Valley of Bones

by Dusty Richards

  Chet, Jesus, Toby, and Fred rode into town. Someone directed them to their cattle buyer’s office.

  He came outside to shake their hands when they rode up. He told an employee to go get a horse and show them the biggest of the herds of their cows. Those cattle were down in the bottoms watered by the Rio Grande that ran south to El Paso. Riding through them, Chet was impressed. He asked the man, Art, how they compared to the other groups.

  “Oh, the others look this good.”

  Most were purebred-looking Herefords. Some still showed longhorn blood, but it was faint. A purebred bull would solve that. He was almost jealous. They were large boned and wide-hipped cows. Twenty thousand dollars’ worth, but they’d earn their keep on Toby’s ranch. All he needed. He’d be back next year for more for Cole’s place if it all went well. They saw two more herds and rode back to town, where Joseph ordered them all beers.

  “Got some plain juice?” Chet asked.

  “Grape. It ain’t wine,” the barkeep said.

  “I’ll take some.” He winked at Miguel and gave him his beer.

  “All those cattle look great. When can we take them?”

  “Any time you want.”

  “Tomorrow. We don’t want to rest here too long.”

  Miguel lifted his mug of beer. “I am just glad no one tried to stop us coming here. I am not afraid but I hate this business of outlaws set on killing you.”

  “We should make it home all right. There are enough of us,” Chet said.

  “Better than that, most I saw are bred back.”

  Chet shook his head. “Thirty some years old and no one ever showed me that before. You are building a lot of information, ready to run a ranch. There will be one or the Valley one when Raphael decides to retire.”

  “I understand. Lisa and I can wait. She loves running the house. If I have to go away to run something else, she may not want to go.”

  Chet shook his head. “I doubt that.”

  Things were set to bring the cattle all in one herd past Socorro. Chavez made arrangements to graze them on a place west of Socorro the next afternoon. They arranged to meet east of town and then drive the groups to a point to meet at that place. Miguel took the Valley vaqueros for one bunch, Tom’s men rode with Jesus for another bunch, and Toby and his men the other bunch. They were to meet the other two herds, combine them, and swing north and around the village.

  Chet and the girls in the two wagons went to the overnight stop, found the well with water, and set up camp with one helper while he and Fred rode west to find the next stop. It was ten miles west but it had water. As they hurried back into camp they could hear the cattle bawling from way off.

  He hoped they had no problems. It was dry around Socorro. And lots of dust rose into the sky. A few clouds had gathered, but he saw no signs that they’d get a monsoon rain. Several had wet them riding over, and one could expect them about every day at the top of the White Mountains, above their stop, at that time of the year. It could be a quick pass-by shower, or a flood from a towering column of clouds that dumped a load of water.

  He dreaded it, but hail sometimes fell, too. That was hard to escape, and a tough job, especially while trying to keep control of upset, hurting cows. They had that ahead of them to watch out for.

  Nothing out of the ordinary happened on their trip west. Chet gave some sore-footed cows to small Apache camps along the way and the people were grateful for the food. With all the hands it was easy to slip through the timber finding open meadows and water to camp at each day. The forage was strong, and the cows were gaining weight and licking circles in places on their hides. Two weeks later they drew near their new home, and everyone relaxed in the saddle.

  “Stop here. There is something wrong. Don’t go closer,” Toby told the girls and the drivers in their wagons.

  Chet, who had been at the rear, galloped up. “What’s wrong?”

  “The two men I left to guard are not coming out of the house.” Toby stood in the saddle looking the situation over. “Something is wrong. You stay here.”

  “Hell no,” Chet said and drew his gun. “Let’s go find out.”

  Toby nodded and with his gun out they raced for the house.

  “The front door is open. And there are no dogs,” Toby said.

  “Go right and I’ll go left. Be ready for an ambush.”

  Toby nodded and they charged around the house; they stopped in back of the house, and Toby pointed at the barn. “Look Chet. My men. Some son of a bitch hung them.”

