Blood on the Verde River Read online

  “Mrs. Kimes, if you ever come to Camp Verde, come out to my ranch or to my house in Preskitt Valley. We will treat you like a queen.”

  “I would hardly know about that kind of treatment, but thanks, I will.” She appeared amused by the attention laid on her. “You young men eat like you were at home.”

  They nodded.

  Her food was tasty and after the bean and oatmeal diet, Chet could see the pleasure on his two men’s faces, chowing down on a real meal.

  He thanked God and went back to eating. After the meal, their horses all put up, they went to a guest cabin and put down their bedrolls. Chet fell asleep quickly. No doubt his concerns over his prisoners were set aside. They’d make it to Honey Grove the next day, and begin their intended business to find the kidnappers.

  A teen boy woke them before dawn like he had requested and informed them their food was ready.

  Dressed, they went to the house with steamy breaths in the night’s cold air. Of course, no coffee, Chet noted, but breakfast was hot, fresh, and there were plenty of choices. The guys bragged on her berry jelly and choke cherry syrup. In a short time, with help, their packhorses were loaded and saddle horses made ready.

  With a loud thanks to the Kimes, they went out the gate and headed north with Chet in the lead. He was back to the smooth team of him and his men riding after kidnappers just a day’s travel from this spot on the mountain to the Utah border in the north.

  They rode off the plateau and back to the sagebrush-bunch grass desert. All day long the route crossed the rangeland on another nongraded road—more dusty sections without a soul living on the land. They found Honey Grove on a small river under some leafless cottonwoods and split up.

  The young men made camp outside the village and Chet went for a meal and a bed in town. This separation was to cover their plans to find the kidnappers’ headquarters. Jesus was to be available when someone picked up Betty Lou’s letter.

  Chet left the roan at Atkins livery to be rubbed down and grained. After finding a room in the hotel, he ate in a café and the waitress quietly told him which house the Postmaster Harold Clark lived in. He paid her a fifty-cent tip for her discretion, then casually walked along the boardwalk until he reached the house. His knock on the door was in the closing darkness.

  A woman half opened the door. “May I help you?”

  “I need to speak to your husband.”

  “Harold, a man needs to talk to you,” she called over her shoulder.

  He came to replace her. “What do you want?”

  “I am a U.S. deputy marshal and I need to speak to you.” He held out the badge issued him. “My name is Chet Byrnes.”

  “Come in, Marshal. Carmen, this is a federal officer.”

  Chet held up his hands. “Please don’t tell anyone. I am here to capture some kidnappers.”

  “Oh. Have a seat on the couch.”

  “May I get you something?” she asked.

  “No, ma’am. I just finished supper. I am here to find the kidnappers who wrote Mrs. Scales demanding she send two thousand dollars or her husband would be killed. They get their mail sent here to a Sam Gordon, General Delivery, Honey Grove, Utah.”

  “I don’t know who he is. His wife—at least she says she is—comes and gets that mail. She’s been by twice this week to get it.”

  “Where does she live?”

  “I don’t know. She comes in, gets the mail, and I don’t see her again.”

  “Does she sign for it?” Chet asked.

  The postmaster nodded. “Delia Gordon. She’s not illiterate.”

  “I want to save Leroy if he is still alive.”

  “She usually comes before lunch. You can stay in the post office in back, and I can signal you when she comes in.”

  “Don’t scare her. My men can track her to their base.”

  “Sure. I understand your plan and it should lead you to them.”

  “What time do you open?”

  “Eight in the morning and stay open till six.”

  “Thank you. I will be there.”

  Clark put his hands on his knees to get up. “I hope this works. How long have they held her husband?”

  “Over a month.”

  He shook his head in dismay. “I’ll look for you in the morning.”

  “Yes and thanks. Thanks to you too, ma’am.”

  Breakfast came early in a café. After his meal, Chet stood in the shadows talking to Jesus who’d come into town alone.

