“Does it have a landing strip?” Cline asked.
“I doubt it,” Mark said, looking at the Verde River snaking down through the land adjacent. It might be a helluva place to have a ranch. Plenty of water. Moderate elevation there, but it was not in downtown Mesa.
Jim had a notebook that he recited from, “The Hancock Ranch has six hundred forty acres of deeded land and a Tonto Forest grazing permit for three hundred mother cows. County property taxes have been paid. It belongs to the Hancock Estate and is still in the estate. Agent is Attorney Larry Hall in Mayer, Arizona.”
“Have you ever talked to that son-of-a-bitch Hall?”
“No, sir.” Mark wanted to bolt at his tone. Could Hall be some sort of crook?
“Well, let me tell you, he’s an old crook. I guess if I was trying to live on a law practice in downtown Mayer, I’d have to steal too.”
So, he was a crook. “Can he be dealt with?” Mark turned to look back at Cline for an answer.
“Anyone can be dealt with. We simply have to watch our tails. I have a pilot and we can fly over it and count cattle. Then we’ll know more. Jim can make a smaller map and we’ll see what it consists of and if there are cattle.”
He wasn’t exactly excited about flying in a small airplane, but it would be one way to see the ranch. This deal was moving forward so fast he felt like hanging on to something. From what he got from Craven on his ride through hell, the ranch roads, after all this time, might have been washed out by heavy rains. When no one went in or out for several years, that tended to happen.
“Meet us out at the Dutch Field about nine tomorrow and we’ll look at the place from the air. Jim, you make a smaller map. We couldn’t handle that large map inside my Piper Cub.”
He knew the model—four seats. They scouted Germans in them. Three or four times he’d flown to see what the landscape ahead was like for his commander. He’d rather ride a bronc horse on a frosty morning. It wasn’t as far to fall. But to see this place and make a deal, he’d ride the wildest bronc on the rodeo circuit.
“What time’ll you leave here? My car isn’t running.” The lie slipped easily off his tongue. Was he letting these big shots affect the way he acted? He hoped not.
“Jim, pick him up here at eight a.m. I’ll meet you two out at the field.”
Cline punched the intercom. “Hazel? Call my pilot and tell him to be fueled and ready at nine tomorrow. We’re going up in Yavapai County to fly over some ranch land.”
“Yes, sir.”
Cline turned back to him. “She’ll take care of that, don’t you worry. I take it that you’re a stock man.”
“Yes, I’ll have my own remuda and have some Maricopas to ride with me that are real hands.” That was exaggerating a lot, but Jones and Alma could find what he needed later. He had to act like he was up for this and knew his business.
“That would be good. I didn’t think you could get any Indians to work. But you obviously know more about them than I do. Jim, don’t forget to pick up our new associate, Mark here, in the morning. See you all out at the airport.”
“Thanks.” He shook Cline’s hand.
Cline paused. “I’ve seen you before. But no matter. This sounds interesting. Thanks for the heads up. We will see what we can do. Good day, sir.”
“I can find my way out,” Mark told him and left.
The elevator closed in on him going down the short distance. He wanted to throw his hat in the air. He wanted to leap out of this clanging, rattling, creeping elevator and hug every woman on the street. Finally, the doors opened and he headed straight for the street. Outside, he inhaled the exhaust-filled air. At least he was outside and could breathe. He stopped a half block away to get his bearings. Still feeling nauseated and antsy, his escape was slowly evaporating the fears of his last frantic moments in Cline’s office. While lots of his fears and disruptions were easing, the war damn sure wasn’t over. Not for him.
Alma waited at the Indian Pony Parking Lot with her buckboard and two horses. He laughed at the sight of her and the rig in the bleeding sunset. What would his new partner think if he knew about his mental problems? That he was living in sin with a full blood not two blocks from his fancy third-story suite, with his intercom, big table with leather chairs, and a well-perfumed secretary who wore nylon hose. They made a small rasping sound when she walked, rubbing together at her thighs.
