“Yes, sir.”
“Good, we’ll take turns. But if they don’t come soon, one of us may need to go to Joseph Lake and pick up one of the packhorses. The food stocks here aren’t much.”
One of the rusty shackles broke and clanged to the ground. “There you are,” Jesus said.
Deloris rubbed the skin on her leg where the chain had been. “Oh, thank you so much. I feared I’d go to my grave wearing them.”
“I bet that does feel better.” Jesus nodded and started on her other ankle’s lock. “How long have you been a prisoner?” he asked.
“Over a month.”
“Have they gone away like this before?”
“I guess I was so desperate to escape I never noticed what they did.”
Jesus frowned and continued to file. In another hour, he was done and when the chain fell, she jumped up and kissed him. “Thank you so much! I may walk home now.”
Chet shook his head. “When we’re through here we will take you home.”
She dropped her chin. “Then I’ll owe you even more.”
“No, no. You’re fine. This is what we do.”
“I’ll still find a way to repay you.”
“I would like to know something, though,” he said. “Why don’t you have a man?”
“That is a long story,” Deloris said. “See, many young men in my tribe drink whiskey. I know what whiskey does to them. They go home and beat their wives or run around with other women. I won’t consider a man who drinks.” She shrugged her shoulders under the too-big dress.
“That’s a good cause to keep. You’ll find someone. A good man.”
“I’ve regretted it many times while I was here. Even a drunk would have come looking for me.”
“You’ll be fine,” Chet said, patting her on the shoulder.
“I can shoot a gun,” she said. “When they come can I have one?”
He chuckled. “I don’t see why not. If you won’t lose your mind shooting at them.”
“Not likely.” Deloris frowned. “Not after what they did to me.”
“Cole, find her one of the dead man’s guns and holster. We have a new marshal.”
Everyone laughed.
Two days went by with no sign of the gang’s return. But in the afternoon of the third day, Jesus had just relieved Cole on guard duty up on the mountain when he spotted the dust of approaching riders—a whole mess of them.
“Madre de dios!”
Without another look, he jumped into the saddle and spurred his horse back down the mountain.
“How many?” Chet demanded as Jesus rode back into the yard, spraying them all with dust and gravel.
“Hard to make out.” Jesus panted, breathless. “But at least six. Maybe more.”
Chet’s mind raced, going over the list he’d made of the gang’s members:
Harold Cassidy
Nick Cassidy
Curt Malone (perhaps the horse seller)
Farrell Stein
Cutter Cline
A breed Indian
That would be more than enough for them to handle even with a crossfire trap set up. If there were more, though—things could get ugly real quick.
Thinking fast, he spurred his people into action. He put Deloris in the house with Cole, guns at the ready out the front door and window. Candy he made sit on the floor, warning her not to scream. She was to bury her head and not say a word. If she disobeyed, he told her, making his point clear, he would deal with her personally.
He placed Jesus in the shed across the yard, then took up his own position behind a woodpile nearby. He checked his Winchester and levered in a round.
It was not long before the band of men rode in. They were unkempt and casual, completely off their guard . . . like they weren’t expecting anything.
A big man on a large horse said harshly, “Where’s that dumb Candy at?”
Chet poked his head up from behind the woodpile, rifle at the ready. “U.S. Marshals! Raise your hands or die. You are all under arrest.”
One man on horseback in the rear went for his gun. A single rifle shot from Jesus’s Winchester knocked him off his horse and he toppled over into the dirt.
“Who else wants to die?” Chet shouted.
The outlaws all checked their horses and reined up—all except the Indian. Long, black hair streaming out behind him, he drove his horse into the narrow alley between the house and shed. Cole shot the mount out from under him, but the breed shook loose of the stirrups before the horse’s face struck the dust. His moccasins hit the ground running, but not fast enough to outstrip Jesus’s .44/.40 lead. The slug caught him in the back. With a strangled scream, he threw his arms up into the air and collapsed facedown in the grass.
