Blood on the Verde River Page 12

“We will,” he promised.

  The ranch woman Gail Cloud, who’d helped them down by Hassayampa City, came over to Chet and introduced her husband Clay. Pumping Chet’s hand, the man thanked him for the return of his good horses and for taking care of his wife while he was gone.

  Chet excused himself. Folks from all over were filing in, along with the bride and his wife returning from the lower place.

  He escaped the effort of the sheriff committee to get him elected the next fall. He took a taste of some meat sliced off Tom’s steer. Tom’s crew had gone and gotten mesquite wood to cook it and it tasted so damn good.

  “She looks beautiful in that dress.” Marge had come up behind him.

  Chet turned and said, “Glad I didn’t miss it.”

  “Oh, you. Come on. I brought a brush for you to use. You look all right, otherwise.”

  He laughed. “We’ve been busy. You know I should have invited Reg and Lucy.”

  “They came.”

  “Oh, that will please Susie.”

  Marge agreed and brushed his hair, then kissed him. “Well, family head, let’s go give your sister away.”

  He made that walk down the aisle with his beautiful sister, talking in low voices to each other.

  “Too many folks are here to have it inside,” he said to her.

  “Oh my, Chet. I am so high and I had nothing to drink.”

  “I know that. But breathe once in a while so you don’t faint.”

  “What is it? In me?”

  “It is part of the process. I had it when I married Marge. Enjoy it. You will be happy. I promise you.”

  “I’ll try. I’ll try.”

  He squeezed her hand. “I love you, sis. Have fun.”

  She gave him a short nod.

  May sang her hymn and the crowd grew so quiet, he wanted to run over and kiss her when she finished. Hampt was there. Good.

  The couple was married by the pastor.

  The food—a banquet and a large cake—was served and enjoyed by all. Chet had a chance to speak to Reg and also told May how powerful her song was.

  On the crowded dance floor, Chet waltzed with his wife and she beamed. “This was some wedding.”

  “I’d say you and Tom need a big hug or kiss.”

  “His wife helped us a lot, too.”

  “Everyone worked.”

  At last, the two newlyweds were off to an undisclosed location. Marge put her arm through Chet’s. “This night should set the stage for their life.”

  He agreed and said a small silent prayer for the newlyweds. Then he and Marge were off to the tent to sleep—some anyway. Closing the tent flap to shut out some of the cooler night air sweeping off the rim, he smiled to himself. They’d have a honeymoon, too.

  Monday morning, Chet was at the Verde ranch to help get the cattle up that Sarge and his men, along with some of the headquarters’ crew, were taking to the east place for the November allotment. Things went well, aside from a horse breaking his leg in a hole and having to be destroyed. The herd left by ten a.m. and would be up at the ranch on top by Tuesday evening.

  The cattle move was well on the way, so Tom and Chet rode back to headquarters together and talked about all the projects they had going on. Tom had rented a place to wean the Hereford calves to have a good winter growing space. They wanted to use the Hereford bulls as yearlings and that required a growing ration over the winter. They also wanted to get a crop of calves from the heifers as two-year-olds rather than at three years. This project would take some care, but the profits forced them to do it.

  Tom was cutting out the cows that didn’t have calves that season and culling them. Those culls could go to the next Navajo drive. This made it a big project for his men to cut those cows out on the range from the others and to send them back to the main headquarters. They had the skills. It was no small deal, but a good one.

  Chet reached his wife mid-afternoon and went inside out of the cold wind sweeping the porch. Monica brought him coffee and smiled. “Margaret said you were the absolute father of that family walking your sister to the altar.”

  Smiling at her words, he hugged her shoulder and laughed. “I impress her too easy.”

  “No. You are the father for many of us and we love you, big man.”

  “Good. Thanks for the coffee.”

  “You are most welcome.”

  “I hate to think summer is about over.” He shook his head, slipping into the Morris chair and smiling at his wife on the couch. “But it was cold this morning and getting colder. I hate to think about it. Being a Texan, I am certain it will be tougher up here than I knew down there.”

