Chaparral Range War (9781101619049) (10 page)

“I kept his field glasses and told him I'd shoot him if he ever came back.”

Guthrey laughed. “I bet he ran home.”

“Well, I loaded him on his horse and emptied my pistol close enough he thought I was shooting at him.”

Guthrey put down his coffee and laughed. Cally joined in. “You did what?”

“By golly, I busted some caps close enough he could hear them whiz right by his ear.”

They finally turned in. Noble left the house ahead of Guthrey, and Cally walked him to the front door. “Can you believe he did that?”

“He damn sure did it.” He kissed her lightly and said good night.

She whispered after him, “Sleep well. I appreciate all you've done for us.”

He nodded and went to spread his bedroll near the corral. All his efforts to help had fallen almost on deaf ears. One judge was the only person to really help him. Maybe they could do some good before Whitmore ran everyone out of the country. Guthrey didn't sleep well that night with those thoughts rattling around in his head.

NINE

B
EFORE DAWN,
G
UTHREY
milked the gentle cow and carried the half pail to the house. Cally was up and dressed, working on making bread, but she looked like she'd slept little during the night. He put the milk pail down and then poured himself some coffee from the pot on the range.

“Did you have a bad night?” he asked, seating himself.

The flour flew and she nodded, busy working the dough in her wooden trough. “My family just wanted to ranch here. I'm not sure that was a good idea. We moved here right after the war was over. The Apaches were still running over this part of Arizona. But we never bothered them, and they respected us. Kind of live and let live.

“Mother died of something. The doc never knew what it was. She had the fever, lay in bed listless, and then she slipped away. I thought her death took some of the strength Dad had away from him. We had some run-ins with Whitmore's men, but that made Dad more determined. I figured they shot him 'cause he was trying to get the others organized to fight their takeover of this county.”

“Did they have meetings?”

“Yes. But all that activity ended with his death. They went back into their own shells like turtles. When there was no more talk about doing something, that's when I think Dan went to town and challenged them. Mercy, thank God you came along.”

“Things have been quiet since the botched raid, 'cept for that scout they sent to spy on us.”

She shook her head. “We simply aren't hearing about it. No one is talking about being threatened, but what we did hear is that they're taking a little cash from Whitmore, less than their places are worth, and leaving without so much as a word to their neighbors.”

“I guess I better spend more time in town,” he offered.

“Am I interrupting you two?” Noble asked from the doorway.

She smiled at him. “No, we were just talking. Come in. I nearly have breakfast ready.”

“Morning. Guess you milked the cow? She ain't bawling for anyone out there. She's a good gal,” Noble said after washing his hands and face, then took a seat. “Kinda like company to have her.”

“I already got her,” Guthrey said. “But thanks.”

“What are we doing today?” Noble asked as Cally brought him steaming coffee in a tin cup and waited for Guthrey's reply.

“I'd still like to find the calf with Whitmore's brand on him. Did you see him anywhere while we were gone?” he asked the old man.

“No, but the way I get around, I figured if I did see him I'd leave him for the two of us to handle together. Broke my leg a few years ago messing with a range calf like that while working him on the ground.”

“Good idea,” Cally said. “One crip is enough on this ranch. Poor Dan, he must be beside himself not knowing what's going on out here.”

“I didn't expect that calf to be that hard to find.” Guthrey shook his head. “I found him easy when I roped him and took the broken reata from around his neck.”

“That calf has bothered you, hasn't it? Ever since it happened, you've been bothered,” Cally said, putting breakfast on the table for them.

“It was rustling. Pure and simple. Better said, it was blatant rustling.”

“I can't figure why he had it done.” Noble shook his head. “May just have been some of his ornery help's idea too.”

“That's a good thought,” Cally said.

“For whatever reason, it was a shot at your ranch.”

“But it didn't hurt any of us.”

“I don't like to be spit in the face,” Guthrey said. “Come to think of it, that might have been a red flag insult to get your brother Dan all upset.”

She turned from washing the dishes to frown at him. “What do you mean by that?”

“What if they figured he'd come stomping mad to town again and challenge them like he did the day I arrived?”

