Pray for the Dead

by Dusty Richards

“It confirmed my suspicions. And I’d give him a chance, if it were me.”

  “I will take that under advisement.”

  “Good. I need more information on those men. I never asked Bo Evans. Maybe he knows something more about them.”

  “You want me to inquire in Tucson about their business down there?” Tanner asked. “I have some friends who work down there.”

  “Excellent. Add Brad Crawford to that list. Not a word, but he led the holdup according to his dying man.”

  “I never saw her, but that must have been a wild party.” Tanner laughed.

  “I thought the same thing.”

  They shook hands and he went back to Bo’s. “You have an affair with a Ruth Carlson?” he asked Bo quietly.

  “Hell, no,” Bo shot back. “I wouldn’t have done that behind Shelly’s back or in front of her. Why did you ask me that?”

  “Were the men she was with serious buyers of anything?”

  “I showed them some mine property. I had the feeling they were using me to see the district.”

  “Stalling for time?”

  “Yeah. But I knew nothing else.”

  “You know why they had her along?”

  “I’m not a green boy, Chet. But I had no idea how they’d use her.”

  “She was how they learned about the shipment on the stagecoach.”

  “I heard that you went after them.”

  “They got away, but I am tracking all this down. I know lots more now about how they did it than I did then. And this adds to the list.”

  “If I learn anything else I’ll tell you.”

  “Married life alright?” Chet asked.

  He dropped his gaze to the desk and nodded his head. “I think it is a miracle—she does, too. I am lucky, and yes we’re very happy.”

  “Good. I have a good one, too. See you.”

  “Thanks, Chet.”

  He gathered his wife, who had several things to load in the buckboard at different businesses. They picked them up while he explained all he learned that day.

  “My, my, you tracked down a lot,” Liz said. “What comes next?”

  “My Force can do some detective work down there on these suspects. Perhaps we can tie them together.”

  She squeezed his leg. “You can go so deep when you get after someone. I can’t hardly believe all you did today.”

  “I’ll get them. I want to stop at the stage office and tell Ryan what I learned today.”

  “Of course. It isn’t that cold today.”

  “I’ll only be a few minutes.” He tied off the team and went in the stage office.

  Ryan stood as he entered. “What did you learn?”

  “Not a word on what you hear from me. Ruth doped a man who knew about the money and no doubt got the schedule out of him in a sex-dope deal.”

  The manager shook his head. “That ties them in, huh?”

  “Makes a connection between them and the holdup men.”

  “We knew there was a slip, and this proves it.”

  “I want my men down in Tucson to find out all they can about them. We may solve the whole thing.”

  “Wow, that’s great. I see your wife out there. Don’t keep her waiting. Please keep me informed.”

  “What did he think?” she asked when he came back to her.

  “We knew a lot more. He’s excited.”

  “Next plan?”

  “My Force can investigate all of them.”

  “Good, you’ll be here for Christmas, then?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s very good.”

  He thought so, too.

  CHAPTER 20

  He began the letter to his crew.

  Dear Roamer and Shawn

  Two weeks ago, the Black Canyon Stage south of Prescott was robbed of money and a Wells Fargo insured gold shipment by road agents. There were two businessmen and one woman in the coach—unarmed.

  George Nelson, businessman—Tucson

  Harvey Armstrong, businessman—Tucson

  Ruth Carlson—a friend

  They claimed they were unarmed, only going home after a visit to the area.

  No one shot. They were reported as just passengers.

  The stage line manager was suspicious. There had not been a stage line robbery when the stage did not have loot. I will describe our case and how they slipped away from us.

  Ruth Carlson is a black widow. I learned she had a sex-dope deal with a man who told her the schedule. She obviously is attractive and we need to know what else she did for those two others while here.

  The outlaws made a marked trail from the Oxbow Road over to Bloody Basin. They had six large pack mules and made a fast exit on this tough trail.

  We found the only man that the stage passengers and driver could identify shot dead on the trail. Farther on, another member of the gang tried to bushwhack us. His name was Lane Johnson, shot by Cole and none of us were hurt.

  Johnson told us the leader was Brad Crawford, a man he said we could not arrest. I don’t know him except they gave us the slip at Rye by going over the Four Peaks narrow pass at night. He is no doubt in the Tombstone or Tucson area.

  I want you to find out all you can about the four of them and let me know all about it. I want them in prison. I will continue to investigate from up here.

  Merry Christmas,

  Chet Byrnes

  He sealed the envelope.

  On the calendar on the wall, he saw there were five days until Christmas.

  He sent the letter via a messenger so it got on the stage that evening.

  “All you can do is wait for their answer?” Liz asked, standing at the back door when the youth swung in the saddle to head for town and the post office to deliver the letter.

  “This crime is going to take tough work to solve it and arrest the criminals.”

  “You have names, don’t you?”

  “But you have to have evidence to go with the name. That means gold bars, witnesses, and proof to convince a jury.”

  She hugged him. “They can’t say you didn’t try your best.”

  He kissed her. “And I’m not through hounding them.”

  “I’m glad I didn’t break the law. I’d hate to have you after me.”