  Marge smiled. “Monica, go bring that jacket we had made for him.” She turned to Chet. “Trust me, you won’t freeze in it.”

  Monica left the room and he frowned at Marge.

  “Don’t worry. You won’t freeze.” She popped up and helped her housekeeper hold up the coat. “Here is your birthday present. Try it on.”

  The jacket was made of leather, the inside lined with sheep wool. He eased into the sleeves and smiled when it covered his shoulders. “Wow, I damn sure won’t freeze in this. You two are schemers. I can tell you don’t want me to sit by the fireplace all winter, shivering.”

  They laughed and nodded. He slipped it off and Monica took it back. Then he kissed his wife and softly thanked her. They stood in each other’s arms for a long while. Damn he had a good life.

  A week passed without an incident. Marge’s ranch crew worked hard stock piling firewood at the house and bunkhouse. They had lots already cut, because the cuts were not fresh-made on the ends, but they busted and stacked it in what looked like a mountain. Chet hoped hands at his other places were doing the same.

  He rode to the Quarter Circle Z and went over the main books. Susie and Leif were still on their honeymoon and Chet spent time looking carefully at the incoming money from the cattle sales—paid in script that could be cash when the federal money reached the Indian Agency account. He had expected that, but it was not cash at the moment. The cattle sales, when they finally got paid, would sure straighten things out. The two sales amounted to over a hundred thousand dollars.

  No wonder old man Clanton holds onto those contracts. Chet frowned. He needed to keep that financial information under his Stetson. That much business was well worth shooting him over.

  His reserves still looked all right and that money for the cattle would eventually come from the federal government. With a pad of paper, he studied the mill operation and what it would cost to expand. Currently, it was paying out lumber for his projects. Could the mill pay him cash when he completed his building? That was something he’d have to know about before he expanded his operation. He gave it serious consideration and decided if and when the railroad reached the mill, it probably would have enough business to make it work, but until then the freight charges would keep them from competing. He’d look it at later.

  He met with Tom and his foreman who said Sarge already had the cattle and was ready to deliver them for November.

  “Maybe in the winter we may need to drive them over there whenever the way is open. Can we secure feed on that end of the drive?”

  “Good idea. I will have Sarge find some feed and a place to hold them on his next trip.”

  Tom thanked him. “I have a long list of sellers that say they are ready to deliver stock to us.”

  “It will help lots of cattlemen in this end of the territory. I like taking a hundred from each operator. That will provide enough money for them to stay here.”

  “Good plan. I’ll watch so it gets around to the small ones, too.” Tom shook his hand and Chet headed for home.

  A cool wind at his back, he headed up Mingus Mountain. So far, the weather was still too warm to wear his big new coat. The blanket lined jumper was warm enough, but a big storm was knocking on his back door—some time in the near future.

  He was surprised that Susie and Leif hadn’t been back, but considered any lengthening of
time away meant they were getting along and enjoying each other’s company. A tall cloudbank on the northern horizon against the stars showed when he climbed out of the valley and it was dark when he got home.

  His wife and Monica had a fire in the living room fireplace and he hung up his own hat, coat, and gun belt on the wall pegs in the hall.

  “Anyone home?”

  “Surprise!”

  There were Leif and Susie, Marge, Monica, Jenn, Bonnie Allen, Valerie, Bo and Jane. He could also see the liveryman Frey and his wife, along with the banker and three men who’d ridden with him after the Anderson killers.

  “Come blow out your candles.” Marge said. “Before they burn the house down.”

  He kissed Susie on the forehead and saw her big smile along with the grip on her man’s arm. They were bonded. Marge had told her the way and it worked. He didn’t bother to ask if she had caught any fish.

  The cake candles were finally put out. Monica brought him a plate of food for his supper while the rest feasted on his cake and asked him where he had been all day.

  “I was checking the books and let the day slip by. Guess I kind of misplaced the time. Tom and I talked. Guess he knew you all had plans for me. He tried to push me away, but not obviously. November sixth is my day.”