She dried her hands. “That sounds more like—Phil, you saw that calf last week. Was the brand fairly fresh?”

“Oh, yeah. I think that was what they planned.” Guthrey said. “They wanted him mad as hell and ready to expose himself so they could kill him—justified.”

“You're a good influence on him,” she told him. “He would have done just that if you had not settled him down.” With the back of her hand against her forehead, she slumped on a kitchen chair. “All this information shakes my faith that we can ever survive.”

“Buck up, girl. That conceited devil isn't going to run us off. We're going to stop him,” Guthrey said.

Noble agreed. “He won't ever take over this whole country.”

Cally shook her head. “You two are looking on the bright side. All I see are dark canyon walls squeezing us out. On Monday I need to go to town and get some supplies.”

“I better go with you.”

“I'm sorry. I know you two want to ride the range and check stock.”

“No problem. So we better look over things the next couple days,” Guthrey said. “You keep that shotgun loaded and close.”

“I will. I promise.” She rose and went to the door with them.

Noble went on out after asking Guthrey what horse he wanted cut out.

“That white one is good.”

“That was Dad's favorite mount. He rode him up there to check on that water hole. Dan was shoeing a horse that day and let him go alone. I worried the white horse made him an easier target.”

“I know. I want them to try.”

“Oh, don't ride him, Phil. Please, for me?”

“Let them try.” He hugged and kissed her. “Don't worry.”

She looked sad when he left. But he had some plans to see if they were surveying his and Noble's activities on the ranch. The spy they sent to keep an eye on them that Noble discovered was no genius. But hiring a paid assassin was not beyond a man like Whitmore. No doubt Cally's father was either shot by one of them or by Whitmore's foreman, Hampton. The rest of his men, Guthrey decided, were probably not open killers. Like the ones he ran off in town that first day he showed up.

An assassin was different. He came to do a job. He was professional. He had an arsenal of weapons. Telescoped rifles that could kill a fly from far away. A small pistol to fit in his hand and kill a victim in close contact. A suitcase of knives with small, thin blades to kill someone in a crowd. Explosives. Guthrey recalled such a setup in Texas where a banker was blown up by an individual paid to do it by a man who hated the banker. The killer looked like a businessman when he checked into the town. In the days before the murder, he inquired about buying a business for himself. If he had brought enough dynamite, he never would have been caught. He must have felt he did not have enough power, so he stole some sticks of blasting powder from a store's shed and dropped a glove in the process.

After the explosion, the merchant told the town marshal that he was missing six sticks of blasting powder from his stock. The local lawman investigated and told Guthrey he felt the glove found on the scene of the crime belonged to the thief. Investigations showed the expensive glove was handmade by a Dallas company. The glove's mate was found in this man's luggage when they decided he was the only one in the town who could have afforded such an expensive item.

The assassin was hung for the death of the banker, and so was the man who hired him. It was another case he'd closed as a Texas Ranger. But in Cally and Dan's case, Guthrey needed evidence or someone to confess to shooting their father. Nothing in these deals was ever easy. Without real law enforcement, it was ten times harder to solve cases like this.

After several unsuccessful days riding the ranch and looking for the calf, Noble and Guthrey returned to the house each night with no more information than they had left with. Sunday night, Guthrey went to get some sleep under the starlight, pondering the events of the past few days. He rolled over again in his bedroll and tried to go to sleep, but it escaped him.

TEN

T
HE NEXT DAY
Guthrey drove Cally into Steward's Crossing for supplies. While she was in the mercantile, he went over to the Lucky Star Saloon and ordered a beer. The place was nearly empty. Some old derelict was scrubbing the floor with a rag mop. Mainly he was mopping without changing water on his mop and making muddy swirls on the floor and singing hymns. Better said, he was trying to sing hymns, but he only knew half the words to them.

The bartender, observing the man's action, finally threw a towel over his shoulder, came around the bar, and went to cussing him out. “You dumb peckerwood, ain't you ever mopped a floor before? Get the hell outa here right now. You're fired. You've made a big damn mess of the floor is all you did.” Then, after taking possession of the mop, the bartender shouted, “Sophie, come here!”