“Who else wants to die?” Chet asked again.
A long moment came and went—then, their hands held high, they surrendered.
One by one Chet made them dismount as Deloris and the boys covered them. Then he disarmed them and shoved them toward the hitch rail.
“Who the hell are you?” the big man demanded, minding Chet’s threat well.
“Deputy U.S. Marshal Chet Byrnes. You must be Harold Cassidy.”
“How long you been here?”
“Four days. Your guard was dumber than you are, outlaw. We buried him.”
“Good thing. He knew I’d’ve killed him if you hadn’t.”
“Oh, you’re one tough hombre, aren’t you?” Chet shoved him forward in disgust. “Well, Cassidy, your killing days are over. Get over there and stand by the hitch rail.”
“How do you want them?” Deloris asked. She still held the dead man’s gun in her hand.
“Don’t shoot him, Deloris. The law will settle with him.”
“I won’t,” she said, her voice hard. “But I damn sure could.”
“I don’t doubt that. But don’t even think about it.” He nodded to the hitch rail. “Cuff him on one side of it and another guy on the other side facing opposite directions.”
Deloris lowered the gun and locked Cassidy’s right wrist in a pair of handcuffs. She ducked under the rail and faced his brother the other way and cuffed him. Then, with one swift and savage move, she kneed Nick Cassidy in the crotch with every ounce of strength she had. He gasped, bent over coughing, then went to his knees.
Deloris grabbed him by the hair and spit in his face. “That’s for raping me.”
Cole just shook his head and laughed. “I think that about says it all. No doubt about her toughness, huh, boss?”
“Not here there ain’t,” Chet agreed.
With the bandits shackled and under control, Chet and Deloris set about collecting and hitching horses.
“Looks like they brought food, at least.” He motioned to a trio of the loaded packhorses.
“No more oatmeal and beans?” she asked hopefully.
“I bet there isn’t any corn-fed beef there, but there is food.”
Jesus returned from the side yard. “That breed isn’t breathing, boss.”
“They can dig the grave for both of them. Pick out a couple of grave diggers and put them in leg irons so we don’t have to run them down.”
“With pleasure,” the younger man said with relish.
“Deloris, go find Candy and get her started making us a meal.”
“I’d rather do it myself.”
He shook his head. “Put her to work.”
She nodded. “I savvy.”
“Good. Cole, let’s search them for any more contraband before they go to digging that grave.”
They found little money on the two dead men, but the Cassidy brothers’ pockets yielded a bloody gold ring Chet figured had been cut off a dead man’s finger. The two brothers they left cuffed, while the other two were placed in leg irons and issued a shovel and pick.
“You can’t prove a damn thing on us,” the head Cassidy bragged.
“Oh, yes we can, hombre,” Chet replied. “Deloris is charging you with rape and kidnapping.”
&
nbsp; “What jury would believe that Injun whore?”
Chet ignored his comment. “There’s also that wagonload of stolen goods down in the cellar. Got an explanation for that?” No response. Chet laughed. “I didn’t think so. You and your gang are going to hang for it all.”
He left them standing across from each other and went to see what the women were working on. He found Candy stirring a pot on the sheet iron range and singing “Sweet Bessie from Pike.” Beside her, Deloris was busy slicing and frying bacon in a large skillet.
“We’re getting there,” she told him. “I have biscuits in the oven.”
“No rush.”
“What are your plans?”
He leaned back against the counter. “Rent a wagon and team and take you home, then haul all these stolen goods home with us as evidence to the court in Preskitt.”
“I can ride a horse home by myself,” Deloris said.
“I know. But you’re our ward now. Your safety is our job.”
She agreed with a nod. “Chet Byrnes, I am envious of your wife.”
Chet smiled at the mention of Liz. “Why’s that?”
“If you weren’t so content with her, I’d steal you.”
A laugh. “I’m flattered, but one wife is all I need. She’s a handful, too.”
