Texas Blood Feud (27 page)

Eight men rode out of camp around the large batch of quiet cattle and past the night riders circling the herd. The man they passed the closest to was playing a mouth harp as he rode his horse at the perimeter of the herd. He waved under the starlight at them, and they rode on in a trot, Berry and Knight in the lead.

McCory’s place was set in some timber. Knight sent Sammy and four men with instructions on how to ride around and come in from the back. He told them to use their rifles if needed and be sure not to shoot another posse member. Everyone else rested and waited to give them time to get in place.

Chet could hardly sit still. He was this close to ending a large part of his troubles and having Dale Allen’s killer in jail awaiting trial. In the cool night air, he paced back and forth until Knight struck a match and checked his pocket watch.

“Mount up. They should be there by now.”

When they reached sight of the dark buildings and corrals, Knight spread them out, saying the main house was where he expected most of them to be sleeping. Chet and Virgil took the shed on the right. They found nothing but some dusty hay, and came out as the light of dawn began to appear.

Knight was in the open when he called out. “McCory, this is Deputy U.S. Marshal Jim Knight. Tell everyone in there with you to step outside hands high. I have a large posse surrounding your house and no one needs to die.”

Someone must have tried the back door to escape. A warning shot made him swear.

“I’ve got my damn hands up and don’t shoot.”

Seconds ticked by. Chet and Virgil had their rifles aimed at the house. Chet’s mouth was dry and he could have used some coffee. He’d have a hard time not to want to gun them down when they came outside. Justice would be served—he needed more patience.

“All right,” a loud voice said. “I’m coming out. I ain’t armed.”

“Tell the rest to do the same.”

“I ain’t their boss.”

“McCory, you better tell them or you’re going to be in the cross fire.”

“You heard him. He’s got the guns. Don’t be foolish.”

They filed out. Finally, Kenny and Shelby came out.

“Earl can’t raise his right arm,” Shelby said, looking around for the posse as he stepped out of the building.

Knight shot a look at Chet, who nodded it was so. “Tell him to come on out, but don’t make a false move,” said Knight.

“He won’t.”

McCory and his three men were separated from the Reynolds men. The fourth member of McCory’s gang was marched around front, while Sammy checked the building and herded two women and three small children outside.

“That’s all and we could find,” Reg said.

The prisoners were checked for weapons, producing knifes and small guns. Then Knight told them to sit on the ground. Chet and the others joined them in front of the house. He ignored the Reynolds men and the strong temptation to shoot them on the spot—
let the law take its course
.

Knight took out a small book and began to take down names. He wrote them with a small pencil. When he came to the Reynolds men, he spoke to them. “I am binding you three over to the grand jury in Fort Smith for the murder of Dale Allen Byrnes and two drovers named Pinky and Arnold.”

“You ain’t got any proof—” Shelby grumbled.

“Six eyewitnesses.”

“A good lawyer will make a circus out of them.”

“I can tell you don’t know Judge Issac Parker, mister. He ain’t known as the Hanging Judge for no good reason.”

Berry came from around back with a copper tubing coil and a crock jug.

Then Knight turned to the others. “We need to take the rest of you to Fort Smith for making illegal whiskey. Marshal Berry has found your copper tubing and several jars of whiskey in the root cellar.”

“Can’t we post a bond and show up there later?” McCory asked.

“No. Judge said we were to bring you in ’cause you’d only make more whiskey while you were out on bond.”

“Ah, shit.”

“Byrnes, will you see about getting us some food? Sam, you and your boys saddle them some horses so we can take them out after we eat. I’ll need to arrange for some transportation to get them to Fort Smith.”

Chet told the two women and children to go inside. He and Virgil followed them into the sour-smelling house. Between the nicotine and the odor of old socks, Chet wasn’t certain anything they cooked would be appetizing to him, but everyone needed to eat.

“What do you have for food?”

The two women, neither one of whom was attractive, shrugged, and turned up their grimy palms like they had little to cook. High cheekbones, dull eyes, and dressed in stained gowns. Their hair hung straight and uncombed.

“We got some oatmeal,” the taller one said.

“Cook it—wait. Wash out that pot first.”

