Brothers in Blood (26 page)
“Is that on your map?” Ortega asked. “I have never been up here. I didn't know these were here.”
There was an X on the map about where they were, but it was unexplained. A stock dog barked and a man armed with a rifle stepped out to squint at them.
“We may have trouble. Be careful,” he warned.
“Who the hell are you?” the rifleman asked.
“I could ask you the same.”
“This is Buster Weeks's ranch. I'm the foreman, Larry Masters. What'cha want anyway?”
“He owns this ranch?”
“You hard of hearing? I said this was the Buster Weeks's ranch.”
“I talked to Hans Krueger of Los Angeles, California. He says he owns this ranch.”
“Well, he fed you a line of bullshit. Buster Weeks owns it lock, stock, and barrel.”
“How many acres?”
“Hell, a section, I guess. I've been down here two years looking over his cattle. Ain't no Hans Krueger ever been around.”
“How many cows does Buster own?”
“You the damn tax collector? Count them yourselves.”
“Mr. Masters, you don't understand. I'm a US Marshal and I'm asking you how many cows he has out here.”
“About two-fifty.”
“Thanks. How long will it take for you to round them up and get your ass off this ranch?”
“You crazy? Marshal or not, I'm not leaving here till Buster Weeks tells me to.”
“Does he live in Tucson?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Because I'm going up there and tell him what to do, so you'll have to do it.”
“You don't know Buster Weeks. He'll blow your damn head off. He owns this place.”
“He may own a place close by, but this is not his ranch headquarters.”
“We'll see about that.”
“Where in Tucson does he live?”
“Got a ranch up north at Oracle Junction. He'll damn sure straighten your wagon, mister, about who owns this land.”
“I doubt that.”
They turned their horses to leave. The place was respectable enough and if it supported two hundred fifty cows, they could sure start there. There was a small lake lined by gnarled tall cottonwoods. So the supply of water had been there to keep them alive, and a good spring piped through a number of large round rock and mortar tanks.
Out of hearing, JD rode in beside him. “You really think this is on Krueger's property?”
“Yes, and that makes sense. Weeks, I bet, figured out he was gone from the territory and moved in to use it.”
“You know him?”
“No, but I will in the next by and by.”
“What next?”
“I'm going to hire a lawyer in Tucson that specializes in land cases and start there. I'll have Bo get an option to buy the land from Krueger, contingent on removal of all squatters, and for him to give me permission to move against them. That might shake him, if he fears lots of lawsuits will lower the value of this place.”
JD laughed. “That dumb cowboy back there didn't know who he was dealing with, did he?”
Chet shook his head. “How many
vaqueros
can we get to gather Weeks's cattle and drive them to Tucson?”
vaqueros
can we get to gather Weeks's cattle and drive them to Tucson?”
“A hundred enough?”
Chet shook his head. “Oh, that's way too many.”
Ortega mimicked him. “Oh, they are cheap workers.”
“He might sell them to you cheap?” JD threw in.
“He might just do that,” Chet agreed.
“I've heard about Weeks from somewhere,” Cole said. “I wish to hell I could recall where it was at.”
“I thought the same, but I couldn't name the place.”
“I bet it was in Texas. I'm sure he was in some big deal back there before we left.”
Chet tried to put Weeks name with different things to try to recall any past association. Weeks Cattle Company? Weeks Freighting? Weeks Commission Company? None fit, but he knew that name from somewhere in the past. He'd get to meet him, since he'd thrown the gauntlet down with his ranch foreman.
“Reckon he has any
vaqueros
working for him?”
vaqueros
working for him?”
“Oh, I am certain he does. I do not know them.”
“Ortega, if you rode up here tomorrow and stayed out of sight, could you talk to some of them away from the house?”
“No problem. If they ride out, huh?”
“I think they do. What does he pay them?”
“Twenty a month, maybe.” Ortega shrugged.
“You can pay them a few dollars for them to tell you how the ranch operates.”
