Pray for the Dead Read online

  “You are very fortunate. I have a very fine wife myself, Elizabeth. You’re ever down to the Preskitt area, you and Norm should stop by and be our guests.”

  “Oh, how nice. But I’m always so busy here, I doubt we could make such a trip.”

  Norm proved to be a polite hostess and a very good cook. Over dinner, she told them she was acclimating slowly to her new surroundings. Raised in Salt Lake, she found the country around the store beautiful, but she missed life in the city.

  The three slept out under the stars, and were already up and saddling their horses to leave when Sherwin invited them to breakfast. Before long, they were off again, headed north from the main road on the road he’d told them about, a little-used ranch track through the pines and open meadows. They topped a rise and saw a cluster of corrals and log buildings.

  Chet stopped them. Not a soul was in sight, but he felt uneasy. “I don’t know what to expect,” he told Cole and Jesus. “Be ready for anything. They may meet us with guns if they feel we’re a threat.”

  “We’ll be ready,” Cole said with quiet confidence, checking his pistol’s loads.

  Jesus shook his head. “I have not seen anyone.”

  “They may be gone somewhere, too. Just be ready for anything. Jesus, you ride out to the left, angle in from that smokehouse. Cole, you’re with me.”

  They spread out across the open ground between them and the buildings. A dozen different possibilities of what could happen next ran through Chet’s head like a runaway horse. Would they fight? Would they run?

  A woman appeared with a water pail. Seeing them, she screamed and ran back to the house. “They’re coming!”

  They booted their horses up. A half-dressed man with a pistol in his hand came out on the porch. Jesus reined up and jerked out his rifle. Chet shouted for the man to drop the gun.

  When the man didn’t obey, Jesus’s Winchester cracked. The hot lead spun the man around and dropped him to the wooden planking of the porch.

  “Put down your guns! We’re federal lawmen,” Chet yelled. He pushed his mount toward the house, angered by the sudden turn of events.

  The woman came out again, waving her arms. “Don’t shoot. I have no gun.”

  He slid his horse to a halt. Cole rode around the structure, checking out things around there. Jesus joined Chet near the porch.

  “Who else is here?” he asked the thin, panicked woman standing before him.

  “No-no one,” she stammered.

  “Where is everyone?”

  She turned her hands up and shook her head.

  Chet holstered his pistol and walked toward the house, aware that another threat might appear at any second.

  “Who’s that?” He motioned toward the still man on the ground.

  “Thad Cooper.”

  “Where are the others?”

  “They rode out yesterday. They never tell me a damn thing.”

  “How soon do you expect them back?”

  “Days, a week. Hell, I don’t know anything.” She shrugged.

  “How many members are there?”

  “No more.”

  Cole came out through the front door and checked on the downed man. “He’s dead, boss.”

  “He did it to himself,” Jesus grumbled.

  “She says the gang’s gone and she has no idea where they went or when they’ll be back.”

  “They didn’t use the road we rode here to ride out on,” Jesus said. “No fresh tracks on it but ours.”

  “Which way did they go?” Chet asked her.

  She turned her open hands out.

  “She doesn’t know anything. Look around maybe we can find where they went.”

  “We’ll find out.” Jesus left on the run.

  “Give me a hand,” Cole said to Chet. They lugged the outlaw’s body farther out from the porch and left it there.

  “Better find a blanket,” Chet said. “Those buzzards circling may be hungry.” Cole nodded and headed for his horse.

  “Wait!” The trembling woman waved her hands. “I better tell you something.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I had nothing to do with it,” she cried. “Nothing. They threatened to kill me if I even talked to her.”

  “Who’s that?” Chet demanded.

  “That squaw that they got chained in the shed over there.”

  Chet jerked his head at Cole who had returned with the blanket. “Check it out.”

  “They have her chained in a shed?” Cole asked under his breath. He shook his head in troubled disbelief. “Which way?”

  She pointed, off to the right at a rude little shed off past one of the corrals. Cole headed that way and stopped at the door.

  “It’s padlocked,” he called back. “I’d shoot it off but I don’t want her hurt.”

  Chet rounded on the woman. “Who’s got the key?”

  “M-maybe Cooper,” she stuttered, nodding at the dead man. “He fed her.”

  Chet walked over and searched the body, found a key strung around the bandit’s bloody neck. He used his jackknife to cut the rawhide cord and then straightened.

  He held it up in front of her. “This it?”

  A jerky nod. “Y-yes, sir.”

  “I believe this may be the worst crime we’ve ever been on.” He tossed the key over to Cole, who unlocked the lock and opened the door. In the far corner of the little room cowered a terrified young woman, naked but for a few loose rags hanging from her shoulders. She held her hands up to shield her face from the light and screamed.

  Chet knelt down. She looked Indian. “You savvy English?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “We’re here to rescue you. I’m a Deputy U.S. Marshal.” He fished his badge out of his vest and at the sight of it, she nodded woodenly.

  “Cole, you think that key will fit the locks on her leg chains?”

  “Doubt it, boss. Different kind of lock.”

  “Bring another blanket so we can cover her. We’ll find a file and cut them off her.” Chet turned back to the girl. “How long have you been here?” he asked her in a soft voice.