She shrugged like it didn’t matter, and went to the water bucket and dipped some water in it. After sloshing it around, she threw the water outside. He went over and looked at the pot.

“That’s too nasty to cook anything in.”

“You fix it then.” She shoved the pot at him.

“You watch them, Virgil. I’ll take this out to that well and clean it.”

Sammy soon joined him. “What’s wrong, Boss?”

“They wanted to cook oatmeal in this damn pot ain’t been washed in years.” He was on his hand and knees scouring it with sand.

“Can I do it?”

“No, go make some coffee if they have any.”

“Sure thing.”

“Get the cooking range going and boil some water for the dishes.” He’d bet they hadn’t been washed in years either.

The pot was finally thoroughly washed, and he rinsed it. Then, with water drawn from the well, he filled it half full and carried it back. Sammy came out and got water for the coffeepot. “Fire’s going. They’ve got some scorched beans I guess are coffee.”

“Don’t you touch a thing,” Chet said to the two of the women standing back. “I’ll heat some water and you two can wash and rinse the cups and dishes we’re going to eat off of.”

“Got trouble?” Knight asked, coming in the open door.

“No, I’ve got sloppy help. We’ll have some oatmeal and coffee in a while.”

“You don’t know how lucky you are to have those three running your chuck wagon. Me and Roscoe have eaten some tough meals up here.”

“You’d’ve had the shits in two miles of here eating from what they wanted to use for a kettle.”

Knight laughed and then shook his head. “I hope you will bring those witnesses to Fort Smith.”

“Let me get my cattle to Abilene and I’ll be ready.”

“A deposition from each of them when you get to Abilene and sent to the Judge’s office in Fort Smith would help hold the prisoners.”

“I’ll do it first thing when we get there.”

“Good. What will you do after that?”

“I hope to get married back home in Texas. I was supposed to do that weeks ago.” He stirred the oats in the boiling water on the stove.

“Well. good luck.”

“I’ll need it.”

After oatmeal and bitter coffee, the prisoners in irons were mounted up on a chain of horses, and they headed back for the herd. But before he left the yard, Chet got a cussing-out that would have made a sailor blush from the tall woman standing in the doorway.

He sat Bugger, shaking his head in disbelief at her anger. Then he stretched his stiff back and tossed his head at Virgil. He’d be glad when this drive was over.
Man, she was foul-mouthed
.

“You ain’t heard the last of this,” Earl said when he rode past him.

“Listen, Earl, when I hear them drop that trapdoor, I’ll hear the last of you, and till then, you can sit in jail and rue the day that you shot my brother Dale Allen.”

“I’d of got you, too, you sonofabitch.”

Chet gritted his teeth, rode in close, and kicked Earl so hard in the leg that his horse shied. “Next time you call me that, I’ll kill you.”

At the herd, Berry gathered all the signed posse cards, promising the money would be there for them when they got to Fort Smith. The marshals then took their prisoners and rode on to find a wagon to haul them in.

Chet rested on his bedroll, looking at the azure sky and the red-tailed hawk circling on the updraft. Abby came by and joined him, seated on the ground and hugging her knees. Then she sprawled on her back to look at the sky.

“You reckon them three seen me?” she asked.

“Why?”

“I wanted them to know it was me turned ’em in. They’d’ve stopped and been civilized, they might not be going to the gallows today, huh?”

“I imagine you’re right, Abby.”

“Where you going to dump me off?” She rolled over on her stomach, propped herself up on her elbows, and stared off across the prairie. Intent on something, she went to chewing on a grass stem.

“I didn’t plan to dump you anywhere. We’re going to Abilene. If you want to go home from there, I’ll send one of the crew to drive you there.”

“I sure ain’t going back home.”

“Oh?”

“My pappy sold me to Olaf Petersen when I was twelve years old. For two mules and two crosscut saws. I sure ain’t letting him sell me again.”

“Sorry.”

“He wasn’t supposed to marry or even mess with me till I was sixteen.” She laughed. “You seen how long that promise lasted—that’s Lana and Tanya. They’re three.”

“So where would you like to go?”

“I never seed Texas.”

He closed his eyes. “I’ve got two widows now down there now. My brother’s and my uncle’s.”

“Maybe you need to start a home for them.” She giggled.

