Blood on the Verde River Read online

  The man swept off his sombrero and bowed. “Welcome to our hacienda, Señor Byrnes. I am sure the patron will talk to you in the morning at the main casa. My name is Sanchez.”

  “Give my regards to your patron, Sanchez. We will be glad to meet him at last.”

  “You are a long way from home, no?”

  “A very long way.”

  “Adiós, señor. We have to get back now.” Sanchez nodded to Chet’s men, remounted, and the three riders left.

  “Why in the hell did he come here?” JD asked.

  “He’s the ranch security force. Three strangers from another land come to see his rich boss. His job is to check us out.” Chet sloughed it off as pure business.

  “I guess. Do you think Baca will trade for her?”

  “We’ve got a shot at getting her if she’s there. It’s the only thing I could figure out, save we charge in, firing both pistols at the same time.”

  JD laughed. “None of us have another pistol. That would be wild.”

  Chet shrugged. “We have to try something.”

  “No, no. Chet it’s a good idea. You always seem to come up with good ideas. I never thought you’d sell those colts to the guy who bought the Texas ranch, but that money saved us a long trek by riding the rails to west Texas before we had to drive the rest of the way to Arizona.”

  Chet agreed. “Tomorrow we learn Bonnie’s fate, guys. Let’s get some sleep.”

  Next morning, the three drew some stares as they rode by the hacienda’s ag projects—orchards, vineyards, vegetables, and crops of alfalfa and corn.

  “Be calm,” Chet reminded them. “We are guests of these people. Don’t do anything rash. We didn’t come to fight them, no matter how this comes out.”

  JD and Jesus nodded, looking serious. After a moment, JD shook his head. “We’re badly out numbered by the damn field workers alone.”

  “Indeed, we are,” Chet said.

  Sanchez was waiting for them when they reached the large sprawling house. He removed his sombrero and greeted them. “Good morning, amigos. My men will put up your horses. The women have food fixed for you in the kitchen.”

  Chet nodded in the lead. “That is very generous.”

  “Oh, you are a guest of my patron.”

  “I look forward to meeting him.”

  Sanchez escorted them to the rich-smelling kitchen. They were seated at a long table by the woman in change. The young women who worked there were excited about their guests, pouring coffee into mugs and serving them. Plates piled high with food soon were set before them by the young workers, drawing Spanish from both of Chet’s men to talk with their waitresses.

  Chet thanked the lady in charge and dug in. No utensils were necessary as they ate flour tortillas rich with strips of tender beef, cheese, salsa, and black beans. The three had a good meal.

  When they finished, Sanchez came and invited Chet to meet the patron.

  Leaving JD and Jesus in the kitchen, Chet followed Sanchez to a small parlor.

  Don Baca was a silver-headed man in a fine Mexican suit. He sat at a high back chair behind a desk with hand-carved features. He rose to greet Chet, extending his hand for a shake, and then motioned for him to take a chair. “Nice to meet you, señor.”

  “Don, my name is Chet.”

  “My segundo was very impressed by your story. He’s says you own a stallion from the Barbarossa Hacienda.”

  “Yes. He’s a wonderful golden horse. I know of no other that is not on that ranch.”

  Baca agreed. “But why ride so far to talk to me about him?”

  “Because I have a question to ask you. I was told you have a young woman here named Bonnie Allen. Her mother sent me to bring her home.”

  “Why would I have her?”

  “I am not making judgment. If you have her or you can get her for me, I will continue the discussion about the colt.”

  “Can you describe her?”

  “Better yet, I have a picture of her.” Chet half rose and took it from his vest.

  Baca looked hard at the locket framed picture. His stone face never showed any emotion or recognition as he handed it back. “What if I do not have such a woman?”

  “Then I will continue my quest.”

  “You are a very determined man.”

  “I am.” Chet’s stomach did a flip-flop. Was Baca playing games or wasn’t she there? Up to that moment Chet had been convinced Bonnie Allen was there. Was the man lying? Hard to tell.

  “I am told you have some large ranch holdings in Arizona.”

