Deadly Is the Night (29 page)

Bo came by and asked about the telegraph line.

“Spencer makes two miles most days. He has a large workforce and they work really hard. So far the needed things are getting to him.”

“That is unbelievable.”

“No. I knew he could do it better than I could.”

“Someone may hire him away when he completes this job.”

Chet nodded. “Bet he'll charge them more than I pay him, too.”

“Oh, yeah. In time I bet they have those wires running everywhere.”

“When you have time, I have a big ranch you might like down on the border. You've seen that country. I think the man would like someone like you to own it.”

“Save it for now. I have plenty to do. I plan to try to stock the Oracle and Horse Rustler ranches this fall.”

“I hope it works.”

“Oh, it will. Come to think of it, I have not seen Toby tonight.

“Liz, did we invite Toby and Talley?”

“Yes, on his last trip to town he said they'd be here. Strange he didn't come.”

“I'll check on him in the morning.”

“Betty Lou and Leroy arrived. They had wagon trouble. Maybe Toby did, too.”

He spoke to the couple who said they were pleased to be there. Leroy said he was all ready for growing season and his fruit trees were in bloom.

Jesus and Anita were there. His man knew about the San Carlos deal. He asked Chet how things were going.

“Telegraph smooth. The rest I don't know. I understand they delivered twenty-four registered heifers to your place this week?”

Anita said, “Oh, Chet, I went with him and saw them down at the Verde. They are even prettier at our house. And the new bull is coming in from New Mexico. Sarge and his men are hauling him back in a wagon.”

“I hope he is all right. He cost enough,” Jesus said, crossing himself.

Chet laughed. “Now he can worry like I have, huh?”

She hugged her husband's arm. “Yes. I used to think he worried too much about you. Now he has me and more things to worry about as well.”

“I would not worry about you. You have found a solid place to be. You make him a lovely wife and do a great job of it.”

“Thank you, Chet Byrnes. That was very kind of you after I waited so long to do it. I should have—”

He held his finger up. “No matter. You did and did it right.”

Jesus smiled. “I have told her that a hundred times.”

“She heard me now, too.”

They parted and he spoke to Lisa. “This party went very well as usual. You did great.

“Oh, someone just got here?”

Lisa frowned, straining to see who it was. “It's Toby and Talley.”

Chet went over and helped Talley off the tall draft horse. Toby climbed down from his horse and shook Chet's hand.

“Sorry we are late. We had a small accident. Totaled the wagon and had to break these two horses to ride. The one I chose was really wild. Talley has a sore arm and my head hurts but we aimed to be here on time.”

Talley hugged Lisa and Liz both. “It has been an interesting trip.”

“We're so glad you are all right,” Liz said.

“What happened?” Chet asked.

Toby said, “A grizzly bear was chasing a cow down the road. We were in the way. I tried to hold the horses but in the whole mix-up the horses panicked and turned the wagon over. That threw us out of it. That's when she hurt her right arm. She says it is not broken. I was trying to find my gun and shoot the damn thing, but he and the cow were gone.

“After all that we were too far over here to go back home. I caught the horses, stripped the harness off them, and put her on the gentlest one. He was all right. Jim here had a couple of bucking fits, but I caught him each time and by the third round I rode him.”

Talley shook her head. “It was kind of fun and we survived. We're glad to be here.”

Everyone applauded them.

Toby told Chet, “We are still clearing hay ground. Tom sent us the nice new equipment so we are ready for it all.”

“You sound busy?”

“We are and it is good. How is the telegraph coming?”

“Spencer says two miles a day.”

“Wow, he must be good at that.”

“He has the supplies so far to keep him going. Harold is buying him enough posts.”

“That Faulk family are really hard workers and do a good job. I have the best corrals in the territory and that barn they built for us is super. I hope to have it full of hay this summer.”

“I bet you do just that. Talley, do you think you should see a doctor about that arm?”

“No, sir. I am fine. A little sore, but sure glad to be here for this party. Being with Toby is great fun, and we have a wonderful ranch shaping up. To be quite frank I am very lucky to be here with him. I wouldn't have if you hadn't gave me the chance. I never expected to have such a fun life, wagon wreck and all.”

“You two better go eat,” Liz said, and herded them away.

“Different person, isn't she?” Jesus said privately.

“All of us have changed, haven't we?”

“I guess. I recall those two women when we found them. Why they'd spat at you like a cornered mountain lion and clawed you apart.”

“In both cases we did good. You know sometimes you have to taste hell to know when you're well off?”

“They sure did. Oh, and I'll be ready when you want to spring that trap in San Carlos.”

“This is Saturday. Miguel, Fred, and another are going down there on Monday. They will tell us when they have things ready for us.”