  Two limp bodies, hands tied behind them, had been lynched on ropes hung on rafters of the new barn; their bodies gently twisted in the breeze.

  Chet holstered his gun and stepped down.

  “Go back to the women. Keep them away from here while I cut them down.”

  Tears ran down Toby’s tanned cheeks. “I left them here, but not to be hung.”

  “You can’t do a thing. Go be with the women. I promise you we will find their killers.” He had trouble not vomiting himself. They’d hung there for some time. Five days to a week. There was a note pinned on one of the men’s shirts. It read, Burns we will get you next.

  They’d been jerk hung and strangled, then the rope tied off. Chet sliced it and the first man fell to the ground. He did the same to the second one, looking carefully around for any evidence.

  The two crying women came around the house.

  “Why did they hang them?” Liz asked, hugging the sobbing Talley.

  “They said on a note they wanted me. I was next.”

  “Oh, Chet, when will it ever stop?”

  He hugged both of them. Toby went off for help. In a short while Jesus, Miguel, and Fred were all there. Josey stayed with the wagons, and the other men with the cows.

  “We have no idea who did it. They did it five days to a week ago, far as I can tell. Before anyone else comes we will search the area and house for clues. Look for anything that will point to a clue. Anything. When enough help comes we will bury the two boys.”

  “They hung them?” Jesus asked looking sick over the situation.

  “They jerk hung them so they strangled at the end of the rope. The note pinned on one of them said ‘Burns, we will get you next.’”

  “Son of a bitch. Who were they?”

  “We have to find that out, Jesus. That’s all I can tell you.”

  “I’ll get some blankets and wrap their bodies,” Fred said.

  “Rollo and Christopher were such good guys,” Talley said. “Toby and I thought they could keep this place from harm. They were good shots with a rifle. We bought new Winchester rifles for the men. They all have serial numbers on them. Their killers must be very mean men.”

  “I have those serial numbers in my files. Can that help?” Toby asked.

  “Oh, yes. That will help a lot.”

  “How would you do that?” Liz asked

  “We’ll start jerking out rifles, checking the guns and see if the numbers match, looking for the two no doubt stolen from here.”

  “What if they didn’t steal them?”

  “I know they wouldn’t leave brand-new rifles here.”

  Talley wiped her eyes. “I will go get those numbers.”

  “Good. That’s our first break. There will be more. I am so sorry. I can hear the cattle coming. I hate it more than anything that these boys aren’t here to welcome them.”

  Jesus found a letter lying on the ground. It was sent to Rodney Harris from Fort Worth.

  Dear Rodney,

  Your paw got the bad arthuritis and can’t work anymore. We are living on neighbor’s gardens but we not got any money. This winter we fixing to starve, Any money you got pleases send us some.

  Maw

  Chet read the smudged address. Tucson, Az T. The box number was not clear, but a postal worker in the post office would know and could tell what it was. Then they could watch the box if it was still in use.

  Fred rode up. “There is a dead horse out behind the barn. He was shot i
n the forehead. The buzzards have been eating him. He has a Circle T brand.”

  “What color was he?”

  “Red roan.”

  “The state brand inspectors have a list of brand owners.”

  “He damn sure isn’t one of ours,” Toby said. “My men are digging the graves. You will do the services?”

  Chet nodded.

  “Thanks. I want to ride down and speak to my neighbors and see if they saw anyone.”

  “Do that, Toby. Anything they saw or heard might help us.”

  Chet went into the house and hung his hat on a peg. Talley brought him some steaming coffee. “Sit in the big chair.”

  He thanked her and picked up the cup to blow on it. Then he remembered that neither victim had boots on. Why? Did the killers steal their boots, too?

  “Talley?”

  She came back in the room. “Did those two have shoes?”

  “No, they had new boots. All the men went to Prescott with Toby, two at a trip, and bought them with money they’d earned. They were proud of them. Why?”