  “We’re busy. How do you know about me?”

  “I make it my business to know the men I want to do business with.”

  Chet nodded at his words. Baca damn sure was thorough. “That is fine. I am here for one thing, the return of the woman. I came to offer you a trade for her safe recovery. I have a fine Barbarossa colt. I would not sell him for a million dollars cash, but I would trade him for her.”

  “Has anyone offered you that much for the colt?”

  Ready to tell him his real feelings, Chet shook his head. “He and my stallion are the only intact males off that ranch.”

  Baca tapped the desk with a fingernail. “I am amazed you rode down here with two boys. Mexico is a dangerous land.”

  “Those boys are men. If we had been challenged, I would not have worried. They’re serious.”

  “What if you have lied to me about this horse’s blood lines?”

  “I don’t have to lie about that. You will be proud of him.”

  Baca looked at Chet for a moment as if piecing something together. “Where will you look next for her?”

  “I’ll trace down more leads.”

  “What if she isn’t alive?”

  “I’d need to find out who buried her and get thorough proof she’s dead.”

  Baca shifted slightly in his chair. “So you thought I had her and needed your colt. I am amazed at your skills. You must be a success at ranching.”

  “I work hard at that too. We are furnishing cattle now to the Navajo Agency.”

  Baca shook his head. “Start for home, mi amigo. In the morning, if I can find her, she will join you. My segundo will come for the colt in the fall when it is cooler.”

  “What if you can’t find her?”

  Baca shrugged. “Then, as you say, you will go on looking for her.”

  “That, I plan to do, sir.”

  “Yes, I believe you. You are a determined man, Byrnes.”

  “Thanks for your talking to me today. You have a beautiful hacienda.” Chet left the man at his desk and went back to the kitchen, wondering, did Baca have her? Would he trade? Chet felt he had stuck a pin in the man, but he’d make a great poker player.

  “Get the horses,” he said to his men busy flirting casually with the kitchen girls gathered around them. “We’re going home.”

  JD gave him a questioning look.

  Chet dismissed the inquiry and tossed his head. “Let’s go.”

  They kissed the girls on the cheek and fell in behind him. Their horses were hitched at the rack. Sanchez was not in sight. Ready to mount the roan, Chet decided to tell them part of the story. “We can talk on the road. The issue is not resolved—yet.”

  Satisfied, both nodded. The three rode away from the great house. On the dusty road going north, Chet began. “The matter isn’t settled. Baca said if he could find her, he’d deliver her to us in camp in the morning and for us to head for home now.”

  “What about the colt trade?” JD asked.

  “If he finds her, he says Sanchez will come in the fall for the colt.”

  “He must trust you.”

  Chet nodded. “He must. But he never admitted he had her.”

  “We could never find her if they had her hidden on the ranch.” Jesus shook his head. “Such a huge place.”

  “Aw, hell, Jesus give us a break. We want her and if she’s there, we’d find her,” JD said.

  They laughed, but Chet felt it was an
uneasy one. He looked back at the red tile roof behind him. He still didn’t know this Don Baca and probably would never know him well enough. Behind that poker player façade, Baca was a complicated man. Chet couldn’t congratulate himself for his idea of making a trade. It would only work if they received Bonnie Allen in their camp.

  His thoughts turned to his wife. How was she? They’d be well over a week getting home—maybe ten days. He shuddered. Just so that it all wasn’t in vain....

  CHAPTER 6

  Chet sat on his bedroll, musing. The mesquite smoke from the campfire filled his nose as the fire ate at the dry wood he’d bought from a wood peddler, the red-yellow flames licking the air. He listened to night insects, an occasional coyote, and the hoot of an owl or two. There was a vast world beyond that fire. He, the boys, and their horses were but a grain of sand in all of it.

  JD and Jesus had turned in earlier, and Chet felt quite alone in the world.

  Suddenly, he heard horses. They drummed the ground. In an instant, he rushed around to wake the boys. “Riders coming.”

  They came awake and sat up with their pistols in their hands.

