CHAPTER 22
Both crews were gone in the predawn. Cole had taken Hampt’s men. Chet and Hampt saddled horses to ride out of the pen at first daylight. When they were in the pen, Hampt noticed an older cow with giant horns. “Granny needs culled.” He pointed her out to Chet.
Chet moved his horse through some others and nodded he saw her. She spun and clacked horns with another. That angered her and she put down her wide rack, charged, and lifted up the cow she disliked. Then she tossed her over on her side and spun like a fighting bull to crash into Chet’s horse’s side. Her attack hit his leg and foot in the stirrup. He felt the horse going down and then heard a shot.
The wide-eyed old cow charging was three feet from him when she stumbled and went nose down. Hampt had shot her again. Chet was on his feet by then and headed for the corral wall in a sea of panicked angry cows. One of them was down on her knees from a collision, and he jumped over her. After a scramble up the side, he was soon belly down on top of the corral. He looked back. Hampt was all right. Pale faced as ivory, but he had his smoking gun in his hand.
“Get the hell out of there,” Chet shouted.
“I’m coming. Open the damn gate.”
Women working at the house had heard the shot and were coming on the run.
Every step hurt Chet’s foot, but he didn’t care. He wanted Hampt out of the bawling, disturbed herd that charged around in the rising dust, upset by the smell of fresh blood and gun smoke.
Carlotta was at his side, helping him jerk the dragging tall gate aside enough for Hampt on his horse to charge out past them. Then they slammed it right in the face of two cows intent on escaping, and she secured it with a hemp rope while he braced it closed with his butt.
Then he slid down the gate behind him to the ground. “Get my right boot off, before we have to cut it off.”
Hampt was off his horse and helped her extract it. Chet clenched his teeth and nodded grim-like, looking at the already swollen limb.
“Oh, my God, how did you run around to here?” she asked.
He put his arm up for Hampt to help him up on his good foot. “Some things you just got to do.”
She shook her head.
Hampt under one arm, and her beneath the other, they hobbled him to the house and soon laid him on a mattress in the newly painted bedroom.
“My horse?” Chet asked through his teeth.
“He was on his feet. I’m sure he’ll be sore, but we’ll get him out of that pen later when the boys come in.”
“Five Verde cowboys have arrived with extra horses,” a woman announced.
“After they put up their extra horses, tell them where to find those cows. We’ll leave the sorting till later.”
“We’re taking you home and letting the doc look at your foot,” Hampt announced.
Chet shook his head. “I don’t have time for that.”
“Time or not, we’re hitching a team and taking you home. I don’t want three women chewing on my ass. May, Susie, and Marge. Doc can decide what’s wrong. Put some hot cloths on it to reduce the swelling,” he told the women. Then he went out to meet the men.
Chet decided he must have passed out for a short while. The cowboys, all looking concerned, carried him out and placed him onto the mattress in the soon-to-be chuckwagon and they were ready to take him home. Hampt was in charge.
“These woman can feed you. I’ll take him home,” Jesus said.
Hampt agreed. “Will you need our help over at the ranch?”
“No.” He scrambled on the seat and unwrapped the reins.
They left in a lurch and he hollered back, “I am sorry, Chet. Hold on.”
Chet looked back at the tailgate. It was in, so he shouldn’t slide out the back. No telling about them rolling over. He shook his head to himself. Jesus was shook and going to deliver him back to his wife no matter what risks it took.
Near dark, they came up the lane and Jesus shouted, “Ring the bell. The boss has been hurt.”
Monica and Marge rushed out of the house. Men and women came from everywhere. Two brought lanterns and lit them.
“Hey, I’m fine,” Chet said, sitting up in the wagon bed.
Standing in the bed with his hat tipped back on his head, Jesus said, “Yes. It is his foot that got smashed.”
Two of the vaqueros took out the tailgate and pulled the mattress with him seated on it to the back of the wagon bed. Then they each took one of his legs and under Marge’s direction carried him in the house and into the living room. She told them there was a fold-up bed in the closet—the one she used to give birth to her son.
