Deadly Is the Night

by Dusty Richards

  “I would appreciate that.”

  “I’ll be back,” Virgil said over his shoulder to his brother and some others.

  They walked the blocks to the hotel.

  “Lake is in what room?”

  “Two-oh-four.”

  Virgil asked the desk clerk for a key to save kicking in a door, and the young man kindly obliged.

  They marched upstairs. At the room, Virgil said quietly, “Draw your guns.”

  He unlocked it and it swung open. Chet pointed his gun at the startled man who sat up in bed. The naked woman with him screamed.

  “U.S. Marshal Byrnes. Tyron Lake, you are under arrest for rape of a minor and dealing in white slavery. Make one wrong move and I will shoot you. Get up and get dressed.”

  “You can’t—”

  Miguel jerked him out of bed by the arm. “He said get dressed or go naked.”

  Then Miguel picked up the short-barreled Colt on the nightstand and shoved it in his waistband, holding his own in Lake’s belly.

  “All right. All right.”

  “What am I going to do?” the woman asked, shielding her body with a sheet.

  “How the hell should I know? They can’t prove a damn thing on me. My lawyer will get me out in a few hours.”

  “You are going to jail in Tucson. Tell him to go there.”

  “Huh?”

  “You heard me. Get your shoes on.”

  “Earp, he can’t do this to me. You stop him right now.”

  “I can’t do a thing but cooperate with the federal law.”

  “You’re going to pay for this. All of you.”

  “Handcuff him and check around for other weapons. We don’t want her shooting at us on the way to that cell.”

  “Get Leon Newburg over to the county jail, he’ll get me out on bond,” Lake told her.

  Chet didn’t bother to tell them that he wasn’t using county facilities to house Lake. They hustled him out and in fifteen minutes he was locked in the single cell at the city judge’s office. Lake was screaming his head off.

  Virgil, outside the cell, softly said, “If you are not quiet, I will chain you up and gag you.”

  “You can’t do that—” But Lake shut up.

  “I’ll be back for him after I arrest Arnold.”

  Virgil nodded. “He will be here. I can come along if you want.”

  “We can handle it. Thanks.”

  Virgil nodded. “Good luck, then, is all I can say.”

  Miguel went to check on Jesus’s return and was to meet Chet on a corner a block from the house of ill repute. It was after twelve and the Tucson stage should be there if Jesus caught it.

  Fifteen minutes later, Miguel met him there alone.

  “The driver told me he couldn’t catch the night stage. There were no seats. They had an armed guard riding shotgun.”

  “Well, Arnold has bouncers working for him. They may try to block his arrest. Get ready to catch hell.”

  His man nodded. “I’m backing you. I am sure we can do it.”

  They walked up the wide stairs to the veranda of the house. Chet knocked on the door, and a black domestic teen maid invited them in.

  “How may I’s help you?”

  “We need to speak to Aaron Arnold.”

  “I am so sorry but he be asleep and does not want to be disturbed.”

  “I am a U.S. marshal. Show me his room.”

  “Oh, I can’t do that, sir.”

  “What room is his?”

  Miguel had his gun out.

  “Show us.” Chet shoved her toward the stairs.

  She tried to retreat in wide-eyed fear.

  “Show us the room he sleeps in.”

  “Don’t shoot me.”

  “Keep going to his door.” He waved her on.

  She was shaking and he feared she might faint, but instead the young maid led the way. The parlor was empty and she was taking fast steps until they reached the second floor.

  “Now where?”

  Trembling, the girl pointed at a door and fell to her knees weeping. Chet nodded at Miguel and told him to smash it open with his boot. It required a second try. As the door flew open, Chet fired a shot into the ceiling. “Hands high or die!”

  In the boiling gun smoke, a man with a hairy chest sat up in bed with his hands high. The woman next to him was screaming into a pillow for him not to try anything.

  “I am U.S. Marshal Chet Byrnes. You are under arrest for the rape of a minor and white slavery.”

