Chaparral Range War (9781101619049) (16 page)

Back inside the house he met Steffany, a black-haired girl in her teens with long eyelashes who drawled like she came from Dixie. A little on the chubby side, she acted very attentive to his and Dan's conversation about Dan guarding the three men until Guthrey got back.

Guthrey removed his hat to nod good-bye and told her he was pleased to have met her. Attached to Dan's arm, she smiled and said, “Thanks.”

Then he promised the boss lady he'd be back and headed for the Joyce Ranch with all the crew of girls standing out on the porch waving hankies good-bye at him when he rode out.

It was hard for him not to laugh at the sight of them doing that as he rode on his way up East Mountain, headed for the Joyce place. Maybe he could pinpoint those three prisoners as the some of the night raiders. He certainly hoped so. A sun time check told him it was already midmorning and he hadn't even gotten to see the Joyce family. They probably thought he was not coming at all.

SEVENTEEN

T
HE
J
OYCE PLACE
was up a live water creek that fed into the San Pedro River. Guthrey could smell the burned alfalfa as he rode under some cottonwoods, the leaves overhead rustling in the rising wind. The narrow field of legumes was across the nearly dry streambed and under tight fencing to keep range cattle out. It wound up the way, and he could see how the man's flood irrigation system worked.

He must have been watering some of his crops. The killdeers were busy harvesting grasshoppers and other bugs set in flight at the advancing spread of water through the green stems. He saw the black rings of the once-tall stacks when the house and corrals became visible. A windmill creaked away, pumping well water into a huge tank.

Sam Joyce came to greet him, and a much younger woman who looked very pregnant came out of the house. Three small ones surrounded her, holding her apron and looking up to her for the answer about who this strange man on horseback was—friend or foe?

“Sorry I'm so slow getting over here,” Guthrey said, dismounting and shaking Joyce's calloused hand. “But I had to check on some other things happening.”

Joyce looked tired but he nodded his head. “Everyone's all right here now.”

“Yes, I can see that this morning. You were real lucky. Obviously those people have no respect for families.”

“I agree. Come on, the wife will make us some fresh coffee.”

These folks were not Mormons if they were serving coffee. Guthrey led the pony over to the hitch rail, then followed Joyce inside the house.

Seated at the wooden table, Guthrey asked the man if he'd noticed the raiders' horses.

The man turned to his wife. “Henny, did you notice anything about them devils' horses?”

She looked pained walking across the room with the cups in her hand. “Not really. It was about sundown and the light was real red. I saw one had an army bridle with a U.S. button on it where the headstall was connected to the brow band.”

“Thanks,” Guthrey said. He didn't recall seeing the bridle headstall on any of the men's horses at the whorehouse, but there were supposed to be six men who rode in on the raid.

“This man with the ruby ring. Was there anything else about him that you can recall?”

“He was loud. Swore a lot. He rode a sorrel horse with a white blaze, and I felt sorry for the horse by the way he jerked him around.” She came back with the coffeepot. “I've got milk. No sugar.”

“Black's fine. Anything else?”

She looked at her husband as if she needed his approval, and he nodded. “Go ahead.”

“If you repeat this to anyone, I'll swear I never told you. But Sally Landers and Jenny Samples both told me that a man with a ring like he wore had—had raped them both on two different occasions while their men were gone from the house.”

Tears spilled down her red face.

“Did he ever assault you?”

She shook her head. “No, I never saw him before, but please don't tell anyone I told you about him.” She buried her face in a rag, and her shoulders shook as she cried.

“Mrs. Joyce, I'll find him, and you won't ever be mentioned. And he'll pay for his crimes. But I need to know all I can about him. Is there anything else you can tell me?”

She shook her head and left the room.

Joyce made a wary face. “How will you stop him?”

“I'm not certain. I'll have to find him first. No one speaks about that ring, except a few people who saw it. I don't want him to take it off either, so we need to be quiet about it.”

“I never thought about that,” Joyce said at his comment. “All he has to do is take it off and we couldn't identify him, right?”