  “The postman said a woman came in and got Sam’s mail. He doesn’t know anything about her, but thinks she may come today. Stay close. He makes her sign for each one since she isn’t the addressee on the letter. I’ll be right out to point her out when she leaves. Jesus, you be careful. They’ll kill you if they think you’re the law.”

  “I will. I’ll be loafing around close by. Cole is still taking care of our horses this morning. We didn’t learn anything last night when we came in and wandered about the town. But she must be coming in for the bait.”

  “I figured that she would.”

  “See you later.” Jesus turned and walked away.

  Chet headed to the post office. The winter cold was deep enough for him despite his jacket. He’d have to get used to it living in this climate.

  Clark was unlocking the back door in the darkness when Chet joined him.

  Once inside, Clark lit a lamp. Split wood for the small cast iron stove was stacked along the wall.

  “I’ll start the fire. There is a desk and chair. No one can see anything back here. I will show you the peephole to look at anyone at the counter. When I have a coughing fit you will know she is here for the mail.”

  Chet nodded. “Good. I can feed the stove with this wood stacked here. Go do what you have to do.”

  “Thanks. I feel creepy about this deal. Do you think this man is alive?”

  “I think they have him alive in case Mrs. Scales demands to see him before she pays them the total amount.”

  “That makes sense. I never thought of that.”

  “That is why they’re in Utah. So Arizona law can’t get to them. Of course, Arizona does so little up here anyway. The sheriff had no time for her.”

  “I know of only one case investigated by the Utah side of the U.S. marshal’s office. A man had sold land to someone by mail and instead of being an irrigated farm, it was all boulders.”

  “What did the marshal do?”

  “When the seller got the money, he left here with no forwarding address. I had dead mail for him, and the lawman opened it and read it. He told me the buyers were lucky. The man was supposed to sell them more rocks.”

  Clark lit a second coal oil lamp for Chet and took the other one up front to hang for light while he sorted mail and put it in the boxes. In the back, Chet read wanted posters. There must have been a stack of a hundred on the desk.

  Clark came back and put a coffeepot on to boil on the top of the stove. “You Mormon?”

  Clark shook his head.

  “I’m one because my wife was when we married. But I still need coffee in the morning and get none at home. I don’t drink spirits, quit cigars, but I still need coffee in the morning. She knows it, but doesn’t say anything. My sin for the day.” He looked at the ceiling. “Father forgive me.” Then he went back up front to continue sorting mail.

  Amused, Chet returned to looking at the wanted posters. When the water boiled, Clark came back and added roasted coffee grounds.

  “We’ll have some shortly; I have two cups.”

  “Thanks. Sounds and smells good.”

  “If you are going to sin, sin with the best kind you can find, right?”

  Chet laughed and nodded. “Best you can afford, I always said.”

  “Are you married?”

  “Yes I am. I was married last June to a great lady.”

  “What do you do in Arizona beside marshal?”

  “I have some large cattle ranches and some very good foremen running them.”


  “I was the postmaster down in Chandler.”

  “How did you get up here?”

  “My wife wanted to come back to Utah. She told me to put in for a transfer. I think she expected I’d get Salt Lake. We didn’t, but we are in Utah. She can’t complain.”

  “My ranches are at Camp Verde, Preskitt, and over by Hackberry.”

  “What is Hackberry like? They offered me a post office there. I saw the map and knew it was not near anything else.”

  “You are right. Small town, less stores than here. Cattle and sheep country.”

  “I knew it would be bad. They offered me thirty dollars more a month to go there. Let’s drink our coffee. One cup is my greatest sin, but you can drink more. Anyone asks me, I’ll tell them it is a postal inspector back here drinking it.”

  “Right.”

  Clark opened at eight and the bell rang on the door when someone came or left. Chet had his peephole and watched several folks come in and ask for mail. It was ten o’clock when he heard Clark coughing. He stood up on the wooden crate and could see a rather attractive brunette lady in her twenties remove her sunbonnet and sign the release.

