, Chet, she's dying.”

“You can go in and see her,” the doc said, and shook his head sadly. “We've done all we can, but I fear you will lose her.”

“Thanks. Come on, Chet. I know she'll want to see you.”

Jane was always small, but she looked like a pale child under the white covers. Her voice was soft and rusty sounding. “Chet, you find him another. He don't need another bottle, but he'll need a woman to remind him of that. God, I love you both so much.”

“I'll do that, Jane. Trust me.” He squeezed her cold small hand.

“Good, then I won't worry anymore.”

Bo fought to keep back tears. But the power of God was sweeping her away and Chet knew it would be swift.

Bo fell on his knees, mumbling prayers to save her.

But that last ounce of life dripped out of her. Jane died.

He and Marge attended the services at the Methodist cemetery. Bo asked Chet to say a few words, and when the time came he stepped forward to speak. His words rolled out into the wintry weather on steamy breath.

“God brought Jane to us. She was an orphan who'd made her way here from back east. She married Bo and they had a good life, both finding strength in each other. His business expanded and she was the force that pushed him ahead. They were expecting their first child, but God needed both the child and her in heaven. But our father will give him the strength he gained from their union to continue his life as a sober citizen. Amen.”

“Amen.”

Bo touched his arm. “I will do that.”

Marge was overcome and told him so walking to the buckboard. “You find words that impress me a lot. Maybe that's why I married you. Where does all that come from?”

“Ah, I just try to let it come from my heart.”

“And you do.” He helped her into the buckboard, then wrapped her in a blanket. “Let's go home.”

“Yes. Let's do that.” He climbed on the seat and clucked to the ready horses. They went home, smartly trotting the team in the unwarming bright sun. Harness jingled and hooves padded the hard surface. And he had his wife with him.

“Two months?”

“Yes, they should be here then.”

“They?”

“I think at times they may be twins. Don't count on it.” She shrugged under the blanket. “I've never been this far along before. It isn't a lot of fun, but I look forward to having him or her here.”

“Well, you aren't the only one who's never been this far before.”

They both laughed and he drove up to the house.

They took a nap after lunch—an excuse to cuddle and make love. But who cared? He had lots of questions to be answered, and the unexpected death of Jane was another thing to think on. What would Bo do? Go crazy? Probably.

His days at home passed swiftly. Soon it was time to go back to the task force, so he kissed his wife good-bye. Jiminez drove him to the stage stop and he climbed aboard the southbound coach after sundown. Days were getting longer and he knew spring had probably sprung down south. Everyone had promised him flowers there after the winter rains.

When they reached the New River Station, the sun came up and showed him the fragile looking paintbrush flowers and a hundred more varieties in fairy-like circles that carpeted the desert floor. He recalled Texas springs, when the blue bonnets and the other wild flowers did that. How he'd loped through miles of it then. Maybe after the loss of two close friends, this was a good omen.

He hired a buckboard to take him to the ranch from town. Maria met him, surprised he was back so soon.

“Jose is here. The rest left this morning. There was a robbery of a shipment of silver and gold east of the Chiricahuas. Marshal Blevins said they needed lots of help over there. They said for you to wait here for their return.”

“I'll go see if I can help them.”

“They said to make you stay here.”

“Oh, they worry too much about me.”

“Then Jose must ride with you.”

“Maria, you will need someone here.”

“If anyone wants to die, we can shoot them. You either take Jose or you don't go.”

“All right, we'll need a packhorse and tell him we leave in two hours.”

She half laughed. “Good, he has time for his wife.”

“Will she need more time?”

“Maybe. Ricky is strange. I said too much. He will be ready.” She blushed, shook her head, and hurried off to get things done, holding the hem of her dress up as she ran for the
jacal
.

He laughed to himself after she left. Jose's wife must be different. Maria seldom complained about anything.

The two rode out in a long trot leading the packhorse. They had maybe a two day ride or longer to find his task force. No easy job. Jose never complained, so Chet guessed he'd settled with his wife. They camped that evening on Sonotia Creek near Patagonia. Jose was an efficient camp helper, and they soon had supper cooking.

“Was Jesus feeling strong enough to go with them?”

“He really did feel good and wanted to go. Ortega said he could rest in camp if he got tired.”

“Good, he's tough enough.”

“He told us more about the girl he lost. A shame.”

“He never spoke about her to me.”

“She must have been lovely.”

