Chaparral Range War (9781101619049) (8 page)

Guthrey short loped his horse the next few miles. A tough pony despite his ugly head, Lobo had a gait that was smooth enough. In the first peachy light of day, the tall saguaros started to become statues that must have seen the Spanish conquistadors when they came to this land hundreds of years earlier. What if they could talk? He shook his head and nudged Lobo with his spur to go a little faster.

The tules soon filled the wash bed beside the road. Guthrey arrived in the Crook County seat, walking his sweaty horse the last mile to dry him out. He dismounted at a café that was open and had a cup of thick coffee. Commerce had not started for the day, and he marveled at the short time the hard ride had required.

Seated with him at the counter were some obvious workers. They talked about the lack of rain and some man named Nelson who'd broken out of jail.

“Didn't he have a broken arm?” Guthrey asked them.

“Yeah. How did he ever overpower a guard and get away?”

The man turned back to his coffee and commented, “He must have been a tough sumbitch.”

“No, he was part of the ‘gang' that runs things around here,” the burly man beside Guthrey said. “That damn big shot Whitmore's got a passel of them hired to do his bidding. I'd bet that Bridges boy lying up there at Doc's, his wreck was probably caused by them too.”

The others down the counter agreed.

“When're we going to get tired of him running roughshod over everyone?” the mouthy one asked. “They run off that family on the Double L place.”

“Saul Mitchel?” someone asked.

“He sell out?” another said. “I didn't know that.”

“Yeah and left the same day.”

The conversation was fast and Guthrey was trying to piece it all together. The workmen soon left for their jobs. He paid the thickset waitress ten cents for his coffee and went over to Doc's.

At Doc's office, he hitched Lobo to the rail, and a fresh-faced Cally met him halfway to the front door. He hugged her and kissed her on the side of the face. “How's your brother?”

“Better. But Doc is still not sure that he doesn't have more problems inside. The leg is set, and he's still in lots of pain. How are things going with you and Noble?”

“Besides the fact we haven't found the branded calf, all right. I guess you heard that Nelson broke out of jail, and with his arm broken too.”

She made a face. “How damn convenient,” she said under her breath. “It is so good to see you.” Then she blushed. “I've missed our conversations.”

“So have I. What're your plans?”

“Let's talk it over with Dan. I'd like to go back home to sleep in my own bed. Be in my own house and tend my garden.” He followed her back inside.

“Noble is hoeing in your garden today and plans to irrigate this afternoon.”

She shook her head as if embarrassed. “You two may spoil us.”

Her brother was propped up on his pillows in the bed. “I thought you two were taking all day to come back inside.”

“We had lots to talk about. How have you been?” Guthrey asked, sitting down on a chair beside Dan's bed.

“Better. You all find that calf?”

“No. We've rode every day last week and ain't found hide nor hair of him up in that northwest country where I found you. Treated two head for screwworms. I think we got to them in time.”

Dan frowned. “He has to be up there unless someone got him.”

“I think his momma moved ranges. There was no bawling cow looking for her baby. No buzzards looking for a meal anywhere we've been either.”

“I ain't lying.”

“Easy, I roped him too, so I know he was branded like you said. We'll find him. That old man Noble is tougher than I thought. He's a helluva good guy to ride with.”

Dan laughed. “I guess he told you about all his wives?”

“Most of it. They were the highlight of his life.”

“Yes, I never thought of it like that. Yes, they were.”

Cally took a seat on the end of the bed. “Dan, I'm thinking of going home and looking after the crew. I can't do much for you here. Can you make it without me?”

“Oh, I'll be fine. Doc wants me to stay here for a while and heal. I can use those crutches now and get around. Did you know that guy you arrested broke out of jail?”

“Yes, I heard it all over town when I first got here. Folks are upset. Think he was simply turned loose.”

“See how sorry the law is in this county?” Dan shook his head in disgust.

“Don't overload your backside when we ain't here,” his sister said. “Whitmore has plenty of allies listening.”

