Once a Ranger (8 page)

“He must be on a drinking deal.”

“Why? Dad's death has been resolved. Whitmore is in prison. We have a good future.”

“Cally, why most people drink is never simple, but mostly they do it to escape reality.”

“Reality. We aren't filthy rich but we do have money. We have no obvious enemies trying to run us off our land. I wish Dad was here to see all this.”

“Morning, Cally,” Noble said, coming in and putting his hat on the wall.

“Good morning. Is Dan all right?”

“Snoring when I left him.”

“Thanks.”

“Noble, do you know of anything wrong in his life?”

He shook his head, taking his place at the table. “Except he's not happy.”

“What could change that?” she asked.

“Oh, Cally, I don't know. Things like that are like worms inside a person. You can't see them but they roll around inside of them.”

“Phil, what's your best idea?”

“Keep him busy. He acted pleased with things when we were with Thayer looking for the horse thieves.”

“But we don't have jobs like that all the time,” Noble said.

“You're saying we need to keep him occupied?” Cally asked, filling coffee cups while the rich aroma of her breakfast cooking filled the house.

“I'm afraid it's more complicated than that,” Guthrey said. “I'll talk to him.”

“Good.” Cally went to setting plates of food before them. “You two eat. Biscuits are coming next.”

After breakfast, they drove over to the Nelsons' ranch to see about the cabin. Thomas's wife, Ruth, welcomed them. Thomas was out working cattle, and Guthrey and Cally spoke to her about using the cabin.

“Lord yes, Cally. We can't go up there anytime soon. We're too shorthanded right now. Our best ranch hand broke his leg and is laid up. Thomas won't leave the place till he's able to get around.”

“We better go home and pack,” Cally said. “Before he changes his mind.”

* * *

L
OADED UP AFTER
breakfast the next morning, Guthrey and Cally left the ranch to Noble and Dan. The drive was a hot one until they were halfway up Mount Graham. Cooler winds felt good on Guthrey's face as he reined the team around curves and the altitude increased. By late afternoon they were at the snug cabin. He unloaded Cally and kissed her hard. Then they took the food and supplies inside. Enjoying the late afternoon wind in each other's arms, they were content in their own company. Two hearts beating that close together and enjoying the intimate pleasures of marriage were their rewards.

“Should we go to bed?” he asked.

“I am so glad you asked me.” Then she laughed, trying to tickle him. He was complete with this young woman nestled in his life.

EIGHT

V
ACATIONS ALWAYS END.
When the weekend was over, Guthrey and Cally drove back down to the desert heat that hit them in face with oven-hot winds. She kissed him on the cheek when they reached the bottom and hung on to her straw hat when a small dust devil passed close by.

“I guess that was the chaparral welcoming committee.” She laughed. “Hard to believe a few hours ago it was so cool up there. The Apaches used to live up on those mountains and the others when it got hot in the summertime.”

He'd heard and understood that was their way of life, interrupted by the white man's push to the Pacific Ocean. And the Apaches were in that path. The white man called it progress; the red man called it intrusion. That war was still going on. With so many soldiers stationed on the border, the Apaches did not even consider going back and forth from here to the Sierra Madres down in Mexico. They still posed a danger to white people, but so far incidents had been minimal, except for the theft of horses. But that was an ongoing problem with white men and Mexicans as well.

Guthrey's return meant he needed to check on things across the district in the morning. Time to get back to work, and he wanted be sure everything was secure in Crook County. They arrived in midafternoon at the ranch. Cally opened all the windows and mentioned it would be nice to have a squaw shade someday to live under in the hot weather and give them more airing out, plus the thick shade would stop some of the sun's intensity on the hottest days.

“That's all some folks have for a house,” he said, hauling inside the things they brought back.

“I don't think I'd want to winter in one,” she said. “I'd be under the covers all the time.”

“That would be where I'd find you, huh?”

“Oh, Phil, that sounds bad.”

“Where's my wife? Oh, I know, under the snow-covered blankets in the squaw shade.”

“That's right. Was that thunder?”

“Yes, I think so. We may have a good rain coming. I watched those clouds gathering all day coming home.”

“We can use it for sure.”

“I'll unhitch the team and put off going into Steward's Crossing if we're going to have some rain.”

“Probably two inches,” she said, busy getting ready to cook supper. “Two drops apart, huh?”

“Oh, one can be hopeful. Could we hire someone to build the shade? We can afford to hire a builder.”

She agreed. “I'm certain I could find someone. If you want one, we can get one built by fall anyway.”

“Good,” he said.