Alma had a fire built and was ready to cook hot dogs for supper.
Bent over, he kissed and hugged her. He shook his head over all the happenings. “It’s been a long day.”
“I bet it has been that. You do any good?”
“Banks are not any help. But Sam Cline, a rich man, is taking me flying over the ranch to see what we can make out. He called me one of his associates before I left his office. I believe we have ourselves a ranch. But we have to be careful not to celebrate too soon.”
Her eyes opened like saucers and she gasped. “You are going to fly?”
“Yes, why?” That’s all she got out of his news? He laughed, grabbed her around the waist and whirled her round and round. “Woman, I’d fly without an airplane to make this deal.”
“Are you afraid?”
“No. I’ve flown before.” Hell yes, he was afraid. Of a lot of things. Of dealing with people like Cline, of making promises he might not be able to keep, of spending someone else’s money on what might fail. But he’d never in a million years admit it out loud. You had to stand up, be brave, and face anything that frightened you. Just like in the war. No man ran from what scared him. He ran to it and cut it down.
“Oh, my. I wouldn’t sleep tonight if I knew I must fly tomorrow.”
He simply laughed and hugged her shoulder. “I hope I’ve made a deal.” He had to tamp down his expectations till something happened, but everything was looking hopeful.
“I hope so, too.” She wrinkled her thin nose. “I don’t like being in town all day.”
“Neither do I. Neither do I.” Chills ran up his spine thinking of those moments in Cline’s office. How he shook with hope, how bad memories of the war threatened to overpower him before he left Cline’s office. He’d much more liked to have been riding his new sorrel horse in the desert.
She shook her head, then wrapped the blanket tighter. “I’m glad I don’t have to fly tomorrow.”
How strange that she could only think of her fear of flying. Maybe it didn’t occur to her how important getting Cline’s backing to buy this ranch was to him. He wasn’t exactly thrilled about flying, but it went with the deal and was the least of his worries.
Funny how good the hot dogs tasted when you knew it wasn’t all you had to eat. Sitting beside her in the parking lot, discussing their future, he couldn’t have been happier. All he had to do when he wanted something was want it bad enough to work like the very devil to get it. First Alma, then the five wild ponies, and now backing to buy a ranch was in his grasp. It was like a dream. Sometimes he was afraid he might wake up to find himself in a foxhole, dodging bullets and mortar shells. Best he didn’t get started thinking about stuff like that. He was home safe, had a woman he loved who loved him. Why dwell on the past? It had come and gone, and he’d dealt with it. If Cline turned him down, he’d deal with that too.
But he sure hated to think that might be the outcome of tomorrow’s trip up to Bloody Basin.
“Time to go to bed.” Alma’s voice interrupted his train of thought.
He crawled under the wagon and into his bedroll next to her, falling asleep with hopes of success. This would not fail. He wouldn’t let it.
CHAPTER FOUR
CASEY HARWOOD SAT IN THE pilot’s seat, wearing a leather helmet and a white scarf around his neck. Over the two-way radio, he received clearance from the tower to take off. Mark did his best but couldn’t understand the words through the static.
He sure hoped the pilot could.
The plane soared off the runaway over the vast citrus groves surrounding the former training base
for the Dutch military flyers during the war. The takeoff left Mark’s stomach somewhere down on the landing strip. Tilted on one wing, the plane turned and headed north toward Bloody Basin. Maybe, if he didn’t look out the window, it would help. He tried concentrating on the maps Jim held, but the way they were rolled, he couldn’t make out much. One thing was for sure. He was glad it was a sunny, windless day and the air wasn’t bumpy. Still, he wished they were all on horseback, even though it would take a good three days to get up there.
He stared at the back of Sam’s head. He wore a snap-brim felt hat. Mark shared the rear seats with Jim and his many rolls of maps. When the plane reached altitude, Mark leaned forward to better see all the farmland and irrigation canals that fed water to the valley. To his right were the McDowell Mountains and Red Rock that Harwood soon smoothly turned the plane to fly over. Everything passed under them.
