Texas Blood Feud (25 page)

When Heck moved in behind him, the big high-headed horse caught the stride, and from there on did good.

Miles passed under them, they changed horses, and then they rode on into the night. After midnight, he walked the horses for a mile or so, and then told Heck they could hobble them and sleep a few hours.

The next morning, he grained their mounts at a crossroads store. He and Heck had some fried eggs and cold biscuits that the man’s wife fixed for them while the horses rested, and then they rode on.

By the third morning’s light, with his eyes burned out like sand pits, Chet planned to be at Doan’s store on the Red River. He beat his own time, and it was still nighttime as they galloped the last few miles across the rolling plains to the crossing. No lights on in the store when they came down the last slope, and the Red River shimmered before them in the moonlight.

“How far north is the herd?” Chet asked as they reined their hard-breathing horses down to a walk.

“Two days, maybe twenty miles. We used almost a day crossing, so we didn’t make many miles the first day.”

Chet understood. “If you want to stay here and sleep some today. I’ll go on and find them.”

“No, I want to be with you. I have a small pistol in my saddlebags that Reg found for me to take along for my own protection. But I ain’t no shot with it. You don’t mind, I’ll ride on up there with you.”

“Sure. I can imagine being upset as you were waking up to all that.”

“Naw, that wasn’t the worst part.” He shook his head, looking sad. “Paw and I were finally talking—”

Even in the darkness, he could see the diamond tears on the boy’s face. The whole thing stabbed him in his gut. It only made him more determined as he studied the outline of the last outpost in Texas—Doan’s adobe store building—to find those killers and send them to hell.

Corwin Doan was a thin young man who originally came from Ohio. He walked out on the porch and stretched and yawned big in the predawn. “You fellows are up early—oh, aren’t you the boy came down the other day telling about the attack?”

“Yes, sir. There here’s my Uncle Chet.”

“Good day, sir. How may I help you?”

“I need some horses and drovers.”

“Oh, that might be a big order. There could be some at Denison. I bet I can find you three or four hands. Horses would be high.”

“How high?”

“Forty bucks piece.”

“Get me twenty. I can pay you now or when I return from Kansas.”

“I can wait for that money. How about the men?”

“Six if you can find them.” Chet rose from the rocker. “I’m Chet Byrnes and we met last time. Well, the first time I met you was when you all had a tent here.”

Doan nodded as if he recalled that time. “I remember those days, sir. We’re a little better off today.”

“Yes, you are. The boy and I are going on. I’ll send someone back to get the men and the horses.”

“No. I know I can find you some of those men you need, and I’ll send them up there to you with the horses I can find.”

“You have a deal. Take us across the river, please.”

Doan blinked at him. “Why, you’ve been riding for days. I can tell. Won’t you stay for some food?”

“I’d rather be with my outfit.”

“I understand. Let me get my shoes on and I’ll take you across. The boy isn’t up yet.”

“Thanks.”

Doan reeled them toward the north shore. “That’s a mighty big horse under your saddle. Biggest horse I think I’ve seen save for a Percheron or shire, but he’s saddle stock?”

“He’s a real saddle horse and a giant. Maybe over seventeen hands high. But he’s fast and tough.”

“Whew. You make a sight riding him.”

“I knew I’d needed a tough horse for this job, and I have him on loan from a little gray-haired lady.”

“Indeed. He’s a woman’s horse?”

“That’s who he belongs to.”

The barge landed. He shook Doan’s hand and thanked him. “Tell them they’re looking for the bar-C outfit.”

“They’ll catch up in the next few days.”

“Thanks again. I’ll square up on the way back. Let’s go find ’em, Heck.”

At sundown, they rode out of the trees, and Chet could see the cattle were spread over a great grassy flat. After a thanks to the powers that be above, he nodded to the weary boy. “Heck, you did good. We’re there.”

Reg in an apron came wading over in his chaps and wearing an apron. “Thank God.”

“I already did that,” Chet said, and dropped out of the saddle. “Sorry you boys have had such hell.”

“Wasn’t your fault.” Reg dropped his head in defeat. “Sammy’s coming in. He can tell you about the horses.”

“Did he find them?”

“Yeah, but they’re a pretty tough bunch that’s got them, and they wouldn’t give them back.”

“Mr. Byrnes.” Sam blinked in shock. “Am I glad to see you.”

“Chet,” he corrected him. “Now tell me about the horses. Who has them? How many are there?”

