Once a Ranger (7 page)

“Okay? That sounds wonderful to me.”

“You sure are easy to please, Phil.”

“Why not? I have a wonderful, hardworking wife. I simply appreciate you. I have been at so many houses in my life where the woman whines at her husband about the damnedest things. Maybe that's why I never married until I got you.”

“Aw, I'm just proud we have each other.”

“Let me sneak out and shower and shave, and then we can go to bed.”

She winkled her nose. “I am so anxious for you I don't know if I can wait.”

“Lordy, girl, then let's go to bed.”

She laughed. “Wonderful.”

He wiped his mouth, closed his eyes. He needed to write his sister in Texas. Bonny would never believe he'd found a wife. He swept Cally up and kissed her, then they ran off to the bedroom for more honeymoon time.

SIX

T
HEY DROVE THE
buckboard leisurely over to the schoolhouse. Guthrey tied his Roman-nosed horse on behind, just in case. At the schoolyard he helped Cally down and then up set the tent. She carried her food dishes up to the table inside and covered them with cheesecloth. He unsaddled his horse and studied the clouds building in the south. By the time he had the three animals on the hitch line, he could feel and smell the rain coming in.

When Cally came out to check on him, she frowned at the approaching storm. “It may rain here.”

“I think it will. We should go inside the schoolhouse. Folks are coming in and some will drink coffee if you make it.”

“Sounds good. It's thundering hard down there.”

“It sure is. I'll get our slickers in case we need to go outside.”

“Good idea.” She took her ground coffee, a can of milk, and some sugar, and they went inside the building.

“Heck, it's going to rain here in a short while,” a large woman named Beulah said, joining them. “Sure enough I do believe it will storm here in a little bit.” She took some things from Cally to help her. “That will be a great thing to have some coffee. You sure came prepared.”

Guthrey hung their slickers on the wall pegs as others hurried inside and the blowing dust swept in. It would rain mud first, and the hope was that the rain following would wash it off again. Lightning cracked close by and more folks burst through the doors to escape the strikes.

Heavy rain and some small hail plinked on the shake roof, then the storm opened up in full force. The heavy downpour would make many usual dry wash crossings dangerously flooded.

“I hope this doesn't keep too many away,” Cally said over the roar. She and the other women were putting out empty open tin cans under where the roof leaked. Nothing severe for all the force of the rain, but several cans soon plinked with water falling in them. Guthrey recalled enduring such storms in the Indian Territory and Kansas when he used to drive cattle north. They were sure hard on exposed cowboys trying to hold herds or make them move in formation to keep down any chance of a stampede. Another lightning blast shook the building. They could always use rain but he preferred gentler forms. He hugged Cally's shoulders.

“It will be over soon and wrung out. But this is a tough one.”

With a smile for him, she said, “We needed it.”

“I could have taken it in smaller doses.”

They both laughed. In another half hour the storm moved away and the wet attendees arrived. They included Dan and Noble under slickers, but their felt hats weighed a ton.

Folks talked about how much rain fell. One man had two inches in a pail.

Dan said they had lots of rain at the ranch. That relieved Guthrey. Many such showers passed over a limited area and left many without any moisture.

Good, the monsoons have started
. Guthrey just hoped they didn't end too quickly so the six-week grasses would pop up and there'd be a carpet of wildflowers. Those were the good summers in the desert. He visited with some ranchers in a corner of the big room.

“I heard Whitmore's bunch sold out and some big company bought the ranch.”

Guthrey nodded. “The new superintendent is Walter Pierson. He's been to the county seat and complained to my deputy Teddy Baker that small ranchers were eating his beef.”

“Maybe his cattle are eating their grass,” one man suggested.

Guthrey nodded. “My man told him that we would not accept any harassment of ranchers. Enforcing the law is our job.”

Heads nodded.

“I hope he listens,” one rancher said.

“We won't allow him not to.” Guthrey's eyes narrowed. “Anyone tries to cause trouble I'll meet them head-on. That's my job.”

One man spoke up, saying, “Thanks. We count on you.”

“Hey, we've had a good rain. Let's have fun tonight. This new bunch will obey the law or rot in jail.”

They dispersed and Guthrey went to join Cally.

“Problems?” she asked.

“They're upset about the new company moving in.”

She frowned at him. “You can't stop that?”

“No, but I will watch them close.”

Satisfied, she nodded and took his arm. “We'll have a nice crowd despite the rain.”

“I think you will have when they all get here.”

“I do too.” Then she went to oversee more table settings for the dishes of food coming in.

