Once a Ranger Read online

  “Good. I bet she’d go with you.”

  He spanked her friendly-like from behind. “I’ll go saddle my horse while breakfast is being made. All right?”

  “Sure. I’ll have some eggs, bacon, and biscuits ready by then. The biscuits are in the oven now.”

  He winked and kissed her. “I could smell them.”

  “You know I do like having you around.”

  “Me too.” Then he went to saddle up.

  Dan came sleepy eyed from the bunkhouse. “I let the old man sleep in.”

  “He needs to. We about wore each other out bringing those horses home.”

  “He’ll raise hell about me doing that.” Dan smiled, amused. “But I thought so too.”

  “How is the ranch operation going?”

  “Okay. I finally found that calf we’ve been looking for forever—the one they branded as theirs that was one of our cows. I used a bar to blank out their brand and put ours on him. He weighed about three hundred pounds when I caught him this time and he about got me down.”

  Guthrey frowned at him. “You be careful up there working cattle by yourself. You can get hurt easy.”

  “I know. I’m still not over the last horse wreck.”

  “How is the mine coming along?”

  “It isn’t a big operation, but we’ve sold lots of gold. Sis has the books on it. We discussed doing more drilling work up there, but we’re waiting to see how far this vein goes.”

  “Good. I need to go and be sure that things are all right at the office, and then I’ll be back to go to the dance. You going to join us?”

  “I doubt it, but thanks. I have some other plans.”

  “Just wanted you to know you were invited.” Raising hell with the ladies of the night was no way for that boy to ever find a wife and settle down. He didn’t need to get married, but he did need to become part of the mainstream community. This gold business would provide the opportunity for their family ranch to expand, and it would require more applied management. Oh well, maybe he’d grow up in time.

  Made Guthrey think about his own vices growing up. Damn, he was glad he’d found Cally. He led his saddled horse to the hitch rail and washed his hands at the porch dry sink in the enamel basin, dried them, and went inside. “Am I too late to get food?”

  His wife shook her head in an amused way. “No, no, you’re right on time.”

  “Good. Hear that, Dan?” Guthrey elbowed his brother-in-law for an answer.

  “I won’t get on her bad side. No way.”

  “Oh yes, I am way too easy on both of you. I should be tougher than I am.”

  “Please don’t do that.” Then Guthrey broke into laughter. “We love you, Cally. Keep feeding us. How is the garden doing?”

  “I’m canning something every day. I will have a couple of years’ worth of food in the cellar soon. But the hotter weather is taking a toll on my plants. I’ll back off until it gets cooler, then add more new varieties in the garden.”

  “Hey, we only tease you. I’m proud you work so hard on this garden.” He clapped his hand on top of hers on the table. “I will try to be back tonight. If not, I will be back in time tomorrow to go to the dance with you.”

  She smiled. “I understand, and both of you are a mess. What about Noble?”

  “We let him sleep in. Tell him I’ll be back if I need him, otherwise he can go to the dance with us tomorrow.”

  “I can do that. I know he wants you to think he’s as tough as a twenty-year-old. Unfortunately he is probably closer to eighty. But I know he has lots of knowledge about people and places, and he’s got good sense too.”

  “Right.” Guthrey wiped his face on the napkin. “I sure like your food. I’m headed for the office.” Standing up, he kissed her, and she jumped up to walk with him to his horse.

  “I’ll be here when you get back.”

  “I count on that.” He untied the reins. Parting with her was hard for him every time. They kissed and he mounted the bay horse they called Bill and reined him around. With a salute, he rode off down the lane for the road to Steward’s Crossing and then west on the stagecoach road to the county seat at Soda Springs.

  Guthrey had learned a lot about the territory since he came here from Texas. From Soda Springs it was forty-some miles to Tucson, the main city in southern Arizona Territory. Actually, Tombstone, thirty miles south of Steward’s Crossing, was the larger city due to all the mining activity going on down there. The amount of dollars it generated along with the support of that industry made gambling, saloons, and flesh palaces readily available to keep the workers broke and on the job. Nothing illegal, but it was a wild, sin-filled place not for the faint of heart.

  Tucson started out as an old Spanish fort and actually, to Guthrey, it still seemed like a run-down adobe village with dead animal carcasses in the streets and not much sanitation. Cally told him they would wrestle each legislative session for the state capital-ship after Lincoln had chosen the capital to be Prescott—pronounced Preskit by the citizens who lived there.

  At this time the governor was at the cooler place in the north until the next meeting of the territorial legislation voted to move the seat back to Tucson. Political leaders in the south were deeply involved in keeping all the soldiers they could in southern Arizona so as to hold down the Apache renegades. In addition, a ring of those men held all the cards when it came to supplying those military outposts with everything they needed—the Tucson Ring was no fable. They controlled it all and openly made enormous profits.

  Old man Clanton held the beef supply contracts for both the military and Indian reservation needs. This old border bandit stole about half the cattle he used to supply them. Only thing worse was the combine who also, no doubt, fortified the renegades with arms and firewater to keep the war alive. Guthrey had heard of many deals being made in these situations, but he didn’t have enough hard evidence to close those operations down. It wasn’t because he didn’t have his ear to the ground on all these matters though. If he found the evidence, he’d stamp them out of business. But proof wasn’t always easy for him to harvest and without it he had no case despite all the hearsay about this corruption.