  “I d-don’t k-know—” Tears and sobs cut her voice off.

  “Don’t worry about that.” She was terrified about her captivity and had no idea whether or not they were any better than her kidnappers. What kind of hell had she been through? How long had she been their slave? No telling.

  She would sure need a bath, though. And some clothes—a doctor? Hell only knew how far away one of them was located. Chet’s stomach soured simply thinking about caring for her. Bastards!

  Cole returned with the blanket and put it over her shoulders. She nodded her gratitude and wrapped herself in it. A Navajo woman knew how to use a trade blanket to hide herself in even with her ankles locked in chains.

  “We need to find a file,” he said, standing.

  “There might be one in the barn. I bet Jesus has one with him, but he’s gone to find the direction they went.”

  “You and I need to get her loose.”

  “They must have an ax around here. I can chop that chain in two and she’ll be loose anyway.”

  “Let’s do it.”

  Cole nodded, walked out to find an ax.

  Chet knelt down again. “We’re going to cut the chains until we can get the padlocks off. Are you hungry?”

  “No, no. I am grateful to you,” she whispered. “I thought I would die here.”

  “We’re not going to let that happen,” Chet said angrily. “That’s a promise.”

  “Thank you.” She shook beneath the blanket. “I’m so cold.”

  “We’ll heat some water so you can bathe and warm up. What’s your name?”

  “Deloris.”

  “I’m Chet.”

  “Will you help me stand? I’ve been here so long my legs are weak.”

  He had to hug her to get her slender form up and on her bare feet. For stability she used her hand on his chest and thanked him again. He stayed close so as
to catch her if she fell, and led her outside.

  Cole had an ax and wood block ready. Chet held the chain taut and turned his face away. It took three hard blows to separate the first link, and three more for the other one. Deloris sagged, let out a long breath.

  “It’s over.”

  “Damn right,” Cole agreed. “You’re free now.”

  “Cole, let’s arrange for her to somehow take a bath.”

  “Got it, boss man.”

  Jesus rode back in and dropped off his horse to hitch him to the corral.

  “What did you learn?” Chet asked.

  “They left on a trail headed west,” the tracker replied. He nodded to the Indian girl. “Who’s this?”

  “Name’s Deloris. They had her in chains in that shed as their prisoner. We need a file to get those shackles off her legs. Cole chopped the chains, but they need to come all the way off.”

  “I have a file. I’ll do it.”

  “Good. Cole is arranging bathwater for her.”

  Deloris sat on a crate in the warm sun. He walked back over and touched her gently on the arm. “Jesus will file off these shackles. It’ll take some time, but he’s a good man.”

  “How will I ever repay you?”

  “That’s not necessary. Where are your people?”

  “Over across the Colorado River on the Navajo reservation.”

  “You have a husband?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “Who did you live with?”

  “My grandmother and my younger sister.”

  “My ranch sends cattle each month to that reservation.”

  A nod. “I have never seen you there, but a man whose name is Sargent who rides straight-backed like a soldier is the man who brings them to the trading post.”

  Chet chuckled. “He’s my brother-in-law. Married to my sister.”

  “The people talk good about him. He always comes on the day he is supposed to. We had bad suppliers before he came. I never saw you there.”

  “I only came the first time we set it up.”

  “How come? Are you a lawman, too?”

  “To stop people like the ones kidnapped you.”

  “Today I am glad you have time for that.”

  Jesus approached with the file and introduced himself.

  “Nice to meet you. How come you have the white man’s name for their God?”

  Jesus blushed. “My mother loved him so much, she wanted me to be like him. In Mexico many boys have his name.”

  Cole came and told her the water was hot enough to pour in the bathtub set up inside. He had soap and a towel for her, as well. Deloris thanked him and she turned to Jesus. “I want them off, but I’ll smell better for you to work on me if I take a bath.”

  He smiled. “That will be fine.”

  “Where did the other lady go?” Chet asked.

  Cole nodded to the house. “She’s sleeping on a bed inside the shack.”

  “Good place for her. We better bury that dead man and make a report.”

  “She had no idea when they’d be riding back?” Jesus asked.

  Chet lowered his voice and turned away from Deloris. “She’s tetched in the head for my part. Not all here in her mind. She’s a slave here, too, I bet.”

  “I wondered about her from the start,” Jesus said. “She makes me feel uneasy simply being around her.”

  “I know what you mean,” Cole muttered.

  “Well we’re waiting to welcome them back, and hell only knows when that will be,” Chet said. “We’ll have a list of their names by then, I hope. After Deloris bathes, we need to search that house. I’d bet there are some things in there would point to some murders and robberies.”

  “Let’s find a shovel and a pick, Jesus. This’ll be some afternoon’s work.”

  “I can tell you right now, he don’t need a real deep grave.”

  Cole agreed with his partner. “Can’t argue with that.”

  Deloris came out soon after, looking much refreshed after her bath. Chet told her the boys were burying the dead man, and then they would file off the locks.

  “Thank you again. The bath was very fine.”

  “I’m going inside to search for anything that might give us an idea of who we’re dealing with.”

