Valley of Bones

by Dusty Richards

  “You said he appreciated our efforts for his people,” Liz spoke up.

  “Yes. But neither he, his lawyers, nor us did one ounce of good in D.C.”

  “That was a shame.”

  “Jesus, it really was. I never felt so damn worthless in my life.”

  “I understand. Miguel and I will change our clothing, check out this guy at Gleason, and see you three later.”

  “Be damn careful. You both have my authority to arrest any criminals breaking federal law.”

  “Good. We may need to do that.”

  “Do you have money?” Chet asked.

  Jesus nodded. “Enough. See you later.”

  When the pair left them, Spencer asked what came next.

  “I think if there is anything at Gleason, those two will find it. In the meantime, we can check out some other places nearby. We might learn something up at Saint David and then ride over to Bowie. I know some people up there.”

  Liz agreed. “I will stay here. It’s hot out there and while it isn’t cool here, I can read in the shade.”

  “Fine. We should be back by supper time.”

  She laughed and clapped Chet on the arm “I know you two too well. You will get busy and will forget to come home. So don’t worry, I know how to order food.”

  “We will be back, unless we learn something.”

  “I trust you.”

  They parted and Chet went to the O.K. Corral Livery. His men had brought their saddles, so they saddled two of Slaughter’s horses, made sure their rifles were in their scabbards, and rode out of Tombstone taking the road north through the tall saguaros and a carpet of short grass, to St. David. The red-colored Dragoon Mountains rose on their right and traffic was plentiful on the road. Riders, buggies, buckboards, freighters, and even a few riding donkeys passed by as they hurried northward. To the west the Whetstone Peaks rose purple in the brilliant sunshine and its rising heat.

  Chet figured by then his other men would be in Gleason. Maybe they’d learn something.

  Spencer followed Chet as he reined in at the farm of a man he knew. They found Marcus Thornberry hard at work repairing his horse-drawn sickle bar mower.

  Busy riveting new sections on the mower bar, Marcus looked up and hollered at them from where he was working. He put down his hammer and shed his gloves. “Marshal Byrnes. What brings you down here?”

  They dismounted and shook hands, and Chet introduced Spencer.

  “Business as usual. Five men, two days ago, attempted to hold up the westbound Lordsburg Stage at Texas Pass.”

  “I heard that failed with deadly results.”

  “Exactly. You know any of those men on the list?”

  “No. But there have been many strangers coming into the area. Most of them are worthless. Sorry I can’t help you more.”

  “We are riding on to Bowie. They received a telegram there from Tombstone saying that we were coming.”

  “Now isn’t that something. Using a telegram to ambush someone.”

  Chet agreed. “No one in the telegraph office down there remembered a thing about the sender.”

  “They have lots of business, I bet.”

  “Yes, they do. We better ride. All things quiet around here?”

  “We have to fend off chicken thieves mostly. Oh, and watermelon thieves can get bad, too.”

  “Tell the missus hi. We’re gone.”

  “I will. Stop by anytime.”

  As they rode off, Spencer looked back at the white house under the big cottonwood trees. “He have more than one wife?”

  “No. Not every Mormon has more than one wife.”

  Spencer nodded like he wasn’t sure and they rode on.

  It was mid-afternoon before they reached the small village of Bowie. At the Alright Saloon, they had lunch at the free sandwich bar, and Spencer drank a cool beer. Chet had a sarsaparilla. The bartender, not busy, was friendly and said he didn’t know any of the bandits from the holdup.

  One of the older men in the place, sipping beer, said he heard those men were staying at Calhoun Springs.

  “Where is that at?” Chet asked.

  “Up the wagon tracks go north three-four miles.”

  “What’s up there?” Spencer asked.

  “Some hell-raising woman and a bunch of worthless tramps.”

  It sounded, more than likely, that that was where they were staying. Chet paid for his drink and their beers. Then they went to find the telegraph office.