“How many you want?”
“Two or three. But tell them not to worry, when we get the ranch they'll have work.”
“I can try.”
“They can use a few spare
peso
s?”
peso
s?”
“Ah,
sÃ
. That will work.”
sÃ
. That will work.”
“You're thinking now, Chet.” JD chuckled. “Boys, he covers every bet he makes. I'll bet we'll own the Rancho Diablo in no time at all.”
“We calling it that?” Chet asked.
“Damn right. And I hope the Fernandez brothers will all come work for us.”
“Oh, I imagine we will,” said Ortega. “Maybe only two of us. One can run our place at Tubac, no?”
“I'd say so. How many cows do you have now?” Chet asked.
“Two dozen.”
“I'll make you a loan to get your count to a hundred. Then you will have some income for the one that runs it.”
“That would be generous of you. What will you do next?”
“Ride to Tubac tomorrow to get hold of Bo. Go to Tucson and hire that lawyer and find out about this Buster Weeks.”
“How are we splitting up?” JD asked.
“Jesus can cook and ride with you two. Cole can go with me, so my wife doesn't bitch, and you three can make contact with those
vaqueros
. Then you three come back to Ortega's ranch. We may be back from Tucson by then and have the whole thing rolling.”
vaqueros
. Then you three come back to Ortega's ranch. We may be back from Tucson by then and have the whole thing rolling.”
“I believe we'll have another big Byrnes ranch operation here,” JD announced.
“You good at laying adobe bricks?” Chet asked him.
“Why?”
“Your wife is not going to want to live in a hovel out in nowhere.”
JD nodded slow like. “I guess I can sure learn how.”
They laughed at his reluctant reply.
“Hell, I called it Rancho Diablo. It may be that for me, huh? But if I have to, I'd learn how to lay adobes.”
“If you need a builder, I can get him and an army from Mexico to build it,” Ortega promised.
“Saved by the man,” JD shouted, and stood up in his stirrups. “Thanks, partner.”
“No problem. I want some of those unseen bachelor horses to break,” Ortega said.
“When they are ours, you can pick them.”
“Good enough.” The older brother's smile filled his face.
They made camp and Jesus reported the women were in disbelief that Chet would do all that for them besides the two deer, and thanked him.
“You missed it,” JD said. “We're in the process of buying the whole damn place. And we have squatters on some real good headquarters, running their boss's cattle.”
“Who's that?”
“Buster Weeks.”
Jesus shook his head.
“We don't know him, either.”
But we will run him off.
Chet knew he faced a large fight, but it could be won. And he had a few good hands in the fightâBo for one. And he had the money to move it. A tough lawyer came next.
Chet knew he faced a large fight, but it could be won. And he had a few good hands in the fightâBo for one. And he had the money to move it. A tough lawyer came next.
C
HAPTER
29
HAPTER
29
Marge asked their lawyer in Preskitt to recommend one in Tucson, then sent Chet a telegram with the name of Russell Craft. And that's why Chet found himself in the law offices of Jensen, Craft, and Rosewood.
The office walls were lined in walnut paneling and the man behind the desk was in his forties. Despite the warm temperature, he wore an expensive suit, with a tie and starched white shirt.
“What can I do for you today, Mr. Byrnes?”
“Do you represent, or does your firm represent, Buster Weeks?”
“No, but I know the man. Why?”
“I'm in the process of buying some property that he's squatting on.”
“And you want him removed?”
“Him and three hundred cows, plus calves, yearling horses, and people.”
Craft leaned back in his expensive rollback leather chair and tented his fingers. “Have you ever met Buster Weeks, sir?”
“No, and I don't care if I ever meet him.”
“They say he has a violent temper.”
“I'm not here looking for advice on my personal safety. I'm here to talk to you about what I can do to evict him.”
“Do you own the property involved?”
“I will have an option from the seller on it shortly and the right to evict any squatter.”
“May I ask where this land is?”
“Southern Pima County.”
