Blood on the Verde River Read online

  Reg stood and mounted his horse. “Go get the black one next,” he told her and reined his horse around.

  Chet stayed and built the fire they’d need to brand the cattle. The third bull was tougher and took up trying to hook them with his horns. A mature longhorn bull had long thick horns, unlike steers whose seldom got very long. The dark hided one obviously had a temper and when they rode up on him, he’d charge and cause them to quickly ride away.

  Watching the pair ride in and out, Chet was ready to shoot the damn bull and let the buzzards have him. But Reg and Lucy were dedicated to subduing him. Lucy finally roped him. Reg made a pass to distract him and the bull charged him. She flipped the rope over his back, charged off to the side and threw the bull on his back—hard. The collision about unrooted the gray, but she rode it out.

  Reg was off his horse immediately and three-footed him. By then, the bull was really mad, but all he could do was strain on the pigging string, a rope thick enough to hold a ship in dock. He flopped on his side like a helpless fish out of water and bellowed.

  The irons were hot. Reg swiftly removed the first bull’s seeds while Chet slapped the brand on him. Lucy ducked in and notched his ear.

  “Leave him tied,” Reg said to them. “We’ll do the other two and they can lay here all day. We can come back and turn them loose later. It will teach them to be humble.”

  Everyone laughed. Branding completed, they put out the small fire carefully. Using canteen water they completed that job, then rode off looking for more mavericks. Chet enjoyed the company of the two. Lucy fed them some fried apple pies she had made the night before.

  “How many more mavericks are up here?” Chet asked them.

  “We don’t know. Lots of them drifted up here over the years.”

  “There are lots of lazy ranchers, too,” Lucy said. “They have had no easy markets so the incentive to work cattle wasn’t there. My dad and a few others drove some cattle and sold them to the miners down on the Bill Williams River. We also drove some down to the Colorado River and sold them. The Havasupai Agency has also bought our cattle. It wasn’t much, but that’s how we survived living up here. “We also butchered cattle and sold the meat to wagon trains on the trail west.”

  “When we’re ready to ship cattle from up here, I’ll be sure to buy some cattle from your dad and the others who have worked so hard,” Chet said.

  She slapped the saddle horn. “They’ll, by damn, be glad to hear that news.” Then she shook her head. “I guess a wife shouldn’t cuss, sorry.”

  Reg rode in leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “Lucy, we don’t give a damn.”

  They laughed some more. Before the day was over they’d branded six more younger cattle. Swinging their ropes and laughing with Chet, they rode by and untied the former bulls who staggered to their feet with little fight left in them from being tied all day. It was near sundown when they reached the ranch. The cook, Harry, waved them over.

  “I saved you three supper. Had to use a hard spoon on a few of them hands but we have it.”

  “You’re the greatest,” Lucy said as she dismounted.

  A youth named Willy took their horses and Chet shook his hand. “Nice to meet you, Willy.”

  “Reg talks about you all the time. Him and his brother had a real life in Texas growing up with you.”

  “Yes, a tough time, but we made it. Thanks for taking care of the horses.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “That’s Lucy’s cousin,” Reg said. “He’s making a hand.”

  Harry told them the hay crew was heading home in the morning. “They have it all stacked.”

  Chet was glad. His hay contractor at Camp Verde needed them back. “I’ll see them off and thank them.”

  They took places at the table and were joined by some of the workers. Chet stood to speak. “Next year, we’ll need mowers, rakes, teams, and a beaver-board for this place. I guess we need a couple plows and teams for this winter.”

  “Mr. Byrnes, where is your next ranch going to be?” one of the men asked.

  “I don’t know. I have more now than I can over-see.”

  “Hey, some of us have been working for you for over a year. We sure like working for you. We hope you have more for us to do.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate all of you mechanics. This is a long way from your families, but you all have done a great job. Maybe we can form a company back in Preskitt to do construction and you can work near home. I’ll look into it.”