“Does she ever go with you?”
“Usually she’d be here now. But one of my boys from the ranch who sends the Navajo cattle is marrying my son’s nanny. His name’s Victor, and hers is Rhea. Liz—that’s my wife—is busy arranging that wedding while we’re gone.”
“I see why she is not with you.” She dried her hands on a towel. “All this business has changed my life and way of thinking—I am changing my life. I don’t know exactly how, but I will no longer be Deloris the goat herder.”
“That’s a good thing.”
“Tell them to come eat.” She brought the large pan of biscuits out of the oven and nodded at him. “It’s a lot better to be here, doing something, than chained in that damn shed being abused by those men.”
“Deloris,” Chet said. “I’m just sorry I didn’t come quicker.”
“Chet Byrnes, I’m just grateful you even came at all.”
He hugged her shoulder, then went to get the boys. What a world they lived in.
Liz, I won’t be long getting home now, he silently promised her.
After lunch, Jesus was dispatched back to Joseph Lake to hire a wagon to haul the loot down to Preskitt. While he was gone, Chet and Cole rounded up the gang’s horses and got them ready to travel. By sundown, the two dead outlaws had been shipped to hell and preparations to leave completed. Jesus returned in the twilight, followed by a pair of empty wagons hauled by two local men, packed for the long trip and told to expect a goodly payment for their trouble. The evidence was loaded by midnight, and they all rode out together at dawn.
Jesus reported that he had told the storekeeper and his wife about the capture and the evidence. He passed on their good wishes, and the happiness of the other folks in the region at their having rounded up the gang.
By the second day out, they’d reached Lee’s Ferry. On the other side of the Colorado River, each of the lawmen hugged Deloris and said good-bye. She had a good horse from the outlaws’ bunch, and two packhorses that they’d set up for her. Tears streaked her tan cheeks when she told each of them how much she appreciated all they’d done for her. Then she hugged Candy, climbed on her horse, and headed off for her own people.
Two long days later, they crossed the Little Colorado at a trading post five days from the Verde Ranch—five cold days that threatened on and off to spit snow and ice upon them at any moment. Jesus reminded Chet more than once how cold it had been the last time they passed that way in winter.
They came off the north rim into the Verde Valley near dark, but went to the bottom before they stopped to set up camp. Leaving the others at the camp, Chet took a sound horse and rode on for the house alone. It was well past midnight when one of his vaqueros challenged him at the gate.
“Brazos, that you?” he asked, recognizing the voice.
“Ah, sí. It is you, Señor Chet. Are you alright?”
“I’m fine this time. And damn glad to be home.” He dismounted and hugged the man.
“You must have known. The wedding is tomorrow. Victor and Rhea will be happy to hear of your return. It’s a good omen.”
“I don’t know about that, hombre,” Chet said, and laughed. “But the Lord works in mysterious ways.”
“Give me your horse. There is light on up there, someone may still be awake.”
“No problem. I can find my way.”
“It is always good to have you back,” the vaquero said. “Did you find those bad ones?”
“Oh, yeah. Four of them. The boys should be back in with them tomorrow or the next day.”
“You do good work, hombre. Vaya con dios.”
Chet circled the house and entered through the back door. All was quiet, but a single light still burned in the front parlor. Putting his hat and gun belt on the hook, he froze when a familiar voice broke the silence.
“Is that you?” his wife asked.
“It must be, darling,” he replied. “Why are you still awake at this hour?”
“Oh, I couldn’t sleep. I knew something was going to happen.”
He had her by the waist, kissed her, then swung her around. “The rest are at the Verde tonight, but I had to come home. Oh, baby. I have missed you so much.”
“No more than I’ve missed you, hombre. Did you get those outlaws?”
“It’s a long story and I can tell you all about it in the morning. I’m tired, dirty—”
“I would take you anyway, you know that. Tomorrow we can clean you up. Oh, Chet Byrnes, I am so glad to have you back in one piece. The others alright, too?”