  The lead horse stopped at the edge of the fire’s light. Sanchez’s familiar sombrero outlined him on his horse.

  “Hold it. It is Sanchez,” Chet ordered. Among the riders, he saw a woman’s face under a sombrero.

  “Here is your woman, señor. I will be at your ranch this fall to get that colt.”

  The words stung Chet for a moment, then he saw her dismount and rush to him in a dress and slip. A man rode forth and gave JD her reins, then heeled his horse to go back to Sanchez.

  “Yes. Sanchez. We will show you our best hospitality.” Chet walked forward and shook his hand. “Tell Don Baca thank you. Her mother will be grateful.”

  “Sí.” In Spanish, the segundo told his men, “We must ride.” In a thunder of hooves, they were gone in the night.

  Chet turned to the sobbing girl being attended to by his two young men.

  “Oh, you must be Chet Byrnes. Mother wrote me about the man in her life.”

  The reflection of the fire shone on her wet face. He pulled loose his kerchief and dabbed her cheeks.

  She finally took it from him and scrubbed her face. “I am sorry but when they told me they were taking me to a man who had bought me—I feared the worst. Sanchez finally told me your name and I knew I was saved.” On impulse, she hugged him before giving back his kerchief.

  Chet stuffed it into his pocket. “We better get some sleep. It’s long ride home.”

  “I’ll put up her horse,” Jesus said, and undid the bedroll tied on her saddle.

  Chet nodded. Some day he’d learn her story. It wasn’t important at the moment. They needed to get back home and to the ranching operation. He gave a sigh. Jenn, we have her and she is coming home in one piece . . . I hope.

  They settled in their own bedrolls. Bonnie and JD were still talking.

  That was all Chet needed. He frowned at the direction of his thoughts. That was being cruel. He had his own life to live, not JD’s. He rolled over and tried to sleep, but it escaped him as his mind continued to wander. Busy trying to settle all his operations problems, he’d be in the saddle a lot when he returned. But the trip to get back first across the desert country would be another challenge. Bonnie’s homecoming would be a celebration. It would be good to sleep in his own bed . . . with Marge. He finally fell into troubled sleep.

  He awoke before dawn to the smell of coffee. JD, Jesus, and the girl were busy with breakfast preparations.

  Chet noted in the fire’s light her slender, willowy form and how she naturally flirted with the two of them. Busy rolling up his bedroll on his knees, she came over and sat down beside him.

  “Your men have told me that you ransomed me with a very valuable horse.”

  He nodded. “That is no worry. There are more horses.”

  “I’m very grateful that you came for me and did that. I know your friendship to my mother sent you here. When she first wrote about you, I thought she might marry you.”

  “No.” He hoisted the bedroll on his shoulder to put on the packhorse. “But we were and still are great friends.”

  “When the four of us make it to the border, you and I will take a stage home. I hate to ride them, but I need to get home. JD and Jesus can bring the horses. Did they tell you I sent your friend Valerie to Preskitt?”

  “Is she all right?” Bonnie asked.

  “She’s fine. She wanted out of Tombstone.”

  His bedroll loaded, they joined the others at the fire, sat down on the ground cross-legged, ate the boiled oatmeal, and drank coffee. Their fire dusted out, all four mounted up and headed north in the growing day’s heat.

  Without an incident, they reached Nogales in four days. Chet told the boys to take a day’s rest and then head north with the horses. He gave each of them ten dollars and paid the livery bill for the horses and the grain bill. Then he bought two tickets for the Tucson stage and in an hour He and Bonnie were rocking in coach seats going up the Santa Cruz River valley. They arrived in the walled city at night and learned their next stage to Papago Wells was leaving in an hour. Chet hurried to the telegraph office and sent news to Jen and his wife that they were on their way home.

  A quarter moon hung in the sky behind them as the stagecoach headed for Picacho Pass station. At the stage stop, they disembarked with the others. Two salesmen who had snored all the way were still acting sleepy. Light came from the stage office that left a path where the stage had stopped.

