Blood on the Verde River

by Dusty Richards

  “Sure. Why?”

  “They may have them in their possession or have sold the branded ones. What is your brand?”

  “I see that now. Double K Bar.” Hailey shook his head. “I never thought about that, either. All they left behind were the heads and guts.”

  “Oh, we have company,” Marge said, coming into the kitchen.

  “This is my wife, Marge, Hailey.” Chet introduced him as they both rose for her.

  “Yes ma’am. Sure nice to meet you,” Hailey said.

  “He mistook Monica for you earlier,” Chet explained.

  “Oh, she is a wonderful cook, isn’t she?” Marge took a chair.

  “Golly, she’s more than that,” Hailey said. “She’s a nice-looking lady, as well.”

  “She certainly is that.” Marge turned to Monica. All I want is some oatmeal, Monica.”

  “I have that ready.”

  “That will be fine.”

  Chet explained, “Hailey’s having some problems with cattle rustlers. He can’t catch them. He asked for some help—”

  “Why did he not ask the law?” Marge asked.

  “He has little faith in their methods. We are working out some plans to entrap them.”

  Marge sat at the table. “Hailey, you have a good man on your side. He usually gets them.”

  “I sure appreciate you letting me have him for this job. And I asked Miss Monica if she’d go on a picnic with me Sunday. She said she’d have to ask for your permission.”

  “Certainly.”

  “Can she be off at ten? So I can bring dinner in my basket?”

  “Sure.”

  “I better get back to the ranch. I’ll meet you in town tomorrow, Chet. What time?” Hailey asked.

  “Eight o’clock at Jenn’s Café. We can start from there.”

  Hailey stood and said to Marge, “Ma’am, you sure serve good meals to an old wrangler and I appreciate your letting Miss Monica off, as well.” He looked at Chet. “See you in the morning.” To Monica, he said, “And I’ll bring my buckboard for you Sunday morning if that is all right?”

  “Yes,” Monica said quietly. “Thank you for asking me.”

  “It is my privilege.” He turned and thanked Chet and Marge again.

  Chet nodded and started to rise, but he saw Monica already had Hailey’s coat, hat, and scarf ready for him and they talked going out onto the back porch.

  When the back door closed, Marge asked, “How long has he known Monica?”

  “About fifteen more minutes than you.”

  Marge threw her head back and laughed. “Short courtship, huh?”

  Monica stayed outside despite the cool wind and talked with Hailey.

  The back door opened and closed, and Monica headed right to the range.

  “He’s a polite nice guy,” Chet said.

  She brought the coffee over and refilled the mugs. “He is very polite and a nice man with manners.”

  “Good. I thought so, too.”

  Marge shook her head. “If he takes you away from me, I’ll—kiss him.”

  Her words embarrassed their housekeeper who was shaking her head. “It is only a picnic.”

  “That’s how things happen,” Chet said as she started to leave the kitchen. “Monica, we love you.”

  She stopped and smiled. “I know that. I was impressed by him and flattered he made such a nice invitation.”

  Chet agreed. “It was a nice one. Go on the picnic and learn all about him.”

  “I am voting for you,” Marge said.

  “Thanks.”

  Monica left them and Chet considered the slaughter of Hailey’s beef. Jenn may know more about it. He might ride into town and talk to her. If he could find some suspects, he could check them out. He’d do that.

  He said to Marge, “I’m going into town and poke around about the butchering deal. Jenn may know something. Peddlers come around all the time. It is cold outside today, but I’ll take the buckboard if you want to go along.”

  “Tie on a horse in case you need one. I will go along. I’ll dress warm. I’ll tell Monica we will not eat lunch here.”

  “I am going to hitch up the team if Jesus will let me.”

  “I promise I won’t hold you up.”

  “No worry.” He laughed.

  They left in a short while and ate lunch with Jenn in the cafe. When the crowd left, she slipped into the booth and asked why they were there.

  “We’re looking for someone who sells beef to restaurants,” Chet explained.

  “Why?”

  “Someone who didn’t buy the cattle on the hoof is selling the meat.”