“I have.”

“Well, unless you dump me, I’m going back with your outfit.”

“You can earn your way. Them boys love you cooking.”

“Thanks. Sure am proud we’ve got that settled.” She rose up, brushing the dry grass off her dress front. “I better clean up. Folks’ll get the wrong idea. Me down here talking to you and getting grass all over me, huh?”

He shook his head. They probably would.

Abilene, Queen of the Cow Towns, bustled when he rode up the street, and the tinny sound of pianos filtered out of the batwing doors. Doves in low-cut blouses hung out of open second-story windows and flirted with anyone who would pay them attention. Every once in a while, they struck a deal with a man and lured him up to their parlor. Chet ignored them.

The Cattleman’s House was the largest saloon, and most of the buyers could be found in the there, either playing cards or simply resting their shoes on the brass rail and drinking whiskey. Something Chet never touched until the deal was done. When he pushed in the batwing doors, he was looking for Hiram Dugan, who’d stopped him two days before, saying he’d give ten cents a pound for his cattle.

“Hey, that you, Byrnes?” a familiar man asked folding up his hand of cards and getting up. He strode over. “Kelsey Pitts. I bought your cattle last year.”

“I remember you. What’re you paying this year?”

“Market’s down bad. Best I could go is six cents this year.”

“Shame. A man offered me ten on the road.”

“That was a come-on.” Pitts made a face to dismiss the claim. “No one’s paying that much for them.”

“Then he better tell me to my face. We’re talking all steers, three or older. No cows or bulls in ’em. You know. You bought ’em last year.”

“I might give seven, but I’d not make a dime at that price.”

“No sense buying cattle that you can’t make money on.” Chet stood on his toes to try and locate Dugan. No sign of the man’s bowler hat. “I’ll see you, Kelso. You get interested my herd’s south of town. Bar-C outfit.”

“I know your outfit well. We’ve traded before. How many head?”

“Fourteen hundred and some.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Chet nodded, and left the crowded place. He crossed the street to the Texas Star Saloon and had a draft beer for twenty cents. Boomtown prices. Everyone had money came there, or at least until the con men, crooked card sharks, and pickpockets got to them. Not to mention the ladies of the night who were as deft at getting in a man’s wallet as the rest.

High-stakes poker games made more profit that cattle drives ever could. In years past, he’d seen cattleman lose all they got for a herd in a high-stakes game and go home broke.

“Well, if it ain’t ole Chet hisself up here.” Fancy Dan Downey hooked his elbows on the bar so he could face the crowd and let them see his rhinestone-studded cuffs and the heavy gold chain on his watch.

“I wouldn’t be here this year, but those Reynolds boys shot my brother down on the Red River in a raid.”

“They what?”

“You heard me. They killed Dale Allen, a cowboy named Pinky, and another called Arnold. May have killed my cook, too.”

“What—what are you doing about it?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“No, the three of them, Earl, Shelby, and Kenny, are rotting in Judge Issac Parker’s jail waiting to hang.”

“Fort Smith, huh?”

“Yes, and I’ll be there to see them swing.”

“I would, too.” He clamped Chet on the shoulder. “Sorry, I didn’t know.”

Chet downed the flat-tasting beer and went back to camp.

“Find your man?” Abby asked, bringing him coffee when he dismounted.

“No. But he’ll be around. Several others will drive out and try to steal ’em.”

She pursed her lips, looking serious. “If we’re going to be here long, we’ll sure need some supplies.”

“Send Reg after them.”

“Okay. Coffee, dried apples, raisins, sugar, canned milk—”

“Abby, I don’t need to approve a list. Have them throw on a case or two of canned peaches and some tomatoes too. May as well celebrate while we’re here.”

She frowned at him, concerned. “I didn’t want to break you.”

“No problem. We made it here and we’ll be going home shortly. I ever get a price worth a hoot on these cattle, we’ll head out of here in a hurry.”

She smiled. “I’m ready.”

“So am I, girl. So am I.”

Ten days went by and no sign of the buyer. The best offer so far was eight cents a pound. Chet grew more antsy by the day. Drovers were selling for those prices, and more cattle herds arrived every day.