“You spoil me. I can recall counting my money just to buy groceries when Dad was alive. Between the gold and your cattle sale, we can do what we want.”

“We're past that.”

“Worked out well. That is a big concern, making enough income to survive. Have you ever thought about another ranch? I think in time my brother will settle down and he can expand this one. I'd hate to move anywhere, but I know when you marry a man, you belong where he belongs. I worry about you making so many trips to be certain that things are being handled right over west in Soda Springs.”

“I stay over there in that place I bought for me and Noble. That's all we need for now.”

“When you get time, tell me the plans you have for us in the future.”

“Aw, Cally, I share my life with you.”

She fell in his arms and he knew she was crying. Things one minute were fine, then sad thoughts must have swept her. He'd never hoarded any secrets from her. Holding her weight in his arms, he realized some of her efforts to please him left him seeming outside her reach. He'd have to do better whenever the hell he figured out what was really upsetting his wife.

“I'm sorry, Phil. I guess things must be balled up inside me. I missed my monthly session this week. It may be late or going to happen, but I . . . well, I may be pregnant. Too early to tell but—” She chewed on her lower lip. “That's what we wanted, wasn't it?”

“Oh yes. Has that been bothering you? That I wouldn't accept a child?”

She crushed his head to her chest. “No, no, I just didn't know how to tell you we might have one.”

“My lord, I am excited. You need to see a doctor?”

“No. Not yet anyway.”

“Wow.”

“I may only be late. But I can count and it may be or may not.”

Thunder sounded like artillery. It even shook the dishes in the cabinets on the wall, and the smell of rain swept over them, followed by the pounding of hard drops of rain on the shake roof.

He hugged and kissed Cally, rocking her back and forth and feeling more happy than he could ever recall. The sound of the storm grew greater, like an angry woman fighting a swarm of hornets with a broom.

She peeked out at him. “I wonder where Dan and Noble are at.”

“Probably heading in and looking like drowned rats or maybe holed up under some roof someplace watching the water flood off eaves.” There was more roaring outside and strikes of lightning. Cally managed to close two windows where the rain was blowing inside.

Then she got busy making coffee and lighting a lamp before she filled two cups on the table. Looking recovered, she took the pot back to her stove. The rain-cooled air made her scrub at her arms. “Cold feels good anyway.”

Guthrey agreed, blowing on the surface to cool the coffee enough to sip on. Still too hot. The rain continued. The clouds must have parked over their ranch. Good, it would refill the tanks and bring on some quick forage. And they might be parents next spring—it was bound to happen with a man and woman. And the notion pleased him.

* * *

N
EXT MORNING HE
headed for Steward's Crossing before the purple-pink outline of the sun came up from behind the Chiricahuas. The air felt cool and the rain had settled the dust. In places it was even muddy. Neither Dan nor Noble had come into the house that evening on their return, and Guthrey and Cally discovered, before dark, the cow wasn't bawling because the men had turned her calf in with her. But they never left a note. It was too late then to know where they'd gone, but Guthrey expected to find them in town or at the county seat. Something had to have come up to draw them away like that. Guthrey simply didn't know what.

In Steward's Crossing, he found his deputy Sweeney again on his front porch drinking coffee in the big rocker. Guthrey dismounted, and Sweeney's wife must have heard him talking to her man because she brought him some coffee.

“Noble and Dan are gone. You know where they went?”

“There was a stage robbery yesterday on this side of the Pima County line in that dry wash. They shot the guard, and Baker sent me word to send you word. I went up there and told them two. They said not to bother you, that you were up on the mountain with your wife, resting.”

Guthrey narrowed his eyes, listening to his man. “They went off to see about it?”

“I couldn't stop them—”

“Here, take my coffee. I better go see where they went.” He also thanked Myrna as he was leaving.

He unhitched his horse, swung into the saddle with a hold on the horn, then sent him off in a lope for Soda Springs, shouting thanks to the two openmouthed people on the porch.

No telling what those two were up to. Chasing outlaws and him not there. Noble was an old veteran, but Dan was the one who couldn't keep the gun in his holster seven months ago. Maybe longer than that, there was no telling. Anyone desperate enough to hold up a stagecoach and shoot a guard was liable to be too tough for those boys to handle.

He reached Soda Springs and rushed into the courthouse. Zamora was already there behind the desk.

“Where are the boys? Noble and Dan.”

“They're after those bandits. Baker went with them. They thought they might catch them.”

“Where were they headed?”

“I think north.”