Guthrey shook some hands and whiled away the afternoon talking to new people and old about things happening in the area. The atmosphere in the county sounded much calmer than it had been when Guthrey took over as sheriff, but he knew that was because his men answered requests and investigated all reported crimes.

Stage robberies had moved over into the adjoining county. Pima County was headquartered at Tucson, and Guthrey had talked to both the U.S. marshal and the sheriff about the men responsible for the robberies. Personally, he suspected it was a secret band of outlaws. But most holdups occurred on that side of the county line. At the U.S. marshal's suggestion, Guthrey had his men and even the tax auditors keeping an eye out to see if the outlaws were hiding in Crook County. They had to have a hideout to operate so successfully.

Wells Fargo had as many as three armed men on the stages to discourage the outlaws. But that also was a flag pointing out the value of the strongboxes on board. Guthrey had no idea who the robbers were or where they hid, but he and his men had an ear to the ground. Someone would give them a lead.

The evening meal went well and more people arrived, celebrating the rain event. The instrument players began with a waltz, and Guthrey took his wife floating across the floor. His chest swelled with pride when he danced with her. Crook County had served him well, with a wife and a job in law enforcement in the place where he wanted to be and felt the most satisfied. He needed to face the fact that leaving the Texas Rangers did not diminish his desire to be sure things were fair and legal.

When the dance was over, they retired to their tent. They basked in their lovemaking on the narrow cot and finally fell asleep. When Guthrey awoke and went outside, the cool predawn swept his face. Folks were beginning to stir. They needed to get back home. There'd been no drunken altercations the night before, which made him feel even better. He didn't know how long it would last, but it sure had been peaceful.

They arrived home midmorning on Sunday. He unloaded their gear and cleaned his guns after lunch. Things were almost too quiet. Dan rode off to see someone female and Noble caught up on his sleep in the bunkhouse. In the afternoon it showered more over by the Chiricahuas. But the storm swung northeast and Guthrey watched the tall thunderheads sail away in the distance.

“Noble, can you think of a hideout or old ranch where those stage robbers might be located?”

“There are some places scattered west of us that are like where we burned that ramada. Several folks gave up on ranching or their wells went dry and they just moved away, abandoning them. That country is harsher than this area. Gets less rain too.”

“You think the Pima County bunch looked at all of them?”

“No. They do more tax work than being lawmen, to my notion. Oh, they do some police work but that isn't their main goal.”

“Why don't you and I swing up through there and see what we can find on our side of the line this coming week?”

“Good idea.”

“There's a reason they aren't robbing stages on our side of the line. I think we may be able to stop it.”

“No telling. What's the plan?”

“In the morning we'll go over to Soda Springs and check with my bunch, then we can ride around and see these old ranches. Maybe take a packhorse and swing back on Wednesday and come home Thursday. Would that be all right, Cally?”

“I guess. If you two can root out one more bunch of outlaws it will be a safer place to live. Both of you be careful. I am counting on you.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

* * *

T
HEIR PLANS MADE,
they left before dawn to check things out. Guthrey found Soda Springs quiet and Zamora told him they'd had no big crimes. He'd inquired with several folks about a good glove maker and had no answer. Maybe she was down at Nogales or Tucson. Baker planned to write the sheriff in Tucson and ask if he knew of anyone. Wherever she was, she would be sought after, as good as that glove was made.

After lunch, they headed into the mountains north for a place called the Devil's Ranch and found it deep in a canyon. They approached it with care, but anyone could have heard the ring of their horseshoes on the rock-floored canyon. The steep mountainsides above them were covered in talus rock—flat loose rocks all over the slopes to the peaks.

Some cottonwoods and a few palm trees marked the setting. A palm frond–covered ramada had once served as the house. There were no horses or signs of human inhabitance as they searched the place. Guthrey was ready to scratch it off his list.

Noble came riding back. “There's a grave beyond the corral. It looks fresh. You think we should check it out? I think whoever was here didn't use the corral so no one would know they'd been here.”

“You're thinking they never used the corrals or the shade?”

“Yeah,” Noble said. “They tied their horses up way over there where the horse apples are fresher.”

When Guthrey saw the fresh dirt mound, he wondered who was planted there. “I hate to dig up a body that's been dead awhile, but I guess we better to try and identify it.”

The dirt was loose and they used their short camp shovel. But finally they needed their bandana face masks as the copper and sour stink of the decomposing body became evident. Taking turns with the short-handled shovel, they soon unearthed a man, and when Guthrey saw the size of his boots, he knew they had come from the murder scene. The dead man's face had been obliterated by several shots of a large-caliber pistol at close range. At the sight of him, Guthrey knew the unknown corpse was one of the Carlson killers.