“Well, I have buried so many people lately, I hope that's over for a while.”

Jose nodded. “That is not fun.”

The next day, riding east over the open range country, he decided to take the pass over Muleshoe Mountain to reach the San Bernardino Valley where the robbery occurred. They pushed hard and stopped at a widow's place for the night, deep in the narrow canyon below Muleshoe Mountain pass.

She fed them and Chet went to sleep in his bedroll. He suspected the woman had other plans for his helper. He had no interest in her himself and soon found sleep.

Jose woke him before daylight. Squatted beside him, already in his boots and spurs, he spoke softly. “The border bandits have put out a reward for your death.”

“Which ones?” He sat up in the cool premorn-ing air.

“She does not know, but the way she explained it, they are offering five hundred dollars for the
gringo
that leads the task force. That is you.”

“We've really made some enemies, haven't we?”

He agreed with a smile. “But I do not think I can protect you good enough. I do not have Ortega's skills at this business. We need to go back today. This country I do not know, and it sounds like they have many out looking for you. If not, she would not know that much about it.”

“You don't trust her?”

“No. She is too easy to seduce. You know what I mean. She would tell someone you were here if they honeyed up to her. I know she must be lonesome, but she is too lonesome, huh?”

“All right, let's ride over the pass and down the valley.”

Jose pinned him with a serious expression. “When we come back, we will not stop here?”

“That's fine. But if I can help the men, I'd like to lend them a hand.”

“I have the horse packed.”

“You didn't sleep, huh?”

“No. Her word concerned me much about your safety. The last thing Maria told me was you are very important and I should let nothing happen to you.”

“Thanks for the concern. We'll be fine.”

“I really hope you are right.”

They saddled and rode off before a light showed in her
jacal
.

The steep canyon slopes bristled with junipers, and in the dim dawn light they looked to Chet like stations for ambushers. The hard climb shed stones under their horses' hooves until they reached the top and a cool wind swept across their faces and their sweaty hard-breathing horses. He looked back. The deep canyon looked less dangerous with them on top. The road went steeply off the pass into the valley below.

He could hardly imagine a heavy-loaded wagon going off this pitch. Obviously, though, they had, for some wrecked wagons' shattered remains could be seen off the edge of the road. His roan horse's stiff-legged descent agreed with his calculations. They reached the small village at the base and found a street vendor who made them some breakfast. She was toothless and smiled a lot while she squatted down cooking.

“You go far today?” she asked.

“Clear to hell,” Jose told her.

Chet almost laughed. She was getting no information from him. Probably just as well. If they had killers out looking for him, any information would be valuable to a poor villager.

“What is your name?” she asked Jose.

“Ramon Garcia.”

“What is his name?”

“John Smith.”

He paid her and they went for their horses. Chet said, “Let's go, Ramon.”

“
Ah, sí, Señor
Smith,” he said, and never cracked a smile.

Her food was not wonderful, but they ate the stuffed tortilla in the cool shadows of the canyon.

They rode on down the canyon where it opened up on the east side of the mountain into the desert flat. When they reached the next small village, Jose went into the cantina and asked about their men passing through.

When he came out, he told Chet they were there two days before. The bartender thought they went to Lordsburg, fifty or sixty miles north.

“Where would you think they'd go down there?” Chet asked, not satisfied they'd gone to Lordsburg.

“San Bernardino is the town on the border. I think they would go there. It has border entry. The pack train must have been going there to bring the ore in or out.”

“I'm for going there.” They set out across the flat desert. A land with less cactus and more grass marked with some mesquite, they reached the village in late afternoon.

Jose recognized a horse that belonged to his brothers at a hitch rack and reined up. “Get off your horse,
señor
. Someone might shoot at you. I will find him.”

Chet stepped down, though he saw no danger from the dust-floured residents of old men and women and some half-naked children. A bleak-looking place. Farther down the street were some adobe warehouses marked with an export-import sign.

In a short time, Ortega came out with Jose and smiled. He had several purchases in a sack.

“Good evening,
señor
.”

“Great to see you. Where are the others?”

“At the Peralta family ranch, about ten miles east. It is a good place to camp and I know the ranch foreman.”

“Any luck on finding out about the robbery?” Chet asked.

“I can tell you on the way, but everyone is fine. I don't like this place. Jose said they have a price of five hundred dollars on your head. In this piss-poor place, that is a fortune, and we need to move on.”