That night he slept uneasy. He knew those men of his needed time to line it out from top to bottom over there on the whiskey deal, but the wait was going to be hard.

Miguel, Fred and Josephie left for Gila County. It was now three weeks and no word. He paced the floor. How much longer could it be? Maybe they were dead. Damn he should have gone down there with them. No, they'd recognize him from arrests he had made and delivered there. The whiskey ring had so much to lose, and any threat to their golden cow would be fiercely fought.

Desperate situations existed for finding ways to make money in the territory. That factor drove men to crimes like selling liquor to Indians. And everyone got a slice of that cake from officials on down. An apple rotten to the core by greed. He didn't simply want only the donkeys in this case, he wanted them all, which was why he was waiting for word and not going down there now.

Any day. Any time the wire would come. He didn't want a bad one saying that his men had been murdered doing their job. Time would tell.

Finally, one day, a town boy on a lathered horse rode up to the house. And shouted, “I have a wire for Lisa Costa.”

He heard her shout from the kitchen. “Chet it came. It finally came.”

“I am coming.”

She was at the foot of the stairs by the time he reached the back porch. The envelope open, she read and held it high. “
‘Time to bake a cake.'
”

He closed his eyes. “Thank you, Lord. Thank you.”

The suspense was over at last. He had things to arrange.

“Can I take a message back, sir, to send?”

“Yes, let me write a message on the envelope. You know where Jesus Martinez's ranch house is on the way back to town?”

“The Diamond M?”

“Yes that is his brand.”

Liz handed him a pencil. He scribbled on the envelope: “
We got this today
.”

He paid the boy two quarters, which made him smile and thank him. Then he spoke to the stable boy, Jimenez. “You saddle a horse. I need you to take Hampt a note in a few minutes.”

“Si, señor.”
The youth raced for the barn. Chet went back inside and wrote on some butcher paper: “
Word came today for us to proceed down there—Chet
.”

That would leave Hampt to decide if he could go. Jimenez was back with a saddled horse.

“Give my note to him. Say if he wants to go we leave at dawn.”

“Where?”

“He will know.”

“I can do that, señor.” He stuffed the paper inside his shirt and left in as fast a run as the horse would go for his destination.

Chet turned to his wife. “We leave at sunup.”

“I know that relieves you. Not me. You be very careful.”

“Jesus will be here in an hour to select the packhorses and things we will need.”

“What about Hampt?”

“He asked to go help me.”

“Poor May can worry about him then.”

“I told you before you came to live with me, down at Nogales that first day, that I had things I must do. I warned you.”

“I accepted those terms. I know what goes on inside your brain. But I still have the option of being a wife that worries something bad may happen to you.”

“Yes, you do. But I have managed so far. Let's go get ready. Thank the Lord all three are alive down there.”

The first day started out cloudy. The men had their slickers or canvas coats ready in case it rained. That's how wet it looked. Six packhorses followed. Chet decided they were ready for a full-scale war—even blasting powder was packed away. The wives were there to see them off. Hampt waved at May and Jesus's Anita told him not to get wet. Seemed she'd even found a sense of humor getting married to him.

They were a long ways from Globe and the whiskey dealers, but they had what they needed and if his men had located the culprits this could be short and easy. They reached the desert the end of that day. Warm enough, and the rain threat gone, they didn't put up a tent that night.

In the morning they loaded up, ate Jesus's oatmeal in the company of bugs, had some real coffee, and rode off to cross the desert. They planned to cross the Salt River below a diversion damn, then a shallow canal, then by evening, get close to the ship of a mountain called Superstition. Chet was concerned they might warn the enemy if they went through Goldfield north of the mountain's base.

The next day they avoided the stage station at Florence Junction. Chet saw someone familiar sitting on a large rock beside the road when they drew near Claypool. In his ragged clothing, Fred smiled and jumped to his feet.

“We need to take a shortcut through these hills.” He gave a head toss behind him. Then he took up the reins of the paint horse he had ridden down on, one without a Quarter Circle Z brand on him.

“How is everyone?”

“Oh, they're fine.”

Riding side by side through the spiny cholla cactus, he told Fred to stop. “Where are the others at?”

“At the Coulter's ranch. The foreman says he knows you.”

“What's his name?”

“Jerry Boyd.”

Chet couldn't think of who he was, but if they had a place to hide what difference did it make? “You guys know who runs the deal.”

“The guy who runs the whiskey is Nate Bunker. He owns a big saloon in Globe and he has a warehouse south of town. He has some real hard cases working for him. They make regular trips, openly, to an area above the reservation, sell all the liquor they have, and then drive back to the warehouse. It all is in the clear and open. The sheriff, Frank Cranston, does nothing about the sale to Indians. We wanted to try and catch him getting a payoff, but that didn't happen. I still think they must pay him.”