  “You must be crazy—”

  “No. Get up and get dressed, or go to jail in your underwear. I don’t care. Get him out of bed and be careful. He may have a gun handy.”

  Someone was coming up the stairs. Chet could hear his approach. “Watch him.”

  Chet came out the door and met the half-dressed man holding a pistol in his fist. “Drop the gun.”

  The man didn’t. Chet shot. The shock-faced man went rolling backward down the stairs in a cloud of black powder and sprawled out at the bottom. Two more men appeared.

  In that cloud of gun smoke, gun cocked, he ordered them to raise their hands. Chet then asked Miguel, “Is he dressed?”

  “We’re coming.” Miguel brought Arnold out cuffed and carrying his shoes.

  “Arnold, one trick and I’ll shoot you.”

  “Get my lawyer down to the courthouse,” Arnold shouted to the robed women onlookers. “Do it right now.”

  They went past the wounded guard who had not moved since his fall.

  “Don’t do nothing,” he said to his henchmen. “This sumbitch will shoot me.”

  “What should we do?”

  “I told you. Get my lawyer to the county courthouse.”

  Chet and Miguel swept him out onto the porch.

  “Keep walking,” Chet told his prisoner.

  Arnold walked barefooted ahead of them. Miguel was watching behind them.

  “This is not the way to the courthouse,” Arnold complained.

  “We aren’t going there. We’re going to Tucson where you can’t buy your way out.”

  “Who are you? You son of a bitch.”

  “I am the man that’s going to slam you into jail for rape and white slavery. Better see all of Tombstone you want right now. It will look different when you get out of prison in twenty years.”

  As they walked toward the cell holding Lake, they saw Jesus coming toward them on a buckboard. Jesus made the driver stop and then got off.

  “Well you found a ride but you still missed all the fun.” Chet laughed.

  “Sorry there were no seats for me. I owe Frank Herman here a ten-dollar fare?”

  “I can pay that.” He dug the money out.

  “Who’s he?” the rancher driver asked with a toss of his head.

  “Aaron Arnold under arrest for raping a teen and white slavery.”

  “Hmm. You think you can get him tried here?”

  “No. But in Tucson I can. You have another buckboard to take them to Tucson?”

  “I can get another to do it.”

  “How much?”

  “Twenty bucks apiece.”

  “How long to get ready?”

  “An hour. Where will I meet you?”

  “City hall. We have another prisoner there, him, and a third one in the Benson jail. Plus our gear.”

  “I’ve got a big rig and four horses for forty bucks.”

  “Sounds better to me. Get them.”

  “You expecting any gunplay?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “First people we shoot will be the prisoners.”

  “Good idea. I need to go get that outfit. I’ll be back.”

  Chet paid him the ten-dollar fee for Jesus. “Thanks. See you at the city hall.”

  Jesus explained about the stage. “They had a shotgun guard plus six passengers coming back from Benson last night. No room for me, so I hired Hank there to bring me back.”

  “Good idea. We have Lake at the city
judge’s cell. Aaron here had an armed guard that I shot. But we want to move fast now. You two put him in the cell and I’ll meet you there. I may buy Cary a stage ticket to Tucson and have her meet us there when she can travel. The doctor’s wife took her to get some clothes and shoes. I better go fix on that.”

  Jesus and Miguel took the prisoner to the cell while Chet cut back for the doctor’s house.

  Cary and Doc’s wife were back and the doctor’s wife was fixing her hair.

  “Cary, we have Hadley, Lake, and Arnold in custody and must take them to Tucson. I hired a wagon to take them up there. I will get you a ticket on the stage to Tucson and either I or one of my men will meet you at the stage station there. Can you do that? Ride the stage by yourself to there?”

  “I will ride with her,” Doc’s wife said.

  “Sorry I don’t know your name, but if you’d do that, I’d gladly pay you and for your ticket.”

  “My name is Della, and no, you have done enough. You are a brave man doing what you did for her.”

  “Della, your ticket both going and back will be paid for.”