  The operator at the Bowie telegraph office recalled Skip Nelson coming by asking if he had a telegram. “He’d come by, stick his head in the door, and ask, “Anything for Nelson?” Then he’d be gone, did that for near a week. I never knew where he lived or what it was all about.”

  “Never saw him ride out after that?”

  “No. He took it, thanked me, and left. I saw his name in that news story and decided that was what it was about.”

  “Thanks.”

  Outside the telegraph office, Chet decided it was too late in the day to go find those Springs and they better get back to Tombstone. It would be way up in the night before they got back anyhow. He and Spencer pushed the good borrowed horses and close to ten p.m. put them in the livery and walked the three blocks to the Alhambra.

  Liz, Miguel, and Jesus were seated on a bench on the porch. A quiet weeknight in town and not many of the miners, who worked one of three shifts a day, were out on the boardwalks.

  “Learn anything?” Liz asked, rising and straightening her skirt.

  “Yes. It’s a damn long ways from Bowie to back here. How about you two?”

  “BK runs a pretty sorry ship,” Jesus said. “His employees all need a bath. He has pigs loose and they smell. I asked if he knew where I could find Skip Nelson. He said he had not heard from Skip in some time. He might not have heard he was dead. He asked why I needed him. I said I owed him ten dollars. He said he’d give it to him for me. I acted like I didn’t trust him. Then he made some half-naked teen girl come out of his tent and offered her services to us. We shook our heads. He said he had more. We left.”

  “He might be the man, but, me, I don’t believe he is smart enough to hire men to murder you,” Miguel said.

  “You think that teen girl that came out was a slave?”

  Both men nodded their heads.

  “The one he offered to us didn’t say anything,” Jesus said.

  “If he is dealing in sex slaves we need to stop him when we get this holdup business settled.”

  “Well, we will have to hold our noses going anywhere near there.”

  Liz laughed. “I bet you two are hungry,” she said. “You can get food over across the street in that bar diner.”

  Chet nodded and they all crossed, Chet and Spencer to eat some chili and beans while the other two and Liz sipped on coffee. There had to be a link to someone besides Kilton who planned, hired, and had the funds to pay for them to get killed. Chet couldn’t connect all the parts yet. Someone who wanted him and Spencer dead.

  Aside from riding up to those springs mentioned as a base, they’d about used up all the things they could to find the planner. Someone came into the bar and asked Jesus to step out onto the dark boardwalk. Chet frowned, and his hand closed down on the pistol grip in his holster. Jesus waved him back, motioning that he could handle it.

  They sat in silence, ready for something to happen at any minute, looking at each other with little patience, waiting on Jesus. If a mouse had farted they’d instantly have had their guns out. Then they heard Jesus said to the unseen party, “Gracias.” And he came back in.

  He sat on the stool and nodded that he had something.

  “The man behind the plot to murder you is Jason Fulbright. He’s the ranch foreman at the CYR Ranch. That guy just now was a snitch I have used before in our work down here. Those guys you killed had a meeting with Fulbright at the ranch two weeks, or maybe longer ago. Then they rode clear around the Chirichuas over to Bowie not to be noticed, but they stopped on th
e way at some bar and drank too much, which made them loose-tongued. Nelson told a dove over there he was going to be the man who shot that damn Marshal Byrnes causing all the trouble for the Tucson businessmen in D.C.”

  Still whispering, Chet asked if the snitch knew who Fulbright worked for.

  “A man named Thrasher and his partner, Louis Benfield.”

  “That’s the mouthy bastard we met up there in D.C.,” Spencer swore.

  “Exactly,” Liz said.

  “I’m sorry,” Spencer said to apologize for his language.

  “No apology necessary. That sums him up. Feel better now, Chet Byrnes?”

  “A whole lot better. How did this guy know all that?”

  “That dove told our man’s cousin what the robber said to her about killing you. That guy was on his way over here when he stopped by that place, visited with her, and she told him. That guy knew his cousin worked for some of us and he thought he could use the information for some money.”