A thin woman in a threadbare dress came out of the back room and asked him, “Huh?”

“See what that damn bum did to us? Now mop this floor till it's clean.”

“I didn't make the damn mess,” she grumbled but went to hand wringing out the mop.

The bartender came back, complaining about the help he could not hire to do the job.

Guthrey nodded in agreement, nursing the beer and hoping for more customers to come in so maybe he could talk to someone who knew something.

“You're the guy bucked Whitmore in the street about three weeks ago,” the bartender said, coming down the bar while polishing a glass.

“Yeah. You seen them two gunmen again?”

“You want to do it again with them?”

“No, I want to talk to them if they're still in the country.” He sipped on his beer.

The bartender stacked the glass he had finished cleaning and came down close. “What would you pay to know where they're at?”

“Depends how much information you have.”

The barkeep looked around before he said in low voice, “Jewel Hanks is working at a sawmill over in the Chiricahuas. He's some kin to the guy who owns it, or his woman is. I ain't sure. I don't think Larry, who calls himself Sewell, is around. His name in Texas when I first met him was Thomas. Claude Thomas.”

No doubt he was wanted in the Lone Star State. Men didn't change their names unless they were wanted or did something sorry in their past. Guthrey put a silver dollar on the bar. “Where did he go?”

“Tucson, I think.”

He slid the coin across to the man. “What else do you know?”

“Have they started the damn railroad from El Paso yet? This place is goin' to dry up before it gets here.”

Guthrey shook his head. “I don't know. I didn't come that way. My name's Guthrey.” He waited for the man to give him his.

“Tim, Tim Wallace.”

“I came across northern New Mexico and down through Silver City to get here.”

Wallace nodded. “Are the prospectors doing any good up there at Silver City?”

“Some are, some ain't.”

“Just like most of those places. There were some good mines up there, the rest are a kiss and a promise. Tombstone's another like that down the road here. They boom and bust. They've got some big payrolls, but there's plenty of bars already there. No need for me to go to that town. Why didn't you go down there?”

“Besides Rangering in Texas, I've spent the rest of my time working cattle. I'm not working at a damn mining job.” Guthrey downed the last of his beer.

“I savvy that. You going to ranch here?”

“I'm looking. Thanks.” He left the bar mulling over the question of where Whitmore's two hired guns were employed at the time Dan and Cally's father was shot. At the least, they had been on Whitmore's payroll back then. But since their former boss fired them for refusing to face down Guthrey, they might add to Guthrey's information. No telling how tough they were. They knew him or had heard of his rep in Texas. The only way he'd ever learn anything was to go look them up.

A teenage clerk was loading items in the buckboard when he joined Cally in the hot sun. She smiled. “I hurried.”

“I told you that was not necessary.” He wanted to hug her and kiss her cheek to reassure her he was back, but he restrained himself. When had he gotten so possessive? The last two women he'd courted he hadn't done that with. For certain he did not need a wife at this time. He had no big stake to buy himself a ranch or even a paying job.

When all her things were loaded, he lifted Cally up in the wagon, and she laughed. “I'm not a cripple.”

“Just loading you,” he said and laughed too.

She looked a little embarrassed and shook her head.

Before he could speak, two middle-aged men rode up. One was long-faced, wore a suit and Western hat and sat atop a good-looking tall bay gelding. He took his hat off for Cally.

“Howdy, Miss Bridges. You doing all right?” She nodded to him, then he spoke to Guthrey. “Are you going to be at the social Saturday night?”

“I can be.” They shook hands.

“Carl Brown's my name, and this is Lester McCall.” The older man leaned over and shook Guthrey's hand too.

Brown said, “A bunch of us want to talk to you about doing a job for us: taking over as sheriff.”

Guthrey looked surprised, but said, “Sure enough there's a need for a better lawman in this county. You think it ought to be me?”

Brown looked around. “Yes. Give it some thought. We don't need to discuss the details now. It can hold till the social. I wanted to be certain you were going to be there.” He reined his horse around. “Miss Bridges, have a nice day. Guthrey, we'll look forward to talking to you then.”

