He sure felt good to be back with his wife. Liz was a warm, loving woman. The luxury of their life together, sharing, having few arguments, and talking softly and confidently about their life together.
When at last before he fell asleep, he thanked God for her.
Chapter 18
Chet and Liz welcomed the morning by checking on the huge garden that fed the ranch. Later in the season the pumpkins were blooming, the deep green vines spread out to produce orange pie stuffing. Potatoes had been dug. Sweet potatoes rested in the large root cellar. Apples turned blush red. Pears would need to picked, wrapped, and eaten during the winter when ripe. Quart mason jars of corn, peas, and beets were in cellars deep enough and insulated to keep them from freezing.
The fruit trees were all the work of their Oak Creek orchardist Leroy Simpson and his wife Betty Lou. He showed Raphael’s men how to prune, spray, and treat them. They’d watched, and the young trees in Prescott Valley were now doing what JD was doing with citrus and grapes—producing.
“You and Cole going looking for those killers?”
“We haven’t rode side by side in the last few years. A few days in the saddle together and Raphael has a man to ride with us.”
“You going to beat the others?”
“I don’t know, but we are going to see some country that hasn’t been checked. Maybe we’ll find something.”
Liz hugged his arm. “Be very careful.”
“I plan to be.”
The other pairs had left the day before. Spencer and Miguel rode north to check out “camps” on the rim. Jesus and Fred rode for the Bradshaws and the mining country. Thursday morning, Chet, Cole, and Ric rode south. They were going down into the desert to see what they could find. Chet rode a solid gray gelding Tye re-broke for him and one he considered the best horse he’d ever ridden, a super horse JD had caught down on Diablo for him who didn’t have the buck out of him. Hampt took him to his stepson and the greatest horse Chet ever owned came back well broke.
He and Cole cut across country into Bloody Basin. Sparsely populated, it reminded him of a chase, several years back when he first came to this country, of some horse thieves and murderers who raped ranchers’ wives and killed people along their way. The killers had stolen some horses from the Prescott Valley Ranch. In their escape they were being trailed by the ranch foreman and his number two man. They were bushwhacked and murdered. Chet had left Raphael to care for the bodies until the posse trailing them could get there. The deputy in charge of the posse wouldn’t allow Raphael to go to Chet’s aid. By himself, Chet finally ran them down, far across the Verde, and lynched them in a dry wash. Memories about that chase came to him while camped in the junipers that evening and as he listened to a red male Mexican wolf calling in his pack.
“Bet he hasn’t many enemies up here.”
“No. He’s king of these mountains. They’ve been cleaned out up around the home place. Stole too many chickens to put up with them.”
“Many ranches aren’t occupied up here. The first two had been abandoned. They used to have people on them. One was a woman they raped coming through here. Her husband was working in the mines over west at Horse Thief Basin, trying to make money to build a herd. They must have sold out or abandoned it. The other place had an old man who trapped some and panned for gold—he’s gone, too. This is a tough country. I thought there might be some drifters in here we could check on.”
“Why do they call it Bloody Basin?” Ric asked.
“Ten years ago, before I came out here, the Apaches made some bloody attacks on the scattered ranches. They killed many families.”
“We going clear across it?” Cole asked, tossing the stick he’d been whittling on into the fire.
“Yeah, we may find some folks. This is a likely hideout for outlaws.”
Cole nodded. “It sure is abandoned country so far.”
* * *
In the morning they made breakfast, loaded the packhorses, saddled their own mounts, and rode on. In places they found wagon tracks washed out by past heavy rains and were forced to go around the cuts.
“What do I hear?” Ric asked, standing in his stirrups.
“I heard it, too,” Chet said.
“Sounds like someone hurt.” Cole set his mount down next to them as they tried to hear.
“It must be ahead of us. There’s sheep, too.”
Chet and Cole hurried ahead while Ric brought the packhorses. They soon found a camp with a canvas shade and the source of the moaning. A Hispanic man ducked out from the shade. A short man in his forties with a white beard, he looked surprised to see them.
He crossed himself. “Mother of God, you have come to help me,” he said in Spanish.
“What is wrong?” Chet asked as they dismounted.
“My wife, she can’t have the baby in her. Help me. Oh, please help me.”
“We aren’t doctors, but we will see what we can do. How long has she been in labor?”
“A day, maybe longer.” He turned up his hands.
Chet ducked through the flapping canvas and let his eyes adjust to the shady light. A swollen-bodied naked teen with sweat running down her pain-filled face sat up, crying, “He won’t come out. Help me.”
Then she lay back, moaned in pain, and squeezed her bulging belly. “Oh, come out of me. Please.”
Chet and Cole squatted on each side of her. Both men looked warily at one another. Neither one had any idea what to do. Chet could tell by Cole’s expression, which probably mirrored his own.
“Well, boss, what now?”
“How close is it?”
“You’ve got me.”
Chet got on his knees and had her raise hers. Very carefully he inserted his finger and then drew it back. “The baby, I think, is right there. Girl, grip our hands with yours and push hard. He may come.”
They each took one of her hands and she squeezed. Gritting her teeth, she pushed as hard as she could. Chet saw a black spot coming. “Harder.”