  His responsibility to enforce the law rode on his mind all the way to Soda Springs. After checking with his deskman, he took a late lunch at the café and then put his horse in the corrals at his jacal. He walked back to the office in the hot afternoon. The clouds gathering in the south looked like thunderstorms. He hoped they arrived that afternoon.

  In his office he went over some reports filed about a stolen milk cow. Who stole a milk cow? He laughed. The deputy who answered the complaint looked the situation over. The cow was there one day, gone the next. It was a brindle Jersey cow and the farmer had searched the area with no answer for where it went.

  Next was a complaint that someone stole a woman’s chickens. The deputy decided the poultry thief was a masked bandit called a coatimundi. The lady agreed and in the traps set by the investigating officer, they caught him. Another crime solved in the county seat.

  There was a note about the theft of silverware from a lady he did not know. Miss Janice Gardiner, who lived in the Silver Canyon District, had mysteriously lost her valuable forks, spoons, and knives while she was gone on a picnic. The deputy who investigated suggested it might have been a hobo who broke into her house, found them, and carried them off. No sign of such a transient was reported.

  Three horses were missing from the Two Bell Ranch. Tracks pointed to Apaches stealing them. Four young bucks had left the San Carlos Apache Reservation for Mexico four days earlier. The deputy on the case agreed with the ranch foreman—Apaches stole them. They filed their horse losses with the federal government for repayment with the deputy’s opinion.

  Things looked quiet, and Guthrey decided to ride back home and share his wife’s bed and attend the dance. But first he had to discu
ss with his main deputies, Baker and Zamora, the matter of the way Guthrey and his crew had brought back the stolen horses. They agreed that what he did was the best way to handle the international business.

  “Had you ever heard of the man those boys called Royal Montoya before?” Zamora asked.

  “No, but he may be the next big outlaw to come from down there. Who knows, but we better mark him down as our enemy up here,” Guthrey said. “Sounds like if he ever goes back to Duval’s, he may not return to Mexico alive. If we’d been in the U.S., I’d have gone down and arrested him and his boys even if they were beyond my Arizona Territory boundaries. But we were deep in Mexico and there was the chance we might get mixed up with international legal issues, so we simply brought the ponies back.”

  Zamora nodded. “We’ll be more careful trying to watch for them coming up here.”

  Guthrey shook his head. “It’ll be a hard thing to do.”

  His deputy made a face, then nodded. “I may try for some contacts in Mexico who could wire us when they leave down there.”

  “Sounds wonderful. I’m heading home. I won’t be back till Monday unless you need me.”

  “Have fun.”

  “I hope to.” He chuckled. Cally, here I come.

  He arrived at the ranch and his wife rushed out to hug him. Damn, she was a neat lady and her happy spirits rejuvenated him.

  “I have some supper I kept warm.”

  “I’ll put the horse up. Where’s Noble?”

  “I think he went to see a woman.” Smirking, Cally glanced up at him to see if he knew anything.

  “Oh, we’re all looking for a woman. Dan’s gone too?”

  She looked at the sky for help. “I think she works in the big house.”

  “He’s lost. He’ll find himself.”

  He kissed her on the forehead and went to put the horse up. In the corral the pony rolled in the dust and grunted in gratitude at being back home. Guthrey was looking forward to being in the comfort of his wife’s company for the next few days and away from the pressure and problems of his office. They’d only been married six weeks and so far all his time had been taken up by his efforts to get the county back under the protection of a strong law enforcement unit. He’d hired a few men as tax assessors to count cattle and evaluate property for the taxes due. He expected them to produce the county revenues in a fair manner.

  He and Cally had a leisurely supper together and soon the honeymooners went to bed—early. For a man who’d resisted marriage for so long, he found the rewards sure exceeded any of the pitfalls. But Cally had no big agenda for them, and she was there for him—as well as enjoying the entire process of man and wife. The situation left him as relaxed as he’d ever been and he looked forward to their trysts.

  At dawn he milked her cow while she made coffee and breakfast for the two of them. Then she started cooking for the potluck supper that night.

  “What will you do about the cow tonight?” he asked, putting the milk pail on the floor near her.

  “Noble said not to worry. He’s staying here, and he said he’d milk her tonight and in the morning for me.”

  “That was nice.”

  “Or I’d stick her calf in the pen with her.” She smiled at him. “I wanted us to have another night together and not have to drive home after the dance.”

  He hugged her and kissed her cheek. “Sweet idea.”

  “Where will you have to go next?”

  “Oh, I suppose sometime soon we might borrow that cabin up on Mount Graham where we honeymooned for a few days and escape the heat.”

  “That would be nice. I bet we can arrange that.”

  “If you get a chance to speak to those folks, ask them about it.”

  “We will tonight. Are all your deputies working out?”

  “Yes, I have a good staff. We may get a contact on the border to warn us about any approaching gang headed north. Zamora knows some people down there. I hope we can get that notification system in place.”