“You are certain this man is squatting on this land?”
“No doubt.”
“How much land is involved?”
“Close to forty-eight thousand acres.”
Craft frowned. “My God, man, that is an empire.” “Eight sections, you figure it.”
“And the current owner?”
“A man named Krueger.”
“I have some roll-down maps. Let's look at it on one of them.” Craft went over and pulled down the map. He soon located the land. “Here is the property. Where is Weeks squatted?”
“See that X? Right there is where he's headquartering his operation.” Chet used his finger to show the spot.
“You have not spoken to Weeks?”
“I spoke to his foreman down there, Larry Masters. He told me to go to hell. He said Weeks owned the place.”
“It is obvious the X was there to mark the headquarters of that plot of land.”
“There isn't any doubt.”
“Would you like to speak to Mr. Weeks about amicably talking this over in my office?”
“We can start there. I should have a telegram within the next two days giving me authority.”
“I will invite him here, say Friday at two p.m. Where do you live, Mr. Byrnes?”
“Right now down at Tubac. But my ranches are at Presksitt.”
“Oh, isn't that inconvenient?”
“If he can't make it, wire me at Tubac.”
“Very well. This may all be settled out of court.”
“I'm not a betting man, but I'd bet you ten he won't agree to leave.”
Craft laughed. “You may know more than I do about this man.”
“No, I haven't met him, either, but I got the impression from his man that was not his way.”
“Let's say it is all a mistake and he thought he really did own it?”
“Let's say how he saw it was deserted and moved in figuring the owner would not be back and he could use it for free.”
“How long has he been there?”
“Three years, I suspect, from what his man said to me.”
“Where up north is your ranch?”
“Preskitt Valley, Hackberry, Camp Verde, and up on the rim east of there.”
Craft paused and nodded. “You are not an ordinary cowboy then.”
“I'm down here with a secret task force to halt the crimes committed south of here near the border. I work for US Marshal Blevins.”
“The new man?”
“He's pretty serious about putting a stop to it.”
“He obviously has a man who knows how to find them.”
“Thanks.”
“No, thank you. We will see what Weeks wants to do next.”
“Wire me.”
Chet left the office. Cole was squatted on his boot heels in the shade, with both horses switching flies. He got to his feet. “How did that go?”
“He's inviting Weeks to a meeting here at two p.m. on Friday.”
“He thinks that he'll move?”
“I doubt it, but we can learn what he thinks, if he shows.”
They rode south and didn't arrive in camp until late that night.
When he woke the next morning, Roamer had a short telegram for him.
CHET
THERE IS A DEATH THREAT ON YOUR LIFE.
ONE OF MY DEPUTIES HEARD ABOUT IT ON
THE BORDER. HE COULD NOT FIND A SOURCE,
BUT WANTED ME TO PASS THAT ON TO YOU.
BE CAREFUL.
BLEVINS
THERE IS A DEATH THREAT ON YOUR LIFE.
ONE OF MY DEPUTIES HEARD ABOUT IT ON
THE BORDER. HE COULD NOT FIND A SOURCE,
BUT WANTED ME TO PASS THAT ON TO YOU.
BE CAREFUL.
BLEVINS
“The word is out on you.” Roamer shook his head.
“Talk's cheap.” Then he explained what the lawyer said and where they would start on the eviction notice.
Roamer, JD, and Ortega planned to make a round down to a suspected outlaw hideout in the Huachuca Mountains and struck out the next day with a packhorse. That left Shawn, Cole, and Jesus to guard him so he could attend the meeting in Tucson on Friday.
After they left, a telegram from Bo arrived.