“Exactly. So let's keep this news to ourselves. And I have to wonder if the husbands know about those assaults.”

Joyce set down his cup. “By gar, they might not know about it.”

“Exactly. I don't want to make any trouble for those women. But I also want to know more identifying marks on the man that they might have seen.”

Joyce went for the coffeepot on the stove to refill their cups. “I can see where this law business can be lots of work. I'm learning. Never thought before how hard it would be convicting them. In the old days, a man handled it himself. Like a bad cow-killing wolf or mountain lion, you hunted them down and shot them. Or hired hunters to do it for you.”

Guthrey agreed. “That's why we need new law in Crook County.”

“We sure ain't got none now.”

“I better get back to town. I caught three men this morning having a rampage in a house and have them tied up over there. I'll take them to the county seat today and have them locked up. I suspect they were part of the raiders but I can't prove it. I'll let you know what I find out.”

“Let me sign that petition now. I hope you win. We need a man like you as sheriff.”

Guthrey shook his hand and thanked him. Then he told Joyce's wife good-bye and went for his horse. Still had lots to do before dark.

* * *

B
ACK AT
S
TEWARD'S
Crossing, Dan helped Guthrey load each man on his own horse. The youth was still hobbling around, but he kept a straight face. With the hell-raisers on their horses, Guthrey stepped over to privately ask the madam if she'd ever seen the ruby ring.

“I have.”

“Who wears one, Ellen?”

She wrinkled her nose. “Why do you need him anyway?”

“He's raped several ranch women and led the raid last night.”

“I have never heard about him doing that.” Her blue eyes narrowed, and he saw her bulldog attitude set in.

“He may be one of your best customers, but the sumbitch has no business raping housewives or any women who aren't interested in him.” His temperature started up. She knew damn good and well who wore that ring and wouldn't tell him. All he got from her was silence, and she looked the other way.

“Never mind, I'll find him—and don't you warn him either, 'cause I can make lots of trouble for you if you put him on the run. Raping honest women makes lots of problems for them that they don't deserve. Think on that. I'll be back, and I want his name.”

“I think you're a tough man, Guthrey. Crook County needs a tough lawman. I hope they elect you after the vote. But you don't know the problems I might have either.”

He left her, mad as a hornet that she wouldn't tell him the son of a bitch's name.

“Something wrong?” Dan asked when he joined him.

“No. Let's get these things straight. Are you feeling good enough to ride over there with me to deliver these three?”

“Yes, I can stand the ride.”

“I hate for you to make it. You're still limping.”

“Get on your horse, Dad, I'm riding along,” Dan said. When Guthrey looked at him with raised eyebrows, Dan continued, “You sound like my father.”

Guthrey shook his head, recalling that he'd told Cally that this business of checking on Dan was a father's job, and smiled. “Let's go deliver them.”

He swung up on the ranch horse and told Dan to lead the prisoners. He jerked the Winchester out of its scabbard, looked around to be sure they were not being threatened, and they left in a trot.

Soda Springs blazed in the setting sun when they pulled up at the county jail.

“Stay here,” Guthrey said to Dan and went inside.

“That you, Guthrey?” Tommy asked from behind his high desk at the key. He raised the green celluloid visor and smiled. “You got more prisoners?”

Guthrey nodded and turned to look in the jail office. The grizzly faced jailer behind the desk looked sour as he discovered who was out there. He rose and stretched. “What the hell do you need?”

“I have three men who are suspects in a raid on a rancher and his family last night.”

“I don't have any room in this jail, I can tell you right now.”

“I am swearing out a warrant for their arrest and for you to hold them.”

“You got any evidence?”

“Yes. Three new masks they wore last night in the raid.”

“That ain't nothing.”

“I don't know any normal folks who go around with masks in their saddlebags. Do you?”

The man held out his hands. “I ain't accepting no more prisoners.”

“I can go get the judge—”

“Gawdamnit, we had a peaceful county here until you got here. What are all these arrests going to do?”

“Make this county a damn sight better place to live for honest folks. Get ready. I've got three of them to lock up and hold.”