There wasn't much north Guthrey could think of except the Apaches. Zamora shook his head. “That's all we know. Of course, they could have circled back. This time the robbers got lots of money and gold coins, I understand. I thought you might be with the Wells Fargo men. They always rush in and out. Did you have a nice break on the mountain?”

“It was cool and peaceful. Not one horse was stolen up there while I was on the mountain.”

“Great. I can't say that about down here.”

They both laughed.

“So how will I find their trail?”

“Ask Tom Aiken at the livery. He rode some of the way with them yesterday and came back late last night.”

“I'll check with him. Take care of things here. I'm going to try to catch them. Send word to my wife I am going after them. I'll be home when I find them or they come back.”

“I can do that. I'm sorry, someone needed to stay here.”

“You did the right thing. I'm glad Baker is with them. We need to maintain this office. Having a sheriff means we have a place people can go to report crimes to the legal arm of this county.”

“Baker and I had talked about that too.”

“I'm headed for the livery and will ride on. Thanks.”

He spoke briefly to Tommy Glendon at the telegraph key. There were no messages concerning the holdup. He left the county building to find Aiken in his livery office. The man was going over his books at a desk.

“Oh, sheriff, have you heard from your deputies?”

“No, where did you leave them yesterday?”

“Almost San Carlos. They had the robbers' trail and those outlaws had a pack train to haul the gold coins. That slowed them down some. But it was no small deal. They had military-like precision. They sure knew what the hell they were doing.”

He heard the man's words. Obviously Aiken had seen enough to be impressed by what he saw.
No simple bank robbers.
That made him shiver despite the one-hundred-plus degree heat. If they were ex-military men, they knew how to ambush anyone trailing them.

Where in hell could they go in that direction? Word would get out. They were too obvious.
He'd have to trade this horse for another en route—he must push hard to catch his men and hope he reached them in time.

NINE

A
S DAY FADED
into night, Guthrey crossed into the San Carlos drainage. The bay had weakened by morning, when Guthrey saw a ranch in the early light. He headed for the headquarters, and a woman outside the house shouted. Soon a man with a rifle appeared.

He reined up the bay and shouted, “I'm the sheriff.”

“Come on in. We're just jumpy.” The man set aside his rifle. “I'm Tad Bowlin. My wife, Esther. What are you doing out here?”

“Two days ago, there was a stage robbery, and three of my men are trailing the outlaws.” Riding up, he'd looked over the man's horse stock and they looked as weary as his horse was. There were none in his corral worth considering a trade.

“Yeah, they came by here. Name of Baker, an old man called Noble, and a boy named Dan.”

“When were they here?”

“Yesterday. They're about a day behind the robbers they want was how I figured it.”

Guthrey frowned at the man. “You saw the gang too?”

He nodded. “Oh yeah. They're a tough bunch. I thought they were an army unit when they rode up and helped themselves to watering their stock. But I went into the house with Esther and barred the doors when I figured out they weren't that. My old rock house has held off Apaches. I was concerned that they might blow us up, but after they watered their stock and fed them out of my grain bin, they simply rode off instead. My woman and me were ready to blow them up. I have explosives planted all over the place, and in a case like that I could of blown them up.”

“Shame you didn't,” Guthrey said. “Get any names?”

“One's called Clancy.”

“Anyone else?” he asked the man's silent wife with the gray-streaked hair.

A drab-looking woman in her thirties wearing a wash-worn dress, she said, “Lane was another name. I was so scared. My hands on that rifle were wet from fear. You know what I mean?”

“Yes, I do. But they didn't take any stock?”

He shook his head. “No, they didn't. You sure look beat, man. Stop and rest here.”

“No, I need to catch up to them boys. I doubt any of them have been up against this hard a bunch of men. Thanks. Nice to meet you two. If I can ever help you, call on me.”

“Nice to have a sheriff who cares. Damn sure was no law before you. Visit us anytime.”

“Keep your guard up.” He reined the weary horse around. Then he rode out the gate headed northwest for the San Carlos Apache Reservation headquarters.

The couple were tough people who'd somehow cut out a ranch in the chaparral and existed under fear of Apaches and outlaws on the fringe of things. Strong individuals. Guthrey could appreciate them and their efforts, but one steel-tipped arrow in the back from a short bow out of nowhere could close down their lives.

Guthrey rode on. Clouds were coming north. He doubted that it had rained any in this basin. Noble told him the climate at San Carlos and the surrounding country didn't even grow saguaro cactus. A tough enough place located on the Gila River.

By early afternoon he reached San Carlos. Two blue uniformed Apache police guarded the porch as he dismounted.

