He smiled to himself and gave the boy a nickel and a second one for him to pocket.
“Muchas gracias, señor.” The polite youth smiled shy-like and shared a firm nod with him.
A shame Jesus wasn’t there, he’d have conversed with the boy. Chet never felt satisfied enough with his own Spanish to talk it. Jesus was busy running down some leads on trouble in the mining camps. Chet felt there was no danger to him in Tucson, so sent Jesus on his way.
He made it to the office of his lawyers, Jensen, Craft, and Rosewood. The secretary, a young man, Neal Lindall, welcomed him. “Mr. Byrnes, how are you today? I will tell Mr. Craft you are here.”
“Thanks, Neal.” He put his hat on the tree and waited for his return. The offices were very neat, but dusty and hot even by eight o’clock in the morning.
Russell Craft was a short man and wore a white shirt and tie. He shook his hand and invited him down to his office. “I see you haven’t been shot again. That was real serious.”
He turned back to look for Chet’s reaction.
“I’m fine now. Thanks.”
He entered the office and Russell told him to take a chair.
“I have really been busy. They usually shut down court business during June, July, and August and wait for cooler weather to do things. This summer, they have been busier than they are in the winter. And the courthouse is really hot.”
“It’s warmer here than down at Tubac.”
“Oh, well, we chose this place. I’ve spoken with Buster Weeks’s lawyer, Jarman Townsend, about the ranch and livestock. They’ll be here in an hour to talk about the situation. The judge’s opinion on their illegal land holdings settles that. Townsend claims they have five hundred cows, plus calves, down there and wants thirty dollars a head.”
“Tell him to get a roundup crew. I wouldn’t pay over seven-fifty for them. I can replace them for that. The only way I’ll take them is a roundup. His own man told me there were two-fifty. Besides, his ranch foreman, Masters, hired three gunmen to kill me.”
“I read that in your letter and mentioned it to Townsend. He said that man is gone.”
“Where? To his ranch north of Tucson?”
“He’s not supposed to be on the desert ranch down there.”
“I’ll buy all the cows and bulls he can produce, but using a joint team to count them.”
Russell smiled and handed him a sheet from the Pima County Sheriff appraiser’s report. Cow count one hundred twenty, bulls ten, horses twelve, and signed by ranch foreman, Larry Masters, as accurate. It was a copy of the original with Larry Masters’s name hand-printed on it. The name of the deputy who accepted it was also on it.
Chet chuckled. “I’d accept that as the count.”
“I thought so. But I doubt Weeks will. And if we suggest that a deputy will be there at the counting, he might be easier to trade with.”
“You earn your money. I never even considered that.”
“I knew the deputies went around looking for cattle to count more than they did any law enforcement effort. Obviously, I’d suspect some of them receive under the table money to shorten the count. The sheriff gets ten percent of all taxes collected and uses county-paid deputies for agents.”
Chet agreed. “Exactly. I heard that Sheriff Behan received thirty thousand dollars in a past year.”
“It’s true. He has gold and silver mines down there. But others do much better than ordinary lawmen elsewhere. They have a little known association that provides wine, dinners, and female escorts to all the legislators during the sessions in Preskitt.”
“I know about that, too.” Chet yawned, then stood up to pace the room. “That’s part of the reason why I’m down here. Active law enforcement is lacking, and Arizona will never become a state until we get it done.”
“Hey, the real people appreciate that effort. I read the news this morning. There is no explanation for how he ended up on this side of the border.”
“Some citizens went down there and brought him back, as well as his kidnap victim.”
“I know it wasn’t that simple.”
“That’s the story.”
“Excuse me, but Buster Weeks and Jarman Townsend are here,” Neal said.
“We’re ready for them.” Getting up, Russell set up two chairs for them.
Chet stood up, exchanged handshakes, and they took their places. Russell went back behind the desk.
“My client had no part in any false land records. He purchased that property in good faith and with a search of the records made by the Phillips and Stars firm. We are ready to leave the ranch, though, and get on with our business. Here’s Buster’s last count of cows in this log by his past foreman, Masters.” He handed it to Russell.
“I don’t need to see it,” Russell said. “I have the certified count of cows on that ranch from the Pima County Sheriff’s office’s appraiser.” He handed the paper to Townsend. “It says you have a hundred cows on that ranch, and it’s attested to by a deputy.”
Chet saw Buster Weeks flinch at Russell’s words. He was still in good control, but he’d bet he was about to explode inside.
“Oh—” Jarman dropped his hand holding the log.
“We moved more cattle down there recently,” Buster said.
“No problem,” Chet said. “We round them up and count them. I won’t pay over seven dollars a head for them. You can take them home, and I’ll ask the county sheriff to count them coming off the ranch.”
“Excuse us. My client and I need to confer.”
Russell stood up. “The office across the hall is open.”
The two of them kept a casual look on their faces, but Chet felt they were really upset inside. He waited until the door closed and Russell turned back.
“You ever play chess?” Russell asked him.
Chet shook his head.
“It is a game of cat and mouse, and when you have your opponent trapped with no place to go, you say, ‘Checkmate.’”
