Chaparral Range War (9781101619049) (5 page)

What was he into? What in the hell had happened? He straightened up after releasing the calf. He looked all around but saw nothing but chaparral and a handful of cows sounding upset by their bawling. The subject holding his interest ran over to his momma, ducked his head under her flank, and went for some hot milk.

Where was Dan at? He had to be somewhere out here. Guthrey coiled his reata up and tied it on his saddle. His stomach churned around sour-like and he had a gagging feeling behind his tongue as he sat back on the polished leather seat and gave the horse his head. He still needed to find that boy.

FIVE

M
IDMORNING, HAVING FOUND
no sign of Dan, Guthrey crossed a rise into another great grassy swale, and he spotted some buzzards circling. Shocked at sighting those birds of carrion and their interest in a certain piece of ground, he sent Buck off in a hard lope for the place they were focused on. The closer he drew to the object the more certain he was he'd found his boy. Then the figure sat up and shot at a low swooping buzzard with his pistol. The shot dropped the huge black bird out of the sky in a cloud of feathers to flop around in the bunch grass.

“Hold your fire,” Guthrey shouted in time to see the haggard-looking Dan fall down on his back. What was wrong? In a sliding stop, Guthrey was off the horse and rushing over to the boy. “You all right?”

“Yesterday.” Dan clamped his hands on his injured right leg and winced in pain. “I roped one of our calves that had Whitmore's damn brand on it. My reata broke in the process, my horse tripped, and he fell over on my leg. I must have busted it, and then I kept passing out.”

“No problem, I'm just happy I found you. Cally was beside herself last night. I discovered your horse after midnight at some tule water hole. Wasn't much I could do, so I slept till daylight. Saw that calf while I was looking for you, roped him, and got the loop off his neck. Someone had damn sure put Whitmore's brand on him.”

“What did you learn from the sheriff?”

“He was too busy counting cattle, they said. His deputy Lamar Dawes tried to start a fight with me. I put the wind out of him and then busted him over the head when he tried to go for his gun.”

“Holy shit, they'll swear out a warrant for you.”

“So?'

“They may really work you over next time. Boy, they did that to poor Theo Ward. Poor guy was laid up for weeks after the deputy was done with him.”

“I'll go plead guilty to stopping a deputy from trying to beat me up. If I can get a judge to accept that, they can't do a damn thing more to me.”

Dan frowned hard at him. “How did you figure that deal out?”

“I once had that happen to me down in Caldwell County, Texas. Now, how are we getting you out of here? No way to ever get a buckboard up here. Can you ride, do you think?”

“If I don't pass out again.”

Guthrey agreed, then went for his canteen to give Dan a drink. “If you can ride, maybe we can get you home today.”

Dan nodded as he swallowed, then he said, “I think you better cut my boot off. It's swollen too tight on that foot. I tried and couldn't do it.”

No doubt about it, the sight of Dan's swollen leg shocked him. Guthrey took his skinning knife and began to slice away the boot's vamp first. The flesh ballooned out from the leather incision. Guthrey worried about cutting the boy with his knife, but the boot was finally peeled off his enlarged foot and leg.

“Damn, sorry. You think your leg is broken?”

“I'm pretty certain.” Dan's face looked near white.

“Of course we can't see inside you. I don't want to break anything else.”

Dan nodded. “I understand. Help me into the saddle.”

“All right, we'll get you on my horse. I'll lead you back to yours. He's hobbled back a few miles. It gets too bad, you tell me. I've got a pint of snakebite whiskey in my saddlebags.”

“That might be the best thing I can think of.”

It was not easy to lift Dan to his feet, and getting the swollen limb across the cantle and in the seat was even harder. But once he was in the saddle, Dan grasped the saddle horn with white knuckles and his jaw locked hard. They moved at a slow pace.

“You making it?” Guthrey asked time and again when Dan moaned or cried out.

Getting Dan back to the ranch promised to be a living hell for the kid. Step by step Guthrey led the cow pony down the broad grassy swale.

“Guthrey? How are—we—we ever going to stop them from branding our calves?”

“The law.”

“But with that damn Killion working for Whitmore, he ain't taking our word for it. Where is the damn whiskey? I need some bad.”

Guthrey stopped the horse and looked in his saddlebags for the firewater. In the right side, he found the short brown bottle and removed the cork. “Here. Don't drink it too fast. You aren't halfway safe now on his back. Drink too much and you may fall off.”

“I'll be fine.” Dan was breathing like he'd run a mile.

With Dan holding the pint bottle on his good leg, they went on. In a while, Guthrey figured Dan was feeling nothing and they were almost to the tule-crowded water hole. He spotted the hobbled horse, who lifted his head and whined at Buck.