“Halt,” one commanded. “What is your business here? This is the agency of the Apache. Only people on official business may enter.”

“My name's Phillip Guthrey. I am the sheriff of Crook County, and I am here to see the agent in charge.”

“Let him by, Lone Wolf. He's official enough.” The man on the stairs wore an old shapeless suit and no tie. He was nearly bald, and what was left of his curly gray-black hair ringed the open top of his head. He extended his hand to Guthrey. “My name is Woodrow Styles, sheriff. I am second in command here. Unfortunately my superior, Sam Butts, is in Prescott on business, where it is a damn sight cooler than here. How can I help you?”

“Three of my men passed through here in the last twenty-four hours.”

“Yes, they did. They said they were pursuing some bandits. But I never saw those men they described. Later some Apaches told me they thought those men they were after had been with the army, who have no jurisdiction on this agency any longer, and rode on.”

“Were my men all right?”

“Seemed to be in good spirits and determined.”

“Good. I need a tough fresh horse. Mine's about done in. I'd rent one or buy one but I want a good one, not some bangtail.”

“Corporal Wolf, this man needs a good horse. Would you trade him one of yours?” He turned back to Guthrey. “He owns a couple of damn good horses.”

“I would take sixty dollars and your horse.”

“He a stout horse?” Guthrey asked.

“Plenty. You want him?”

“I'll sure look at him.”

“Go get him. This man needs to catch up to his posse,” Styles said, and the policeman ran off in a stiff, head-high gait to get the horse.

When the man returned, Guthrey's heart about quit. He led a big, powerful stallion painted in splashes of white, brown, and black. That would never do, but Guthrey might have to buy him—whether he liked the coloration or not. The horse flared his nostrils, and Guthrey could see the muscles and power in his hind legs, no doubt from breeding mares. He was an Apache's dream and a Ranger's laughable stock. But he had little choice at this point. His ranch horse was done in.

But a damn stallion—why hadn't they cut him? Not a typical Indian horse. He checked him over some more and decided he was stout enough. He looked at the policeman. “What side do you get on him from?”

The man pointed to the right side. Guthrey nodded. He had no time to retrain a horse. He could do that later. Then he about laughed recalling the girl whose mother introduced her to him months ago as a future bride prospect for him and who had wanted a painted horse as her bride gift. Amused about that, he stripped his saddle and blankets off the bay and went to the right side to put them on his new mount. The big horse was sure anxious, but Guthrey had enough riding to do to take that edge off him. Whoaing to him, Guthrey set the saddle and cinched it down. He exchanged the bridle for his new one and then paid the man.

Before he mounted up, he thanked the guards and Styles as well. He swung on the horse from off the right-hand side and made the seat, found his stirrups, and christened him as Cochise, who immediately put his head down and went to bucking. Pretty much straight-line crow hops, but he had a helluva hump in his back, and the Indians were shouting and waving their hats to encourage him. At last Guthrey set him off in a hard run and decided he'd take some more edge off him for a few miles. He stopped at the ferry landing and waited for its return from across the Gila River. Cochise was a little less snorty at that point, but one thing Guthrey knew, he wouldn't ride down the horse's power for several days.

He passed through Florence, a sleepy adobe village, stopping only to get a bite to eat and to check if someone had seen the outlaws and his men trailing them. The liveryman nodded. He'd seen both parties passing by his location about a half day apart. At first he'd thought the lead outfit was an army deal until he spoke to the second group and learned they were the three lawmen in pursuit. They only stopped to rest their horses and grain them before they struck out on the outlaws' trail.

“I was damn sure fooled by them outlaws. I wondered where they put the flag, then I thought they might be on a secret mission.”

“I think everyone else had been fooled too.”

The liveryman standing in his outside door asked, “Where did you get that big stallion?”

“Mine about caved in. Bought him off a policeman named Wolf down there at San Carlos.”

With some effort, the older man pushed out in the sunshine and checked his teeth. “Five years old?”

“My guess.”

“I never saw as big and powerful a paint horse before. Where in hell did he come from?”

“I never asked. I needed a horse to go on with.”

“Mind if I ask what he cost?”

“My worn-out gelding and sixty dollars.”

“I'd give you two horses and a hundred dollars for him.”

“No, I've rode him a couple of hours and despite his hide, I like him.”

“Some horse, huh?”

“He's a little broncy, but I don't think anyone rode him much lately.”

The liveryman was still circling and admiring his horse. He took off his weather-beaten Western hat and scratched the thatch of gray hair on the top his head. “I sure never saw one like him before.”

Guthrey ignored his interest in the horse. “Did my men chasing those outlaws look haggard?”