CHET
WE HAVE AN OPTION FOR FORTY THOUSAND
DOLLARS, IF AND WHEN THE SQUATTERS ARE
DRIVEN OFF THE LAND. YOU HAVE FULL
AUTHORITY TO DISPOSE OF THEM. I DON'T
KNOW, BUT THAT IS DIRT CHEAP LAND. BO
WE HAVE AN OPTION FOR FORTY THOUSAND
DOLLARS, IF AND WHEN THE SQUATTERS ARE
DRIVEN OFF THE LAND. YOU HAVE FULL
AUTHORITY TO DISPOSE OF THEM. I DON'T
KNOW, BUT THAT IS DIRT CHEAP LAND. BO
Chet sent one back to him.
BO
SEND RUSSELL CRAFT THAT INFORMATION AT
JENSEN CRAFT AND ROSEWOOD ATTORNEYS IN
TUCSON A.T. PRICE IS RIGHT IF WE CAN WRESTLE
THE LAND AWAY FROM WEEKS. YOU DID GOOD.
CHET.
SEND RUSSELL CRAFT THAT INFORMATION AT
JENSEN CRAFT AND ROSEWOOD ATTORNEYS IN
TUCSON A.T. PRICE IS RIGHT IF WE CAN WRESTLE
THE LAND AWAY FROM WEEKS. YOU DID GOOD.
CHET.
“That's a helluva price,” Cole said when he showed him the message.
“That's a helluva dry place, too.”
“What did JD call it? Rancho Diablo?” Jesus asked.
“Right. He called it that himself.”
“You can make it work. I truly believe you can.”
“Good.”
They went back to Tucson on Thursday and Chet learned that Weeks and his lawyer were coming to the meeting.
“His attorney has some land claim he's bringing that shows Weeks owns those ranch quarters.”
“I doubt the owner of the land would have bought it and made that setup without a survey.”
“Whatever, we'll need to have it surveyed.” Craft drummed his fingers on the desk.
“We can do that, but if he's wrong, I want to charge him pasture fees. That way, if he's bluffing, he might not be so insistent on staying.”
“Oh, he's blustery. I imagine we'll have a confrontation in my office. But we must be lawful, unless his threat is real.”
“I totally understand. I will be here at two p.m. tomorrow.”
“Yes, and we shall see. This lawyer, Townsend, talks a lot, too.”
“I'll remember that.”
Chet and his men went back out to Jesus's aunt's place and spent the night. He'd brought a lot of food from the open market, and they held a big
fiesta
with some of the neighbors. His aunt was very excited and thanked him for the treat.
fiesta
with some of the neighbors. His aunt was very excited and thanked him for the treat.
Midday on Friday, they were back at the lawyer's office. A big red-faced man in a brown suit, and wearing a new Boss of the Plains silk-wrapped-brim hat, was introduced to him as Buster Weeks. They didn't shake hands.
“Byrnes, next time, come see me. Don't threaten my foreman.”
“Next time, don't squat on a ranch I'm buying.”
“You may be a big man in the north. You ain't shit down here.”
“Gentlemen,” interjected Mr. Craft, “we are here for a discussion, not a fight.”
“I think Mr. Weeks had an appointment here,” Jarman Townsend, his lawyer, said.
“Everyone sit down,” Craft said. “Now, Jarman present your claim for the land.”
The gray-haired man who looked a little red-eyed from a bout with a whiskey bottle the night before cleared his throat and handed Craft a paper. “Here's the property you are talking about.”
Craft went to his wall map and read the description. “This calls for sixty acres.”
“That's where the gawdamn ranch is located. North of that Krueger property,” Weeks said.
“A surveyor can settle this,” Craft said.
“We don't need a gawdamn surveyor. They can't find their ass in this country. Some greasers built those damn buildings on the place I bought from Santos. That bunch Krueger sent didn't know where they were at setting it up years ago.”
“Survey it then,” Chet said, already weary of this mouthy sumbitch.
“Do you know what those bastards will charge you to do that?”
“I don't care. They will find you are way south of his northern line and you can pay for the survey and also three years' pasturage.”
“Hell, I ain't agreeing to that.”
“You know you're wrong, so go on. We will have it surveyed. Then we'll meet you in court.”
“You'll find I'm right. I intend to fight you. I own those ranch headquarters.”