“Not a scratch. But that gang needed to be stopped.”
“I’m so happy you are here.”
“No more than I am to be here. Let’s get some sleep.”
And they did just that.
CHAPTER 7
The next morning with the boiler running, Chet had a bath, a shave, and clean, fresh clothes. In the kitchen, full of the smells of home cooking, he hugged Monica as she tried not to cry.
Rhea brought Adam down and hugged him fiercely. “I am so glad you came back in time for the wedding.”
He kissed her on the forehead. “I lost track of the time but I made it. Man, he’s grown some more, hasn’t he?” He grabbed the boy and raised him over his head.
“The doctor said some day he would be as big as you.”
“Maybe bigger.” He laughed.
“Sí, maybe that, too.”
“Better eat breakfast or we’ll get scolded.”
He sat down still holding the boy. Hard to believe how much he’d grown. Well, life went on whether he was there or not. The night before his wife told him there was no baby coming for them. There had been many tears. That cut his heart, too, not for him but for her. He understood her expectations—simply the hand they had drawn. But they were still young enough. Time would tell, just so it didn’t destroy any part of their lives and the great relationship they’d built with one another.
“No trouble while I was gone?”
“It may be a world record, but no one came by asking for help,” Monica announced.
“You do have some mail, though,” Liz added.
“I’ll get to it this morning. Are Reg and Lucy coming down for the wedding?”
“No, we got word a few days ago. Reg is healing from a horse wreck. Not many details, but the wagon ride would have exhausted him, Lucy said. They send their best to Victor and Rhea, though.”
“Glad he’s okay.” He must have gotten on a stem-winder, Chet decided. Reg was damn hard to be thrown.
“We expect JD and Bonnie today. The crew from the Verde and Suzie and Sarge are coming, too. They spent the night with Hampt and May last night,” Liz continued. “I guess May and Susie w
ere real close before May got married.”
“Like sisters,” Chet nodded.
“That lawyer in San Antonio has straightened out May’s problem. She’ll be getting her share of the family estate after all. She told me about it earlier. Were her parents rich?”
“Oh, yes. And they never approved of anything May did, while her sister could do no wrong. When she married my brother, they turned their backs on her. Told her she was disowned.”
“That’s terrible,” Liz said.
Chet agreed. “I can tell you it broke her heart, but she survived. My brother married her because he had three children to care for when his wife died. One was a baby.”
He didn’t mention the oldest boy, Heck. Stage robbers had kidnapped and murdered him when they had started back home to Texas after buying the Verde Ranch. That still stabbed his heart.
“Folks are arriving,” Monica said, looking out the window.
“I’ll go welcome them,” Chet said, finishing off his coffee.
“Rhea, I get Adam today,” Liz announced.
“I can—”
“No, no. He’s mine. One of the vaquero’s daughters will be here soon to help me. You go be the leisurely bride today and next week.”
“I never expected you to do so much for him and me,” Rhea said with tears in her eyes. “This wedding and the rest . . . my dress . . . You’re spoiling me. It means so much.”
Liz put a hand to her wet cheek. “You know I never had a daughter, so you are mine to spoil.”
In the back hall, Chet put on his gun belt, jumper, and hat, waved to the breakfast party, and went out to greet the first comers. The cool mountain air swept along his clean-shaven face, and the turpentine smell of the pines filled his nose. Back home at last. Everything looked perfect. The large tent set up with the small triangle flags on the posts looked important, festive. The well-dressed vaqueros in their black pants and ruffled white shirts greeted folks at the road and showed them to their places. That, no doubt, Liz’s influence, and the boys sure did look spiffy in their new clothes. She’d dressed the black cowboys in Texas, so this arrangement was no challenge to her. Besides, he could see they were proud of their appearance. No one but Elizabeth would have made that decision. He was lucky he’d found her—or rather, that she’d found him.
Pray for the Dead Page 9