“Chet. Chet.” Abby came running across the prairie holding up her skirt so a fair part of her shapely lower legs showed as she churned toward him. “I think he’s coming. I recognized that gaited horse.”

Chet dropped the hoof on Dun that he’d been shoeing, and looked hard at the rig coming in their direction. She might be right.

“Whoa. Hey, Dugan here. I’ve been out to Hayes a-looking for cattle. Sorry I wasn’t here, but you still got them steers, all right?”

“Ten-cent-a-pound steers?”

“That’s what I told ya, that’s what I’m paying. I’ve got to get cars here on the siding, and then we can go to loading and paying. Them steers sure look a lot fuller on this good Kansas grass than they did the other day.”

“They’re good cattle.”

“I agree, and the man getting them will be excited. Just what he needs.”

“Send me word when you are getting the cars. We’ll start bringing them in.”

“Nice to do business with a real man.” He doffed his hat to Abby and smiled big. “Nice to met you, too, me lady.”

“The same, sir.”

“I’ll have word on my cars in twenty-four hours.”

“That’ll be fine.”

Dugan drove off.

“Guess that’ll show then other scallywags that you ain’t to be messed with,” Abby said.

He leaned into his tender back and closed his eyes. “I’ll be sure of that when they’re in the cars and I have the money in my hands.”

“I can loosen that back fur ya.”

“Oh, how?”

“Get on your belly and I’ll straddle your back and pound it with the sides of my fists.”

“Sounds kinda wild.”

“Aw, it ain’t. Get down there.”

He did, and she was soon sitting on his butt beating him lightly with her fists. In a short while, his tight back muscles let go and he about fainted. It worked.

“See?” She leaned over and whispered in his ear. “See, I can do lots more than cook.”

Facedown in the sweet-smelling grass, he nodded, feeling spent. “You done good.”

Reg took her list, and came back in a few hours with two packhorses loaded down. She issued a can of tomatoes and one of peaches to each of the cowboys. They were like kids at Christmas, squatted or sitting cross-legged on the ground, laughing and carrying on. They all proposed to her. And they went on and on, saying she was why they got the special treats. Reg even bought the twins hard candy.

“Boys, for you who did not know, that buyer Dugan was here this morning and he’s taking the steers at ten cents. We’ll start loading in the next few days and then head for home. Get those steers in the cars, I can pay you here or pay you in Texas.”

A hurrah went up, and some rebel yells, before they all turned to the cattle with worried looks—had they stampeded them? A few steers got up and stretched. The cowboys all shook their heads that they were lucky that time.

Bunch by bunch, they drove them into the pens and weighed them. The steers weighed on average eight-fifty. Dugan acted pleased as they filed in the pens to be loaded on the scales, with more coming behind them.

The stockyard clerk was working to keep track. Dugan had Virgil checking on him, and Reg did the company counting.

It was dark when the last bunch rolled into the yards. The count they agreed on was 1,458 head. That meant they’d arrived with ninety-seven percent of the cattle they left Texas with, and that was a solid figure. Ninety percent was good for most outfits. And the total amount for them was seventy bucks short of $124,000 worth of beef.

Chet collapsed his butt against the side of the scale house. He could pay off all of their debts and have a good nest egg. His fees alone would pay for the drive, or most of it anyway. They’d finally be out of debt with money in the safe. And Dale Allen wasn’t there to celebrate with him.

He walked out to where his drovers were squatted down along the outside fence of the stockyards. The small switch engine was moving cars as other outfits loaded.

“Boys, it’s been a helluva deal. Couldn’t have made it without a one of you. I’m paying a twenty-buck bonus tonight. We’ll be going home after I settle with Dugan.”

He went down the line paying in twenty-dollar gold pieces, and shook each man’s hand. He motioned for Heck to come along with him, and they rode back.

“Had any supper?” she asked when the two rode in past sundown.

“No, ma’am,” Heck said. “And we’re starved plumb to death.”

“The rest stayed in town?” she asked.

“It’s their night to hoot at the moon,” Chet said, stripping off his saddle and pads.

“Been strange around here, not having a critter to bawl except ole Blacky,” she said, serving up bowls of stew. “Kinda of peaceful-like.”

“It’s a good thing, too,” Heck said. “I don’t miss ’em. Do you, Chet?”