It was soon unfolded and made up by all the people helping, and the boss was set on it. The room silenced and Chet said, “I’ll be fine. Thank you.”
“Has someone gone for the doctor?”
“Jesus went himself,” one of the vaqueros said.
Chet shook his head. “That boy worries about me a lot. I’ll be fine. It’s too far from my heart to kill me, folks. Go get some sleep and check on me in the morning. I’m sure I’ll be alright.”
They all nodded and left him to Marge and Monica.
Once the room was silent and empty, except for those two, he smiled at them. “A cow ran into it. She was mad, but I think you could pour me some of that good whiskey your father left here and I won’t care.”
“You—you want a jigger of it?”
“Darling, we don’t need to save it. I want a glass of it.”
Monica laughed. “I know he seldom drinks, but he needs a good painkiller tonight, my dear.”
Marge brought him the glass and poured it three-fourths full of the liquor.
“Can you tell us how it happened?” Marge asked, taking a seat beside him.
“We had real good luck. Got sixty or seventy head in the first day. Hampt and I were going to separate some old cows out to send to market. One got mad and rammed my horse. My foot was in the stirrup, which protected it some. I managed to get my other foot out when the horse fell over. She came back for more of me and Hampt shot her. By then I’d ran for the corral side wall and made it over. But Hampt was still in the pen, so I ran around that way to the gate. Carlotta and I let him out safely and kept the wild cows in the pen. Then they pulled my right boot off and it puffed up fast.”
He drank some of the whiskey, then nodded in agreement with himself. That was damn smooth bourbon.
“And Jesus brought you back in that wagon?”
“And he wasted no time, either.” He took another swallow, then handed her the empty glass. “I’ll be fine until Doc gets here.”
Despite the earlier pain, he fell right asleep and didn’t wake up until Dr. Norman arrived. Must have been hours later. The doc twisting the foot around didn’t help him one bit.
“That cow may have broken some bones inside your foot. Your foot has the most bones of the body—twenty-seven. But I think two months’ bed rest and you will be fine.” The man frowned. “Why are you all laughing at me?”
“Doc, there isn’t a straitjacket could hold him down for that long.” Marge said.
“Doctor, what other advice do you have for him?” Jesus asked.
“Damn sure don’t walk on it. Use crutches, and don’t let another cow butt it.”
Chet smiled, despite the pain. “Thanks. The women will make you breakfast or you can sleep in one of our bedrooms a few hours and then eat.”
“I will accept the meal. But I better go back to town after that.”
“I’ll get our stable boy to take you back,” Marge said.
She turned to Jesus. “You want to eat?”
“No, I am going to sleep out in the bunkhouse. Don’t let him leave without me.” He pointed at Chet, who laughed.
“We have any crutches?” Chet asked. “I hate them, but I’ll need them. I broke my leg once, and tore up my ankle another time in Texas. Crutches are not funny.”
“Want some more whiskey or laudanum?” Marge asked, as if she didn’t care if he had crutc
hes or not.
“Whiskey. Doc, you want some good Kentucky bottle and bond?”
“Thank you. I’d take a shot.”
“Bring me a glass,” he said after Marge who’d gone for it. “He ain’t hurting as bad as I am.”
His foot, ankle, and calf really swelled from the bruising. When he woke up the next morning, Jesus had crutches ready for him. By then, besides being swollen, his foot was turning purple and yellow. Throw in the pain up to his hip, and he felt like a sore-toed bear. They fixed him up with a metal bathtub beside his bed, but he couldn’t bend his right knee enough to get it in the water. So he bathed, and then sat on the bed to wash it.
Marge shaved him and, finally dressed, he went on crutches to the kitchen to eat breakfast. The entire situation and sharp pain kept him on edge most of the day. Hampt came over the second afternoon.