“Well. Those Reynolds riders must have hired them to help them make the raid. They got the horses as their pay, and they want fifty bucks a head to give them back. No way that me or the boys could take that bunch on. They’re tough.”

“How many of them?”

“Six or so.”

Chet nodded. “How far away are they?”

“Ten-twelve miles.”

“You know their layout?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Let me sleep for a few hours and you, Reg, and I will head over there and get our damn horses back for starters. Reg, no cook, huh? Where’s Matt?”

“He’s over there. Ain’t doing much good. But he’s alive.”

Chet nodded and went to the fly they had built over Matt. He ducked and took a look. Matt’s pale white face scared him.

“You sure made it up here in a big hurry,” Matt managed to say.

Chet nodded. “I want you taken to Denison so a doctor can look at you. As soon as Heck gets some sleep, I’m sending him after a buckboard.”

“Aw, hell, let me die. You’ve got cattle to move.”

“I ain’t leaving here till we get that buckboard.”

“Chuck can go get one. Heck’s done in,” Reg said. “I wanted to do that before. He won’t let me.”

“Send him. Here’s some money. Tell them I’ll pay the bill when we get back. Listen, Matt, I don’t aim for you to die.”

“May as well. With my stiff leg, I’m about as valuable as horse turds in the trail.”

“You better get a hold of yourself. You’ve got lots to still do for this outfit.”

“I should have shot that damn Earl. Him and his shattered arm hanging there on his horse and cussing you all. Maybe I’d’ve ended it all if I had.”

Chet knelt down beside him. “Shelby was the one in charge?”

“Him and Kenny. I don’t know who killed Pinky. There were others.” Matt shook his head in surrender.

“Rest easy, pard. We’ll find ’em and they’ll pay for this.”

“I hated it. Dale Allen was doing a great job. You’d’ve been proud and we were making good time.”

Chet nodded. He hated it worse for Heck.
He and his father had been talking
…

When the buckboard was sent for and things were being taken care of, Chet refused the offer of food and curled up in his blanket. He’d told Sammy to be ready to ride at midnight after their horses. Get him up then regardless. Visions of the pale-faced Matt lying on the pallet kicked him in the gut—he fell hard asleep.

“Midnight, like you said,” Reg said.

He looked up at the starlit faces of the three. “Cattle all right?”

“We’ve got enough night herders. It’s horses that we’re short.”

“We’ll take the horses that Heck and I brought.”

“Yeah, we have them saddled.”

“Good. I’ll get awake here in a moment.” He sat up and ground his sore eyes with his palms.

In a short while, he had some reheated coffee and felt enough awake to ride.

“Tell me what they have,” he said to Sammy as the four of them walked to the picketed horses.

“A log saloon or store. And some cabins they must live in. A big fella named Wallace is in charge. He’s the toughest one, Rudd Wallace. Bunch of breeds. One of them has a blind eye. He’s mean-looking, played with a big bowie knife the whole time I talked to them, stabbing it in a table.”

“Nice man. Where are the horses?”

“They pen them at night. Some Injun boys herd them in the daytime to graze.”

“I figured if we took the horses, they’d come after us and might spook the cattle,” Chet said. “So I want as many taken out as we can tonight. That means shoot first and ask questions later. It ain’t easy to do that, but they would do that to you.”

They nodded in agreement.

“I’ll take the saloon. Each of you boys take a cabin. Try not to kill any woman or children, but when a man busts out stop him.”

He looked for their hard nods as they rode four abreast. “J.D., you got any problems with that?”

“No, sir.”

“Just remember, it’s you or them. Be careful.”

“What if they want to surrender?” Reg asked.

“Fine, but watch them with your pistol cocked.”

“This Wallace is bigger than a bear,” Sammy said.

A few hours later, they came down through the shadowy post oak, and Chet could hear the sleeping horses stomping and snoring in the large corral. On foot, they slipped around the pen, and each man took a cabin and he took the saloon building.

“Give me time to locate him,” he said, and they parted. “Hold your places and be mindful; there could be more than one man in your cabin.”

When he drew the drawstring up, the saloon board door opened with a creak on leather hinges. The room stank of home brew, bad whiskey, and some rank human musks. He left it open for the light. A loud snore like a bear gnawing on wood filled the night. Upstairs. That was the source of the noise. His first step on the stairs made the wood creak in protest, but the snore absorbed it.