They bound his remains in a blanket of the least value they had and tied him on the unloaded packhorse. Guthrey said he'd take him back to Soda Springs and return here in the morning. Noble never argued when they parted and Guthrey headed for the county seat.

Past sundown, he arrived at the Combs Funeral Home and woke the attendant, who was already asleep. The two carried the smelly corpse inside and the young man promised to get Guthrey an autopsy report. Guthrey left him, went to the office, and wrote a note instructing the day deputies to try to learn the dead man's identity, since he could be one of the Carlsons' murderers.

Hard to escape the smell of death; the odor had saturated him and his clothing. He arrived past midnight back at the Devil's Ranch.

Noble woke up and greeted him. “You eat anything?”

“No, I'll have some jerky. I haven't wanted to eat much, as bad as I stink.”

“It sure ain't a pleasant odor.” Noble shook his head.

“How far are we from any other old ranch? I wonder why they chose to shoot him here, or bury him here anyway.”

“They stayed away from the ramada and pens. But I almost forgot, I found a note up there near that grave. I jammed it in my pocket at the time but you need to read it.”

Guthrey frowned. “What does it say?”

“It's a receipt for some goatskin gloves. They cost twelve dollars a pair and Ramona Garcia made them. The man bought them in June. No address. But we know a helluva lot more than we did.”

“That's great. This man's big feet and the glove are about all I have. Does Ramona Garcia sound familiar to you?” Guthrey lit a stub of a candle to read the note and then agreed it was more evidence.

“Only the Ramona part sounds familiar to me,” Noble said. “I once knew a Mexican woman by that name who treated horny cowboys.”

They both laughed.

“She was married to a man who repaired saddles in his shop. But she earned her money repairing ranch hands.” Noble slapped his knees and laughed. “I'm certain the glove maker and her are not the same one.”

“But we have a name, and someone will know of her.”

A coyote yapped on the mountainside. Another answered and the cricket chorus chirped away in the star-filled night. Guthrey went to sleep pleased that they had more evidence on the grim murders. His hope was restored; someday they'd solve the case and arrest the killer or killers. Then he slept, missing his wife's warmness to cuddle with.

SEVEN

A
NOTHER ISOLATED RANCH
they rode up to at midday hosted a Mexican man and his family. His name was Guermo Diaz, and his very pregnant wife was named Deloris. They had three small children and had carefully raised a small garden with limited springwater.

“Is this your ranchero?” Guermo asked him.

“No.” Guthrey shook his head at the man.

“Can I stay here? I have no work. I have no place. When I found this place I tell Deloris it will feed us.”

“I'm Sheriff Guthrey. As I said, no, I don't own it. But I can see you two have worked hard here. I see the garden is doing well. My wife at our ranch could use you, and then you'd have a job and we could find you a house, I am certain.” He drew them a map in the dirt of how to get there. Guermo nodded that he could find the place.

“Don't try to go until the baby is born. The job will be open for you.”

“
Muchas gracias
, Senor Guthrey.” His dark-faced wife hugged his arm and acted excited standing beside him as he shook Guthrey's hand.

“Have you seen any strange men around here lately?”

Guermo's face had a look like he was considering something. “Three men came by here last week. They asked me lots of questions like they owned this place.”

“What did they look like?”

“One was a giant of a man. He was like a big bear. The redheaded guy was the boss and he kept looking at my wife. He worried me.”

“Were there more?”

“A Mexican boy was their slave. I only know they called him bad names.”

“This redheaded man was how tall?” Guthrey's mind sharpened at the challenge.

“Taller than you, senor.”

“He was an
hombre muy malo
,” his wife said and shook her head as if she was still wary of him.

“Had he ever been by here before?”

“No and I hope he never comes back.”

“Be careful. Those men are killers of innocent people.”

“
Sí
, we will.
Muchas gracias
, we will be anxious to work for you, senor.”

Guthrey almost hated to leave them, but he wanted to go cross-country and get home. His clothes still stunk of the dead man. At last they had a suspect—a redheaded man and his slave.

He told them, “We're going home. You be careful getting to my place.”

“Ah,
sí
, senor, we will work hard for you.”

* * *

G
UTHREY AND
N
OBLE
arrived back at the Bridges Ranch after sundown. Cally must have hurried and dressed, 'cause she came hard on the run to hug him.

“Maybe not,” he cautioned her when she was within six feet of him.

“Oh, you do smell bad but I have missed you.” She snuggled up and hugged him anyway. “What is that terrible odor?”

“We had to dig up a man's corpse and take it back to town.”

“Oh, that sounds horrible. Have you eaten?”