“When the land titles proved false, I think they knew they would lose this fight. But not this severe.”
Russell agreed. “I think when they come back we will get a better offer.”
Chet agreed, feeling much better about the whole thing, except for Masters’s plan to have him killed.
Jarman came back without Weeks and said his client had other pressing business to attend, so had to leave.
He continued, “My client will accept twenty thousand dollars for all his assets down there and give you a title free and clear for them.”
“I want a letter from all his bankers that they will accept any such settlement,” Russell said.
“And my counter offer is sixteen thousand dollars, along with those points he said,” Chet interjected.
Jarman shook his head. “That’s too low.”
“Yours is too high. I buy and sell thousands of cattle a year in my operations. We know his count is way too high. If he will pay half the cost, or provide half the roundup cost, I might pay more. But that’s my final offer, and you have thirty days to get them off my land.”
Jarman was breathing out of his nose. Chet, standing taller, considered him as the seconds ticked by. He would either explode or accept the offer. The noise and voices of the street traffic outside became audible.
“When will you have the money?” Jarman finally asked.
“Friday. I’ll have funds transferred down here by then. What bank shall we meet at?”
“The Arizona First National Bank at ten a.m. I will send the letters of release to Russell. You know you’re a hard man to do business with?”
“Do you know his foreman, Masters, hired several men to go up to Preskitt to kill me?”
“I knew nothing about that.”
“When I find Masters, you and Weeks better not have had anything to do with it.” Chet knew he was glaring at the attorney.
“My client doesn’t know anything about it, either.”
“If he did, I’ll sure find out and I wil
l catch him.”
“Good day, Russell, Mr. Byrnes.”
Russell nodded. Jarman nodded and left in a huff.
When he was gone, Russell closed the office door and smiled. “I don’t want to trade for a horse from you.”
“When he agreed, I thought about what you said, ‘Checkmate.’”
“Let’s go have lunch. There’s a fine restaurant atop the Williams building. It’s shaded and catches some breezes.”
“Sure. I’m busy thinking about all the things that lie ahead for me and my men.”
“Well, you know how to handle that. I can’t help you.” Russell put on his suit coat.
“Do I need to be dressed?”
“No, you aren’t a lawyer in this city. Eccentric rich people can do what they want and wear what they want.”
“Good. No doubt, my wife would dress me for such an occasion. I love her, but I’ve spent too much of my life in the saddle to dress up very often.”
“And the world is better because you do that.”
“Thanks, I feel shrunk by the whole thing.”
“No, you will rebound. Have you ever looked into all those haciendas in Sonora that have been abandoned because of the Apache?”
“No, I guess I never heard about them.”
“When the United States bought the Gadsden Purchase in 1853, we added on land that goes down to Nogales and took in Mesilla over in New Mexico.”
By then, they were out in the busy Tucson street full of burro trains bringing water, wood, and even goats for their milk to be sold to housewives. Wagons and trade vehicles all crowded the streets.
Russell continued, “For the most part, those places are still empty. Since the Apache trouble left the northern core of Mexico abandoned, Congress could have bought lots more land south of here.”
“My trips down there have all been hurry up to get there and then hurry home.”
Russell nodded. “All Congress wanted was a snow-free path for a railroad across the states. They did not want any more brown people or Catholics.” He laughed as if amused.
“I bet they regret that someday.”
“Of course, they will. Since Jefferson bought the Louisiana Purchase we have been land hungry.”
The restaurant was very high class. A nice-looking dark-complexioned lady took his hat and showed them to a table. There was some air blowing and it didn’t feel quite as hot as the furnace blasts in the street.
The waiter brought them sun tea cooled in an olla. Lunch was braised steak strips with sweet peppers and onions, served with frijoles and fried bread on the side.
Russell said, “The cook is Hispanic.”
“Hey, the food is swell. I’m enjoying it.”
“Good. I bet you eat lots worse than this on the trail of outlaws?”
“A pretty steady diet of jerky.”
“What are your plans for the new ranch?”
“We have to appraise the water situation. Find the real number of cattle on hand. Build a ranch house for my nephew, JD, and his bride, Bonnie. Another home for his foreman, Ortega, and his family. Things will be busy, and it’s a hard place to get supplies and building material to.”
“I’m glad all I have to worry about are law cases.”
“We both need to go fishing.”
“I haven’t forgotten your offer. I bet it is cool up there?”
“Yes. Beautiful and cool. But I won’t get there soon.”
“What’s the best place you have for a ranch?”
Chet nodded and grinned. “Where they are.”
“You going back to Tubac this afternoon?”
“Yes, after I wire my banker about my money needs. I’ll have him send it down here to that bank. Also set up an account there.”
“Be careful. I always enjoy working for you.”
“Send your bill to Preskitt. Marge will pay you.”
“I want to meet her someday and your new son, Adam.”
“Yes, he may grow up without me.”
“I doubt that.”
Chet paid for the expensive lunch. He left a tip as well, and estimated the entire meal cost him nine dollars. Headed for the telegraph wire office, he figured at that price he could have eaten in the street for months. Marge would enjoy the service and food. If she was ever down there, he’d treat her.