“Stay in the saddle,” he told Dan and went for the other horse, which was still busy grazing. Thirsty as he was, Guthrey felt grateful for the canteen on Dan's horse. He watered his man down first, who was drunk enough to be singing, “. . . ah, sweet Bessy from Pike.”

In a short while Guthrey was on Dan's horse and they were heading into the pass. If the boy could stay in the saddle, they'd be back to the ranch in a few hours. Guthrey could hardly wait.

When the ranch outfit was in sight, he noticed three riders coming off the far slope to their right. Who were they? Friend or foe? He turned his horse back. “I think we've got troubles, Dan. Can you see those riders making that dust coming from the south toward us?”

Dan said, “Uh-huh.”

“Grab that saddle horn. We're going to the house, where we have some cover. Hang on, pard.”

“I—can—do that.”

Gun smoke and the pop of pistol shots came from the three riders. The range was too far, but the strangers intended to kill both of them. Guthrey hoped Dan could stay in the saddle. The ranch headquarters were still a half mile away

Guthrey charged his mount using spurs and reins. Buck acted like he knew what was coming and broke into a run beside him. They flat raced for the house and some cover. Dan held on to the saddle horn with an iron grip.

The two on their hard-breathing horses covered lots of ground and still the pursuit followed them. Guthrey's back itched, waiting for the first slug of hot lead to strike him. The distance to the headquarters soon became shorter. He could see the windmill.

“Hang tight, son. We're almost there.”

Like a wooden Indian, the grim-faced Dan nodded. They swept under the crossover bar, grateful the yard gate was open. Cally came outside armed with a double-barrel shotgun and tossed it to Guthrey when he dismounted. “It's loaded. I could hear cussing and shooting. I knew something was bad wrong.”

“Dan's got a bad broken leg. Get him inside. He's drunk on some whiskey.”

She nodded, sober faced, and shouted after Guthrey, “I can handle him.”

“Good.” He checked the chambers. As she said, it was loaded. With the shotgun in his hands, he started for the corner of the house to stop the incoming riders.

He went on the run around the house to greet them. At the sight of the three riders heading through the gate, he stuck the stock in his shoulder, aimed, and fired. The report of the shotgun hurt his ears. The three horses split, and one went down on his nose and threw his rider. The other two rode in opposite directions. The riders emptied their pistols at him with no results. He was grateful they never stopped moving. At a dead run trying to shoot their empty pistols sideways, they'd be lucky to hit a barn if they had any more ammo in them. The rider on his left went out a small open gate and rode off like the devil was on his coattails. The other shooter jumped off his horse too far away for Guthrey to hit the outlaw with the scattergun. With wire cutters in his hand, the man sliced through barbed wire, remounted, and he too left through the hole he made.

The man facedown on the ground began to moan as Guthrey approached him. His paint horse had gotten up, shaking out a cloud of dust, rattling the stirrups. He looked all right. The cow pony started to drift away but was obviously ground-tie broke and stopped.

“Who in the hell are you?” Guthrey asked the groaning man. Grabbing a handful of the man's shirt collar, he jerked him up on his knees.

“My arm's broken.” The injured rider held on to his right forearm, crying out in pain as Guthrey stood him up. Then, seeing that the man's holster was empty, Guthrey shoved him toward the house. His prisoner half stumbled, and Guthrey used the shotgun's muzzle to prod him on.

“What's your name?”

“Bud Jones.”

“I mean your real name.”

“Jack Nelson.”

“Who hired you to do this?”

“No one.”

“I'm going to wrench that damn broken arm off at the shoulder if you don't give me answers I want to hear.”

He drew back. “Some guy named Hampton. I don't know any more.”

“Keep talking.”

“I don't know who he was. Big guy.”

“Your memory will get a damn sight better when I get done with you.”

“Who is he?” Cally asked from the doorway, looking ashen faced and staring at the dust-coated intruder.

“Jack Nelson, he said. You know him?”

She shook her head. “Dan's on my bed. I never saw him that drunk before.”

“His leg's broken. There may be more wrong. He roped a calf, his reata broke, and his horse lost his footing, fell, and must have rolled on top of him.”

With a grim, set face, she nodded. “When did you find him?”

“Midmorning. I've been coming back ever since.”

Nelson sat down on the floor. Guthrey pointed his finger at his prisoner. “You try one thing, I'll tie that broken arm to the other one until I can get you to the sheriff.”

He obeyed.

“I'll fix some food. You must be famished,” Cally said.

“Thanks. I'm going to hitch up the buckboard. I'll take this one along with me. And after we eat, we can drive him over to the sheriff and take Dan to a doctor.”

“Won't Killion try to arrest you?”

“He better not try.”

“I can take them. Someone needs to see about the cow and stock here.”

“We'll talk later about that.” He motioned for Nelson to get up.

“All right,” she agreed. “But I know Judge Collier. He lives in Soda Springs. He'll listen to me.”

