Chaparral Range War (9781101619049) (9 page)

The man shook his head and held out his hands to wave off any part of it. “How are you going to keep them in?”

“Swear out a warrant to hold them for trial.”

The agent cocked his right eye shut to look at him hard with his other one. “To who?”

“The judge.”

“What can he do?”

“Enforce the law.”

The agent shook his head. “You don't know how Crook County law works, do you?”

“It will change.” He gave the keys to the telegraph operator to put in the top drawer of the desk for the sheriff and the judge to find, and in moments he came out the front door of the courthouse to meet Cally coming to check on him.

“Someone said you arrested two men and marched them to jail.” She looked very concerned.

“I captured two in the saloon in broad daylight. And I threw them in a cell.”

“Are they locked up?” she asked in a hushed voice.

He nodded, keeping an eye on everything out in the bright sun. “Is Judge Collier in town?”

“I don't know. But we can go by his house.”

Spinning around at the sound of a horse coming on the run, she caught his gun arm, “That's only Freddy Shields. His dad is a rancher.”

“Good,” he said, hurrying across the road with Cally half running to keep up with him and holding her hem up.

“I remember the judge's house. It's not far.” He tossed his head at a house high on the western slopes of the mountain.

“What if he's not at home?” she asked.

He slowed down when he saw that he was winding her. “We simply need to find him and swear out warrants to hold those two for trial.”

She gave him a disgusted look. “They let the other guy get away.”

“That needs to be stopped. The judge has the authority to do something.”

She caught his arm and they halted on the rise. “What if Killion continues to ignore him?”

“Then we may need to go higher up. All the judges in Arizona are federal judges, I understand. They have power. Collier may need to use it or I need to go see the governor.”

“Have you ever had this problem in Texas?” she asked when they started hiking again up the open cheatgrass-covered hillside.

“The Texas Rangers have arrested several crooked sheriffs and bad officials over the years. They all went to prison.”

“Will that stop Whitmore?” she asked upon reaching the judge's yard.

A collie barked and ran around all excited. The judge's wife came out on the veranda. “Come here, McDougal. Those people don't need to be jumped on.”

“He's fine,” Guthrey said, and coming through the gate, he dropped down for a minute and shook the dog by his lionlike mane. This was one of those great dogs, a watchdog and partner to his owners, and Guthrey felt a little jealous of her having him. But there was no place in his life for a dog—he didn't even have a place in his life for himself.

“Miss Bridges and Mr. Guthrey, I believe?”

He swept off his hat. “Yes, ma'am. Is your husband home today?”

“Oh, he's coming back from Tucson on the stage. I expect him around noontime.”

“I brought in two men who were in on the terrorizing at the Bridges Ranch and put them in jail. I had hoped to swear out warrants for them.”

“He should be here in just a little while.”

“Thank you. We'll come back then,” Guthrey said.

“How is your brother?” the woman asked Cally. “I understand he was hurt quite badly in a wreck.”

“He was in a horse accident. He's mending, we hope. He is much better. Thanks, ma'am.”

“Sorry my husband wasn't here.”

“No problem,” Guthrey said to keep down the missus's concern. He petted the collie again and then closed the gate, keeping the dog in the yard.

They headed back to the doctor's office. To save some time, Guthrey planned to cross the steep open desert going back toward the cluster of buildings. At the real sheer places in the hillside he helped Cally over the rough terrain. The curing spring foxtail and wildflowers, which they walked through to reach the road at the foot of the hill that led to Mexico, were turning brown. On the hard-packed surface at last, they cut across more desert to come in at the back of the doctor's place.

“What if someone gets word to the sheriff about your prisoners and he comes to town to turn them loose?”

“I'll have to make other plans.”

She hugged his arm at the foot of the porch stairs. “You be careful. We—I sure need you right now. With Dan down and all, there's no way that I could run that ranch. How's Noble?”

He laughed. “Why, he's tough as a snapping turtle. How old is he?”