“I won't. I simply get mad that Dad's killer is still walking around free as a bird.”

Guthrey said, “He won't do that forever. If we can find that dogie we'll have a start on taking him down.”

Dan lay back on his pillows. “I know you will. Sis, you be careful. I don't think they care anything about not hurting women.”

Guthrey shot a glance at Cally. “Did I miss something?”

“It happened last year—” She looked around to be certain they were alone in the room. “A woman on the Two Star Ranch was assaulted and left for dead. Her husband didn't want any more trouble with them, so he never reported it. Later she told a few of us women that three of the raiders raped her repeatedly.”

“Who were they?”

“She said they all wore flour sack masks. But one of them wore a red ruby ring. Poor woman didn't want to talk about who they were, but she slipped talking about that ring. . . .”

“Good morning.” The doctor's wife, Kathryn, swept into the room in a fresh starched dress. “Dan, how are you doing this morning?”

“Fine, Miss Kathryn.”

“Good. And how are you, sir?”

“Doing all right,” Guthrey said. “He thinks he's recovering. I'll be glad when he's back at the ranch taking care of the cattle.”

She raised her eyebrows. “We hope it will be soon. Is there anything you need, Cally?”

“No, ma'am.” Everyone sort of waited to talk further until Kathryn finally exited the room.

Cally made a face after her exit. “She should have married a preacher.”

“What's wrong?” Guthrey asked.

“Oh, tell him, Dan. What she said.”

“She told Cally if she went back to the ranch without a chaperone and you cowboys were out there, it would ruin her reputation.”

“That's what she told me.” Cally shook her head in disgust. “I am still going back to the ranch. You two don't need to do my jobs.”

“If Dan can get by here on his own, I can drive you back today.”

“I can handle it,” Dan said. “Besides, she's going crazy just sitting around here.”

“Thanks.” She looked pleased at her brother.

“When you want to go back to the ranch, you just say the word.” Guthrey was looking out the window at a rider who dismounted at the Texas Saloon across the street. The rider looked vaguely familiar.

“Dan, is that one of those three raiders who shot at us? He's about to step on the Texas Saloon's porch.”

Leaning forward, Dan looked hard at the figure, then nodded. “I recognize his hat.”

“I wonder where the other one is at,” Cally pondered.

“Good question,” Dan said.

“What should we do?” Cally asked.

“You two stay here. I'll go check him out.”

“You be careful,” Cally told him. “That big deputy is still on patrol here.”

Guthrey nodded and went out the back way. He trotted down the alley behind the businesses and crossed the street past the saddle maker's shop. Nothing in sight but some horses at the hitch rail in front of the Texas Saloon. In a few minutes, Guthrey was outside the back door of the bar. Up the six steps, he eased the unlocked door open. One of the working girls sitting on a wood case about screamed at his appearance. He put his finger to his lips. From his vest he took out a half dollar and tossed it to her. She caught it in two hands and smiled.

She hurried over as he beckoned to her with his hand.

“There is a man in there that wears a black hat with a floppy right side.” He pointed to that side of his own weathered hat. “He's large. You go out there and check so that he don't know anything, then come back and tell me where he's at and who he's with.”

The next half dollar made her really smile when he showed it to her. She raised her hems higher and pranced out of the room, which was full of beer kegs and wooden cases of liquor bottles.

Impatient, Guthrey dried his right hand on the side of his pants. He shook his head over the passing minutes. She sure took her time getting back to him. Then she appeared and came quickly to where he stood with his arms folded.

“He's with a shorter man at a side table,” she whispered. “They've been in here before. Calls himself Rip. The other man is Thad, he's sometimes a cowboy.”

He paid her the other half dollar.

“I can coax either one of them back here.” She twisted, holding the side of her worn dress out from her body.

“Thanks, I can handle them. Were any of their friends in the place?”

She laughed aloud, then covered her mouth with her hands and looked embarrassed at her outburst. “Nobody likes them.”