  “That’s what makes the law work. It makes people reconsider committing crimes in the first place.”

  “Let’s steal away?”

  “I thought you’d never ask.”

  “Silly man.”

  CHAPTER 21

  Everyone came to the Preskitt Valley headquarters for the ranch’s Christmas Eve party. There were sidewall tents set up like an army camp all over in a large, orderly plan. The weather was winter warm in the daytime, dropping below freezing at night. But no one would freeze. The big tents had wood stoves and tables.

  The ranch women fed everyone. There were toys, blocks, and rag dolls made from men’s heavy socks. Every man got some riveted pants, a new long-sleeve shirt, and underwear. How she got all their sizes, Chet realized he would never know. All ranch foremen got new Boss of the Plains Stetson hats, while under-foremen got clothes and a silk scarf. The ranch women got dress material, thread, and buttons, plus one cast iron skillet apiece. They did the gift giving before the party folk arrived.

  There was candy, fruit, and fruitcake for everyone, plus a large meal. Draft beer and sarsaparilla were served, while Victor and the “ranch band” made music. Cowboys danced with the vaqueros’ wives and all had a fine time.

  “I don’t know how you did it, but it was wonderful,” he told his wife.

  “I watched you last year. I asked the women what they wanted the most. An iron skillet came up most often. Your friend Ben asked if I’d need more later he’d sure have to order more. You know, his wife Kathrin speaks highly of you for bringing her down here. Her place up there must have been bad?”

  “It was and she had no way to escape. You know she always comes here to help. When Adam was born or when we had a problem, she was out here t
o help us.”

  “She laughs about it, but she told me her first husband went off and married two sisters because she could not get with child. But her and Ben have no problem doing that now. It must have been number one’s fault.”

  “Yes, but she needed help up there in Utah, and I am glad we saved her.”

  “I’m grateful, too. You saved me from becoming an old maid.”

  They laughed.

  “I’ve spoken to the foremen who left men at home to watch the ranches. They’re going to take their presents to them. Rhea will take some to her housekeeper and her man. Don’t your foremen look good all in matching hats?”

  “Like army officers, huh?”

  Her hand in the crook of his arm and her skirt in the other, she traipsed along beside him. “A neat world you’ve built out here. JD and Bonnie are doing something similar down there tonight. And Reg is walking better. Will he always limp?”

  “I hope not. I need to talk to him.”

  “Boy, he has a fun wife, doesn’t he?”

  “I love her. She was just an enthusiastic ranch girl when she guided us all over that country up there.”

  “That was your honeymoon with Margaret?”

  “Yes. Reg was still in Texas, married to a beautiful girl we knew when she worked on the ranch. She’d worked there at the house, and they got married. He stayed behind and was running a ranch for an older couple that was going to become his eventually. But his wife was killed in a buggy accident and that about killed him—I never knew the details—he never told me. But he came out here, and next thing I knew those two were getting married.”

  “She is quite a businesswoman.”

  “Yes, she turned that way after their wedding, but she can out-rope any man living.”

  “I heard that,” she said. “And the maverick business that turned the ranch into a paying place.”

  “I’ll sit down and talk to them before they go home.”

  “Good. They have a cute baby girl.”

  “No lack of them, is there?”

  “Yes, but I doubt I will be granted one.”

  He swept her around in his arms. “Quit that. What we can’t control we must accept—it doesn’t bother me. Stop letting it weight you down.”

  “Chet, the Bible says marry and multiply.”

  “But it does not say depress yourself because you can’t.”

  “I will try to be braver.”

  “For me, anyway.”

  “For you.”

  Before bed, he spoke to Reg at length and Lucy joined him.

  “That leg still hurt you?” he asked.

  Reg nodded grimly enough.

  “Can we find a good doctor to look at it?”

  “I think we set it wrong. Everyone tried. I’m no baby, though. I can live with pain.”

  “He won’t stay off of it, either,” Lucy piped up.

  “Aw, don’t go into that—I had things needed to be done.”

  She shook her head. “Stubbornness runs in your family.”

  “Hey, you’re getting fifteen purebred bulls this coming spring,” Chet told him.

  “Well it’s about damn time—”

  Lucy cut him off. “Mind your mouth. He does all he can do for us, Reg Byrnes.”

  “We’re the last ranch to get them,” he objected.

  “You are so hard to please anymore—I’m going to find better company. Excuse me, Chet, and thanks for the bulls.” She kissed his forehead and left.

  “You ever pull a cow out of a mud hole she’s been stuck in?” Chet asked.

  “And she got so mad she fights you when she got out?”

  “You know what they do. Reg, you need to count your blessings and I am ordering you to go see the doctor in town before you go back to the upper ranch.”

  “Ordering me?”

  “Hell yes, I’m ordering you. Someone needs to look at your leg and see what they can do.”

  He sunk down in the folding chair and shook his head.

  “That is an order, and I want a report on what he tells you.”

  “Damn Lucy’s hide—”

  “No, damn your hide. You can listen some to her. You’re worse than that cow you hauled out.”

  Chet had enough. He repeated his order and left him to think about it.

  When he joined his wife, she asked, “You have a fight?”