He pressed his back to the side of the wagon. “Aw, you just start all over again.”

“Well, eat your stew,” she said. “And tell me how that works. The girls was mad at me tonight for putting them to bed when they couldn’t talk to the cowboys.”

They laughed about it to the tune of the crickets.

The next day, the hungover cowboys arrived in camp. Three of the boys drew their pay, going on with another herd to the Red Cloud Agency at Fort Robinson, Nebraska.

Rest of the crew slept all day, while Chet went to town and arranged to be paid the money. The currency was counted twice and he put it all in a new valise.

At the wagon, he and Abby hid the valise in the false bottom of a flour barrel and then scooped the flour back in the drum. She smiled at him when they finished, and wrinkled her small nose at him. “Fancy safe.”

“It better make it home.”

She put the lid on it. “It will.”

He laughed at the flour all over his front, and he went swatting it away as he climbed out of the chuck wagon. “We head for Texas in the morning.”

Three weeks later, after they crossed at Doan’s, he paid Corwin Doan what he owed him and bought some supplies that Abby needed. Some of the riders collected their pay and thanked him, then headed for Denison. He also learned that Matt had recovered and gone on down to the ranch.

Chet swung by Fort Worth, found a dressmaker to fit Abby in a ruffled blue dress, bought his boys new pullover blue denim shirts, rusty brown canvas pants, and new suspenders. They all took baths and dressed up for the final ride home.

Even the twins got new outfits. The wagons rumbled south. The mules and draft horses were grained for the trip, as were the saddle horses—anxious to be going home, they pushed hard each day, rain or shine.

The Texas sun had some kind of hot power in July, and before long everyone was complaining about the heat. But when they started down into the hill country, and the live oak and cedar began to dot the country—he felt better. This was his land.

Second of August, they drove in. Their once-new clothes were a little dusty, but Chet was so glad to be home, nothing’d spoil it. Then he noticed Kathren on the porch and threw his hat in the air with a shout. “Girl, you are a sight for sore eyes.”

He swung her around and when he stopped, Reg said, “This is Abby Petersen. That’s Lana and Tanya. Lightning killed her man. She told Chet where the Reynolds boys were going.”

“What about the Reynolds boys?” Kathren asked.

“Earl, Shelby, and Kenny. They’re all in the Fort Smith jail awaiting trial for the murders. We have to go up there in October and testify. A lawyer took the hands’ testimony in Kansas, and I have a telegram says that the trial is to be held October sixth.”

“Will you go?” Kathren asked.

“Yes. I want to see justice served.”

“I understand.”

Susie took her new ward inside, and he could see a twin in each arm had her fascinated. Good. “How have things been for you?”

“Fine. My father is not well. I guess I’ll need a day man. I can’t run both places and them apart.”

“What’s wrong with him?”

“His heart. Doc says he has to rest a lot and take things easy. That would be like telling you that. He won’t listen.”

“What can I do?”

“Take me home.” She lowered her voice. “And hold me tight all night long. I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed you.”

“Me, too.”

“You better eat some supper. Susie will be upset with me taking you away when you first arrive home.”

“She’ll understand. I’ll tell her I’m leaving—with you, of course.”

“All right.” She agreed, sounding small.

“One minute.” He rushed into the house and pulled Susie aside. “I’m taking Kathren home. She has chores to do and her father and all. Abby can show you where the money is hid. Put it in the safe tonight.”

“Of course. Have a nice reunion.” With a quick a peck on her cheek, he waved to them and hurried outside. His horse was tied on the tailgate, and he stepped on the buckboard.

“Let’s go home.”

“Yes.” She hugged his arm. “It’s been a while.”

“Too long. Far too long.”

“How did the cattle do?”

“I’d say close to eight thousand dollars for your part.”

“Oh, are you certain?” She looked wide-eyed in disbelief at him.

“Yes, there were ninety-seven percent of the cattle delivered, they averaged eight-fifty, and they brought ten cents a pound.”

She slumped back on the seat. “Luther wanted to sell out because we owed half that much and couldn’t seem to ever get it paid. I told him to give us another year—you know the rest. He walked out.”

At last he knew her story.
Grim, and he never ever let her laugh
.