  “Well, I wasn’t sure you’d even come back,” Marge teased him. “Oh. A letter came, but I didn’t open it.” She handed him an envelope.

  “From who?” He looked at the return address—JD Byrnes, General Delivery Socorro, New Mexico Territory. Chet tore open the envelope.

  Dear Chet,

  Sorry I left before you returned. I couldn’t stand to be in that country any longer and knew I’d go crazy. I am still looking for a place I can stand to be. I met Billy the Kid again. You recall us meeting him in Tascosa. He’s in some range war down here. I wanted no part of him and took a job with a rancher named Newel Banks who is out of the range war. He has a place west of here—TYZ is his brand. Tell Marge thanks. I’ll get her repaid in time. Give Mom my best and tell Susie I wish her and Leif the best of luck. Write when you get time.

  Your nephew JD

  Chet handed the letter to his wife. “Here Marge. You all read it. Maybe that boy has found himself a place to perch.”

  “Where?” Susie asked.

  “Socorro, New Mexico, is his address.” Chet smiled at her. “He wished you two the best of luck.”

  “How did he get clear over there?” Leif asked.

  Chet shook his head. “I don’t know. He said he met Billy the Kid again. We met him at the end of Fort Worth to Denver tracks when we landed there and took the wagons on from there. He’s a famous scoundrel in New Mexico. He’s into a range war. JD said that he has no part in it—which means he has gained some sense.”

  “John Chisum, the big rancher in those parts, hired The Kid to run off homesteaders and stop rustling,” Leif said.

  “No telling,” Chet said, shaking his head.

  “It was my fault for introducing him to Kay,” Marge said.

  “No, he’d have met her anyhow. We couldn’t help what they did.”

  “I heard she married Tom Hannagan in front of the JP in Prescott,” Susie said and turned to her husband. “Where did we hear that?”

  “Camp Verde yesterday, coming up here.”

  “Fine.” Chet dropped his chin and rubbed his short whiskers. “I’m glad you two are together. Did you fish? Those nephews are going to ask you that first thing.”

  “Hey we did, and even caught some,” Leif said. “They were good eating, too.”

  Chet laughed. “Poor May. Those boys will nag her to death to visit you when they hear about that.”

  “Why didn’t we ever know she could sing?” Susie asked. “That was so beautiful at our wedding.”

  “Yes it was.” Chet shook his head. “My brother, I will swear, married her to take care of his kids, God rest his soul. We all thought she was the quiet daughter of her family, but I guess we never gave her a chance. Hampt took her on and brought all that out of her.”

  “She’s very happy with him,” Marge said. “I think she even gave up wanting you.”

  Susie quickly agreed.

  “May never appealed to me—nice girl—good mother—but not for me,” Chet protested.

  They all laughed at his words.

  The evening passed quickly. His guests left save for Susie and Leif who Marge had offered the guest cabin to. Chet walked them outside and smiled. The two were holding on to each other going across in the starlit cool night.

  When the lamplight went on inside the guest cabin, he went back inside the house and hugged his wife. “Thanks. Nice birthday, nice to be home, nice to be thinking about going to bed with you.”

  “Yes, it is. Are the books all right? You looked at them for a long time, you said.”

  “Books are fine. When we get paid for the two shipments of cattle to the Navajos we’ll be over a hundred thousand better off. That is really going to work. When we buy more cattle to resell we won’t be that rich, but the ranch is comfortable with a good backlog of money.”

  “Wonderful. Let’s go to bed,” Marge said.

  “I could hardly wait for you to ask me.”

  Whew. Things were sure all right in his world.

  CHAPTER 10

  The next morning, Chet looked up from the kitchen table at the sound of a buggy in the yard. Marge was still asleep and so were the newlyweds. Monica had made him fresh coffee and was frying eggs, baking biscuits, and making gravy with chopped ham in it.

  Who was driving in? He rose and looked out the window. The driver, by himself on the seat, had pulled around behind the house to use the back door. Chet answered his knock.

  “Morning, Mr. Byrnes. My name is Hailey Rasmussen and I’d like a word with you.” He was about five-eight with white whiskers and blue eyes and looked the part of a horseman as well as a stockman.