  A cheer went up. “Some of you know Jenn from the café. Two of my men—one was Reg’s brother JD—and I went to Mexico and brought her daughter Bonnie Allen back from the hands of some evil men.”

  “You need to be the damn sheriff,” someone shouted.

  Chet held up his hands and smiled. “I could not hire all of you as deputies.”

  Laughter rippled in the crew.

  He sat down to eat and gently elbowed Lucy beside him. Under his breath, he asked, “Did you two save those three bulls for me?”

  “Naw, we’ve been practicing our roping on others until we figured we were tough enough to take them three on and win.”

  Chet chuckled and then thanked the cook for the good food.

  No one had to rock him to sleep that night.

  In the morning, they ate with the crew, then rode out to look at some areas Reg and Lucy thought would make good tank sites to develop water resources.

  Rather than return to the ranch in the afternoon, they rode into Hackberry. Lucy went to get some things at the mercantile and Chet and Reg went to get a beer in the saloon. Behind the batwing doors, a bitter smell of nicotine and pine sawdust filled Chet’s nose.

  A few men played cards under a candlelight wagon wheel overhead. The mustached bartender welcomed them and wiped the bar with a towel where they choose to stand.

  “Two beers,” Chet said.

  The barman frowned. “I’ve met you before, haven’t I? You don’t live around here.”

  “Chet Byrnes. I arrested some men here over a year ago.”

  The bartender nodded and smiled. “Yeah, I knew I’d seen your face before. You chained them up with a lock and chain, then hired a wagon to take them back. You still in law enforcement?”

  “No,” Reg said. “He owns the Quarter Circle Z Ranch on the Verde.”

  “I’ll be damned. Nice to meet you at last. Them construction workers come in here every Saturday night. Sure helps my business.”

  “Good,” Chet said, then tossed his head at a table. He and Reg retired with their beers in hand.

  “This is a quiet place compared to Preskitt and damn sure lots slower than Tombstone,” Chet pointed out.

  “I heard it was wild.”

  “That is mild to reality. I met some famous people from the cattle towns of Kansas. The Earp brothers, Doc Holliday. He’s a lunger who plays cards and pulls teeth. The sheriff is in bed with the outlaws who supply the army and Indian agencies with beef and who hold up stages. Marshal White keeps things down in town.”

  “I heard that Tucson Ring is really tough.”

  “Yes. I guess they control everything. They want all the soldiers to stay in the territory. That means big bucks to them.”

  Reg changed the subject. “I guess you’ve sold more cattle to the Navajos.”

  “Sarge is in charge of this month’s delivery. They liked the cattle we delivered.”

  Three men came in the saloon. All in their twenties, they wore six-guns and swaggered up to the bar. The leader had his hand on his gun butt. “Hey bring us a bottle of whiskey and point out them gawddamn rustlers from the Quarter Circle Z to us. We’ve got a bone to pick with them.” His loud words broke up the card game and chairs were turned over as the gamblers backed to the wall in alarm.

  Chet put his hand out to stay Reg. He rose slow-like. His right hand itched, but he had to think, not shoot. Innocent people could die in any wild crossfire. “You got some invisible brands we ain’t seen?”

  “Yo
u can’t come up here and brand every calf out there.”

  “You the law?”

  “By Gawd, we aim to make the law. Those cattle belong to the local ranchers.”

  “My name’s Byrnes. I own that brand and those unbranded cattle belong to the rancher who catches them unmarked.”

  “Steward’s ours. We intend to stop you.”

  “No, you either intend to die in those clothes or do a term in Yuma County prison if you even try.”

  “You can’t shoot all three of us—”

  “I can,” Lucy said, parting the batwing doors. She fired a rifle shot into the floor.

  In the deafening blast and the choking gun smoke that boiled up, the three found themselves covered by Chet’s and Reg’s drawn pistols.

  “Get your hands up and get out of here,” Lucy ordered.

  Her rifle barrel pointed at them, the three men walked outside, followed by Chet and Reg.

  On the boardwalk, Chet disarmed them and shoved them to the wall of the saloon to check for more weapons The card players stumbled outside coughing on the smoke.