  “Those murderers are wearing them. I’d bet money on it.”

  “You think of everything, and I bet you find those devils. See, I even cleaned up my mouth.”

  Chet laughed. “You sure did, Talley. I am, and will be, searching for them hard, and we will find them. I suspect they only stayed here a short while. They didn’t take anything else, like the coffee, for example, so I say they hit and run. They possibly knew the number of men we had with the herd and didn’t want to face them.”

  “If I find them, they won’t have a thing to worry about but the fires of hell.”

  “I know. But you need to go back to being a great ranch wife and hay mower. I can handle the bad men deal.”

  “I know. Those two were special. That’s why we left them. They were our leaders, and we had such grand plans. I know the others are as shaken and mad as I am.”

  Toby’s neighbors Chrystal and Cecil knew nothing about the raid or the raiders, which left them up a blind alley.

  Chet did a solemn service, closing with, “Lord, hold these two great young men in the palm of your hand. Amen.”

  Four young sad men finished covering the bodies, then everyone went to bed.

  Chet wondered who the killers were but knew he’d track them down somehow.

  Chapter 13

  Back at the ranch, that evening, Chet met with Cole and Spencer. They talked around the kitchen table.

  “Two of Tom’s men drove five service-age Hereford bulls up to the ranch. Beautiful bulls. They are now out with my cows.”

  “That settles that, doesn’t it?” Chet smiled at Cole.

  “Sure helps. How are the cows you moved?”

  “I wish I had five hundred more like them for you. We gave about a dozen to the Apaches for food, but the rest are at Rustler’s Ranch.”

  “This attack on Toby’s men was bad?”

  “Yes, very much so, but we will find them. I have a ranch-branded horse that they had to shoot because, we think, he broke his leg. He wore a Circle T brand. I have a wire into the Brand Inspection Office asking them to look up the brand ownership, and I wrote a letter to the postmaster in Tucson about a letter I found in one of the raiders’ pockets. And we have the serial numbers on the two Winchesters Toby bought for their defense. New 44/40s. I am making copies of the numbers so we have the numbers with us, and might find a gun, or both somewhere, someday.”

  “No one saw them go in or out?”

  Chet shook his head.

  Chet’s men and other U.S. Marshals began searching for the stolen guns. Every saloon with horses hitched outside, they stopped and checked the rifles in the scabbards on the saddled mounts. Chet called it looking for a needle in a haystack, but his men were persistent in their search. Someone, or two someones, had those two rifles.

  The letter had been forwarded to Tombstone general delivery. No help, and no information from the letter he found, but Chet did write Virgil Earp to keep an eye out for a Rodney Harris, the only name he had for one of the killers.

  Raphael sent Toby two more good boys to replace the two he lost.

  Talley wrote him a letter thanking him for getting them through their loss and that the new boys were great. The cattle were settling, and Toby had ordered two more hay outfits for the next year. Would they need to go take delivery of the bulls they’d need next spring?

  Chet talked about it at their weekly meeting. He took Miguel and Fred down to the Verde Ranch and Rocky went with them riding his horse. Val hoped he wouldn’t ride off the side, and they assured him they’d watch him carefully. When they arrived and Adam saw Rocky’s horse, he told Chet that he needed a paint horse, too. Then they raced out to the sheep.

  Chet knew his nephew, Tye, would find one. He was the horse dealer in the family, gathering a remuda for Toby’s ranch boys.

  Tom said he’d find more than two dozen bulls for Toby by Christmas. He might have to add some shorthorn bulls to the mix, because Herefords were still preciously scarce. Shawn, at the top ranch on the rim, needed ten more, too. Tom said he already had that listed.

  While at Camp Verde they checked several rifles in scabbards hitched outside the saloons. No match found.