“Good. Stay in here for a while.”

She made a seductive pose for him, with her hands on her hips. “You ever get lonely, come find me. I'm Sealley.”

“Thanks, Sealley.” He straightened, hefted his pistol a few inches from its place of rest in his holster. The revolver was free enough to suit him. Not looking at the men at the table, Guthrey came through the back door and stopped at a place midway down the bar. Using the mirror behind the bar, he made sure there was no one behind the men if he had to shoot either of them.

The two men frowned at each other when they noticed Guthrey's abrupt entry and how he was staring at both of them. Their look was one of “Who's he?”

“It's him from the—” The one Sealley had called Rip managed to get out. Both men went to their feet but too late, and in that split moment, all hell broke loose. They were too slow. Guthrey had his pistol hammer cocked and ready to shoot them so fast it made the pair blink in disbelief. They let go of their gun grips, released their weapons to settle back in their holsters, and raised their hands in the air.

Guthrey moved in quickly and disarmed them, shoving their pistols one at a time in his waistband, and indicating a direction with his gun barrel, he made them move aside.

“What the hell are you doing with us?” Thad asked.

“I'm marching you up to the jail and filing charges of terroristic threatening.”

“You think they can hold us?” Rip asked as if he would be walking out of the hoosegow as soon as he got there.

“I don't have to worry. The sheriff will keep you two.” Guthrey stopped his prisoners at the batwing doors. “Stay right there,” he warned them.

His original words drew laughter from the other customers.

“If he don't, the sheriff 'll be in court,” Guthrey said in a soft voice. “He's sworn to uphold the laws of this territory.”

“Yeah, they won't touch him or else our taxes will double,” some guy shouted.

The man's words sunk into Guthrey real slow as he herded the two out on the boardwalk. He made his two prisoners move ahead of him, and his plan was to march them down the street to the courthouse.

What if Killion wasn't counting all of Whitmore's cattle? Did the tax count go up on any opposition people who were on the tax rolls? How could he find out those numbers, and how accurate were they? Interesting thoughts.

Both of his prisoners marched a few feet ahead of him. At his direction, they crossed the street without incident. Every business's porch had filled with quiet onlookers. By his estimate, the boardwalks were filled with store employees or folks who were in town to shop. The strained looks on their faces, like they expected something to explode, stabbed his heart. He figured that these quiet people were worried that more blood would be shed in the street this time. In places, the onlookers backed up for him and his prisoners to go by them.

The doors were open at the courthouse. In the hall, he told them to turn in to the jail and ordered them to get into the first cell, which was dark and empty. Then he realized there were no keys lying on the desk or anywhere in sight. He opened the top desk drawer while both men stood inside the cell. He took the pair of small keys he found in the desk and unlocked the chain threaded through the rifles and shotguns on the gun rack. He held on to the four-foot chain too. Then he wrapped it tight around the door and the steel door frame and put the lock on it.

“You think that will keep us in here?” Rip asked.

“I do, 'cause when you escape this jail there will be several consequences ahead for you both. There'll be wanted posters for you two that will say wanted dead or alive. You won't sleep safe anywhere you run. Bounty hunters will be sniffing out every place you ever hid.” Guthrey laughed aloud at the vision of them cornered, so scared when the trackers closed in on them that they'd pissed in their pants knowing their certain fate.

“Those wolves will shoot you in the back of your skull. Chop your head off with an axe and stick it in a burlap sack to claim that reward. They never bring live ones back. They don't have to feed a head. That head won't escape them. It don't need a horse to ride either. Simple execution. Before you step out of that cell you better think about the price of your freedom.”

“You son of a bitch,” Rip said, kicking the metal bed. “I ever—”

“Shut up!” Thad said.

The telegrapher came over to the door of the office and met Guthrey at the hall coming out. He asked in a whisper, “Did you bring in more prisoners?”

“Yes.”

“You know that other guy is gone.”

“You know where he went?” Guthrey asked him.