  “You must have some money in this one, ma’am,” Clark said.

  “My sister in Prescott, Arizona, is very rich and helps us out.”

  “Oh, how nice to have a generous family member to be able to help you along.”

  “She’s quite generous. Good day, Mr. Clark.” The doorbell rang as she went out.

  Chet went out the back door and waved to Jesus. “Blue sunbonnet, a nice looking brunette. She went left on the boardwalk.”

  “I will find her.” Jesus left in a run for the front.

  Chet went back inside. At the front window, Jesus gave him a quick nod as he went past the post office. He had her in his sights.

  Plan A was working, Chet thought. If his man could follow her they’d soon have her location. Before sundown, he’d know something about the deal. Whew. Would he be glad to get home. This job went on and on—forever. He could imagine sleeping in his own bed with his own wife. That would be nice.

  The day passed slowly. He stayed out of sight in the back of the post office. Clark’s wife brought them lunch, and they ate on the desk in back. She had lots of questions to ask about his wife and if he had any family. He gave her an overview of his moving from Texas and meeting Marge.

  “Children?”

  “One on the way. We only married last June.”

  Carmen shook her head, disappointed. “We’ve never had any of our own.”

  Chet mused how Clark had brought her back to Utah, but they had no kids. His impression was having many children was a church tradition. He had no comment, except to thank her for the lunch of rye bread, mustard, cheese, and sliced beef roast, pickles, and oatmeal cookies.

  She smiled and took her wicker basket back home.

  Four o’clock, Jesus came back in the front door. Clark called to Chet, “Your man is here.”

  “What did you find?” Chet asked as he came into the front.

  “They are at a ranch by a small lake.”

  “That’s Lovely Lake,” Clark said, like he knew all about the place. “It is the only lake around there. Charlie Stokes owns it, but he doesn’t live on it.”

  “Where does he live?” Jesus asked.

  “Salt Lake. Did you see any men up there?”

  Jesus nodded. “Three. Two young cowboys and a big guy in buckskin clothes. Fringe hanging down.”

  “I don’t know him. You think he is this Sam?” asked Clark.

  Jesus shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  Able to get in a word at last, Chet asked his man, “Any sign of the hostage?”

  Jesus shook his head. “I couldn’t get close in the daytime.”

  “How far is it by horseback?”

  “An hour, maybe more.”

  “That will get you there,” Clark said.

  Chet shook his hand and thanked him. “If anyone asks me, I will say you should be the postmaster in Salt Lake.”

  “Oh, please don’t. My wife would spend all the money I could make.”

  Going out the door, Chet said, “I won’t tell her or them.”

  “Good.”

  They met Cole in camp. Ready to move on, they loaded up everything and headed out on the main road that went west. Cole said he’d learned nothing. He was excited that they had the location of Sam Gordon.

  It was already sundown when they reached sight of the place. They turned back and camped on the far side of the lake. Chet’s plans were to make a ranger-style arrest. They would ride over in the night and just before dawn while everyone was asleep, they’d ride in and arrest them. Around the small fire they’d used to cook, they slept that night with their rifles.

  In the predawn, Cole stood with Chet as he fired a rifle in the air and shouted at the house, “Hands in the air. Any action against us, we will shoot to kill.”

  Jesus was already searching the outbuildings.

  Two young men staggered out. The woman came out in a housecoat and then a man six foot six ducked his head and, holding his hands high, came out grumbling about what the hell did they want.

  “He’s alive,” Jesus shouted from out back. “He’s alive.”

  “Good,” Chet answered while Cole searched the kidnappers for guns.

  “Who in the hell are you?” the big man asked.

  “U.S. Deputy Marshal Chet Byrnes. I am here to arrest you for kidnapping Leroy Scales.”

  “How are you going to prove that?”

  “Are you Sam Gordon?”

  “Hell, no.”

  “Then this woman is going to prison for impersonating him. She has been signing federal postal forms that she is his wife. What is your name?”