  “How would it work?”

  “Oh, say a spy knew that they were leaving Mexico for Soda Springs. The telegram would come. ‘I will see you in Soda Springs in a day,’ signed José.”

  “No one would suspect that, would they?” she asked.

  “Right. It could tell us in time to fortify our guard if they’re coming.”

  She nodded. “First it was Whitmore wanting to control the entire range. Next some Mexican bandits ride up here like they own us.”

  “There’s always criminals like that around. A sheriff needs to be aware of all law breakers.”

  “Was it like this as a Ranger?”

  “Oh, we had gangs to be rounded up. People who tried to run over others to crowd them off a range or run them away. Bullies. They exist all over. Men who have no respect for their fellow man’s property, his family, or their assets.”

  She leaned against him. “I love being married to you. If I don’t please you, tell me, and I’ll try to do better. I don’t have any experience except what I’ve learned in the past six weeks with you.”

  He hugged her head to his chest and closed his eyes. “You are wonderfully honest. I am so proud of our relationship. You and I learn more and more about ourselves, about what we like and what we enjoy. I am pleased—more pleased than I guess I can tell you.”

  “I was afraid you would think me wanton if I said it’s wonderful—to be in bed with you.”

  “No, no, that’s our part of this deal.”

  “Thanks.”

  He squeezed her hard. “We have a great, powerful marriage.”

  “Good. Sit down and we’ll eat lunch. Then—we’re alone so we can do what we want to do.”

  He chuckled. “And we will.”

  “Good.”

  He clasped his hand on top of hers. “You are a real winner.”

  They didn’t get much of a nap that afternoon, but they damn sure learned lots about the power of love between them. He couldn’t believe what all they did and his back ached along with his brains—whew!

  FOUR

  THEY GOT A late start for the schoolhouse but made it before everything really began. Cally gathered some women to help her get the food she’d fixed on the serving table. Guthrey put up a wall tent and several teenage boys came to his aid.

  Cally came back out of breath and put her butt against the wagon wheel to catch up. “We made it.”

  He laughed, then whispered in her ear, “It was worth coming late for both of us.”

  She smiled, proud as a kitten, and they went inside arm in arm. They ate off their own tin plates piled high with food, sitting over in a corner of the schoolhouse among other ranch folks they knew. Everyone was in a good mood. They bragged on Guthrey’s fast enforcement of the law since his election and how many were going or had gone to prison.

  Mike Newton, a rancher, said, “The judge gave Slegal ten years for his rapes and for night-raiding ranches to make people run away. He won’t ever live for that long in Yuma Prison. He can sure rot there for my money.”

  Heads bobbed. The worst one of the lot was going to sweat out his life in that hell. Guthrey picked through all the food on his plate; he’d taken more than he could eat. Oh well, it wasn’t the first time in his life he’d done that. He’d do the best he could.

  Cally must have noticed. “Did you save a place for some desert?”

  “Lord, Cally, I can’t eat any more,” he whispered.

  “No problem. Give me your plate. There’s strawberry pie and pecan.”

  “Cut me a sliver of each.”

  She shared a smile and took off with both plates. In a few minutes she was back with both kinds of pie on a clean plate for him.

  He shook his head at her delivery. But he enjoyed it, like he did her.

  She asked Thomas and Ruth Nelson, who owned the Mount
Graham cabin, about that property while Guthrey was outside talking to other folks, and they told her that anytime she and Guthrey wanted to use it, just give them the word. Cally told Guthrey this while they waltzed to a fiddle song across the floor.

  “Wonderful.” He gave her a tight hug and then whirled her around. She laughed and they were off again.

  They went to their tent around midnight. On the cot, they took another turn at wife and husband activity and fell asleep in each other’s arms. He awoke a few hours before dawn. Someone was calling his name.

  “Sheriff Guthrey. Sheriff Guthrey?”

  He stepped into his pants as Cally got up, wrapped herself in a blanket to hide her nakedness, and swept up his pistol. “Here, take this. You don’t know, it might be a trick.”

  “Thanks.” He kissed her quickly and stuck it in his waistband. Then, bareheaded, he ducked outside in the predawn buttoning his shirt.

  “Who’s calling my name?”

  “Me,” a woman said, coming back. Tears wet her face under the starlight. “They’ve murdered the Carlson family. I have been riding for hours to find you. They said you’d be here.”

  She fell into his arms, and he dropped to his knees to set her on the ground.

  “Anyone know these folks?” he asked as other half-dressed men and women poured out of tents to see what was going on.

  “Who is it, Guthrey?”

  The woman was huddled and crying her eyes out.

  Dressed, Cally joined them, sat down beside the woman, and forced her to sit up with her. “Where is their place?”

  “In Gregory Canyon. I hadn’t seen them in two days so I went up there after dark—they’re all dead. Murdered—” She broke down and cried some more.

  “I want someone to loan me a horse and someone to show me their place.” Guthrey rose and looked over the crowd in the starlight for a volunteer.

  “What should I do to help you?” his wife asked him privately.

  “Cally, they’ll help you take down the tent. I’ll be back to the ranch when I solve this matter.”