“No. Determined as all get-out, but they looked all right. Guess you're worried about them?”

“I need to catch them. Is that vendor across the street clean enough to cook me some food?”

The man nodded.

Guthrey hitched his horse. “I'll get me something to eat.”

“I'll watch him.”

“Thanks.”

The Mexican woman made him a large flour tortilla and wrapped some mashed bean mix inside it for ten cents. It was large and he paid her two dimes, drawing a smile on her wrinkled face as she accepted his money.

The liveryman filled his canteen at the pump while Guthrey ate the hot, spicy burrito, and then the man hung the canteen on the saddle. “I've heard about you. You won a special election over there in Crook County, didn't you?”

“Yes. My name's Guthrey.”

“You and your men are tough and damned determined, crossing county lines to get outlaws. My name's Earl Stone. I'm proud to have met you.”

Guthrey agreed with a nod and shook his hand. Some other curious men came across the street from the saloon.

“Who's he?” one asked, inspecting Cochise.

“New sheriff in Crook County, after some stage robbers,” Earl said.

“Why, you ain't got no authority up here,” the man scoffed.

“Don't worry about it. Unless you break the law in my county. Then there ain't no imaginary lines going to stop me from arresting you.” His meal devoured, Guthrey wiped his mouth, then he led his mount to the water trough for another drink.

“He's after them six in uniforms rode through here,” an onlooker said to the others.

“I hope you catch and hang them kind.”

“I'll try to arrest them and let the judge hang them.” He went to the right side and mounted his horse. Cochise skidded sideways out on the street until Guthrey got him under control with the bit.

“Thanks, Earl.” He let the big horse single-foot out of town.

* * *

B
Y NIGHTFALL HE
reached Florence Junction, a stage stop, and was reunited with his men, who he found eating supper.

“It's the boss,” Noble said, and the three rose to invite him to join them.

“Sit down. You guys are hard to catch.”

“We shut down,” Baker said. “They sent four men out to meet us a couple miles west of here. I figured they were ready to fight and they had the advantage of cover. So we decided rather than tangle with them, we'd come back here, eat, and consider a plan.”

“Sounds like a good decision,” Guthrey said. Then he told the short Mexican lady who came out to wait on him that he wanted the same meal and coffee that his companions had.

She agreed and shuffled off to get it for him.

Seated on the bench beside Dan, Guthrey clapped him on the shoulder. “You three making it all right?”

“Sure. Our asses are getting raw, but we're all right,” Noble said. “They tried this business of sending back those four men to stop us. But we saw it, and Teddy knew it was a move to cover their ass like for a retreating army.”

“Lucky you figured it out. Where in hell are they heading?”

While waiting to bring his food, the Mexican woman lit a few lamps. The sun was going down.

Baker shook his head. “They asked about the distance to Camp McDowell when they rode through here. That big mountain out there is called Superstition. The army outpost and reservation is about thirty miles north of here. Two rivers converge there, the Verde from the north and Salado from the east.”

“Why did they want to go there, I wonder.”

“Ain't no telling, but they've got a plan. We've been learning bits and pieces about them along the way. Two of them are ex-sergeants. Two are just plain soldiers and two are former officers. One was a colonel. Word is they were all court-martialed for raping Indian women captives and then selling them in Mexico for whores in the slave trade. Their trial was held at the army post outside El Paso. They were thrown out of the army and each one sentenced to prison for ten years, but they all escaped.”

“Nice guys,” Guthrey said as the woman delivered his bowl of chili and beans with some flour tortillas on a plate.

“
Gracias
,” he said, and she nodded.

“Where else did they try to meet you head-on?”

“I guess it was before we got to San Carlos,” Baker said. “Dan noticed them and we held up. I shot at them with my Sharps rifle, and since we weren't in their rifle range, when the lead reached close enough to them, they left in a hurry.”

“You know they aren't through trying everything to stop you?”

“Yeah,” Noble said. “They know now we're determined. I'm sure they'll try to stop us.”

Baker set down his large spoon. “They are like a machine when they set up. One man moves and another covers him and they come on like hornets. I never was in the army but they're more like that than ordinary men.”

“They sound efficient enough. We need to be damn careful from here on.”

“Could one or two of us sneak up on them tonight?” Baker asked.

Noble shook his head. “Let them head for McDowell in the morning. Get a good night's sleep here and rest our horses. They can't get too far away from us without remounts.”

“Tell me about it,” Guthrey said. “My ranch horse was done in at San Carlos and I'm riding a big, stout paint stallion.”