  “Rustled them.” Jenn frowned.

  “Who brings you the beef you buy?”

  “Old Jules. He has a van and comes around. He’ll bring a hind quarter into our kitchen, fills our needs, and keeps the rest.”

  “Anyone else ever offer you meat for sale?”

  “Oh sure. Let me think. A guy named Olson comes around every couple weeks and tells me he has a bargain. I bought one quarter one time. It was tough as shoe leather.”

  “Where does he live?”

  “I can find out.” Jenn slipped out of the booth, went to the counter, and spoke to a man sitting on a stool. He nodded and she thanked him.

  She slid back into the booth. “He lives in Boulder Canyon. That’s off the Black Canyon Road and south. It is a kinda all alone place. A wrecked wagon on the right marks the way in. What will you do now?”

  “I’ll ride up there and take a peek,” Chet said.

  “What are you looking for?”

  “Evidence to shove under their noses.”

  Jenn shook her head. “I bet someone came and asked you to help him find the bad guys.”

  Marge laughed and squeezed his arm. “Of course.”

  “Is this Olson very valuable to society?” Chet asked.

  “No.”

  “You keep Marge company. I’ll be back by for supper.”

  “Be careful.”

  He agreed, went outside, saddled his roan Jack and rode for the Black Canyon Road. The wind from the north was cooler and high level clouds were rolling in. He hunched some under his jumper and rode on.

  The wrecked wagon parts were beside the main road like Jenn had said. Wagon tracks went in and out of the narrow road that wound back into the pines. The steep walled canyon was lined with sheer rock walls, tall skinny pines, and brushy junipers.

  He turned the horse into the road and wondered how far he had to go to find the place. From where he was, he saw the canyon wind back into the mountains. From watermarks, he could tell there had been floods from violent rains, but little sign water ever ran much in other times. He shrugged. The crevice wouldn’t have a flood that day.

  Farther on, he caught sight of a cabin and stopped his horse. He concealed the roan in a deep side place in the canyon and tied him. Then he looked at scaling the wall and decided it was the best way to get by the cabin undetected and search beyond it.

  The climb was not easy. Hand over hand he pulled himself up. Out of breath and crouched in some brush, he gratefully saw lots of cover farther up the mountainside. Ducking to keep concealed, he moved along swiftly, taking stops to be sure no one had seen him. Reaching the top, he ran along the edge until he heard pigs fighting in a pen. Back of the cabin, he saw a woman walk to the outhouse. On his haunches, he held his place until she went back inside.

  Close enough, he heard someone cussing. When that quieted down, Chet started the climb down. It was tough, but he found ledges for toeholds. He checked his six-gun after he reached the soil under his soles.

  Four horses were in the corral, and recently worn packsaddles were set on top of the top rail. They showed the sweat marks of the pads. He made the first shed and slipped inside. It stunk of raw hides. In the near-dark shed, he peeled back the top of two stinking piles and lit a match. It about burned his finger before he saw the KKs—the brand of the Double K Bar. He had the evidence, and sighed.<
br />
  On his feet, he felt for the gun butt in his holster. Satisfied, he went to the door and cracked it until he saw a man in a red underwear top with suspenders holding up his dirty pants coming from the house.

  Gun in hand, Chet swung back the door and ordered him to put his hands in the air.

  Shock-faced, the man did raise his hand. Then he shouted, “Winny, shoot this sumbitch!”

  The back door cracked and a barrel appeared. “Make one move and I’ll shoot you,” A voice called to Chet.

  In response, he put a bullet in the door high enough to miss her.

  She fired the gun into the ground and her man ducked as the bullet’s impact spread hot sand all over him.

  “Get out here unarmed or I’ll shoot you, lady,” Chet ordered.

  Disgusted, she tossed the rifle out on the ground and came out shaking her head.

  “I’m going to tie you up, Olson. Get on your belly,” Chet commanded.

  “What’re you going to do with me?” Olson asked as he got down on the ground.