The two rode off down the street. Guthrey could see that Cally had a million questions to ask him and he had half that many for those two ranchers about what they wanted from him.

“What did they really want?” She squirmed on the seat beside him as he took up the reins to leave.

“To talk, they said.” He made sure no one was coming, then made a U-turn in the wide street. He had plenty of room to turn the team around, and afterward he clucked to the horses to trot. The matched pair of bays stepped out, and he sat back on the seat.

“They sounded very serious. They said something about me taking over as sheriff.”

“Sheriff?” she asked in a subdued voice. “My father told them almost two years ago they needed to kick Killion out of office, but few would listen, and the man who ran against him that fall was not too sterling. After the elections, he moved on when he didn't get the job.”

“It's spring now. There won't be an election until next November,” Guthrey said, shaking his head. “The parties won't choose their candidate till late summer. Maybe. How influential are those two men?”

“They could be strong if they wanted to be. They're leaders in the Mormon Church here. Lots of folks around here are Mormons.”

“Well, does that change your plans about going to see Dan this week?”

“I guess I better go on Friday to see him.” She looked back and was satisfied that only dust was chasing them.

“We can do that.” He still was niggled by the men asking him to talk to them at the dance. They sure had something on their minds that sounded serious. Would he take or seek a law job in Arizona? The sheriff and tax collector job sounded like a good-paying one. Good enough that he'd have a big fight if he sought it. Killion would not hand his badge over on a plate to him, that was certain. And Whitmore was already upset over Guthrey saving Dan. He'd fight Guthrey tooth and nail. Dang, this could get complicated.

“You made up your mind yet if you want to run for sheriff?” she asked, hugging his arm tight.

He shook his head. “I've been thinking what I could live on for that long. It would be after the
first of the year before I took office if I did win.”

“We could feed you. I mean, you could eat and live at the ranch.”

“But everything costs money in this world, Cally. I mean everything, and going from now till next January without any money would be hard.”

“But I bet you could win the election. You're the only one who ever stood up to Killion or Whitmore.”

“And they'd make sure I was miserable the entire time until I did take office, and possibly after too.” He reined up the team and stopped at the side of the road. There were things he needed to get straight with her, and this was as good a place as any. No one was around but some quail calling out in the chaparral.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

“I guess there is. I want to set some things straight between us. I'm fifteen years older than you are. My living at your ranch is going to ruin your reputation—someone already told you that.”

“The doctor's wife, Kathryn, said that, but she's not my mother or my boss.”

“No, but I don't want to be the ruination of your reputation. You are a sweet, caring person and have the right to find yourself a husband and take charge of your own life.”

“Why don't you let me decide? I can make my own choices. I don't know what tomorrow will bring. Since my father died, I hardly know who I am. You're a nice guy, older or not. You don't have to be a father to me. I like to dance with you and be around you. I am not going to please bossy people like Kathryn anyway.”

“Cally, you have a life to live. I'm a drifter. I've not stayed with much of anything. I thought the Rangers were my place until they proved that you can't count on things, like when my full pay quit coming.”

“I figured the war stepped in and first interrupted your life, like it did so many men your age.”

“It did. Maybe I should have stayed with cattle and driving them north or wherever. But I lost some men on those drives who left me feeling I hadn't done all I could to save their lives. I made some money and should have built a ranch while the business was so good.” He shook his head, feeling he was getting nowhere in discouraging her from any plans he felt she was making with him. “Damn, you aren't listening to me.”

“I'm listening fine to you, Phillip Guthrey. You aren't listening to me.”

“Oh, I am.”

“No, you're telling me I make you regret not doing some things. For that I am sorry. But you and I were thrown together for a reason. The good Lord has a purpose for all of us. If we belong together, age should not keep us apart. You don't hate my company yet, do you?”

“No. I wanted to warn you . . . I'm not a big sticking-around sort of guy.”

“If you need to leave, I will be hurt, but let's wait till that time to make any judgment about our deal. All right?”

He shook his head and picked up the reins. She stopped him and leaned against him. Nothing he could do but kiss her. Damn, nothing was settled. Nothing at all. He sat back and thought for a second, then said, “I have warned you.”