“That might work. Let me hitch up and we can talk more later.” He pointed to the open door for his prisoner to move that way.

Outside, the two headed for the corral. Guthrey sat Nelson down on the ground and went about catching the team. With a currycomb and brush, he cleaned them up, routinely checking on the silent outlaw. When the harness was on, he drove the horses over and hitched them to the rig. His job done, he told his man to walk back to the house ahead of him. The man had no choice. It was obvious the impaired arm had him in a great deal of pain.

Inside the ranch house, Guthrey sat him on a chair. Cally had the food out, and before she took a seat, she gave each of them a plate of fried eggs and pancakes. Their coffee cups full, she swept her dress under her and sat down.

“How's Dan?” Guthrey asked her.

“Sleeping so hard that I let him alone.”

“That's all right. He needs sleep more than food. Maybe pack some sandwiches for him to eat later. Can we hire a neighbor to watch the stock? And, since you know the judge, you should be with me. I don't trust Nelson here or his buddies who ran off.”

“Noble McCoy is an old cowboy. His place is on the way to town. I think we could hire him. He's dependable.”

“Good. We'll do that, then.”

They loaded a pallet for Dan to ride on. Guthrey tied the moaning outlaw's arms to his body and put him in back too. Then he hitched the saddled Lobo, his bay gelding, to the tailgate in case they needed a mount.

With Cally's basket of food and water in the back, they set out for Soda Springs.

When Cally pointed out a homestead on the way to town, Guthrey stopped at the rickety-looking place beside the road. A rumpled old man came out and took off his hat to wave at her with a smile.

“What brings you and this hombre by here?” he asked, coming over in a rambling walk.

Cally introduced Guthrey to the older cowboy, Noble. “Dan had a horse wreck yesterday. This is Guthrey, who's helping us. He found him. We're taking Dan to Doc's at Soda Springs. That other rascal in back is one of the three people who raided the ranch this morning.”

“Raided the ranch? Who were those scoundrels?”

“He ain't saying much,” Guthrey said.

“Can you go up and milk my cows, feed the chickens until I can get back?” Cally asked.

“Miss Cally, I'd love to. I'll stay up there. You don't worry about a thing. I can handle it.”

“Good, we must run,” she said and motioned for Guthrey to drive on. And they left him in the dust.

“He'll do a great job. He took care of things while we made arrangements and had Dad buried.”

The tears in her eyes from what that recollection brought on he saw and read. She was weary of all this business and still choked up over her father's recent murder. And Dan's condition added to her concerns. Lots of wrongs didn't make a right moment for her.

SIX

T
HEY REACHED
S
ODA
Springs, the Crook County seat, in late afternoon. Parked in front, Guthrey handed Cally the reins. After adjusting his gun belt, he reset his hat on his head, and his boot heels soon hit the wooden floor. No one was at the jail. The cell keys had been thrown on the desk, and Guthrey looked around the office and jail cells. Nothing. The sheriff's office and jail cells were dark and empty. He lit a lamp to search the interior, unlocked a cell with the keys from the desktop, and went back to get his man. He jerked the prisoner out of the wagon, hauled him into the office, untied him, and slammed him in the jail. Then he went out, locking the door behind him, leaving the protesting raider in the cell.

“What about me and my arm?”

“You can stay here till hell freezes over. The sheriff will be here in a few days.” He went back outside, got in the wagon, and circled the team, listening to Cally's directions to the doctor's office.

Grateful he could see that someone was inside the former house turned office, he jumped down and ran up on the porch. A woman with graying hair came to the door.

“Is Doc here?” Guthrey asked, not knowing the physician's name.

She turned back. “Doc, a man is here. He sounds serious.”

A tall man wearing a white shirt came in the room. “Yes?”

Guthrey took him out to the wagon. Doc nodded to Cally on the seat.

“Dan Bridges was in a horse wreck yesterday. I think he broke his leg, maybe more.”

Doc looked over Dan where he was lying on a pallet in the wagon. “You have anyone to help bring him inside?”

“Not really. His sister is all.”

“Go get Black Jim, Kathryn,” the doctor said to his wife, who'd joined them. “He'll help us get the patient inside.”

“I'll do that right now.” She pulled on the shawl in her hands and nodded to Guthrey as she went by him. “He's a very powerful man who helps us in cases like this.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

Cally was pacing back and forth beside the wagon. After Guthrey told her that the doctor's wife had gone for help, he saw her perk up.

“What will Killion do when he finds a man in his jail and that you have his keys?”

“Where does that judge you know live?”

“Not far from here.”

“When we get Dan inside for Doc to examine, we'll take the wagon over and talk to the judge. If he accepts our story, Killion can't do a thing but hold him for trial.”

“Okay.”

He hoped he'd settled her down some.

Jim was a big man and Guthrey noticed that his hands were huge when Doc introduced him and Guthrey shook the man's calloused paw.