Strange to view the land they had beat their butts raw riding over to capture the ponies. Seeing it from up here, it looked smooth and flat, but he knew better. There were rivulets cutting through it, and here and there a hole that could easily break a horse’s leg. But even so, he’d much rather be riding flat out on that big wild bay they’d caught than floating around up here.
The river glistened in the sunlight, a twisted ribbon shining like a diamond necklace, cutting through the dust and rock formations. It was impossible to envision the some six hundred acres of what he hoped would soon be his ranch.
Harwood was dressed in starched tan pants and shirt, with his cigarette holder and his knee-high brown English riding boots. He could have been Clark Gable. Mark expected him to speak with an English accent, but his was Southern instead. He could hardly wait to tell Alma about this guy.
“My plan is to fly straight up the Verde Watershed. When we get close to this ranch, we can circle and look at it from a lower elevation,” Harwood said.
“How many hours of safe flying do you have?” Cline asked him.
“Several thousand, sir.”
“The insurance on his flying is so cheap compared to Jim or I, we couldn’t afford to fly it ourselves. Can we, Jim?”
“No, sir.”
Mark didn’t miss that Jim almost crossed himself in gratitude. His mind remained on the motor’s hum. When it quit—if it quit—they’d go down like a rock, considering this was not a place like Oklahoma or Texas, where you could land just about anywhere. Coming home on Route 66, he’d rediscovered how flat the land in that country was. Real boring. Nothing like here where the levels changed with almost every step.
“Okay, we’re coming up on your ranch. You can see it off to the right.” Harwood tilted the plane a bit, so they could see better. Mark wished he wouldn’t do that. He could see perfectly well flying flat.
He and Jim both leaned forward to see.
The ranch headquarters looked a little rough.
“How will we get in there with no roads?” Though he hadn’t meant to, he’d spoken the question aloud. They’d have to ride in or use the wagon until a road could be put in.
“Won’t take long to solve that if the place proves out.” Sam Cline didn’t sound too worried about a little thing like roads.
Harwood made some swoops on the place, so they saw the corrals needed repairs. Herds of white-faced cattle looked fat but threw their tails over their back and ran like hell from the plane’s low passes. If only he could be with them, Mark would gladly ride one of their backs to get out of this damn plane.
“Hurrah, we’ve got cattle,” Cline said. “But they look wilder than Billy goats.”
Harwood made another pass over the place and a fat twelve-point buck mule deer went hopping up through the junipers. There was food there, too. The man swooped around and flew west toward the Bradshaw Mountains. Then he came back over the ranch and the Verde.
“Enough, Mister Sam?”
“I’ve seen enough.” Cline nodded and looked back at Mark. “How in hell are you going to get in there?”
Mark swallowed hard. “Horseback. It’ll be a lot easier ride than this has been.”
“Take it you don’t like flying much. But can you run a dozer?”
“I’ve run several models.”
“You know they’ll have lots of them for sale, now that the war is over and they’re cheap as surplus. We may need one up here, so I can eventually drive up to your front door in my Lincoln.”
“I’d like that. Hell, we can even build you a runway with one of them.” Drive up to my front door? Mark sure did like the sound of that.
“That would be the way. Right Harwood?”
Harwood kinda prefaced his reply. “If it isn’t too rough. I can put this baby down there.”
Damned if he didn’t even sound like Gable when he said baby.
One last look at the log house with some shakes missing, fallen-in corrals, and sheds. Maybe more work up there than Jones wanted to do—if indeed Jones was his partner. The man seemed on the fence, balking at the hard work ahead. But he felt much better listening to Cline and Harwood discuss what might soon become his ranch. Or at least partly his.
Then that fool Harwood stalled the engine and Mark’s stomach flew right out the window. His toes curled on the floor and he shook with fear. Back in the war, he’d figured once he got home he’d never be afraid of anything again. Well, he’d got that wrong. They were going to crash, sure as the world. Then the pilot switched gas tanks and Mark held his breath until the sputtering engine caught again.