  Spencer and Fred went down to Oracle to supervise the final work on the headquarters. Chet told them to check guns coming and going, as they rode down there. The settling of the Oracle sale wasn’t until November. The bulls for that place had been bought from Slaughter, and the man in place there, Foster, said they and the cows were doing wonderfully. His wife wrote the letter for him, but added that it really looked like the old ranch they all knew, now with great livestock and the headquarters near done, was going to be a great place and asked that they were wished luck pleasing the new owners.

  An official letter came for Chet from the state headquarters of the U.S. Marshals in Tucson:

  Have you heard anything about a banker who ran away with the Mesa, AZ, bank’s money? Giles Jacobs is the man’s name. Forty-two, blond hair, blue eyes, and six feet tall. He left behind a wife and three children and is thought to be in the company of a gambling dove named Sadie Rose, which is, it is known, a name she took to hide her past. Jacobs’s take is estimated at forty-two thousand dollars. The banking systems examiners are still sorting out the mess left behind, trying to uncover not only the theft of the money, but the many illegal deals he pulled.

  Would you have the time to go look into finding him—local authorities have given up trying to locate them both. If you are too busy, please send me word back. I will try to find another marshal to investigate. Really, Chet, you have the best record on finding these crooks of all the marshals we have in the territory.

  Randy Carter,

  Acting Chief Marshal, Arizona Territory.

  They damn sure seem to have trouble keeping a Chief Marshal in Tucson.

  He wired Spencer and Fred that they needed to meet him in Mesa in two or three days.

  Miguel and Jesus were with Cole so he’d get them word that evening. They would be the ones riding with him down to Mesa. No telling where they ran to but every day they roamed free the less money they could recover for the investors of the bank.

  “What next?” his wife asked from the office door.

  “Someone ran off with a Mesa bank’s money. They can’t find him.”

  She snickered. “I knew they’d have a problem that they’d come to you to solve.”

  “I wired Spencer and Fred to meet me in Mesa. Miguel, Cole, and Jesus can ride with me down there and then we can spread out.”

  “You five should be able to find him.”

  “I have written each sheriff in the territory about him. Maybe we will hear something. While we are out, we will try and find that Rodney Harris. He is someone we need to interview about Toby’s boys’ double murder. I also included the serial numbers of those two rifles that were stolen at that time. I will mail the letters on my way out.”

  “Who is the one
robbed the bank in Mesa?”

  “Let me look. His name is Giles Jacobs. He left a wife and three children and ran away with a dove named Sadie Rose.”

  “He go to Mexico?”

  “The officials have no leads, according to the head marshal.”

  “How many like these have you found for them?”

  He smiled. “Several. But I always had help. I am hoping some folks will step forward and tell me where they are or if they have seen them.”

  “I will stay here. It will be still very hot down there, and I like the cool of here.”

  “I don’t blame you.”

  “Your cattle business settled?”

  “The Three V’s will need more cattle, but Cole needs to expand his hay ground or we need to buy some land he can grow hay on, first.”

  “And?”

  “Two well drillers are moving over there to bore for artesian sources.”

  She stepped over kissed his forehead. “Be careful. I don’t want to lose you.”

  “That goes both ways.”

  “School will be starting soon and Rocky will need to attend. Here or over there? Val and I have discussed it. Their house is nowhere near fixed.”

  “He’s growing up fast, isn’t he?”

  “You hardly know he’s around here. He rides his horse so much. I never saw a boy that age so interested in riding.”

  “His mother was horsey. But maybe he is simply going to be a darn good cowboy.”

  “Were you that horsey?”

  “I can’t recall. I wasn’t interested in going to school back then and something turned inside of me. My father had lost his mind looking for our kidnapped kids, and there was no one else to run our ranch and keep it going except me.”

  “You were a teen by then?”

  “Yes. Fourteen or fifteen. I was older later when it was my decision to send cattle north in the first herds that went up there to be sold. Many said it would never work. We ended up with thousands of dollars for our cattle that were worth nothing back at home. That was our recovery from the war.”