Deadly Is the Night

by Dusty Richards

  “Sure. They go down there real open.”

  “Tomorrow night will they go there?”

  “Yes.”

  “The food is on the table,” Twilia interrupted.

  “How long have you been here?” Chet asked Jerry.

  “Oh, five years. We ran the big Key Ranch in New Mexico. They sold it and Mr. Burns asked us to come over here to run this one. We would like to have a better one, but the cattle business is so hard in Arizona. Markets so poor, and, well, there aren’t many good jobs, either.”

  “Shame we don’t have something open, ma’am. I was doing day work five years ago before Chet hired me,” Hampt said. “I run one of his divisions now and married his brother’s widow. It is fun.”

  “I thought I heard you bought a big place down by Oracle?” she asked.

  Chet shook his head. “Yes. The place is a mess and the cows are all old.”

  “How is that?” Jerry asked.

  “Man who stocked it bought old cows. Bankers don’t know cows. He even drove them all to another ranch to count them there, too. Make the place look good.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “In Mexico stealing my cows over the southern border.”

  “That sounds tough.”

  “My men put seven rustlers in the ground already.”

  “Whew. We thought it was tough up here.”

  “The reason I am here today is Arizona has to get rid of these criminals to ever get statehood.”

  “I hope you win the fight,” she said.

  “Twilia, we are going to if I have any say.”

  Chet did not sleep well that night. In the morning, she fed them pancakes with homemade syrup. Jesus brought her some real coffee from his supply.

  The day passed with them repairing everything and getting their guns cleaned.

  “I never had a paint horse to ride before, but that is one tough s.o.b. that Tom sent me.”

  “Fred, you ready to go back to Preskitt?” Chet asked him, amused at his talking.

  “I want to see this business finished and done. I miss your nice house and great woman. I don’t think I could leave her if she was mine. That ain’t talking bad about her. That’s how I feel. But this bunch needs taken out real bad. I want to be in on this, but I hope I never go back to being a street bum like I have been these weeks here.”

  “You won’t.”

  They ate an early supper. Chet paid her for feeding his men. She looked at the money in her hand. “I’d have fed them without that much money.”

  Chet shook his head. “You two ever get out of work, find me. After thirty years almost, I forgot going to school with Jerry but I won’t forget the two of you now.”

  “I hope you and your men clean up this big mess. When that deputy slugged Jerry over them cows I wanted to shoot him and the others with him. I’d had a gun I would have.”

  * * *

  That evening they left the packhorses and rode to the place where the Indians were buying whiskey. Chet pointed out the shotgun guard standing by the wagon in the fire’s light.

  “I’ll get the other one,” Fred said.

  “Sure?”

  “Sure.”

  “Get him. The rest of us will force the Indians to stay back.”

  Hampt came up behind the guard with the shotgun, grabbed the weapon away from him, and rammed him in the head with the butt. That made the gun go off and howling Indians ran in every direction.

  Fred had gotten the other weapon away from the second man and had him on the ground facing the barrels.

  “What happened to the Indians?” Miguel asked.

  “Apaches fear dying in the dark. They ran.” Chet turned to the two clerks holding the money. “Put that money down. You two are under arrest for selling whiskey to Indians. We are U.S. marshals.”

  “You can’t arrest us. This is Gila County, not the reservation.”

  “I can and I am. Selling liquor to Indians is a federal law you have broken. Chain them up and one of us will guard them.”

  “I will,” Fred said.

  “Don’t bother to stop if they even try to escape. Just shoot them,” were the sternest instructions he could give Fred.

  They left Fred in charge and mounted up heading for town. Miguel led them to the Elkhorn Saloon. They dismounted and hitched their horses at the rack out front. Armed with his shotgun, Hampt went around back.

  “The man we want is?”

  Miguel said, “Nate Bunker. He has some henchmen around and he is usually in the office straight back.”

  “You two keep everyone’s hands in the air. Go.”

  “U.S. marshals. Hands in the air. Bartenders, you, too.”

  At the commotion, a man came in from the back. “What in the hell is going on out here?”

  “Everyone is under arrest. You, get your hands in the air.”

  “Like hell I will.”

  Chet’s first bullet showered the big man with wood chips from the door facing. He stopped and immediately went to his knees holding his heart. Chet took no chances, keeping the gun on him in case he was faking, but when he saw the man’s flush face, he shouted, “Some get a doctor. This man is dying.”

  He laid him out flat. Hampt with the shotgun came through from the back. “No one else came back there.”

  Chet bent over to be certain the man down had no weapons. His rasping breath sounded final. Chet looked up in time to see an angry face and a badge bust through the batwing doors.

  “What in hell is going on down here?”

  “That’s the sheriff,” Miguel said.

  “Sheriff, you are under arrest. I am U.S. Marshal Chet Byrnes.”

  Hampt had his shotgun leveled on the man. “Don’t go for that gun. You’re covered.”

  “You can’t arrest me.”

  “Yes, I can. Consider yourself arrested. Miguel, put him in handcuffs.”

  “I’ll have your head for this. Who in the hell do you think you are?”