The grumbling of the prisoners back in the cells almost caused Guthrey to smile as he strode back down the hallway to get his new ones. The three were listed on the sheet, searched, and then pushed in the already crowded cells. The wounded one, from the house of ill repute, was in one of the cells lying on a lower bunk.

Then Guthrey filed the three masks as evidence and made the deputy sign for them along with the arrest papers. He made an X on the paper.

Dan visited with Tommy across the hall at the telegraph key while Guthrey finished his paperwork in the sheriff's office. Guthrey could see that the deputy, called Drummonds, was illiterate and made it clear by marking the tops of the papers with signs so he could identify them for whoever needed to look at them.

After all the time it took they finally left the courthouse. Guthrey decided they better find some food. It would be long past midnight before they reached the ranch, and his belly told him he needed to eat something.

The café was empty, but the waitress came out and smiled at them. She promised them she could feed them something, though it was Sunday and closing time.

“We'd eat about anything,” Guthrey assured her and she went back to discuss the matter with the cook.

She stuck her head out of the kitchen. “How about breakfast?”

“Suits us fine,” he said to her and Dan agreed.

She and the unseen cook provided scrambled eggs with chopped ham, German fried potatoes, a pile of toast with grape jam, and fresh coffee. After the great meal, Guthrey paid her fifty cents and thanked her for being so kind to them.

“No problem. Glad you two came by.”

Guthrey waved at her before closing the front door and he and Dan stepped out into the twilight. Side by side, they headed east on the main road. Heat from the day began evaporating and the stars started to peek out in the vast sky over them. Night insects chirped and a few desert owls hooted for their mates. Then the coyotes began to howl to each other. The desert night woke up, and Guthrey and Dan trotted their mounts to make as much time as they could. Cally would be worried about them taking so long to get back, and there was no way to allay her concern but push to get back there.

Guthrey knew he had lots of riding ahead of him to collect the number of signatures they had to have on the petition. No doubt there'd be lots of turns and twists for him in the road to the election that he had not even imagined. And he needed to find out who the man with the ruby ring was.

EIGHTEEN

D
AWN WAS PEEKING
over the Chiricahua Mountains at their backs when Guthrey and Dan finally reached the ranch. A light was on in the house and Cally ran to the doorway.

“Are you two all right?” she asked, holding her skirt up and heading for Guthrey's arms. He kissed her, and she shook her head.

“Why, I've been praying and crying and worrying about you two all day and the night. What took you so long to get home?”

“We've been busy,” Dan said. “Wait till he tells you the whole story.”

Oh, fine—Dan wasn't going to mention a thing about his part and leave Guthrey to tell her about their activities in some cleaned-up form. Noble brought in the milk pail. Looking them over, Noble nodded. “Why, they ain't got a scratch on 'em that I can see, missy. I told you they'd be fine.”

Guthrey started his recitation. “I went to see about Dan. Then there was an altercation at a house of ill repute and I stopped it. I arrested those three troublemakers and tied them up. Dan guarded them while I went to see Sam Joyce, and he told me a few things about the raiders from the night before. But his wife also told me this mystery man who wears the ruby ring was the leader. Also, he had repeatedly raped some other wives—”

Cally's loud inhale and pale face scared him. Fingers pressed to her mouth, she said brokenly, “I told you—he did that before. There were even more than the woman I knew about?”

“Yes, there were more. I'm sorry this bunch is so mean. Yes, she named others.”

“Did they harm her?”

“No, she's about to have another baby.”

“That's why I asked.”

“She's fine. Nice young lady.”

Chewing on her lower lip, Cally agreed. “Go ahead. I'm sorry I interrupted.”

Then she went to get the coffee for them that he could smell boiling on the range.

“To make things short, I found new masks in the saddlebags of each one of those men who I had held for causing the ruckus. So they will be charged as terrorists in the Joyce matter.

“After all that we took them to Soda Springs, where the jail is full and the jailer complained he couldn't take any more, but he did take them and I filed charges on them. We had supper late over there and have been riding ever since.”