Six-gun in his fist, he mounted them, and soon was in the attic. He located the large form under some blankets on the floor. It was the source of all the noise. Soft-footed as he could be, he soon squatted beside the sleeping man, grateful for the little light coming in the attic from the small window.

“Don’t make a word.” He jammed the pistol muzzle against the man’s temple.

“Huh?”

“I’ll send you to hell right now. Shut her up,” he said, noticing a woman lying beside him had awakened with a start.

“Be quiet, bitch!”

“You make one funny move and I kill you.”

“I won’t. Who are you?”

“The man who owns those horses out there.”

Wallace laughed as Chet made him get facedown and tied his hands behind his back. “I’ll find you and kill you,” he threatened.

“You should have done that first, then stolen my horses. Woman, you go downstairs ahead of him. You try anything, I will shoot you, too.”

She obeyed him, acting awed.

“Who are you anyway?” Wallace asked again, starting down the steps.

“I told you. And if you break for that open front door at the bottom of the steps, you’re dead. Don’t think about it.”

“Think you got it all figured out, huh?”

“I’ve got you covered and you’ll die first. Don’t tempt me. There’s a dozen of my men out there and they all have guns.”

“You a marshal? One of Parker’s men?”

“No. Now get on the porch. I’ll tell you what to start hollering.”

“Huh?”

“Tell them to come out. That we have you surrounded. Hands in the air or we’ll kill them.” He used his gun barrel to poke Wallace into action.

“Hey.”

“Do it louder.”

“Hey, throw down your guns. They got us, boys.”

Chet fired his pistol into the porch roof. “Next time it’ll punch your ear. Tell them louder.”

“Surrender! The sumbitches got us!” Then a shot.

“You all right?” he asked, hoping for the answer.

“Yeah, but he ain’t.” It was Reg.

“Fine. Bring them all down here and set them on the ground.” Chet turned to the saloon. “Woman. Bring two lamps out here.”

“What next?” Wallace asked as Chet pushed him off the porch and made him sit on the ground in his one-piece underwear.

“We have a cure in Texas for horse thieves.”

“We only found three of them,” Reg said. “That other one’s near dead.”

“How many more were here, Sammy?”

“That’s all except for the bowie knife Injun.”

“He ain’t the one Reg shot, is he?”

“No, this was a little fella.”

“That was Portuguese,” Wallace said in disgust, and laughed aloud. “You didn’t catch Dogkiller asleep. I bet he’s miles away from here by now.”

“Reg, make the nooses. We’ve got cattle to move.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Any of the four of you want to pray, go ahead.”

“You ain’t got the nerve to hang all of us,” Wallace said.

“Mister, we hang horse thieves all the time and don’t lose no sleep over it. The bar-C bunch don’t put up with rustlers,” J.C. said.

“The law’ll get you.”

“I’ll bet they turn their heads and say it’s a shame them boys got hung up on a clothesline.” Chet said, grateful it would soon be daylight.The nooses were soon tied, and he slung the first rope over a large oak limb. Then he marched Wallace over and placed the hemp around his neck on the left side of his face.

“Get on the chair.”

“If I don’t—”

“Then I’ll gut-shoot you and leave you to die slow.”

Wallace stood on the chair. Reg drew the rope tight and tied it off.

Only the birds chirped.

“You have anything to say?” Chet asked.

“No.”

Chet kicked the chair out from under him. The rope creaked and the limb bent under Wallace’s weight. His neck cracked like a dry stick and Wallace hung limp.

They hung the other four, including the wounded man, on various other branches until five corpses swung from the oak tree and swirled gently in the soft morning wind. Then the—
C
horses were collected from the pen under the shifty eyes of the Indian women and the small dark-eyed children hiding in their skirts. Maybe sixty head, Chet guessed, about two thirds of the bunch they took.

Mounted up, they drove the horses back to the herd. At camp, Chet went to check on Matt. The boy wasn’t back with the buckboard yet.

“How many horses you get back?” Matt asked

“Two thirds of ’em.”

“That’s enough to get started.”

“Yes, it is. But we’re sending you to Denison to a doctor before we leave.”

“Aw, hell, go on—”

“
I
do the going-on part. Where’s the damn whiskey for this outfit?”

“In the chuck box marked salve.”

“You want a drink?” Chet asked, starting for it.

“Yeah. I’d have one.”

“I’ll bring you one when we get through. Them boys can stand one. We’ve been kicking chairs.”

“Huh?”

“Out from under horse rustlers.”

Matt nodded. Chet went for the whiskey. Damn, this job got tougher.