  “Damn Lucy. Next time use a smaller caliber.” The man’s words echoed with laughter from the crowd.

  Chet was satisfied the gunmen were disarmed. He stepped back and looked at Reg. “You have a justice of the peace up here?”

  “Sam Goody. What do you intend to do?” Reg asked.

  “Someone go get Sam,” one of the card players said and a boy set out saying he’d get him.

  In twenty minutes, court was set up in the aired-out saloon and the word was out. People rushed to make the event. The saloon was filled with men and, on the porch to listen, were the womenfolk and kids.

  In a rumbled suit, Sam sat on top of the bar with a wooden mallet and block of wood to control order and hear the case. He was a short, fat man with small eyes and a white beard with a loud voice rusted from shouting. “Order in the court.” He slammed the hammer on the board. “By the laws of the territory of Arizona this court is now in session. Any one making an outbreak will be fined ten dollars. Am I clear?”

  Heads nodded.

  “Now, who are the defendants?”

  A man with a deputy badge stood up. “The men being charged with disturbing the peace and terroristic threatening are Wade Steward, Jefford Steward, and Clyde Steward.”

  “How do you plead?”

  “Not guilty,” Wade said, jumping up and pointing at Chet and Reg. “These sons o’ bitches are stealing our cattle. No one will stop them.”

  Sam hit the board. “That is a ten dollar fine for that outburst. You will have your time to testify. Pay the clerk right now.”

  Wade nodded and dug the money out for the bald-headed man who obviously was the clerk.

  Sam directed the other two to plead their case.

  “Not guilty,” each said. They did so without any other word.

  “Who is swearing out this warrant?”

  Chet stood. “I am. Chet Byrnes.”

  “Step up here, take the oath, and sit in that chair, Mr. Byrnes.”

  “Yes, Your Honor.”

  “Now, how did this all take place?”

  “Reg Byrnes and I came into the saloon, met the bartender, ordered two beers and took them to a table over there.” Chet pointed across the room.

  “Continue, sir.”

  “We’d been busy working mavericks all day. We wanted a few quiet minutes while his wife Lucy shopped. We were minding our business when these three brothers came in, ordered whiskey, and demanded to see the men branding the maverick cattle. All three gave statements what they’d do to anyone branding maverick cattle.

  “Wade threatened us openly if we did not cease our operation.”

  Sam nodded. “He told you to stop branding mavericks?”

  “Yes sir.”

  “What happened next?”

  “Reg’s wife Lucy saw the conditions in the saloon as threatening. She fired a rifle shot at their feet from those batwing doors and ordered them to get their hands in the air. That ended the matter. We disarmed them. Your Honor, if armed men can demand that ranchers stop legally branding range cattle, this territory will never become a state.”

  “Did you feel threatened by their actions?”

  “I have been in such gunfights with unreasonable men before. These men were at the point of being unreasonable unless I agreed to stop branding maverick stock on my own deeded land.”

  “I want the men in the room now, who were in this room when it happened, to stand, come forward, and take an oath to tell the truth.”

  Several men rose and walked to the bar where Sam sat.

  The clerk rose and took the Bible over to them. All touched it. “Do you swear to tell the truth?”

  “Yes,” rang out as a chorus.

  “Did Mr. Byrnes tell the court the truth as it happened?”

  “Yes, Your Honor.” Several spoke, others nodded.

  Sam looked at Chet. “They have verified your testimony about the altercation.” To the witnesses, he said, “Go sit down.”

  He turned back to Chet. “Mr. Byrnes, I understand you are a rancher in the Verde Valley.”

  Chet stopped. “Yes, and I own nine sections of land up here where Reg and Lucy are building a ranch for us.”

  “Thank you, sir. You may return to your seat.” Sam looked at the audience. “You, the short one. Stand and come up here and take the oath.”

  He did—looking stone-faced.

  “Sit down,” Sam ordered. “What was your business in that saloon?”