“We’ve got two hundred head and have them culled,” he told Chet as he sat in a chair and turned his hat over and over in his hand. “We’ll brand them tomorrow. I fixed that squeeze chute. That means I plan to leave there the next day. Tom was by yesterday and went back to the Verde. He’s sending Spud up to tell Reg our plans. Then he aims to come by and see you.”
“You better take Jesus here with you.”
“No, we’ve got a cook. One of the Verde boys can cook for us. He ain’t Jesus, but we all want him to stay here with you. I know I’m taking too much help along with me, but if we get along good I’ll send them home. I’m not your brother-in-law, Sarge, who herds cattle every month, nor are my hands.”
“Not worried about that. You’re right on schedule. Don’t get anyone else hurt.”
Hampt crossed his fingers. “I’ve been praying about that.”
“Jesus, you figure they have enough supplies unloaded over there to feed them?” Chet asked.
“Plenty.”
“You taking the chuckwagon back?” he asked Hampt.
“Yeah. One day of branding and we’ll start north-west the next. Weather is holding, so we’ll be off for the Rim Ranch. Me and the boys figure it’ll take us ten days one way to get up there, three to get back. I’m taking Cole because he’s had more cattle-driving experience and he can keep us lined out. Two of the Verde Ranch boys say they know the way. Like I said, if I don’t need that many men, I’ll send them home.”
“That’s the least of my worries. Tell them all to ride safely and God be with you.”
Hampt drew in a deep breath. “I think I’ve got it all. That leg still hurts, don’t it?”
Chet lifted it and reset it. “It ain’t bad.”
Hampt chuckled and shook his head. “You’d be dying and you’d say that.”
“I’m damn sure not dying. Have a good trip. Wish I could go along.”
“Hampt,” Marge, standing beside her husband, said, “we appreciate all you and the crew do for us. Hug May for me, will you?”
“I’ve never been away from her much since I married her. It’ll be different. I lean on her a lot.”
“You two have a wonderful marriage and deserve each other.”
“Yes, ma’am. We surely do. Jesus, you got any advice?”
“No. Good luck. I will be sure he does not get in any trouble while you are gone.”
“Fair enough. I better get that wagon hooked up.”
Jesus shook his head. “The boys have it ready for you to go.”
Hampt chuckled. “Things get done fast around here, mighty fast. See you in a couple of weeks.”
“Vaya con Dios,” Chet said, after shaking his big calloused hand.
They’d go to the Rim Ranch without him. Damn, that leg hurt.
CHAPTER 23
The day they were to leave on the drive, wispy clouds began covering the sky. On the porch in his jumper, crutches under each arm, Chet wondered about the approaching weather while the cool south wind swept his face. His wife was riding her jumping horses, and he figured the arena was too far away for him to hobble clear down there that morning. In time, though, he would. Besides, his leg was still throbbing a lot. He wheeled around and Monica opened the front door for him.
“Why, you’re as handy as a pocket on a shirt,” he said.
“Don’t expect it every time. Is she doing alright?”
“Yes, if she sticks to those lower bars, she’ll be fine.”
“Okay. I have things to do.” Their cook went back to the kitchen. He knew that she shared his concern about Marge’s jumping. Hell, she’d done it all her life, and it was her main interest outside of being a mother. What could he do as the late arriving husband to this household? Let her jump.
He read the latest Miner newspaper. One story was about a recent stage robbery east of Tucson on a stagecoach headed for Benson. One of the robbers listed as shot and killed by the guard during the crime was Larry Masters. That was good riddance, if it was really him. The Pima County Sheriff was seeking two others involved in the robbery. Anyone with information should contact him or Wells Fargo. That firm was offering a reward for their arrest.
Damn! One good thing happened while he was laid up. His archenemy had been shot and killed. When Roamer found that out, he’d wire him the good news. They could all celebrate. In the morning, he’d go to town with Jesus who was busy shoeing ranch horses that day. If there were no troubles on the drive, Raphael was coming back when they crossed halfway up there. May and the kids were all coming over the next day to visit. She’d sent word to Marge. His wife had also written everyone—north and south—about his wreck, plus the progress on his foot.