Whew.
They were halfway back to Mesa and the flying field before his heart hit an even beat. Jim must have felt the same way. He mopped his sweaty face with his kerchief. He shook his head at Mark and then mouthed the words Harwood couldn’t hear over the roar of the plane’s engine. “That bastard does that every time to show off. I could kill him.”
Those were nearly Mark’s sentiments, as well, but killing the pilot wouldn’t be the smartest thing he could do at the moment. So he did his best to relax until the damned fool landed the thing.
“Listen, Shaw, I’m going to talk to that lawyer, Larry Hall, about some other deals and slip in some questions about this ranch.”
“Sounds good. Anything I need to do?”
“Call me next week, like Tuesday. Now I want to try and make us a deal where you and I can make some money. If I can’t do anything, you may need to go up there to Mayer and dicker with him for us. Don’t worry. I have enough money to buy half of the ranches in Arizona, but we’ll need to see how to buy it for the lowest dollar so we can really make some money.”
“Yes, sir.” Mark swallowed hard. Was this really going to happen? “Is morning or afternoon the best time to call you?” He managed to sound calm and collected but it wasn’t easy.
“Midmorning Tuesday. Where are you at?”
“Lehi.”
“I have a notion, Shaw, that we’ll be owning this ranch before much longer.”
“Thanks. That’s good to hear.” Mark slumped back in the seat. Now Clark Gable needed to land this bee-bomber so he could ride back to Mesa and find Alma. Then they’d go home in her wagon, break horses, and he could entertain her with stories of his death-defying airplane ride. She’d get a kick out of that. But not much more of a kick than he’d got.
Dang, he’d be glad when this thing was on solid ground again.
—
WHEN HE FINALLY CAME TO join her on the horse parking lot, she stood waiting for him, wrapped in her blanket.
“We have a partner in the ranch deal. Let’s go home and break horses.”
“What was the plane ride like?” She smiled big, waiting for his answer as he picked up the harness to hitch her team.
“Spooky as hell. I’ll tell you all about it tonight when we bed down at Jones’s.”
She ran over and hugged his arm. “I thought so. I would never have gone.”
He pulled out on the road to Jones’s place. Though it would take a few hours to get back, with no trouble he could make it in time for
supper. With a lot on his mind, he was careful to check traffic. He started to pull out on the Lehi Road when some fool dodged around him to beat an oncoming car. The miss was so close, he gripped the reins and caught his breath, doubling his fist and shaking it. Whew, that was a near miss.
It took him a few minutes to stop breathing heavy. If this town kept growing so fast, they might have to put in traffic lights to put an end to things like what had just happened.
At the Lehi Store, he pulled in so Alma could pick up some supplies. After that, it was a short drive on home. Well, short compared to the drive up to his new ranch. Sitting out there on the seat of the spring wagon, he grinned like a fool. Tried out saying it. “My new ranch.” Not bad. “Our new ranch.” Much better. With luck, if Dirty Shirt was willing, there’d be four partners in this venture. A lot of work and, if Cline was right, a lot of reward, moneywise.
Alma returned, and he left off wishful thinking to jump down and help her load the supplies. The sun had set, and shadows walked across the land when he pulled up at Jones’s place.
The Indian came out and leaned on the doorframe with his arms folded. “You talk to a banker?”
“Yes, and we flew over the place in his plane this morning. He’s working on buying it right now.” Arms full of supplies, Mark followed Alma and Jones into the jacal to store them away.
“Holy shit.” Jones shook his head in disbelief. “You hear his words, woman? He flew over it. Did you go?”
“No, I have no wings. We were not meant to fly like birds.”
Jones laughed. “I agree. What if we sell that stallion?”
“Why is that?” He helped Alma store sugar, flour, cornmeal, and beans while Jones lolled nearby.
“A man came by this morning. Aft Corning. He says he would give three hundred dollars for the stud. I say I can’t sell him as he is only half mine.”
“You can get three hundred for him, you better sell him.”
Blue Roan Colt Page 5