  “Without her testimony, how do we hang the crime on this ranch foreman?”

  “Spencer, I am thinking on how to do that. Let’s get out of here and go to our hotel room. There could be too many ears.”

  Chet put some money down for the waitress and they left for the hotel. It had cooled some and in their room they discussed all they knew and who was in on it and what they could use for credible evidence.

  Chet felt lots better after what Jesus learned. The information cost thirty dollars, Jesus said. Ten of it was for the informant’s cousin. That was fine. Chet knew that Thrasher and his men would have the best lawyers in the West to defend any of them if they were arrested. He needed something bigger than that for them to ever serve time behind federal prison bars.

  “While we figure this out, let’s get Fred to come down here to check out that Kilton guy and his white slave business,” Jesus said. “Fred’s tough enough to do that and they wouldn’t suspect him.”

  “I’d hate to put him in a tight spot. Tough as he is, he is still in his teens and he lived through some of that already.”

  “He’s a survivor. He’ll manage. One of us could meet him at your friend’s house in Saint David with a horse and bring him down here the back way. Let him investigate that outfit.”

  “Liz, can you please write a letter to Lisa and have her set Fred up to get off the stage at Saint David? He should bring his old clothes, in a sack, so he can wear them going to Kilton. But I want it clear. We get him the hell out of up there if things cave in on him.”

  “I can do that in the morning. And I will have her send a telegram when he leaves that the new baby is born.”

  That made everyone laugh and agree.

  “Good. We have that working,” Chet said. “Meanwhile I want this Fulbright checked out. I wonder why he never came under our looking glass when we were down here running the Force. He may be new on the scene. We also did not know all the components of the Tucson Ring back then because it was all very secret. It still is, so I wonder how we can find out more details about them.”

  “I can go to Tucson and get my relatives to help me find out more about them,” Jesus said. “I bet they know lots. We just never looked very closely at them before.”

  “Liz, tell Lisa that Miguel will meet Fred.”

  “Yes.”

  “And Jesus, you please remember that that bunch hires killers. I don’t want your widow on my hands.”

  Jesus laughed. “Me, either.”

  “Spencer and I will check on Fulbright. Now, that’s enough for tonight. It’s cooled off enough to maybe sleep. Thanks, everyone.”

  In bed, Liz told him, “I knew you’d crack this one.”

  “Thanks for the confidence. I still see a long road ahead of us.”

  “Your ranches run. Your cattle sales continue. Sleep easy, my love. You always figure these things out.”

  “I love you. Good night.”

  * * *

  Dawn brought more ticking of the slow clock. After breakfast, he mailed Liz’s letter to Lisa at Prescott. Jesus and Miguel went to check out Fulbright. He and Spencer found Virgil Earp playing pool in the nearly empty barroom.

  Virgil broke the deal on the opening shot. He rose up to appraise his break. “What brings the mayor of Prescott out so early?”

  “More questions.”

  “Ask.” Virg tossed his head at the other man. “That’s Joe Penny. He’ll seal his lips.”

  Joe, a man in his forties who was wearing cowboy garb, smiled, nodded, and shook their hands at Chet’s introductions.

  “Jason Fulbright?”

  Virg stood back for Joe to shoot. “Ranch foreman. Runs the CYR. A big tough Texan. Has a bad temper and gets into brawls easy. We have put some knots on his head on several occasions. Always has a big lawyer to represent him like he has never done anything wrong. But he knows we will arrest him and pound on him if he resists and has taken his drinking business down on the border in those cantinas where he can reign over them whenever he wants to.”

  “We could better observe him down there then?”

  “Yes. Oh, and he works for two Tucson businessmen who own the ranch.”

  “I have some pretty good information that Fulbright hired those men who tried to kill us.”

  Virgil set the cue stick butt down on the table rim. “I am not surprised. But prove it, huh?”

  “Yes, that’s the hard part.”