By then she was screaming so loud it hurt his ears, but he could tell by her grip she was doing all she could. He nodded at Cole.
“Mother of God, his head is coming,” the sheep man shouted.
“Wash your hands and catch him,” Chet told the man. “Push harder, he is coming. Harder, girl. You are winning.”
“There, that’s one shoulder. Now the other. He’s getting here. Harder. Push harder.” Chet knew she was giving her all as the baby finally fell out. Cole spilled backward on his back and the baby cried
“Now hang him by his heels and clap him on the back to clear his lungs.”
Chet was the first to laugh, then Cole and Ric. The sheepherder and the new mother joined them in laughter. Her tears and pride were glowing as the father handed her the slimy boy to snuggle to her small, swollen breasts. Then she shouted, “God bless you all. Oh, baby, you are so pretty.”
Chet agreed, climbing to his feet and still shaken by the event and how well they had delivered a baby.
On his feet, they met the father, Hidalgo Fernando. Chet introduced Cole and Ric.
“How will I repay you? I have little money and you have little use for sheep, no?”
“We came up here looking for some men who killed two of my ranch hands. We have no descriptions—only the serial numbers of the rifles they stole.”
“There are some mean men up here. Twice they came and held me at gunpoint and raped my wife. I had no money and they would have taken her but she was pregnant.”
“How many are there?”
“Five.”
“Their names. Do you know them?”
“Callahan, I know, is the leader. Big man, dark wavy hair. Sam is redheaded and has freckles. Lewis is the one who limps.” He looked back at this wife and she nodded. “The kid is pimple-faced, and Brewer has a bad scar across his—left cheek.”
“What do they do?”
Hidalgo shrugged. “Malos hombres.”
“What is her name?” Cole asked of the
new mother.
“Felicia.”
“How old is she?”
“Fourteen.”
“Kinda young to be married.”
“She had no one. My wife died. I had no one. So we were married two years ago in the church.”
Cole nodded.
Chet knew what he was thinking. Cole’d been married several years and Val never had a child. Elizabeth, either, and here this orphan at fourteen just had a boy under the worst conditions that anyone could imagine and the boy had lived.
“Hidalgo, where do these bad men live?”
“Near the Verde. This is why I am so far west. To avoid them doing it again to her.”
“If we can find them, they won’t ever bother you or her again.”
“Gracias. That would answer my prayers, señor.”
“Ric, fix us a meal, so we can celebrate this baby and his being so healthy.”
Cole went along to help him. The coffee came first, as both of them had not had any real coffee in a long time. They had frijoles, dutch-oven biscuits, and peach cobbler.
Chet knew that people who tried hard could make it anywhere. With the man’s sheep, a small pack train of burros, and camping gear those two would somehow survive. Or get sick and die out there. Survival was the only thing they had and now the baby. Chet hoped they would make it. Felicia wanted to get up and help them, but Chet told her to rest.
The next morning she hugged and kissed them. Told the Virgin Mary to protect them. Raul, the baby, appeared to be fine, and she had milk. Hidalgo said if she ran out he could milk some ewes.
Later on, in the saddle, Cole mentioned it, “You ever milk an ewe, Chet?”
“No and I don’t aim to start.”
Ric really laughed. “I never did, either.”
“Well, we never helped deliver a baby before,” Cole said and shook his head. “That was a horrific deal.”
“I am not applying for that job again, either.”
They pushed on and Chet figured they’d be at a ranch where he caught another bad bunch years before, but they found that ranch abandoned, too. No sign anyone had been there in a long time.
When they had not run into the outlaws by late in the day, he decided they’d search for them on foot. They could get lined up and make a morning raid if they found their camp. Horses put up in a lot, Chet and Ric went one way, Cole the other.
Wood smoke led Chet and Ric to overlook a log house and half a dozen hobbled horses grazing down by the river. Chet decided they probably had a spare horse so maybe everyone would be in camp. He and Ric climbed back to where they left their horses. Cole wasn’t back but he came in an hour later saying he had seen three of them fishing so they had to have a camp close by.
Chet nodded and told Cole about the log house.
“Tomorrow before dawn we take them. Remember, outlaws, many times, won’t go to jail, preferring to die fighting. They will fight to the death, so don’t worry about ending their lives. Even if they didn’t kill Toby’s men, we know they did rape that young woman. Twice. So they deserve to die, if they won’t come peaceably.”
“Pretty sorry hombres. If they want war we can give it to them.”
“That’s how Cole and I think. Just be careful. Most are not good shots, but you can get shot with bullets flying around. They got me one time when I charged a door that I had no business charging.”
Ric nodded he understood.
“Even if some run, we will get them later.”
They checked their pistols and rifles to be certain they were loaded, not building a fire in case the outlaws might smell it. Eating crackers and jerky for supper and a very early breakfast, they were up before dawn, riding horses under the waning starlight through the juniper. They stopped there and tied the horses so they wouldn’t run off, then they crept up to the house.
The sun was about to crack the towering range to the east. Cole took the left side facing the cabin’s single door and to watch the one small window in the south wall. No windows were on the north or back wall. There were two small bottle windows on either side of the front door. Ric was on his knees to Chet’s right, rifle ready.