  “Come inside. It’s cold out there.”

  “Aw, I’ve got on my working clothes. I can’t go in your nice house.”

  “Hailey, this is a working ranch, too. Monica is making breakfast and you can sure have some.”

  The man stepped inside. He took off his canvas coat and hung it on the wall along with his red wool scarf and weather-beaten, once-gray Stetson.

  “Have a seat, Hailey. This is Monica, my wonderful cook.”

  “Howdy Mrs. Byrnes,” Hailey said, ready to take a seat.

  “No. Monica is our housekeeper. My wife is still asleep,” Chet explained.

  “Oh, excuse me, ma’am.”

  Monica smiled. “I am very flattered, but you sit down. No harm done. How do you like your eggs, sir?” She poured him a cup of coffee and refilled Chet’s mug.

  “The way you cook them. I haven’t been asked that since I was kid.” Hailey laughed, settled in the chair, and drank the coffee.

  “What can I do for you?” Chet asked him.

  “Someone’s been rustling my cattle and I’d like you to catch them.”

  “That’s a tall order, Hailey. You talk to the sheriff?”

  “Hell—excuse me, ma’am. I won’t go ask that stiff dude for a damn thing. Sorry Miss Monica. I’m use to talking to unbroken horses and the like—understand?”

  Monica smiled. “Perfectly. Don’t worry. Go on.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Well, ain’t no need in telling Sims anything. He won’t send anyone out to look. They say you can track down ants.”

  Chet laughed. “I am not that good. When did they rustle the last ones?”

  “Three days ago. They butchered a fat cow and calf up in the canyon and hauled them out, I guess, on packhorses. But they can blotch up a trail so I can’t track them nowhere.”

  “Anyone see them getting away?”

  “Not that I’ve talked to. I never asked many of the folks on the road, but the two I did ask never saw no packhorses.”

  “How often are they taking one or two?”

  Monica brought them eggs. She se
t a plate before Hailey and said, “I scrambled them.”

  “Just how I wanted them, ma’am. My, those biscuits look wonderful.”

  Monica beamed at his praise. “I have butter and I made ham gravy.”

  “You eat like this all the time?” he asked Chet.

  “Yes.” Amused, Chet smiled.

  “Ma’am, could I ask you a question?”

  “Sure. What do you want to know, Mr. Rasmussen?”

  “Are you married?”

  “No, I am a widow.”

  “Now ain’t that neat. I am one, too.” Hailey smiled.

  “Oh. I am sorry.”

  “So am I. My Sarah died four years ago. Rest her soul. Would you call me a damn, I mean, a fool to ask . . . if I cleaned up and came by one Sunday afternoon would you go on a picnic with me?”

  “I would have to ask for the day off.” Monica stood ready to pour more coffee.

  “If you want to go—”

  Her frown cut Chet off from saying that she could go.

  “I will ask Mrs. Byrnes if I might have the afternoon off,” Monica said.

  “Good. I can fix the lunch and repay you for this meal.” Hailey smiled again.

  “Thank you.” She poured more coffee and turned to put the coffeepot back on the stove.

  “How many cattle have they stolen?” Chet asked him.

  “Maybe twenty over the course of time.”

  “In a year?” Chet picked up his coffee cup.

  “Yeah, that’s about the right amount. They usually take them to some isolated spot, I figure, to kill and slaughter them. Then I see the buzzards gathering a day or so later. I never found a real fresh kill, but I’m searching harder these days. They’re still slipping in and taking them.”

  “Where could they sell that much beef?”

  “If I knew that, I’d have caught them already.”

  “Let’s try that end. I’ll meet you in town tomorrow and we can start asking folks who sells beef in the valley.”

  Hailey shook his head, looking amazed. “Now why didn’t I think of that?”

  “You know cattle and how to handle them. You hadn’t thought about the end product. They represent food—meat in particular. Where can you sell it? To merchants and café owners and boardinghouses and anyone else feeding folks, for that matter. Did the rustlers take the hides?”