Coffee poured, she kissed him on the cheek and put the pot back. Then she brought them each a large platter of food for breakfast from the oven. “It's still hot. I imagine you two need to rest all day.”

“Half a day anyway. You have any trouble, Noble?”

“Nope, doctored a few cattle. But we seem to be doing all right.”

“No sign of that branded calf?” Dan asked.

“Nope, he's vanished.”

Dan, between bites, promised him they'd find it while Guthrey was off politicking.

After breakfast, Guthrey had a cold wash in the sheepherder's shower, shaved, and went back to the house. Cally had given him some fresh clothes to dress in afterward and wanted his other clothing for her to mend and wash.

“You can sleep on my bed today,” she said when he came inside with the dirty clothes in his arms. “You look real nice all cleaned up. You have any money? We need to buy some better clothes for a sheriff candidate.”

“I have enough. I also need to ride into Tucson and see about selling those cattle you wanted sold.”

“It can wait. Sleep in your britches on my bed and get some rest today. Your eyes look drawn in the sockets. My, you are a tough man.” Then she dropped her voice to a whisper, “Who is this dove my brother is seeing?”

“Steffany. I'd say she's close to his age. Dark hair and dark eyes. She acted pleasant enough. I don't think she's mouthy.”

She nodded. “I don't want to run him off, but does he realize most of those girls don't stay married long and that he doesn't have a lot of money as she might think he does, being a rancher?”

“Whatever.” He was about to laugh.

“You go sleep. It is not funny.” She shooed him off, but not before he kissed her lightly on the cheek.

On the bed, he sank into the goose-down mattress. To him it felt like sleeping on a cloud. He closed his eyes and, before he fell asleep, the faint aroma of Cally's lilac perfume went up his nose. That smelled lots better than the thick aroma of heavy-duty scent he'd encountered in the kitchen yesterday morning at the big house. Whew, that about made him dizzy. . . .

* * *

H
E AWOKE IN
midafternoon, swung his bare feet over the bed, and combed his too long hair back with his fingers, then he headed for the kitchen. Maybe he had found his own piece of heaven in the spiny desert outside. For once, he really hoped so as the creosote aroma of the desert came on the breeze. Since he'd greased its gears, the windmill outside only clacked as it spun more water up from the depths.

A couple of chickens squawked in the yard, and Cally came back in with a basket full of produce from the garden. She spent hours working out there: weeding, watering, and making it work. Guthrey needed to pay more attention to her operation of it. Then she had rows and rows of canned jars in the cellar a few steps outside the back door. Dan and Cally's father must have been quite a detail man—all the things he fixed and built to provide for them on the ranch amazed Guthrey.

“You sure slept hard.”

He laughed. “I felt you watching me.”

“Good. How are you doing after the short nap?”

“Ready to do some work.”

“Why don't you simply rest this afternoon?”

“Hard for me to do.”

She took the ears of corn out of the basket and put them on top of her dry sink. “You know what it's hard for me not to do?”

“What's that?”

“Not sit on your lap and kiss you till the sun goes down.”

He rubbed his knees under his pants and shook his head. “That's mutual, darling. We need to do something about that.”

She washed her hands in the pan on the counter, then threw the water out the front door. When she turned around, she looked hard at him. “I knew one day a knight would come riding up that road from King Arthur's Court, and when he finally did come, I damn near ran him off with my snappy mouth.”

“Naw, I don't run away easy.”

She repeated his words. “We need to do something about what?”

“You and me.”

She chewed on her lip. “I'm going to ask you a question—and it's a hard one for me to ask. Did I drive you to use that place where you found Dan?”

“Lord, no, girl.” He swept her up in his arms. “I went there to find him, not some woman dipped in loud perfume. No, you haven't done anything. But—”

She began humming a waltz. He held her close in his arms and they danced slow-like around the table. He forgot about the ears of corn, the girls in the whorehouse kitchen yesterday morning, the terrorists, Whitmore, and all his problems with the law business. His world became simply him and her, and he'd never felt anything in his life like their being there together that afternoon, dancing slow in each other's arms.
Dear God, I'm grateful you sent me here. . . .