A cool wind swept down the valley when Chet shot out the bottle window on the right side of the door. “U.S. Marshal. Hands in the air, come out and lie facedown. Any man armed will be shot and the man on either side of him as well. Now move.”
He fired another shot into bottles in the wall, which shut the cussing up. “Come out or we will burn you up in there. I have the kerosene. Boys out back, toss the coal oil on that wall.”
A big man came out fanning his pistol and cursing them. Cole took him down with his rifle. Another, shooting away, met his fate beside the big man.
“Time’s up. Two of your men are dead. You can be next burning up in there. Men, strike the matches.”
Three came running out in their underwear, hands high and screaming they were giving up.
“Facedown. No tricks. Handcuff them.”
The sun had appeared at his back as Cole went inside to check it out. He came out with a new rifle in his hands. “I’ve got one of the rifles taken during the Rustler’s Ranch murders.”
Chet nodded and turned to the three. “Who has the other rifle you stole from my ranch on the Crook Road?”
No answer.
“Ric, take your boots off, then take that kid out in the Verde, and drown him, if you have to, but I want to know who has that other rifle. We have two more to drown if he won’t talk.”
“I don’t know,” the kid cried out.
“Water will improve your memory. Take him out there.”
As Ric was dragging him through the sand, the kid shouted, “I’ll tell you—Mac Arnold has it.”
“Bring him back. Who is he?”
“The guy hired us to scare them Mexicans off that place.”
“Why didn’t you burn it?”
“He told us not to. He wanted it all there so he could use it himself when they left.”
“How much did he pay you?”
“I don’t know—Callahan took the money. We got a free trip to the cathouse, food, whiskey, and packhorses before we rode down here to wait on his word.”
“Where does Mac Arnold live?”
“He’s got a cow outfit up north of the Marcy Road.”
“Why did you hang those two boys?”
“That was his orders. He told Callahan to hang the owner and his wife, too, but they was gone.”
Chet glared at the sloppily dressed punk. “He say you should rape her, too?”
“Oh, Mac didn’t care as long as she was dead. I’d seen her a time or two. She’d been all right to do.”
“How did you get down here?”
“We been using this cabin a long time. Callahan found it a long time ago, he said.”
“His bunch murdered the family who was up there on the mountain?”
“Might have. I wasn’t with them then.”
The guy named Brewer with the scar on his face said, “Yeah. He cut the kids’ throats, shot the guy who owned it, and used her. He got mad one day and killed her over something. I was there then and had to dig her grave since I was lowest guy there.”
“No one missed them?”
“I guess not. Callahan sold the cows, calves, and bulls to a guy down at Cave something after they altered the brands.”
“Where you wanted at?”
“Missouri. I robbed a bank.”
“What else?”
“Raped the banker’s daughter and wife.”
“Brewer is your name, right?”
“Anson Brewer.”
“Kid, what’s your name?”
“Jamie Rigby.”
“What did you do before coming here?”
“I raped a few women. Robbed a rich guy’s house in Silver City. And had to get out of there fast.”
“You, Lewis. What crime did you do?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing? The lady in the sheep camp sa
id you raped her. Twice.”
“I ain’t telling you nothing.”
“Your tongue better get real busy if you don’t want to drown in that river.”
Ric had him by the collar.
He protested. “I’ll tell you everything. I raped some girls in Texas. They found out and I had to leave. I robbed a few travelers to get out here. Callahan hired me in Gallup.”
“So you saw the murder of that family on the mountain, along with Brewer?”
“I never had no hand in that. Callahan did that.”
“You watch him do it?”
“I was there. That’s all.”
“But you raped the sheepherder’s wife?”
“We all did.”
“For that you three will hang and for hanging my workers, too.”
“We got to have a trial.”
“You had it. I am judge and jury. You three ain’t worth hauling back to town, and I don’t want you warning Mac Arnold that we are on to him.”
“I swear, mister—”
“It won’t change a thing. Make your peace with your maker. Ric, find a hanging tree.”
“You can’t—”
Chet turned and took Cole aside.
“Anything on Callahan?”
“There is a letter from this Mac Arnold. He wrote to him in Benson—no date—told him to get a gang and to meet him at place south of Joseph City. He had work and lots of money for him.”
“I wonder how much money.”
“Callahan has a money belt on him. He’s breathed his last. I’ll search their clothes inside.”
“If he has some money I want the sheepherder and his wife to get some to live on. I will try to find who the dead folks’ next of kin were. And you and Ric can split the rest.”
“Thanks. I never expected to ever find those guns and the men that did it, let alone find out the guy that planned it.”
“Thieves are always stupid enough to screw up in time.”
“Tomorrow we head home?” Cole asked.
“Yes. I miss sleeping with my wife.”
“When will we go after Mac Arnold?”
“Next week.”
“How did he figure he’d get that ranch from those kids? You have the deed to it.”
“He aimed to spread fear. City-dwelling investors will run in the face of it. Arizona is still a tough, widespread territory.”
Valley of Bones Page 22