  “No. I told him I wanted a doctor to examine his leg before he went back home, and he had a fit.”

  “Will he do as you say?”

  “He will or she won’t drive him home.”

  “Hombre, when you get upset, who would stand in your way?”

  He hugged her shoulder. “Sometimes, things need to be done right.”

  “Any answer to your letter you sent to Tubac?”

  “Nothing yet.”

  “You still thinking about that deal?”

  “I can’t forget it. I want them in jail.”

  “Hey, I have a Christmas present for you. All you have to do is unwrap it up in our bedroom.”

  He smiled at her. “All you have to do is wait until I thank Raphael for all his work.”

  “He’s a good man. I can wait.”

  His chores completed, he herded her to the house while the party went on. Reg better come to his senses. Life was too short to be depressed and feel bad, too.

  Once in the closed-in porch he shed his jacket and put it on the post, his new hat beside it. It had been a great Christmas for his people.

  He stopped in the living room and spoke to Sarge and Susie, who were putting their son to sleep.

  “Did you know the vaqueros found your other son a small horse?” Susie said.

  “No.”

  “He is very well broke and they showed him to Valerie and Cole. The boy acted excited.”

  “Lots happened here tonight. I bet the boy is pleased. I held and talked to him, I guess before they did that.”

  Susie said, “Did you know about Lucy and Reg?”

  “I ordered him to see a doctor about that leg before he went back home and told him he better count his blessings. No need in him being the wounded bear.”

  Susie and Sarge agreed.

  “He no doubt is in pain, but a doctor might ease that. Biting everyone’s head off won’t solve his problem.”

  “I hope he finds an answer.”

  “He’s going to have to. Good night. Shame to waste time on such things when it is the season of Christianity.”

  In their bedroom, she hugged him. “I hope you settled it.”

  “I better have.”

  The next morning Chet learned Reg had ridden off and not gone to bed. Lucy was crestfallen, and could hardly talk about it while holding their daughter, Carla.

  “Where would he go?”

  “Home?” she asked.

  “I’ll ask Jesus to go look for him. Do the stable boys know anything?” Chet asked.

  Christmas morning, a day to relax and celebrate the birth of Christ, and a new family problem surfaced. He told everyone in the kitchen to stay there. He put on his coat and went to the horse barn.

  Raphael met him.

  “They say Reg rode off last night. Does anyone know anything about where he went?”

  A groom said, “No, he wouldn’t let us help him, señor. He saddled his horse and rode away.”

  “Which way did he go at the gate?”

  The stable boy shrugged. “We couldn’t see him in the dark.”

  “Where is Jesus? Tell him I need him to check the way he went.”

  Raphael said, “I will have some of my men help find him.”

  “Don’t get in a war with him. I only want to be sure he’s okay.”

  “We can find him.”

  “I’m going back to the house. Let me know when you learn something.”

  The matter was in their hands. He walked back a little defeated. Reg was someone he highly counted on. Obviously, his pain and some internal pressure had sent him to escape to God-knew-where.


  He told the others at the house what he’d done. Then he turned to Lucy and asked if her two men at home could handle it until Reg showed up.

  “If he’s not found, send Fern’s boyfriend, Drew, to help us. The four of us can make it, and Fern will help me besides. Did I do this to make him run away?”

  Chet shook his head. “His pain may have set this off. Also his desire to be an achiever may be pushing him too hard.”

  “I have tried everything I know. He’s not been himself since the horse wreck he had.”

  “You will never know about what men have in their minds. I had problems like this with my first husband, but he finally recovered and apologized,” Liz told her.

  With a worried look, Lucy shook her head. “He don’t need to apologize. Simply come back.”

  The clock ticked loudly. Chet had little heart to play with Adam who was there with Rhea and Victor. Lunch was silent.

  Monica looked out the window. “Jesus is coming back. Chet, you might check on him.”

  Rising, he put his napkin on his plate and excused himself. Chet knew coming out in the cold air—something was wrong with his man. He could read it.

  “Jesus, did you find him?”

  He made a grim nod, hitching his horse at the rack.

  His steely look at Chet telegraphed the seriousness of the answer on his lips. “He’s dead, Chet. I am sorry. He shot himself. The men are taking his body to the funeral home.” Wearily, Jesus shook his head and tears ran down his cheeks. “Why?”

  Chet hugged him. “I don’t know. I really don’t know.”

  “He’s dead?” Lucy cried out from the porch. She’d followed him out and heard what Jesus had said. “You found him dead?”

  Liz and Monica ran outside. Lucy was screaming uncontrollably, rocking her daughter.

  “He’s dead, Chet?”

  “Lucy—”

  “Is he dead?”

  Chet held his hands out to her. “There is nothing we can do, Lucy. He shot himself. The vaqueros took his body to the funeral home in town. I need to go tell his mother. JD needs to hear about it as soon as possible.”

  She collapsed, nearly dropping the baby. Chet folded her in his arms. “I am so sorry.”

  “Oh, Chet! Oh, God! His son will never see him.” Lucy sobbed. “I told him a week ago we would have another child next summer. He said he was so pleased—we both hoped for a boy.”