“No, ma'am. I'm sure glad you asked,” Noble said.

“I will get you two some soap and clean clothes. Then I'll fix you some food, all right?”

“Fine,” Guthrey said. “Oh, I hired you a nice man and his wife. They'll come when she has her baby. His name is Guermo Diaz and her name's Deloris. They've been subsisting on an old abandoned ranch but they will work.”

Noble agreed. “They really are hard workers.”

“I don't need any help,” Cally said, sticking her heels in the ground at the notion.

“Yes, you do. And we can afford it.”

“Well, sheriff, I'll go get your clothes and soap.”

Noble said softly, “I figured she'd be happy about them coming to help her.”

“I knew she'd rebel. She wants to do it all herself.” They both laughed.

“Yeah, you can't never tell about a woman, kin ya?”

“In all your years on this earth you finally figured that out?” Guthrey asked as they headed for the house.

Noble was laughing too hard to answer him. He simply nodded.

* * *

A
FTER HIS SHOWER,
Guthrey joined Cally at the house and Noble came in a short while later.

She made them pancakes and fried up some ham. After pouring them coffee, she swept her dress under and sat down. “Now tell me about the dead man.”

“We found a fresh grave on this abandoned ranch and wondered who was in it. We dug up a big man who we figure was one of those on the scene of the murders. I knew it would be bad, but Noble will tell you it was even worse. His body is at the funeral home now and I hope to get it identified.”

“This is one of the men who killed those poor Carlsons?”

“Yes, I had his boot print. We have a description of the gang leader too.”

Cally shook her head at them. “You two are regular detectives.”

“We also found the name of a woman who may have made that glove I found on the scene.”

“So watch out for any redheaded stranger. He may be the killer,” Noble said.

“Do you think he might come here?” She frowned at them.

“Darling, I hope not. But he slips around, Noble will tell you. The only people who have seen him that we know about are that Mexican couple. Just be aware.”

She agreed. “Any more word on that new superintendent at the former Whitmore Ranch?”

“We've been in the talus looking for those killers, so we haven't heard anything. If there has been no word from my deputies, I guess Pierson thought better than to tell them what he'd do again.”

She scowled. “I bet he tries to push people out like Whitmore did.”

“They still have rooms available at Yuma.”

She laughed and clapped his shoulder. “My husband has hotel rooms down there, doesn't he?”

Noble looked up and smiled. “He made sure near all of that bunch was sent down there. Those law clerks told me he had a record number of convictions on that roundup of criminals in this county.”

“I didn't do too bad, then, marrying him?” Cally shook her head and smiled.

“You did terrible,” Guthrey teased and squeezed her arm.

Frowning, she shook her head. “You are the best, and I am proud to be your wife.”

He leaned over and kissed her. “As long as you are.”

“I'm going to bed,” Noble said. “What are we doing tomorrow?”

“Is Dan here?” Guthrey asked Cally.

She shook her head. “He's supposed to be back early.”

Guthrey nodded. “If he's still alive then, why don't you two take the north range and check stock.”

“I'll do that even if he can't.”

Guthrey nodded again. “In the morning I'll go make certain things at the office are all right, and try to be back for supper.”

“Do we need to move down there?” Cally asked.

“Not yet. This is your home and Dan needs you.”

“Not much.” She made a face. “I hate all the traveling you have to do.”

“I always have you when I get back.”

* * *

D
AWN CAME EARLY.
Guthrey set out for Steward's Crossing first to check with his deputy Ike Sweeney and be sure he didn't need any help. The man was a solid veteran of law enforcement, but one never knew what could spring up in this job.

In the cool morning air, Guthrey found Sweeney in his usual spot, on his porch in a rocker, drinking coffee. His pleasant wife, Myrna, who came to the door, went after a cup of coffee for him.

“How are things going?”

“Peaceful. I've arrested a drunk or two when they get too wild. The justice of the peace fines them or makes them work around town and they soon settle down. What do you have?”

“There's a murderer on the loose. Killed a family up north a week ago. The suspect has red hair, medium build, and has a Mexican boy who they say is his slave.”

“I got a report from Baker about that crime and read the newspaper. How did you find this suspect?”

“We dug up a dead man over at an abandoned ranch up north of Soda Springs. I think he was at the murder scene. Bad deal, but his boots fit our prints from the scene.”

Sweeney frowned. “Dug him up?”

“Yes, a real bad deal, but we wondered who was buried in that grave and we found him. I can still smell it.”

“Anyone know who he was?”

“I'm headed over to Soda Springs to see if anyone recognized him.”

“This redhead didn't have a name either?”

“No. I suspect the killer was a fringe rider.”