  “You find out.”

  “What are your names?” he asked the boys. Still mounted he held his rifle on them.

  The taller boy swallowed his Adam’s apple. “Newton McCoy and he’s Harrison Duval.”

  “What’s your name, ma’am?”

  “Kathrin Arnold.”

  The big man growled at her. “Don’t tell him nothing.”

  “Sam Whatever, shut up,” Chet ordered. “You had your chance to talk.”

  “My name’s Evan Evans. When my lawyers get done with you, you won’t have a damn badge.”

  In the first golden light of dawn, Jesus came from around the house with a bedraggled man. “Leroy, that is my boss who found you.”

  Chet smiled at him. “Betty Lou sends her best.”

  Leroy’s legs collapsed and he sat on the ground. “Thank you Lord for answering my prayers. Thanks for these lovely men. Praise the Lord, my prayers have been answered. Amen.”

  “Tie their hands behind their backs,” Chet said to Cole. “Kathrin, you make one move, you will be shot along with them. Leroy, are you all right?”

  “I am glorious, sir. I never thought I’d be alive. Who sent you? Betty Lou?”

  “Yes. She’ll be glad to see you.”

  He began to cry. “God bless her. Is she all right?”

  “Fine, if she hasn’t worried herself to death about you. Where did they kidnap you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Chet dismounted and put his rifle up in the scabbard. “I mean, where were you when they kidnapped you?”

  “Oh, down in Arizona Territory . . . before you climb the Kaibab.”

  “That’s good.”

  “Why?”

  “’Cause the law will try them in Preskitt.” Chet turned to the kidnappers. “You men sit down on the ground. My rules are short. My men will shoot anyone who tries to break away, start any trouble, or disobey an order. So if you want to die in agony on the ground, break my rules.

  “Jesus, you and Kathrin make us some food. Load their food up. Cole, we will need saddle horses. Take Newton along and have him help you. If he tries anything, shoot him. We will need five saddle horses. Make it four and hitch the buggy horse that she drove to to
wn. The rest we’ll drive or lead behind us.”

  All left to follow Chet’s orders.

  “Who owns this ranch?”

  Evans never answered him.

  “You walk a couple days with a rope around your neck, you’ll get lots politer. Hear me?”

  “Yeah. You can’t do that.”

  “You can walk to Honey Grove for that.”

  “Aw, hell. You sent that damn money to bait us, didn’t you?”

  “Like crow hunting, you toss out some corn and they come and you shoot them.”

  “She’ll get the money, she said. But she was only stalling so you could find us.”

  “You will have plenty of time to think about a lot of things—walking to Honey Grove.”

  Evans began cursing him.

  That was enough. Chet went in the house and found a rag, came back out and gagged him. “You will learn to speak when you are spoken to and shut up the rest of the time.”

  Evans’s muffled protest suited Chet just fine. He took Leroy aside. “Are you strong enough to ride all day? I know you’ve been tied up for a long time.”

  “Oh, Marshal, I feel strong enough to do anything.”

  “Maybe you could ride in the buggy to Honey Grove.”

  “Whatever you think. I’d do anything for you I could. I never thought . . . well you heard that before.”

  Chet jerked his head toward the house. “Who is she? Do you know?”

  Leroy shook his head and spoke in a low voice. “She fed me and tried to make me comfortable. I don’t think Evans would have even fed me if she had not been here or hadn’t insisted. He slapped her around a lot, but me and them boys could only watch. I think she left her husband for him. He acts like a big shot, but we got lots better food when my wife’s money started coming. I couldn’t imagine how Betty Lou got any money. I left the money I got from the estate in the bank in Star City and they are going to ship it to me in Preskitt. I told them only if they got a letter postmarked Prescott, A-Z-T were they to send it to me. Lots of people are never heard from again going down this road. I listed Betty Lou as my heir if I died.”

  “Pretty thorough job. In ten days, you will be home, the good Lord willing.”

  “What will I owe you?”