“Oh, you help me gets him back here, Mr. Guthrey. Then I's can carry him inside. Why, he's just a boy.”

Guthrey climbed in and sat Dan up with a struggle. The boy was mumbling, still drunk. Soon they had him in Jim's arms and he was packing Dan like he was a half-grown kid. Cally came along behind the man in the huge pair of overalls who was bearing her brother. Dan was placed on a table in the office and Doc thanked the big man. Guthrey paid him a silver dollar and Jim looked at it like it was too much.

“Stay here,” Guthrey said to him. “Doc will maybe need more help. We'll be back. We need to go see a judge.”

Cally looked with concern at her half-awake brother and squeezed his hand when they started to leave.

“We'll be right back,” she said and hurried out with Guthrey.

At a house on the side of the mountain, Judge Steve Collier answered their knock on his door. “Yes?”

“Your Honor, my name is California Bridges.”

“Yes, yes, I know you, young lady. What can I do for you?”

“My brother had a horse wreck yesterday. Mr. Guthrey here found him and was bringing him back when three men attacked them. They were shooting at the two of them as they raced to the ranch house. Guthrey took our shotgun and shot at one, his horse fell, and Guthrey got him. The other two rode off.” She paused. “No one was at the jail when we got here. . . .”

“I locked him in the jail,” Guthrey said.

“The sheriff has a man in town. You can go wake him.”

Guthrey shook his head. “I came to town to talk to Sheriff Killion yesterday. I found his deputy drunk over in Rosa's. He started a fight with me. I finished it.”

“I wondered, when she said your name, if you were that person who beat him up.”

“I give myself up and plead guilty. What's my fine?”

“Why, I guess it would be ten dollars for disturbing the peace and insulting an officer of the law. Why?”

“Here's your ten dollars,” Guthrey said, handing him the money. “Now, we want that man in jail tried for attempted murder and terroristic threatening, of her and the rest of us.”

Collier laughed, flipping the gold coin in his palm. “I know this makes you an unwanted man in the eyes of the law. Who is the man that you arrested?”

“He told me his name, but I think that's a lie too.”

Collier looked at her. “You didn't know him, Miss Bridges?”

“No, but what Guthrey is telling you is the truth.”

“I believe him.”

“The man broke his arm falling off his horse while shooting at us.”

“You tell that to Doc?” Collier asked.

“No, but we'll tell him when we go back to check on Dan,” she said.

“I'll go find Dawes and handle this arrest business. The man you brought in will be held for trial. And I'll tell Dawes and Killion you pleaded guilty and paid your fine. I'm sure they'll be disappointed, but that's not my worry. What did you used to do, Guthrey?”

“Captained a company of Rangers in Texas.”

“I knew you had either military or law enforcement experience. Thanks. I can't believe we have raiders besides those loose damn Apaches. You two don't have any more suspects besides this man you captured?”

“We didn't know those others who escaped,” she said.

Behind the judge's back, Guthrey nodded his head at her that she'd done right. “We need to get back to see about Dan,” Cally said.

The judge shook Guthrey's hand and bade Cally a good evening.

“Oh,” Guthrey said, handing him the key ring. “You may need this.”

Collier took it with a laugh. “Good night.”

Guthrey drove the buckboard in silence until Cally spoke up. “Why not tell him about Whitmore?”

“Might sound like we were mere gossips. I doubt he'd believe anything about a big rancher. We're going to have to prove that he's behind all this. That will be hard.”

“I see what you mean.”

He put his arm around her to squeeze her shoulder. “The calf branding, and these raiders, eventually can be dumped on Whitmore's front porch.”

Reined up at Doc's office, Guthrey helped Cally down from the wagon and then hitched the horses.

Inside they found Doc washing his hands at a pitcher pump.

“How is he?” Cally asked.

“I'm worried about his hip. Do you think the horse rolled on him?” Doc asked Guthrey.

“Yes, he told me it did.”

The physician shook his head. “He may have hip trouble. I can't see inside him, but he may have some pelvis damage in there. I can set his leg, but if his pelvis is damaged it could make him a cripple for life. He'll have to stay here for some time and let things heal. You can stay here tonight, if you like. I have him on laudanum so he'll sleep. Rest is best for his problems.”

“Thanks,” Cally said, looking at Guthrey.

“I can take a blanket, if you have one, and sleep on the porch.”

“I'll find you one. Miss Bridges, come with me. I have a spare bedroom upstairs,” Doc's wife said quietly.

Cally thanked her and then nodded to Guthrey.

“He'll be all right,” he reassured her.

“I hope so,” she said and followed Kathryn up the staircase.

With a wool blanket from the doctor, Guthrey went outside and made himself at home in an old stuffed chair on the porch, where he and the crickets shared the night.

As he fell asleep, he wondered what would happen next.