  “I have read about things you’ve done for other people. If Arizona had more men like you we’d be a state already.”

  “That’s why I do them.”

  “I understand that. We will be in Tucson in the morning. One more thing? I understand you have a wife?” Della asked. “Does she have an address where I can write her? I want to thank her, too, for letting you do these things.”

  “Her name is Elizabeth Byrnes. Post Office Box Fourteen, Prescott, Arizona Territory. She would hug you. Good day. See you tomorrow in Tucson.”

  They both agreed to see him there.

  He ate a bean and meat flour tortilla meal from a street vendor while he walked to the judge’s office, washing it down with a bottle of sarsaparilla from another street vendor. His men, with their prisoners, were ready to go.

  “How about Cary?”

  “Della, the doc’s wife, is bringing her to Tucson. She looks nice in her new dress. One of us will meet them at the stage depot and take them to our hotel.”

  Frank Herman drove his big Conestoga wagon, with his hoof-stomping big horses, into town and halted the teams. The prisoners were loaded over the high tailgate with Arnold swearing they’d never get them to Tucson alive.

  “Arnold, you have a will written?”

  “No, why?”

  “Anyone attacks us, I will shoot you first and them second. You better pray they don’t try anything.”

  His threat shut the loud mouth up. They rumbled out of Tombstone, stopped over at the Benson jail, loaded Hadley, and were on their way. The grade going west was steep and hard, but the big horses were on their toes and pulled through. They finally emerged over the crest. The wagon was not as comfortable as a stagecoach, which had suspension that helped over the rough spots, This rig had none, but they were making good progress.

  Chet doubted they could get a mass of riders to stop them, but he was on edge and would be until they arrived at the Pima County Courthouse. The jail was still many hours west of their location.

  It would be a long night.

  CHAPTER 12

  At dawn, when they came off the last high spot in the highway and headed down hill through the forest of saguaros toward the sleeping town of Tucson, Chet decided he could sleep for three days when it was over. He only hoped they’d let him do that. Tossed around and shaken by the crude ride, he was ready for the last of an estimated forty-mile journey from Benson.

  He admired Frank Herman’s driving. He never let up on the horses, making it the fastest drive he possibly could. And seated on a spring seat, he’d taken a bigger beating than Chet suffered in the wagon bed.

  At last with the sun peeking in an orange fire ring from behind them, they rattled through narrow streets for the courthouse. Frank reined his horses to a halt at the front steps.

  “You are here.”

  The three lawmen clapped and cheered. Someone came out of the jail and let down the chained-up tailgate. “What have you got?”

  “Three rapists and white slavers. I am deputy U.S. Marshal Chet Byrnes.”

  “We’ve got plenty of room for them. They must have wired ahead. We have bailsmen and lawyers inside anxious to bail them out.”

  Chet shook his head. “They are too big a risk to run for Mexico to allow them out on bail.”

  “Whatever you say, sir,” the jail guard said.

  The prisoners were unloaded and then his two deputies stepped down.

  Chet took the lead and parted the crowd in the lobby. They were soon back in the jail portion and the handcuffs were taken off. The prisoners were ordered to completely undress, shoes and all. They made them walk naked clear of their clothes and put on striped uniforms.

  They were asked their names and who to contact in case of death. Barefooted, they were marched back to the cells. The sheriff, Ben Deloris, was there. He asked Chet and his men to come into a side office for a conference.

  “Marshal Byrnes, you stirred up a hornets’ nest. What is the situation?”

  “Chuck Hadley kidnapped a young woman, Cary Cannon, up in Maricopa County. Her parents, Claude and Edna Cannon, came to my ranch at Preskitt Valley and asked me to try to get their daughter back. Claude thought the man who took her intended to take her to Tombstone.

  “My two deputies and I began to look for her in Tombstone and a snitch got me a chance to buy her. Hadley wanted two hundred dollars. After he took my money my men arrested him. She was heavily doped. We took her to a local doctor.