  Chet, tapping his own chest, said, “I told you, I am Chet Byrnes. Ever hear of me?”

  “You can’t—”

  “Start with malfeasance of office. I have charges a yard long against you and your men. Take them to the jail.” He stepped outside and saw a procession filling the street. “What’s going on out here?”

  Fred rode up on his paint horse. “Citizens making arrests. We also found two more deputies and brought them along with the whiskey sellers in case you want them all here.”

  Chet stood on the porch with the light from the saloon at his back. “Citizens of Gila County, thanks. We will have real law here from now on. I promise you. Can someone please tell me where the sheriff lives?”

  “A house about two blocks from here,” Jerry called, he and Twilia having come into town.

  “Would you take Hampt and Fred there after they lock this bunch up? I want all his records before someone burns them. Miguel, get all this guy’s books and records you can find. I will need them, too. And to anyone out here before we close down, the drinks are on me.”

  There was a rush for the door.

  The doc told him there was nothing he could do for Bunker. “He will die in the next hour.”

  “Thanks. You did all you could.”

  “I did.”

  “Good night, sir.”

  Chet turned to go back in the saloon. Twilia stopped him at the door. “They got the one hit Jerry. There’s two more but you did good. I am going to write and thank your wife and I will get a copy made of that picture.”

  She stood on her toes, kissed his cheek, and disappeared into the night.

  It was daybreak when the last two deputies were found, arrested, and jailed. When Chet’s men went after the whiskey wagon, they found many drunk and passed out Apaches. The wagon was completely empty. But the warehouse had lots of booze in it. They buried Bunker in an unmarked grave. Six prosecutors and several assistants came to Globe. Proceedings began and a grand jury was held. Those arrested were charged with many
crimes.

  The governor sent a former Arizona sheriff to Globe to hold office until the next election.

  The San Carlos Apache agent came by and thanked him. Several businessmen did, too. The lady who had the Mexican café and had to pay protection fees threw a big meal for them.

  He got a forwarded telegram from Spencer. “Meet me in Center Point in three weeks.”

  Things looked settled in Gila County. He told the men he’d see them back at the house. He was leaving immediately.

  Chet took the stage to Hayden’s Ferry and then to Preskitt.

  Past midnight, Liz met him with a driver.

  “Welcome home, big man. Spencer wants you to come to Center Point. Think we can do that?”

  “Yes, I know. I got a letter and I bet we can do that. How have you been?”

  “Oh, fine. I read some of the accounts and your letters. Did you really attend school with him?”

  “Name all the people in the third grade you went to school with.”

  “I went to a Catholic academy. I can’t recall one of them.”

  “Me, either. But he is sending me a copy of a picture he has. My brother went to school that year at five so they would have enough kids to afford the teacher. I did not remember a photo they made, but he had one.”

  “Can you tell who you are in it?”

  “Yes.”

  “I hope they send it.”

  “His wife, Twilia, will. One of those deputies hit him in the face after they counted all his cows and knocked him on the ground wanting the cow count higher. She said if she’d had a gun she’d have shot him. The night we arrested him she came by and thanked me. Promised me a copy.”

  “I might have shot him, too.”

  He was laughing and hugged her. “I bet you would have.”

  The driver laughed along with them.

  “Jose, don’t laugh,” she said. “You ever hit my man run for your life.”

  “Oh, señora, I would never hit him. He is too big.”

  He drew a deep breath when the house lights came in sight. “What’s happening?”

  “We are having a fandango to celebrate your return.”

  “You are something special.”

  “No. I am the woman would have shot any man that hit you.”

  “No doubt. No doubt,” he said, shaking his head.

  “Why did no one come home with you?”

  “I wanted to be here with you. We had horses and packhorses over there to bring back.”

  “One of them should have rode with you.”

  “I had enough. I wanted home fast.”

  “Next time don’t forget.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “We are glad to have you home again. A big party is already planned.”

  “I want another for my four men when they get back. They really did a good job.”

  “No problem. Lisa and I can have a party going in no time.”

  At the party, Chet found and apologized to his men’s wives. Told them the men were fine, they did a great job, and were coming home on horseback. “I know you all miss Fred not dancing with you when your husbands don’t dance.”

  They all laughed. The music began. It was the usual nice party, but he took his wife off to bed before the end. So good to be in his own bed with her. He slept in the next morning. Lisa made him a late breakfast and he went to reading back issues of the Miner newspaper.

  “When will we go meet Spencer at Center Point?”

  “When the men get back. They’ll be here in three days. Let them have some rest and then we can go. We need to invite Susie and Sarge, Tom and Millie, Rhea and Victor and Adam, and send word to Shawn and Lucy to all come to Center Point.”

  “Maybe invite Robert and Betty with the baby? Better bring along Lisa, too.”

  “Yes, that will be good. The telegraph line must be working. He’s sent a wire here from every stage station he has reached. I saved them all for you.”

  “Good. I think it will hurry the train and business development across the land.”

  “No one can do any more than you have for the region.”

  “Oh, we all can benefit from it. This territory needs to be a state and I am pushing for it to get there.”