  “My brothers and I were tired of these land grabbers gathering all the unbranded cattle up here that should be shared by all of us.”

  “Wait. Mr. Byrnes owns eight or nine sections of private land. How much land does your family own?”

  “We have a homestead.”

  “A hundred sixty acres?”

  Steward nodded.

  “Then if you three were to get on your horses, by virtue of the land your family owns, you must be entitled to at least a dozen head. How many mavericks have you branded lately?”

  There was titter of laughter that Sam frowned at.

  “Oh, some.” Steward shrugged.

  “Well, I’d say rather than threatening these people, you need to get off your asses and catch your own mavericks. I am fining the three of you one hundred dollars apiece for disturbing the peace.” Sam hammered the board. “Court adjourned.”

  Chet thanked him and the clerk, then went out to join Lucy and Reg in the street and to shake hands with the other friendly, supportive ranchers.

  “What do you think, Chet?” Reg asked.

  “I’m going to send four good men up here. Don’t you two go mavericking alone any more. This incident is not different from how the Texas feud started. It could become wildfire serious in the event of one death. Any of those cocky Steward boys steps out of line and there will be a shoot-out that will kindle a big fire. Reg protect what is ours, but don’t let them lead you into that form of action.”

  “I’m not taking any of their shit, Chet. Lucy says they’re blowhards.”

  “No, they’re jealous ignorant fools, but that’s what starts range wars and feuds. They want what we have without working for it. In there, Sam the JP, called their bluff. ‘How many mavericks have you branded?’ ‘None.’ That won’t stop them from causing more trouble.”

  Chet knew that mavericking had been fun for Lucy and Reg. He’d just stopped it to prevent a feud busting out. “They’ll catch you roping, not paying any attention, and shoot both of you in the back.”

  He shook his head to try and clear the dread he felt in his skull and stomach. Way too damn close for anything.

  “I think we can go home.” He had to stop and shake hands with several more men who passed on the word that those lazy boys wouldn’t brand many mavericks. That was work. They appreciated the three of them for stepping in to cut off the bullying folks. He thanked them for their support.

  He turned to Lucy
and Reg. “Let’s get out of here.”

  They mounted up and headed to the ranch.

  “Chet, are you really concerned about a feud sprouting up with them?” Lucy asked.

  “Yes, I am. Back in Texas, I’d known those Reynolds boys all my life. They never were good cattlemen—I’d called them hog farmers. We had some fistfights after school. My brother held my books and I once fought two of them.

  “But the older they got, the cockier they got and the better our ranch did, the more they bad-talked us. We lost some horses. I am sure one of those boys took them, but I couldn’t prove it. Rumors were spread about us. How my father was going crazy and we’d lose the whole thing. Hell, I’d been running the ranch for a few years by that time.

  “I told you about some of them raping and murdering a woman who intended to be my wife. Reg told you about them stealing our remuda and the three of us running them down damn near to the Indian Territory. Women in that family told people it was a joke and they’d brought the horses back.

  “I’m sorry, Lucy. I saw the same thing happening today in that Hackberry Saloon.”

  She rode in and clapped him on the shoulder. “We’ll be careful for you.”

  “No.” He dropped his head. “Make it safe for those kids you two will have and Marge and our baby.”

  “It’ll be a spoiled thing,” Lucy said, shaking her head, amused.

  They laughed and rode home.

  At the ranch, Harry had food ready for them. Lucy hugged the old man and the effort made that bald-headed, old devil’s day. Chet considered her a great treasure for his nephew and the family. Lucy was simply a big-hearted, happy person.

  Reg and Chet spent the next morning talking about what needed to be done yet. The buildings projects were getting along fine, but Chet wanted them finished soon.

  “I’ll push them at the mill harder before the snow flies so you will have the material you need to finish up here. So, despite the snow we can get done. I am hiring two or even four good hands for you if I can find them. Keep your eyes on the Steward bunch and don’t you and Lucy go off after mavericks and let them bushwhack you.” He still felt like something bad would come out of the lot of them.