  The other girl was sprawled facedown, snoring heavily in her skimpy wash-worn dress. Chet searched the crate cabinets and found several cheap watches, rings, and a few Masonic pins the killers sure never earned in any lodge. Some whorehouse tokens and Mexican coins. Nothing really worth having.

  Were these not the right people, after all?

  That’s when he half-tripped on a throw rug in the back parlor, revealing a crude trap door underneath. He dropped to his hands and knees, and soon had the hinged door open and laid back.

  Lighting a candle lamp from a nearby table, Chet eased down into the hole by way of a rickety wooden ladder. In the feeble, dusty light at the bottom, he found new expensive saddles, bridles, spurs, men’s boots, clothing, and several women’s dresses stacked in neat piles. There were several panniers full of trade items, and even some patented medicine in one. One large lard can with a lid contained real railroad and gold watches, diamond rings, and tiepins.

  He’d hit the mother lode. These were the men they were after. They must have been robbing and killing people passing by on the Honeymoon Trail for months to collect all this, and had gotten away with it until now.

  How could he inform the families of the victims what had happened to their people? It would be a big chore, but they’d have to try.

  Chet climbed up the rickety ladder into the sunlit room.

  “You ain’t supposed to go down there,” a woman’s voice said from behind him. “Earl Carson whips people’s asses they even look under that lid.”

  Chet turned and found the lady in the blue dress staring at him from the bunk she’d been sleeping on. “I won’t tell him. What’s your name?”

  “Candy.”

  “Just Candy? No last name?”

  She shrugged. “Why have one if’n I ain’t married? You could marry me and I’d use your name.”

  “I have a wife, thanks. Don’t need another.”

  “You ain’t a Mormon, huh? They have several wives. I ain’t one, either.”

  “Were there other women here?”

  “I don’t remember. Maybe so, maybe not. There’s some nice dresses down there. You know she wanted it?”

  “Who wanted it?”

  “That woman he brought up here. They argued and he said no. He made everyone go outside and we all did what he said—I guess she left after that ’cause I never seed her again.”

  “Did he kill her, do you think?”

  “Maybe, maybe not. I don’t know. But them guys took a shovel and were gone all next morning. I asked him where she went and he backhanded me so hard my mouth bled all day. I ain’t never going to ask him nothing again.”

  “Hey, guys,” he called out the front door to Cole and Jesus. “Come look what I found.”

  The boys climbed out of the grave, dusting themselves off.

  “Is this deep enough?” Jesus asked.

  “For him, yes,” Cole said.

  They mounted the porch and walked through the front door. Chet pointed to the yawning hole in the floor and handed Cole the candle. Jesus followed him down.

  “Boy, they have plenty of loot, huh?” The younger man laughed, playing the light around.

  “They’ve been operating a long while, I’d say. Longer than we thought. Bring up one of those dresses, though, Jesus. It might fit Deloris.”

  “I can do that. But why have they hidden it and not sold it?” Jesus asked, coming out with a dress on his shoulder.

  “Money has no identity. Those things are personal items and anyone who knows the owner’s family would report them if they saw something they recognized. They probably planned to haul them far away and sell them later.”

  “These guys are real killers, aren’t they
?” Cole followed his partner up the ladder, shaking his head in disgust.

  Chet agreed. “Worst I’ve ever heard about, especially if all those people were murdered.”

  They all walked back outside. Chet helped Cole dump the body in the grave while Jesus took Deloris her new dress, which she promised to wear as soon as he had the leg irons off her.

  He laughed. “That’ll take some time, señorita. But I can get them into two pieces.”

  “Oh, I will sure appreciate that.”

  Jesus took his file from his saddlebag and went to work on the shackles. Meanwhile, Chet and Cole were covering the dead outlaw, shovel by shovel, with dry gravel and rocks.

  “We going to set up and wait for these guys to come back, boss?” Cole asked.

  “As much as I hate sitting around doing nothing, yes. We don’t know where they went or what they are doing, but we do know they’ll be coming back. And we have to be ready for them when they do.”

  “This is the strangest case we’ve ever had.”

  “I’m going to make a list of them from Candy tonight. Deloris can help, too.”

  “Who’s Candy?”

  “The woman inside.”

  Cole grunted. “Well, the guy they left got planted.”

  “The rest might be tougher,” Chet warned. “Let’s not underestimate them.”

  “Amen. She—Candy?—said the boss killed a woman for arguing with him?”

  “I think that’s what she said. She’s kind of suspended out there at times.”

  “She isn’t lying is she?”

  “I don’t think so. But she is a little light-minded.” He straightened; his left shoulder was aching some from the old bullet wound.

  “Hey, I can finish this, boss,” Cole said, the concern in his voice evident.

  “I’ll let you. My shoulder’s complaining some.”

  Stretching and rolling his arms, Chet strolled over to squat beside Jesus and the Navajo woman. Jesus nodded, busy filing away.

  “The first one’s about cut through, Chet.”

  “Good. I bet she’s proud of you. Tell me something. When you scouted on up the trail, did you see a place up on a mountain where we can set up watch for when they come back through?”