  “When she woke up she said besides Hadley raping her, two other men had also raped her and, afterward, each man declined to buy her. That made them accomplices to white slavery and kidnapping. She said she would testify against them.”

  “What a horrible story. Those other two have strong lawyers and are demanding them to be bonded out.”

  “Hell, they’d simply run to Mexico. Do I need to talk to the judge?”

  “I am setting that up. When did you sleep last?”

  “Two days ago.”

  “I know you brought them here because the Cochise County jail is not escape proof, and they would have enough pull there to get out on bail.”

  “Arnold runs a whorehouse and I shot one of his guards while arresting him. Lake is a gambler and no doubt a white slaver. Hadley is a worthless lazy bastard who courted a young girl and then kidnapped her to sell her.”

  “I have sent for Judge Kimble. He won’t let them have bond after hearing you.”

  “Sorry I am causing you so much trouble.”

  “Hell no. Those three bastards have no right to be loose to do it again.”

  “Exactly.”

  “What do you need to do next, besides sleep?”

  “Get some of that. Della, the wife of the doctor who revived Cary, is bringing her to Tucson on the afternoon stage. I need to meet her.”

  “How about you sleep. I will send a deputy with one of your men to meet her. Where would you put her up? And what next?”

  “Feed both women first, and I’ll get rooms at the Congress Hotel for all of us. Della may wish to stay. Send a telegram to Claude Cannon, Hayden’s Ferry. Tell him his daughter is safe and in Chet Byrnes’s care. Send the same wire to Elizabeth Byrnes in Preskitt with the same note.”

  “I can take care of all of that.”

  Chet put some bills on his desk. Deloris shoved it back. “We can handle this. You obviously have done enough. I will handle this and see about the judge.”

  Jesus came in. Chet told him how to handle the women and the hotel. He agreed to take care of it. “I should pay Herman.”

  “Give him a hundred and thank him.”

  Jesus approved, took the money, and went to get Miguel. All that handled, Chet slouched in a leather chair and closed his eyes for minute. Deloris was back. “The judge is in his chambers. We are going up the back stairs.”

  “Madhouse out there?”

  “W
orse than that. Kimble is a tough judge, but he’s fair.”

  In the judge’s room, Kimble nodded as Chet stood before the bench.

  “Tell me all about this matter of the arrests you made in Cochise County.”

  Chet slowly reconstructed the reason he went there, how he found Hadley and trapped him into accepting payment for her. Then how he arrested Lake and then Arnold as rapists and accomplices in kidnapping and white slavery.

  “Marshal Byrnes, I know your reputation in enforcement is very strong. You have asked my court not to allow bail to be extended to any of the accused in these charges. Why is that?”

  “They reside less than ten miles from the Mexican border. They will take a powder down there first chance they get. They are all able to do that. Arnold owns a whorehouse. Lake is a gambler, and I believe research could prove he had been involved in other white slavery before or why would Hadley have let him use her body?”

  “This young lady will testify?”

  “She will and I believe a smart prosecutor could get Hadley to testify, too.”

  The judge said, “These kind of trials are tough on innocent girls.”

  “I told her that, but she has been abused and wants them punished.”

  “Is there a chance they’d plead guilty to a lesser charge?”

  “I hope no one accepts it.”

  “I will not set bail on them. They may go to a higher court, but your argument is good enough for me. They are too great a risk to receive bond.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “No, after hearing your story and the difficulties, I thank you.”

  “I am going now to get some food and rest.”

  Deloris stopped him. “Avoid that mob downstairs. Go out the back door. Your men have gone to get her.”

  “Thank you.”

  “There will be a grand jury assembled. They may need you to testify.”

  “I understand.”

  “Get some sleep.”

  “I will as soon as my men and the women are safe and settled.”

  He joined his bunch, Della, and Cary at their usual family café.

  “Those reporters didn’t find you?” Jesus asked.

  “No. I left by the back door thanks to the sheriff. Judge has refused them bail.”

  “Hurrah.”