  “You know some newspapers down state have criticized your unveiling the corruption as working against statehood.”

  “Let them complain. Those people over there have the right not to be run over by bad politicians. When did crime need to be covered up? It needs to be uncovered.”

  “I am not the one. But people want to sweep things under the rug quietly.”

  “That will not get us anywhere. Some people don’t want to shake the boat. Well, the people who came out that night to back us thought that the crimes should have been dealt with. I walked out of that saloon’s front doors and there must have been fifty men on horseback with Fred and his prisoners. They’d arrested two deputies. And they testified to the grand jury what those crooks had done to them.”

  “I am simply telling you what is being reported.” She came over to the chair and hugged his head. “They don’t know you or love you like I do.”

  “Your boy Fred said he didn’t want to be a beggar ever again. He looked like one when he was waiting for us on the road going there and took us to Jerry’s ranch.”

  “Jerry and his wife were a big help to you and the men, weren’t they?”

  “Yes. I wish I had a place for them.”

  “Maybe one will show up. Do they have kids?”

  “No they’re our age. She never said. I never asked.”

  “It simply happens, people say. I am sorry we don’t but I know nothing I can do about it. Valerie is the same. Oh, well. We have such a large family and your two boys, we are blessed.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  He had just begun to worry about his team returning when they showed up. Hampt had ridden on home. Jesus said he’d ride the ranch horse home. Lisa was excited and Fred danced with some of the ranch ladies.

  Liz told him welcome back and his clothes were laid out in the bathroom.

  He took off his hat and asked if he could kiss her forehead, he was so glad to see her.

  She told him, “Yes.”

  He did it.

  “Liz, you don’t know how I have missed you, this wonderful house, and Lisa’s cooking. Playing a bum and putting up with some of that sorry trash they had over there made me thank you both even more and made me know, I don’t want to be a bum ever again in my life.”

  “I doubt you will be.”

  “Thanks for giving me this wonderful chance.” He was gone to bathe.

  Lisa and her helper, Sonja, cooked supper.

  While eating, Fred and Chet talked about the telegraph coming to Center Point.

  “Did you hear about the negative articles in newspapers on our cleaning up Gila County, coming home?”

  “Jesus heard about it. Made him mad. Folks wanted to cover that up. Made me mad, too. Those people who wrote all that had never been punched around for not showing more cattle than they had, or had not seen Rosa paying protection money so she could keep her café.”

  “We did the right thing.”

  “You ever think about Jerry and his wife working for you? That ranch is a dead end. They had a good job at the Key Ranch in New Mexico. He straightened that place up, the owner made a big profit on the sale, and he lost his job. He’d do a real job for someone. I love him and her. They’re our kinda people.”

  “I know what you mean. Bo has a place south of Tombstone he mentioned. The man wanted someone to keep it together if he sold it.”

  “That where you arrested the bank robber and woman from Utah?”

  “I think south and east of there.”

  “How did he hear about it?”

  “We will go find out tomorrow. Liz, you want to go to town tomorrow?”

  “No. I gave Lisa some time off to go to Oak Creek with Miguel for three days. I mentioned it to you.”

&n
bsp; “Yes. I forgot. I told him take a week. So you stay here; Fred and I are going to town to see Bo.”

  “I know what that means. Where is this one at?”

  “South. Past Tombstone somewhere. I don’t have the details.”

  “Good. You two can get out from under my foot. Just remember you are meeting Spencer in five days. That means no long trip until that is over.”

  “I hear you. We will go see him right after breakfast,” he told Fred.

  Horses were saddled and waiting for them to finish breakfast. They rode in and found Bo, busy as usual.

  He looked up from his paperwork. “Hello, U.S. marshals. You mopped up Gila County, huh?”

  “You have a babysitter for this Saturday night?”

  “Indeed I do. What do you want?”

  “Get a chair, Fred. You have a place somewhere south you talked about?”

  “John Davidson owns the BBR Ranch down there. He’s in his seventies. His wife died three years ago. His only son or child was killed in a wagon wreck ten years ago. His lawyer wrote me a letter some time back and said if I knew anyone who’d let him live there the rest of his life, he’d sell them that place for a song—but he wanted someone he could trust not to sell it while he still lives there.”

  “I really think he wants the place to keep on after he was gone. That ranch has a valid original Spanish deed, and I am not certain of the acreage but it is a large one. He runs cattle and has grapes, I understand. I have a picture of the house, corrals, and outbuildings.”

  “What does he want for it?”

  “Don’t tell a soul. Two thousand a year until he dies.”

  “You sure he has not sold it already?”

  “No. The letter was from his lawyer in Tucson and confidential.”

  “Do I need my lawyer down there to see about it, Bo?”

  “He’s the one that did the Diablo case?”

  “Yes. He’s well respected.”

  “I will write and tell him to contact, who?”

  “Russell Craft. I will write and mail him a letter about it before I leave town. He found me the Oracle Ranch.”

  “This place will rival it, only it has the fancy headquarters, cattle and all.”

  “Of course there is a chance we are too late?”

  “I think this has been kept very low key. I asked that lawyer to hold it, that I had several good prospects to check out.”