  Chet holstered his gun. With a rope he’d found on the packsaddles, he tied Olson’s hands behind his back, watching the woman closely where she stood outside the door. She didn’t move.

  He left Olson lying on the ground and picked up the rifle. Then he saddled a horse for him.

  “What will we do without him?” she asked when Chet had him in the saddle and had led him to the shed.

  “I have no idea.” Chet jerked the fresh hide out of the stack, rolled it up, and tied it on the saddle behind Olson. “You should have thought about that before he stole the cattle.”

  “That’s easy for you to say.”

  “Yes, I guess it is. Maybe when he gets out of jail he’ll not steal any more cattle.”

  She ignored him.

  Damn. She’d gotten under his skin. He knew there were some small kids in the house she’d have to feed. “I’ll speak to the Methodist preacher. He may have food and things for you.”

  She barely nodded, looking doubtful as Chet led the horse and Olson away.

  At the side canyon, he mounted the roan and rode back to town in a long trot, leading Olson’s horse. He wasn’t going to take him in. Roamer could do that.

  Sundown was settling over Thumb Butte, the great landmark west of town when Roamer came out of the lighted doorway and frowned. “Who’s he?”

  “A rustler. Hailey Rasmussen came by and asked me to help him. He had rustlers stealing his cattle. I learned Olson sold meat from time to time and found this fresh hide with Rasmussen’s Double K Bar brand on it in his shed. There are more of them out there.”

  Roamer grinned at him. “I guess you want me to take him in, huh?”

  “Yes, if it doesn’t make any trouble for you. Hailey will be in in the morning and swear out a warrant for his arrest.”

  “You don’t want to make a deal out of it, right?”

  “Right. My wife is at Jenn’s Café wondering where the hell I am.”

  “Oh, I’ll handle it. Thanks.”

  “Thank you.” Chet tossed Roamer the lead rope, spun the roan around, and rode hard for Jenn’s.

  “Where have you been?” Marge asked when Chet entered the café, wrinkling her nose at the hide smell attached to him.

  “I found the thief. Roamer is jailing him. Let’s go home.”

  “It was Olson?” Jenn asked in mild disbelief.

  “You bet. He had the fresh hide in his shed bearing the brand.”

  Closing up, Bonnie and Valerie came over to hear Chet’s short story. They laughed about it.

  Bonnie said, “We could have told Mr. Rasmussen you’d find his rustlers.”

  Valerie agreed. “Our citizen lawman rides again. We love you, big man.”

  “You have any supper?” Marge asked.

  “I can eat at home. Get your coat on.” Chet was anxious to return home.

  “I’ll make him a sandwich. You can drive,” Jenn said to Marge, and the two girls rushed off to fill the order. He washed his hands in a bowl behind the counter, laughing and shaking his head. “You’re making too big a fuss.”

  They were soon on the wagon seat, his horse tied on back, and Marge clucking to the horses, while he tried to hold the huge ham sandwich in both hands. They climbed the tall hill and turned to the east, heading for the valley under the stars.

  As his hands clutched the cheese, ham, sourdough bread, and its sweet sourness filled his mouth he thought another matter settled and he was going home with his bride. He was so glad that have her in his arms and be warm under the covers in another hour. He took another bite. What a huge meal those girls had made for him.

  CHAPTER 11

  Chet met Rasmussen at the turnoff to town in the predawn light. He drew up his horse. “You need to go sign a warrant out at the sheriff’s office. I turned your thief—a man named Olson who lived down this road—over to deputy Roamer. I found a hide with your brand on it in his shed.”

  “Damn. Folks said that I needed you. How did you do all that?”

  “Asked a few questions, went out to his place, found the hide in a pile, and took him over for Roamer to put him in jail.”

  “Oh, thanks. Say, I wondered if I was too strong asking your cook out?”

  “No, we love her. She said she thought you were a gentleman and we told her to meet you.”

  “Good. Now what do I owe you?”

  Chet shook his head. “Not one thing. I hope no one else will steal another cow from you or me.”

  “You know you should be the sheriff here.”

  “No, I am a businessman with lots of irons in the fire.”