“He shows up, I'll send word.”

“Good. But remember he's a killer, so don't risk your life. I never saw the like of the scene we found up there. I won't ever forget it.”

“I'll poke around. See if someone's seen him or knows where he's sleeping.”

“Don't try to take him by yourself. Wire for help if you get a lead.”

Sweeney agreed and Guthrey rode on after thanking the deputy's wife, who asked to feed him.

* * *

A
T THE SHERIFF'S
office, Zamora was behind the desk, sorting wanted posters that came in the mail.

“How are things going?” Guthrey asked him.

“Oh, fine. Pretty damn quiet. Do you know Sammy Enrico in Tucson?”

“No, who is he?”

“I think he's with that Tucson Ring you told us about when we first came over here.”

“What's he doing?”

“I don't know, but he was in town for two days this week holding meetings with some suspicious people.”

“Who were they?”

“A guy named Ryles was one of them.”

“What does Ryles do?”

“I think he's a lookout. He gambles some. Close-chested kind of guy, but he knows lots about what's going on. He may work for the ring as a front man.”

“Maybe we need to run him out of town as undesirable.”

Zamora nodded. “Baker and I will look for an excuse. How's that?”

Guthrey was pleased. “Good idea. In Tombstone they may have to put up with them. We don't answer to mine companies here. We answer to citizens. Any identification on the corpse we brought in?”

Zamora handed Guthrey a page of paper. It was from the funeral man Combs.

The victim had been shot twice in the face with .45-caliber bullets at close range. He had been dead for some time before being dug up. I wired ahead to Tucson, and Sheriff Ramos reported by wire to me that he thought the corpse belonged to a Johnny Cord. He was a small-time thief and was wanted for various crimes in his district. Associated with known criminals, like Clell House and Knute Yarman.

Zamora pulled out all the wanted posters for those two and spread them on the desk. House's and Yarman's descriptions—no red hair—made Guthrey shake his head.

“That rules those two out.”

“We'll start checking for a guy with red hair.”

“Good. Warn everyone that he's dangerous and not to try to arrest him by themselves. Right now he's only a suspect for us. But there are enough charges that we can arrest him and hold him for Sheriff Ramos.”

“We'll watch for him.”

“I'm making rounds. Things are quiet, so that's good. I may slip off for a few days with my wife to Mount Graham. Noble will know where I'm at.”

“Escape the heat, huh?”

“It's cool up there, that's for sure. Did you have any luck on a spy system to warn us if a Mexican gang is coming out of there?”

“No, but I wrote to a man I know who is on the Santa Cruz County Sheriff's staff down there at Nogales. He may have an answer.”

“Good idea. I'll head back home. Can Baker hold the justice of the peace inquest on both the murders and this other guy—Johnny Cord?”

“Baker's preparing it and told me he figured he'd get the job.”

“Tell him thanks. We've covered lots of ground here in a short time. I think people are pleased, but only if we can hold our place.”

“We will.”

“I'm counting on everyone.”

He rode back to the ranch and his bright-faced wife met him at the corral while he unsaddled.

“Good to have you back so soon. All is well?”

“Fine. Maybe we can go up on the mountain this week.”

“Good. We can go over and talk to the Nelsons about it and see if the cabin is available.”

“I'll hitch the team.”

“No, let's eat supper. We can check in the morning.”

“Fine.” He hugged her. “Tomorrow is fine.”

To sleep with his wife in his own bed was relaxing and he was up at dawn. He walked around the house and saw a saddled horse in the dim light and a figure lying on the ground.

He squatted down beside the body under the starlight and could see it was Dan. He was breathing but his breath smelled like whiskey. Guthrey rubbed his own shirtsleeves in the cool predawn. He shook Dan's shoulder.

“Huh? What'cha want?”

“I think you better get up and go sleep in the bunkhouse.”

“I'm fine here. Leave me alone.”

Guthrey got under his arm and hauled him to his feet. Then he half carried him to the bunkhouse, with a staggering Dan complaining all the way. The door was open and, once inside, Guthrey propelled him facedown on top of the cot.

“Where did you find him?” Noble asked, sitting up in bed.

“Sleeping out in the yard.”

“Aw, hell, that boy has lost it.”

“I better tell Cally.”

“Might break her heart.”

Guthrey agreed but didn't see a way around it. He went and caught Dan's horse, unsaddled him, and put him in the corral. Then he went back to the house and washed his hands on the porch.

“Anything wrong?” Cally asked.

“Dan made it home.”

She frowned at him. “What?”

“He made it back and was sleeping on the ground out there.”

“Oh my, Phil, whatever is wrong with him?”