“Gentlemen, let's sit down again,” Craft said. “Jarman, does your client intend to refuse negotiations at this time?”
“Yes, we believe that the ranch headquarters are not located on Krueger's land.”
“Then we will survey and see you in court.”
Chet knew that would take timeâas much as six months' litigation, but in the end they would win this case. Still, it involved a lot of money, but he had the place bought at the right price to afford some litigation.
“Good day, gentlemen,” Craft said, and Townsend and Weeks left. The latter looked like a snarling dog going out the door, but Chet had no fear of him. He still couldn't place if he'd really met him before; some thread of the man niggled him, but no memory came forth.
After talking with Craft about their plans, he and his men headed back to Tupac.
“How long will the survey take?” Cole asked.
“Oh, two months. I bet nothing is ever in a hurry down here.”
“Will we be there when they do the survey?”
“We may. Craft has a copy of the original plat, which included the points of reference the surveyors made when they surveyed it for Krueger in 1867. Craft felt they were valid. He wasn't sure how Weeks had been able to buy sixty acres in such obscure country. Our attorney also mentioned that might be a doubtful deed. He plans to investigate it closer.”
“What do you think?” Cole asked.
“I was thinking Weeks may have a partner who figured all this out and he's only the front man.”
“Oh, who would that be?”
Chet turned up his palms. “I guess that is for us to find out.”
They got back to camp late that night. JD was still up and eager to hear the results of the meeting.
Busy stripping out the wet latigo leather on his cinch, Chet considered the meeting he'd had several hours earlier. “Weeks is a windy Texan with lots of bluff. He wants to fight us in court.”
“So how long will that take?”
“I figure six months at least, but we're in for the whole thing.”
“Nothing is easy.”
“Nothing. You ready for the wait?” Chet asked.
“Hell, yes.”
“Good. It may shred all our patience. Tomorrow, I'll send Bo a telegram and tell him our results.”
“I bet he's anxious, too. Oh, you got a telegram today.” JD scrambled to go get it.
“From who?”
“Your banker. He's collected four more months' cattle deliveries.”
“That's great news.” Whew, that really was good news. The total operation was moving forward.
“I thought so, too.”
Jesus took Chet's horse to put him up.
Chet ate some fruitâred bananas and citrusâthen went off to find some sleep in his bedroll. Made him more homesick than ever, but he slept hard.
A man came in the morning to tell them about a bloody ranch raid made by bandits and offered to take them there. Dallas Gabbert rode a rough-looking bay gelding. He hadn't shaved in some time and his clothes were threadbare, but he sounded real and concerned. Chet, Roamer, and Cole rode with him to the site.
“Did anyone contact the sheriff?” Chet asked him while on the way.
Gabbert shook his head. “I don't know. I heard about you and your men and figured you could do more than he could.”
“I don't compete with sheriffs.”
“Hell, I been hearing all kinds of reports how you been getting them bandits.”
“We have gotten some.”
“Well, by God, they killed Nellie Justice, her boy, and the hired man. She never hurt no one.”
When they got there late in the afternoon, the scene was grim. Gabbert had drug their bodies inside the
jacal
to save them from buzzards. He'd even covered her naked corpse with a blanket. The bloody sight of her body that Chet saw under the candle lamp was ugly. A small woman in her thirties who looked tough. The boy of ten had his throat cut, and the Mexican man was shot in the back of the head, execution style.
jacal
to save them from buzzards. He'd even covered her naked corpse with a blanket. The bloody sight of her body that Chet saw under the candle lamp was ugly. A small woman in her thirties who looked tough. The boy of ten had his throat cut, and the Mexican man was shot in the back of the head, execution style.
If only he'd brought Jesus to track.
“Three horses rode out,” Cole said. “One had a Chet-broken-shoe.”
Chet chuckled. “I was thinking we needed Jesus.”
Cole shrugged and smiled. “I knew we had to find their tracks.”
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