  “Glad you helped me.” Rasmussen stuck out his hand.

  Chet shook the offered hand. “Good. I’m going home and get some work done.”

  “You need anything call on me,” Rasmussen said and they parted.

  Chet rode up to the holding ranch on the high plains early the next morning. He was anxious to see how things went at Gallup and the various sale points and figured Sarge and his bunch should be back from the drive.

  Mid-morning, he stopped at the Verde ranch and had coffee with his sister, the new Mrs. Times. Tom and the crew were after a mountain lion that had been eating calves. Some guy named Lowe brought his hounds out to tree the cat and the whole crew spread out to get the killer.

  “Well, how are things going?” Chet asked Susie as they shared coffee and cake.

  “Very good. Tell Marge thanks. She was like a mother and very frank about many things I wondered about. Leif’s a great partner and we caught trout, thanks to the boys.” She laughed freely.

  “Good. I’m going on up to Sarge’s and see how they did with the Navajos. They should be back.”

  “Ride safe. I’ll tell Tom you came by. He seriously runs this ranch. Leif says he’s really been impressed how good Tom is at it.”

  “I appreciate him,” Chet agreed, kissed her cheek, and left.

  The ride northeast grew cooler as the day went on. He chewed on some jerky and pushed his bay horse all day. Past sundown, he finally arrived.

  Sarge met him at the house when the dogs heralded his arrival. “I wondered who was coming to see us. How have you been?”

  “Good. How did the trip go?”

  “Fine.” Sarge turned to the young man who had come from the barn. “Clarence, will you put the boss’s horse up?”

  The man took the reins from Chet and replied, “Yes.” He waited while Chet undid the bedroll then led the horse to the barn.

  Chet took the bedroll with him to the house. Sarge showed him inside. The crew was playing cards for toothpicks at the large round table.

  “You missed a good drive boss,” a bald man named Harp said. “We got no arrows in our saddles this time.”

  Another offered, “An Indian woman named Blue Bell sent you her best regards. Said you gave her a horse when hers died on the road.”

  Chet nodded, recalling her. “How was she?”

  “Damn good-looking. I�
��d give her my horse, too.”

  They all laughed.

  Chet and Sarge went off into the kitchen to talk about the trip. Sarge lit a candle lamp and poured some coffee. “We can get you some food. Victor’s turned in. He gets up at three.”

  “Let him sleep. I’m fine. Any problems?”

  “No. Some guy named Chester for the agency told me we were doing great at this delivery business, but he worried about winter. I told him we were a big outfit and could use feed wagons to drive the cattle if we needed to.”

  “Good. We may need to get some of those rigs up here in case we do.”

  Sarge agreed. “I talked to two ranchers up near Gallup. They’ll sell us hay at ten dollars a ton, but want us to buy it now. The hay is good and I’m certain the cattle would eat it. My horse did and he’s fussy.”

  “Let’s buy twenty tons, just in case. That would be a small expense. Make sure we get that hay you tried on your horse.”

  “I can do that. How do I pay for it?”

  “I’ll make out a draw on the bank in Preskitt and have the money sent to them.”

  Sarge agreed. “They’d also like to sell you some cattle.”

  “Do they know what we need?” Chet asked.

  “I told them we take only fat cows or big steers.”

  “Let’s try that. I understand markets are short all over. We will buy twenty-five head from them at sixteen cents a pound. That would get them over a hundred dollars if they weight around seven hundred pounds.”

  Sarge nodded. “Those two men I met, Arnold and Kibley, are anxious to do business with you.”

  “Maybe we could trade cattle sales for their hay.”

  Sarge frowned. “I was pretty straight with them. I thought we would buy the hay. The purchase of their cattle was up to you.”

  “Well, we can afford the hay. You’re going to send the word to them?”

  Sarge nodded he would. “I will ride over there and make the deal this week. I think if we go early, we can bunch those cattle at the Egan Ranch for a week or more. He has the water and facilities to hold them.”

  “Good. I won’t worry about your operations and we’ll keep sending you cattle. You did good over there.”