“What do the others think?”

“They also believe he is on the take. At a sheriff's pay how can he own three racehorses? He gambles big, too.”

“Sheriffs get ten percent of county tax collections. Behan made thirty thousand a year. He won't make that much but he does makes money.”

“I think we did good but I sure miss a bath.”

Chet smiled. “You all have done great. When do we get to this ranch?”

“About another hour.”

“Good. My butt's tired. How did you find this foreman that knows me?”

“He needed some help. He couldn't pull a calf by himself. We were around, so we stopped and helped him. He took us home, fed us, and asked why we were here. We told him it was a secret. He bought that and wondered where we came from. We figured he was no threat and said, ‘Preskitt.' Then he said, ‘There is a big man up there I went to grade school with from Texas. Chet Byrnes.'”

“I don't recall him. He has a better memory than I do.”

They reached the ranch and Chet did not recognize the man who came out and shook his hand.

“I'm Jerry Boyd. You and me went to school in the third grade at Yellow Hammer Creek School.”

“Yes, Miss Freeman was our teacher.” Chet remembered her.

“Yes, we moved to Oklahoma at the end of the school year but I never forgot you.”

“Jerry, I guess I forgot you.”

“There is a faded picture they took of our class in the house. These boys say you have been busy since you came here from Texas.”

“Yes, we have. I have several working ranches.”

“I thought your dad had a big working place there back then.”

“We did. Three of my family were kidnapped by Comanche. My father tried hard to find them, ruined his health and his mind staying out too long. Rangers brought him home but he never recovered. I was running the ranch at fifteen.”

Jerry's wife had obviously overheard the conversation and came into the room carrying a piece of paper. “Here is the picture, Jerry.” The nice-looking woman smiled at him.

“That was Miss Freeman. I remember her. Where are you?”

“That's me squatted down there. See yourself? You are in the top row second right.”

“That's my hair sticking up. My brother is in it, too. He was in first grade so they would have enough kids for a class. There he is. He was murdered in the feud we had with the Reynolds bunch. That's him, Dale Allen.”

“I remember him, too,” Jerry said. “This is my wife, Twilia.”

“Nice to meet you, Twilia.” Chet smiled. “If you could get a duplicate of that done, I'd pay you for it. My brother has two sons and a daughter living and I am sure they would like to see a picture of their dad. We had a tough time in that feud. I came to Arizona, found a place, and then some others. I appreciate you putting up with my men. They told you why we are here?”

“No. They said a secret job.”

“It is. But I trust you and can tell you. We are here to stop a bunch of bad people selling whiskey to the Apaches.”

“Oh, I know all about that.”

“I guess it has gone on sometime?”

Jerry said, “Two years ago when Frank Cranston was elected sheriff it started. Folks were afraid to tell him. One guy did and he disappeared. It's be quiet or not be here.”

Twilia spoke up. “Those deputies of his came here, counted our cattle, and demanded we go find more. Jerry said he had no more and one hit him in the face while the others laughed. Thank God he stayed on the ground.”

“What are their names?” Chet asked.

Jerry shook his head. “It won't do any good.”

“It will in court. I am rounding them all up.”

“You're going to have a jail full.”

“I can buy chains to lock them up outside.”

“Rymel Schultz, Herman Fountain, and Ray Bailey,” she said.

“How many more ranchers or foremen will claim these deputies threatened them at cow counts?”

“We can get more.”

“Keep that thought. I want this whole mess straightened out over here. It isn't only whiskey selling to Indians obviously.”

Miguel and Josephie came in.

“Good to see you. I hope we did enough,” Miguel said.

“There are lots of things happening over here.”

“Yes, I am starting to see that. You guys found a stream of things going on wrong.”

“They sell Indians whiskey like it was candy. Run over people counting cattle, and ignore murders.”

Miguel said, “There is lots more. Demanding protection money from small businesses like the Mexican café we ate at.”

“You have the man's name who did it?”

“A deputy named Schultz.”

“I think we should arrest the men on the whiskey sales first. I bet they have some untaxed whiskey, which will make it a federal offense and give them a longer term in jail. Then we collect the rest of them. In the end get a grand jury to charge these bad deputies. Can we arrest then down there by the reservation?”

“Sure. They go down there real open.”

“Tomorrow night will they go there?”

“Yes.”

“The food is on the table,” Twilia interrupted.

“How long have you been here?” Chet asked Jerry.

“Oh, five years. We ran the big Key Ranch in New Mexico. They sold it and Mr. Burns asked us to come over here to run this one. We would like to have a better one, but the cattle business is so hard in Arizona. Markets so poor, and, well, there aren't many good jobs, either.”