After he sent a wire to Tanner at the bank about the money, he wired Bo to complete the purchase, and then another to Marge to tell her he’d closed the deal, plus kiss Adam for him. He walked two more blocks to the bank and met the main man, Ralston Holmes, and set up an account to receive the money.
“You are very wise, Mr. Byrnes, to use this method of payment. So many ranchers insist on packing cash around, not trusting banks, and they get robbed.”
“I know all about that. Nice to meet you. We’ll be here at ten a.m. on Friday to complete this purchase.”
“If we can ever be any service to you, sir, please let us know.”
“In the near future, Mr. Holmes, I’ll be choosing a bank down here. I’ll offer your firm an opportunity to bid on it.”
“We would certainly like to discuss your needs at any time.”
“Not today.” He was anxious to get back south to their camp that evening. There was a late afternoon stage for Nogales, and the driver would let him off at the ranch gate that night, sometime after midnight. After taking a meal with a street vendor for ten cents, he headed for the stage office. The afternoon heat was stifling hot, so he settled on a bench on the porch of the stage office.
The situation with the new ranch occupied his thoughts. When other passengers arrived, he absentmindedly offered his seat to a younger woman and she thanked him. The coach’s arrival with fresh horses jarred him out of his own world. He had to get his senses back. He was too far away from reality to solve any emergency.
Maybe he did need Jesus and Cole with him. He’d remember that. Damn, he missed his wife and baby Adam. Big ranch plans still had him occupied as the stage rocked away, until the female passenger interrupted his thoughts.
“My name is Stephanie Combs.”
“Chet Byrnes.”
“Oh, aren’t you the man from Preskitt who heads the Force?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Are you after more criminals tonight?”
“No, just going back to my camp. How do you know me?”
“I’ve read about you being shot. The article said you owned several ranches in the north and you led the Force that is bringing in all these criminals.”
“I didn’t read that article.”
“No, you were healing, I bet.”
“You’re going to Nogales?”
“I live there with my parents. My father is superintendent of the U.S. border there. His name is Ralph Combs. I know he would like to meet you some time.”
“I’ll make it a point to look him up.”
“Yes, I am sure you two would have much to talk about.”
They discussed various subjects, and he found the single young girl in her twenties to be a smart young woman. But his interest in her was more like what he’d have toward a daughter. When the driver stopped at the ranch gate, he told a sleepy Miss Combs good-bye. Out of the coach and the door closed, he shouted thanks to the driver.
Under the stars and the cooler night air, he walked the distance to their camp.
“You back in one piece, señor?”
“What are you doing up, Jesus?”
“Worrying about you.”
“I won’t leave without you again, mi amigo. You better get some rest. Nothing bad wrong?”
“No. Glad you are alright.”
Chet turned in and slept troubled. It being a short night only made it worse.
CHAPTER 10
At Maria’s breakfast the next morning, he faced a lot of questions.
“Did you settle with Buster Weeks?” JD asked.
“Did he tell you where that bastard, Masters, could be found?”
“When is it
your ranch?”
He held up his hands to stop them.
“Friday, we settle with Weeks. I’m buying his cattle then and the ranch will be ours. JD, you better take Bronc and Cole over there and be sure they don’t strip the place when they leave. You can hire any of them you want; the rest I’ll give you money to pay them off, if Weeks hasn’t done that. Then start making a tally of the cattle. Inventory your immediate needs. Examine the water sources they’re using. I better stay here, in case Ortega and Roamer need me. Shawn and Jesus can look after me.”
“You men better eat this food. It will be cold and no bueno,” Maria said in a motherly way.
“Maria, we’re ready to eat. By the way, I didn’t tell you I got word that Adam is cutting his first tooth. These men are going to take their first good look at the family’s newest holdings—the ranch in hell.”
She shook her head. “And I am going to have to live there.”
“Maria, I’m counting on you to help Bonnie some,” JD said. “Lands, I told her all about you.”
“Just eat, JD. Way I see it, you’ll get tired of my face.” Then she laughed and shook her head. She said something in Spanish none of them understood and left them to fend for themselves.
“What did she say, Jesus?” JD asked.
“In her words, she say, only the devil could save the whole lot of us. Didn’t you hear her laughing, going to her casa? She’s one of us.”
JD nodded. “I savvy.” He went to eating his plate of food.
Chet shook his head. The devil might, but they may be too far gone. Her food was good, as usual, and he savored it. It wasn’t like Monica’s at the home ranch’s style, not his wife’s way, or his sister Susie’s way—it was Maria’s way. He knew what his man Ortega saw in her—wisdom much beyond her age. Lots of caring and a big heart, but smart, too.
Roamer came back midmorning. “The stage robbers are hiding out in a canyon over by the Chir-cuhuas. Dodge and Ortega are making sure they don’t come out.”
“How many are up there?”
“Maybe six.”
“Riding hard, it’ll take two days to get over there,” Chet said.
“They’re waiting till you all can get there. Another Clanton is with them.”
A Good Day To Kill Page 11