“I think someone counted up and he's close to eighty years old.”

“He's seen some tough times in his life,” Guthrey told her, holding the door open for her.

“Did you two get into any trouble?” Dan asked them, sitting up on the bed with pillows behind his back.

“No. But Guthrey arrested two of those raiders over in the saloon,” Cally told him. “And the judge won't be back until the noon stage arrives.”

“That can be anytime,” Dan said, amused. “It depends on how many times they rob it between here and Tucson.”

Cally and Guthrey agreed, and Cally went for some coffee for the two of them. Dan didn't want any.

“How did you find the two of them?” Dan asked.

“You saw the big guy go in over there. He joined the other already in the Texas Saloon across the street. The two of them were busy drinking like nothing had ever happened.”

“They give you any trouble at all?”

“Just verbal.” He dismissed any of the action as just part of his day.

“Do you think I ever knew them?” Dan asked.

“One's named Thad and the other is—oh, Rip. That may be an alias.”

Dan shook his head. “What are you going to do now?”

“Wait for the judge to arrive.”

Dan nodded, then made a face when he raised himself up by his hands and moved a little, seeking a more comfortable spot. It was obvious to Guthrey that the boy was a long ways from being healed. Did he have more things wrong on the inside? No way to know and now only time would tell.

“Can I fix you two some lunch?” Cally asked.

Guthrey nodded and Dan thanked her.

Unable to simply sit and wait for the judge, Guthrey walked the floor of the bedroom and tried to figure out a way to solve all this business with Whitmore's harassing people and Killion's lack of doing anything. If these warrants failed to hold those men in jail and his plan didn't work, maybe he needed to go to the capitol in Prescott and find the governor. Someone needed to be in charge of law enforcement in the territory and put a stop to Whitmore's terroristic threats and running over the little people—ranchers and small farmers.

The judge appeared when the stage dragged half the dust off West Mountain into town and stopped in the wind-driven catch-up cloud of tan dirt. Judge Collier descended behind a fancy dressed lady, who the driver courteously helped down the iron step to the stool he had placed for her to more easily descend.

His honor recognized Guthrey and walked over to shake his hand. “How are things going?”

“Someone let the first prisoner I brought in out of jail. I have two more of that gang in the jail now, but so far no lawman has shown up at that office this morning that I know about.”

“Damn that bunch. I am going to wire the governor to send a U.S. marshal down here to take charge of this county's law enforcement.”

“Can he do that?”

“He may have to declare martial law, but he has that authority, if he will take it. You know the legislature has called for an Arizona Ranger force to be initiated in the Territory, but they have never funded it. Too much politics going on up there, and these sheriffs are getting so much money being tax collectors that they can buy the legislative votes to stay that funding.”

“I learn something new every day,” Guthrey said as they headed for the county offices again.

“I will wire him and perhaps he can have a man here in a few days.”

Guthrey agreed. “I guess we can round up the other one again if he hasn't left the country.”

Collier agreed. The jail office was still dark and empty of lawmen. The two prisoners in the cell acted sullen, plus they wanted food and water. Guthrey gave them a canvas water bag and told them the law had to feed them.

“Where the hell is the law at, then?” Rip demanded.

The judge walked in and stood looking at the pair. “I am told by the telegraph agent that there will be someone here shortly. The telegraph agent has sent for them.”

Why hadn't he sent for one of them in the first place? Guthrey wondered. Then he smiled to himself. The agent knew that if anyone came the prisoners would be turned loose because Guthrey was the one who brought them in, but the lawmen could not turn down the judge's request to jail these two malcontents. Guthrey owed the bright young man a thank-you.

The same big bruiser he'd had the fracas with at Rosa's came in. He looked hard-eyed at Guthrey, but then, when he saw the judge, he put on a phony smile. He cleared his throat and spoke in a gravelly voice. “Yes, Your Honor, what may I do for you today?”