  Out of habit, Chet shifted the gun belt on his waist. Under his breath, he spoke to Bonnie. “The facilities are out back. Be careful, there isn’t much light.”

  She nodded. Most of the trip she had slept, never complaining and no doubt worn out from the hard push they made to get out of Mexico. When they rounded the building two masked men armed with six guns told them to raise their hands.

  One of two salesmen stuttered. “W-who are y-you?”

  “Shut up.” One of the robbers spun them around to face the other direction.

  “Don’t faint,” Chet said to her.

  She took the clue and crumbled to the ground.

  Both robbers backed up in shock. When they looked up, they faced Chet’s drawn six-gun.

  “Drop your guns. Who wants to die?”

  The two reconsidered and dropped their pistols.

  Holding his gun steady, Chet glared at the robbers. “You two get facedown.” When they were on the ground, he nodded to the salesmen. “Help her up, then hold their guns on them. Someone is holding the driver and stage bunch inside.”

  He nodded to her, busy dusting herself off and then rushed around the side of adobe building. He could hear someone ordering the people around inside and eased along the wall, counting on the man’s back being to him. Fist closed on the cocked revolver, Chet said to the outlaw, “Drop that gun or die.”

  The robber whirled and before he could shoot, Chet put a bullet in his heart. The shot’s percussion put out the lights and gun smoke filled the room. The outlaw crumbled to the floor and everyone rushed outside. Chet backed out on the porch.

  Bonnie rushed to hug him. “You all right?”

  He holstered his gun when she backed off. “I’m fine. Better go tie those two up for the law.”

  Someone fetched a lamp. The two highwaymen were securely tied and the stage agent said they’d be turned over to the sheriff. The agent took his Chet’s name and address. Bonnie’s, too. “Oh, I thought you two were married.”

  Chet smiled and shook his head. “No, she’s more like my daughter.”

  “The company will send you a reward, sir. Thanks again.”

  When all passengers had climbed back into the stage, it left the station. Wheels whirling, dust boiling, the thunder of the horses’ hooves and creak of leather accompanied their ride. At the big well where many Indians and wagons drew water from the source, Bonnie and Chet switched to the next stage.

&nb
sp; By themselves on the Hayden Mills stage, they made the various stops at stations along the way, drank bad water, and ate worse meals.

  “We can get a room here and rest or go on.”

  She wrinkled her small nose at his offer. “Let’s go on.”

  Grateful for her decision, Chet hurried inside the station and sent telegrams about their arrival time. He was anxious to get back to Marge.

  That task finished, he and Bonnie climbed onto their ride north in the twilight, and he listened to her story.

  “An older man told me I could live in luxury and only have to entertain a few men for the man who would pay me lots of money for my efforts. He told me that I’d be paid two hundred fifty dollars a month and have to service less than a dozen men a month. That is a good wage. He lied. I was held in jail-like quarters and there was no pay.”

  “Baca ran that place?”

  “He may have owned it, but the man who ran it was named Conduras. There were drugs if you got too stir crazy and they whipped the girls who talked too much to their dates. No one stayed at that place for very long before they shipped those girls to Mexico City. I think they shipped them there when they were through with them.”

  He nodded. “We found that old man in Tombstone. Under house arrest, he committed suicide. There is another man named Ramaras, lives in Mexico.”

  “That bastard.”

  “I’m sorry. What did he do to you?”

  “He gave me three days of rape and hell before he sent me to Conduras.”

  The lurch of the stage about threw them on the floor. He straightened her up and they both laughed.

  “Shame I didn’t get him, too.”

  “He’s a real cruel one. How can I pay you back? I would do anything I can for you. JD said he thought you were very loyal to your wife.”

  Chet nodded. “I’m made a pledge to her when I married her. In my time past, I’d have been flattered by your sincere offer and accepted it. But those days are behind me.”

  “Did you ever consider my mother?”

  “No. I love her, but not as lover.” He slid down on the seat and folded his arms. “My sister Susie is, maybe, a little older than you and engaged now. She told me back in Texas to find a nice chunky German girl to marry who’d have my children.”