  Virgil bent over to make his shot and pocketed the three ball. “It will be harder than that.”

  Chet agreed as Virg walked around the table to make another shot. “There might be some wanted hands down there who’d share some information on him to avoid being arrested and jailed to be held for the Texas authorities.”

  “Any names you know?”

  “Curly Bob out of—damn I forget that town. Randy Walker, he may use another name. Curly comes from Sequin, Texas.”

  “Thanks.”

  Virgil looked up and smiled. “Those two stay out of Tombstone. They know me, too. You get the chance, you tell them, I told them to talk to you.”

  “Thanks. Nice to meet you, Joe.”

  “My pleasure. I met your nephew in Tucson a while back. JD?”

  “He’s working hard south of there.”

  “Boy, he’s a go-getter. He was selling cattle that day and driving a hard bargain. He really works at it.”

  “He’s going to have a great ranch operation. It is his to run.”

  “I was impressed.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate that.”

  Virgil caught his arm. “Remember what I said about Fulbright. He’s tough.”

  “Thanks. Both of you.”

  Spencer said the same and they left the bar.

  “Blackmail wanted men?” he asked Chet.

  “Virgil’s been in this law business all over. You have to use what you have to work with.”

  “Fulbright sounds tough.”

  “Hell, Spencer, they’re all tough in a corner.”

  “I am not afraid of him. I mean we have our work cut out for us.”

  “We have had that all over. Now we need the goods on Fulbright.”

  “Any more ideas?”

  “No. I think we are doing all we can. Things will have to work out as we gain more information.”

  “We always had pursuit before and we got them. These we have to wait until they screw up.”

  “Exactly. Let’s go check out those cantinas down on the border.”

  “Sure, you going to tell her we are going?”

  “Yep. I’ll get Miguel, too.”

  “I’ll bring the good horses for the three of us to ride today.” Spencer laughed.

  “Great idea.”

  He told Liz where they were going, gathered Miguel, and the three men rode to the border, talking about their options along the way. Miguel told them he’d been down there in that area a few years earlier when he was coming north.

  * * *

  There were three such cantinas on the
border, each a few miles apart. The Rooster Club was the first place they stopped at and drank some Mexican beer. Miguel talked to the bartender in Spanish about who was coming and going there. The man said that no such a man ever came there.

  They rode onto the next place a short ways from the first. They called it Border Town in Spanish. A rather chubby young woman named Becca sat with them at their table as if expecting some business.

  “Tell us who comes here,” Chet said and scattered some silver dollars on the table.

  “Cowboys.”

  “Name one for a dollar.”

  “One name for one dollar?” She raised her dark eyebrows.

  “Go ahead.”

  “Curly Bob Larsen,”

  “Take two dollars for him.”

  She laughed, picking up the coins very carefully with her long fingernails.

  “Texas Jack Holt.”

  “Does he work for the same outfit?”

  She pulled up the low-cut dress with both hands. “Sí, he works there, and so does Rip Billings.”

  “Take two more dollars.”

  She smiled and added them to the ones in her left hand. Chet knew this was a lot easier than her earning them. “You know what they are wanted for in Texas?”

  She looked around to be sure no one was around. “Only two told me.”

  “Which ones?”

  “Bob shot his father-in-law for trying to take his wife away from him.”

  “He say why?”

  “He said she was fourteen and she wanted to go with him.”

  “Had he married her?”

  She shrugged. “He told me he shot him for trying to stop him from taking the girl.”

  “The girl go along?”

  “No. That made him mad, too.”

  “What about the other wanted man? Rip?”

  “He held up a Texas bank with some guys. He got thirty dollars for doing that. Said the rest ran off with all the other money and left him afoot in New Mexico.”

  “Why did they come down here?”

  “They knew the boss, Fulbright, from Texas.”

  “What did they do for him in Texas?”

  She shrugged her shoulders and had to put the coins down to haul up her dress again.