“We have two felony-charged men in your jail. Be sure they are kept here. Their bail is a thousand dollars apiece, cash money only. If they aren't kept in here you will pay their bond.”

“But—but . . .”

“Also, I want that other one that someone released to be brought back here. Put a ball and chain on them if you can't keep them locked up.”

“Yes, sir, Your Honor.”

“If you can't maintain this jail and office, then I'll place a U.S. marshal here to do it.” Collier pointed his finger at the desktop.

The deputy was looking all over and finally collapsed in the chair. “Where are the keys?”

“I don't know where the cell keys are,” Guthrey said. “The key for the lock on the chain around the cell door is in the top drawer. I took it and the chain from the gun rack to lock them up.”

“Oh, oh, I see now.”

“Listen,” Collier said, “I expect those two to be here when the grand jury convenes.”

“Yes, sir, Your Honor, I understand.”

The judge nodded to Guthrey and they left. Outside, Collier shook Guthrey's hand. “We'll get this thing straightened out. I appreciate your help. Where will you be if I need you?”

“At the Bridges Ranch north of Steward's Crossing.”

“Watch for word, and thanks again.” After they parted, Guthrey went over to get Cally and head for the ranch.

Back at the doc's office, Guthrey hooked up the ranch team and Cally soon joined him.

“I told Dan,” she said, loading her things, “that I'd be back next week to check on him.”

“We can arrange that.”

“You and the judge settled everything?”

“For now anyway. He's going to telegraph the governor to send a U.S. marshal to examine everything about the sheriff's office and its operation. I learned something else.”

“What is that?”

“The telegraph agent helped me. When the judge got into town, he sent for that big clown Killion has for a deputy. I figure he knew that bruiser would turn those men loose. But not with the judge there.”

“The telegrapher's name is Tommy Glendon.”

“I'll thank him next time.” Guthrey boosted Cally up to sit on the spring seat, then went around and climbed on himself.

She clutched his arm. “Do you believe we will ever settle all this business?”

“Yes, ma'am. Everything takes time.”

“My father has been in his grave hardly more than a month and we still don't . . .”

Guthrey turned to look at her. She was biting her lower lip and tears spilled down her cheeks.

One-handed, Guthrey tore loose his neckerchief and told her to take it. Back in control of the horses, he made them trot, and they left Soda Springs with his horse hitched on behind. It would be after sundown before they reached the ranch. But she'd be home and should feel better if she didn't worry her head off about her brother's recovery.

The trip was long, and it was after dark when he wheeled the buckboard into the yard. Noble came over with a candle lamp to help him unhitch.

“How's the boy?” Noble asked, holding the light up high and smiling at Cally.

“He ain't ready to ride a bronc,” Guthrey said.

Noble laughed. “How are you doing, Miss Cally?”

“Fine. Good to be home, Noble. Thanks for helping us.”

“Aw, I'm glad to be here. Who else needs an old busted-up cowboy to help them?”

She hugged him. “We sure do, don't we, Guthrey?”

“You bet. Any problems?”

“Nothing I couldn't handle.” He shrugged as they went for the house.

“Anything bad happen?”

“I caught a guy scanning the ranch headquarters with field glasses.”

“Who was it?” Guthrey asked as Cally lighted the lamps in the house.

“Said his name was Smith.”

“That's an original name, isn't it?” Cally teased and shook her head, busy firing up her range to make supper for the two of them.

“Who did he work for, do you figure?” Guthrey asked.

“Easy enough. He rode a Whitmore Ranch–branded horse.”

Guthrey closed his eyes. Was it a good idea to allow Cally to come home? It was just one more thing for him to worry about. He needed an army and had one old man, a girl, and a possibly crippled boy. Where could he find more help? No telling.

In a short while, Cally served up some fried potatoes and scrambled eggs and joined Guthrey at the table with hot coffee. Noble sat with them and sipped coffee.

“Did that Smith tell you why he was surveying the ranch?”

“Told me he was simply hunting.”

“What did you do to him afterward?”