JD, to his surprise, had written him a lengthy letter about his progress on the Diablo Ranch. He’d bought two more windmills for newly drilled promising wells. Two were set up and pumping, and the women had started the garden. He couldn’t count the number of palm trees they’d planted. The houses were framed and the shake roof was nearing completion on his house.
They’d trapped thirty wild horses and sold them for three dollars apiece. The brothers had several other mustangers working the ranch, and the wild horses would soon not be eating their grass. He also planned to trap the maverick cattle on the place and brand them. They discovered several head of them while on the horse-hunting trips. They had his blue roan horse captured and it was being gentled down.
His final note—“we are working our hind ends off down here. JD.”
Roamer had Shawn write him a letter on the Force’s operation. Ten border bandits were arrested on various charges and turned over to local law or the federal court. Most were for hold-ups. Nothing in major crimes had been happening down there.
May and her baby Miles arrived with the rest of her tribe. Her oldest stepson, Ty, drove the buckboard over and the other two kids rode horses. Sarge and Susie drove in later with their baby Erwin. They hadn’t heard about his wreck until the night before and set out early to make the trip to check on him.
Chet was standing in the back doorway. When Sarge went around and swung Susie and baby off the rig, he still had a bad limp from his accident.
“You alright?” Sarge hollered.
“I’m taking food and nourishment,” Chet said, amused.
“Good,” Susie said, coming up the stairs with a smirk on her face. “They shoot good horses with tore-up legs. You both are lucky.”
They laughed and he ushered them into the kitchen. There’d be no getting ahead of his sister’s sharp tongue.
“That baby doing fine?”
“Yeah,” Sarge said. “They’re lots of work. I never realized they were that much. How are you?”
“I’m fine. We have the diaper crew here today.”
“Chet, sit in a chair,” Marge said, “and tell them about your wreck.”
“We were sorting cows from the Ralston place we’d just bought to take up to Reg’s. There were supposed to be four hundred cows over there. We don’t know the full count yet, but before it snowed, we wanted to send them up to him. That will sure rest that range, which has been overgrazed. We also didn’t want to t
ake any culls up there. So, Hampt and I were sorting them and some old gray-muzzled sister got mad and charged my horse broadside. No way he could turn, and she struck my foot in the stirrup. Then she wanted more of me, and my horse was on his side, so Hampt shot the cow. I scrambled over the corral and, aided by one of the ranch women, we got Hampt out of the pen.
“That was about all. Jesus brought me back here at breakneck speed in an old wagon, and Doc came out and looked at it. He said I should lay in bed for two months and those three—Marge, Monica, and Jesus—laughed about that.”
“I bet they did,” Susie said. “Have they gone with the cattle?”
“Yes, Hampt took half the men and they’ve been on the road a few days. He was concerned because he never made a drive this large and he didn’t have Sarge’s experience. Why? Do you think it will snow?”
“It might. There are some fuller clouds coming off the rim this morning.”
“They have supplies. We’ll have to wait and see, because they wouldn’t let me go along.”
Everyone laughed and Monica served them coffee and some fresh sliced bread, butter, and strawberry jelly.
He and Sarge retired to the living room. Glad to be off his crutches at last, they talked about the cattle deal with the Navajos.
“Victor is taking the drive over again this time. I’ll be good enough to go back to riding next month. He’s pretty sharp at that business, and may be better than I am at it. I hate this happened.”
“No, this stuff happens. Look at me. You still favor that leg.”
“I know. That’s why I sent him again.”
“Hey, I don’t question your judgment or why. You’re the boss over there. And you have a good man who we need to pay more for what he does. In the end, you have to make it work like Robert up at the sawmill. I had him find a number two man. I think he was doing too much work himself to keep things going. Not a crime, but we all need a man under us who can do the job—if we aren’t there.”
“Thanks. I’ve been some worried about the accident.”
“Well, stop worrying. Actually, the log hauling and the cattle sales to the Navajo Agency are the profit makers in this enterprise.”
A Good Day To Kill Page 28