“Shame we don't have something open, ma'am. I was doing day work five years ago before Chet hired me,” Hampt said. “I run one of his divisions now and married his brother's widow. It is fun.”

“I thought I heard you bought a big place down by Oracle?” she asked.

Chet shook his head. “Yes. The place is a mess and the cows are all old.”

“How is that?” Jerry asked.

“Man who stocked it bought old cows. Bankers don't know cows. He even drove them all to another ranch to count them there, too. Make the place look good.”

“Where is he now?”

“In Mexico stealing my cows over the southern border.”

“That sounds tough.”

“My men put seven rustlers in the ground already.”

“Whew. We thought it was tough up here.”

“The reason I am here today is Arizona has to get rid of these criminals to ever get statehood.”

“I hope you win the fight,” she said.

“Twilia, we are going to if I have any say.”

Chet did not sleep well that night. In the morning, she fed them pancakes with homemade syrup. Jesus brought her some real coffee from his supply.

The day passed with them repairing everything and getting their guns cleaned.

“I never had a paint horse to ride before, but that is one tough s.o.b. that Tom sent me.”

“Fred, you ready to go back to Preskitt?” Chet asked him, amused at his talking.

“I want to see this business finished and done. I miss your nice house and great woman. I don't think I could leave her if she was mine. That ain't talking bad about her. That's how I feel. But this bunch needs taken out real bad. I want to be in on this, but I hope I never go back to being a street bum like I have been these weeks here.”

“You won't.”

They ate an early supper. Chet paid her for feeding his men. She looked at the money in her hand. “I'd have fed them without that much money.”

Chet shook his head. “You two ever get out of work, find me. After thirty years almost, I forgot going to school with Jerry but I won't forget the two of you now.”

“I hope you and your men clean up this big mess. When that deputy slugged Jerry over them cows I wanted to shoot him and the others with him. I'd had a gun I would have.”

* * *

That evening they left the packhorses and rode to the place where the Indians were buying whiskey. Chet pointed out the shotgun guard standing by the wagon in the fire's light.

“I'll get the other one,” Fred said.

“Sure?”

“Sure.”

“Get him. The rest of us will force the Indians to stay back.”

Hampt came up behind the guard with the shotgun, grabbed the weapon away from him, and rammed him in the head with the butt. That made the gun go off and howling Indians ran in every direction.

Fred had gotten the other weapon away from the second man and had him on the ground facing the barrels.

“What happened to the Indians?” Miguel asked.

“Apaches fear dying in the dark. They ran.” Chet turned to the two clerks holding the money. “Put that money down. You two are under arrest for selling whiskey to Indians. We are U.S. marshals.”

“You can't arrest us. This is Gila County, not the reservation.”

“I can and I am. Selling liquor to Indians is a federal law you have broken. Chain them up and one of us will guard them.”

“I will,” Fred said.

“Don't bother to stop if they even try to escape. Just shoot them,” were the sternest instructions he could give Fred.

They left Fred in charge and mounted up heading for town. Miguel led them to the Elkhorn Saloon. They dismounted and hitched their horses at the rack out front. Armed with his shotgun, Hampt went around back.

“The man we want is?”

Miguel said, “Nate Bunker. He has some henchmen around and he is usually in the office straight back.”

“You two keep everyone's hands in the air. Go.”

“U.S. marshals. Hands in the air. Bartenders, you, too.”

At the commotion, a man came in from the back. “What in the hell is going on out here?”

“Everyone is under arrest. You, get your hands in the air.”

“Like hell I will.”

Chet's first bullet showered the big man with wood chips from the door facing. He stopped and immediately went to his knees holding his heart. Chet took no chances, keeping the gun on him in case he was faking, but when he saw the man's flush face, he shouted, “Some get a doctor. This man is dying.”

He laid him out flat. Hampt with the shotgun came through from the back. “No one else came back there.”

Chet bent over to be certain the man down had no weapons. His rasping breath sounded final. Chet looked up in time to see an angry face and a badge bust through the batwing doors.

“What in hell is going on down here?”

“That's the sheriff,” Miguel said.

“Sheriff, you are under arrest. I am U.S. Marshal Chet Byrnes.”

Hampt had his shotgun leveled on the man. “Don't go for that gun. You're covered.”

“You can't arrest me.”

“Yes, I can. Consider yourself arrested. Miguel, put him in handcuffs.”

“I'll have your head for this. Who in the hell do you think you are?”

Chet, tapping his own chest, said, “I told you, I am Chet Byrnes. Ever hear of me?”

“You can't—”

“Start with malfeasance of office. I have charges a yard long against you and your men. Take them to the jail.” He stepped outside and saw a procession filling the street. “What's going on out here?”