Chet heard a shot then another coming from above them. He waved on Vic, who had the lead. His own cow pony scrambled to match Vic’s horse’s cat-hopping. Rocks were rolled back by their horses’ hard-pressed effort to climb the mountain as fast as they could. Alfred was bringing up the rear.
Vic gained the edge of open meadow and he reined his horse onto the level bench. There was an empty saddle on a hipshot horse standing about a hundred yards to the east.
“Someone is on the ground,” Chet shouted, and spurred his pony down the narrow field.
The body facedown on the ground was not moving. With his six-gun in his hand, he reined in his horse to a skidding stop, slid off the saddle, and, seeing no one, dropped to his knee to examine the person’s condition.
He was still breathing.
Vic had his own horse stopped and looked down at Chet for an answer.
“Check it out.” Chet turned back to the wounded man. Really a boy. He couldn’t be older than twenty.
Vic charged off eastward.
“Lay still,” Chet told the wounded victim.
“What can I do?” Alfred, the second rider who came with him asked, and hurriedly dismounted, looking around like he expected the shooter to be right there by them.
“The shooter is gone,” Chet said. “Get my raincoat off my saddle.”
Alfred nodded and got Chet’s raincoat. “What else?”
“We need to transport him to a doctor.”
“Where’s one of them?”
“I am not certain—” He watched the wounded one draw away from them. “Keep fighting. We—”
His body gave a last shudder and everything went quiet.
“He died—”
Vic came riding back with the pistol in his hand. “Who is he?”
“He’s dead, Vic. I never saw him before in my life. Does that horse over there have a brand?” Chet gave a head toss toward the grazing one the dead boy must have been riding when he was shot.
“We better load him. Nothing we can do for him now.”
“It’s a double seven.”
Chet had never heard of anyone who had that brand. “No help. Bring him over.”
He rose to his feet. “Either of you see the shooter?”
“No, sir.”
“So, this young man is shot. We heard the gun crack but never saw the shooter. He’s dead and no gunman is in sight.”
“What do we do next?”
Chet warily shook his head. “Take his body to the sheriff in town. Tell him what we know, which is nothing. And we go home.”
“Is that against the law?” Alfred asked.
“It is not supposed to be.” Chet guessed this youth from Mexico had concerns they might be blamed for the dead man’s demise.
The corpse tied over his saddle seat, they headed toward town with him. At the courthouse Chet went inside and spoke to the desk officer.
“My name is Chet Byrnes. A few hours ago, we heard some shots and rode up on Kilmer Flats to find a man freshly shot. Very shortly after, he died on us. We brought his body in. It’s outside, across his horse. He never told us anything before he died and we saw no sight of anyone nor another horse besides the one standing over him. We did not search him.”
“He shoot himself?”
“He didn’t wear a gun. Nor was there one on the ground around him.”
“Take his body down to Harold at the funeral home. Someone may show up who knows him. Is his horse worth a damn?”
“No.”
“Take him to the livery and you can pay the feed bill and claim him or donate him to the livery.”
“We can do that.”
“You live at Preskitt Valley, right?”
“Yes.”
“Sign here that you brought him in, just in case we need to do something more about him.”
“Okay.”
Chet left the sheriff’s office. They delivered the body to the undertaker, dropped the horse at the livery, and the three rode back to the ranch. Chet wondered all the way who the dead young man was, who shot him, and why. Alfred, riding with him, could not understand the meaning or the reason for the poor man’s death and must have worried some that he’d be implicated in his murder.
When they returned to the ranch Chet met with his foreman Vance and talked to him about the matter. Vance saw no reason for it, either, but was glad they were all right.
At the house, he told Lisa all about it and she thought it was strange, too. A man was murdered and the sheriff’s office acted like a dog had died and weren’t interested in who it was or anything else. Even in bed later Chet couldn’t sleep. In the morning, he’d send word to Jesus and maybe they’d go in to talk to Bo about it. The more he pondered on the matter the more he wished he had someone like Fred or Cole there.
The murdered man was a gringo. But nearly all his people around Preskitt were Hispanic. Maybe Billy Bob could learn more. He was down on the Verde helping Tom. Or even Tad the cook—damn, he couldn’t sleep. So he got up, put on a robe, and went downstairs to sit in the dark living room.
In a short while Lisa came down in her robe and found him. “Are you sick?”
“No, that damn murder today has me wondering like a madman who was involved.”
She sat on his lap. “What can you do about it sitting down here in the dark?”
“If I knew that I wouldn’t be so upset about the whole thing.”
She laughed softly. “I knew the matter bugged you.”
“I don’t have the gringo side up here to go look into it. I think it would take someone like Salty or Fred to get to the bottom of it.”
“Fred’s off running the Wagon Wheel. And he could solve it, I bet, if he was here. He knew every rumor that went on in Preskitt. Salty has been kidnapped by Cole, and Cole knew how to find things out, didn’t he?”
“I would bet either one of them would know in a few hours.”
He kissed her and they smooched awhile. Finally, he gave up and they went back to their warm bed.
* * *
A little groggy from not sleeping well, he found Vance in the kitchen, talking to the two house girls, when he got down there the next morning.
“Anything wrong?” Chet asked.
“I talked to Vic and the boy awhile last night after you came up here. I knew you were upset not knowing the dead man’s name and the way the sheriff’s deputy acted. I sent three men to town with a little silver money last night. When they came back about midnight, they told me the dead man’s name was Andrew Styles. He was wanted in Colorado. There is a reward for him, dead or alive. It sounded like someone was going to collect a reward for him—but they won’t try to grab his body until the last day they can to collect the reward.”
“How much is the reward?”
“They thought two-fifty.”
“Did they know who would pay the reward?”
“Wells Fargo.”
“Good. They will tell me who claims the reward.”
“Does that answer your concerns?”
“Yes.” Turning to the girls, he added, “Scramble me some eggs, fry some potatoes. Do you girls have biscuits?”
“We sure do.”
“Make some gravy, then, too. Vance and I are starving.”
“I just came to tell you what I learned.”
“Let’s celebrate. You did a helluva job figuring this one out. It isn’t a sin to eat up here.”
“My wife might think it is.”
“Bring her next time. I know you don’t flirt with Lisa’s girls.”
The girls laughed in the background.
Amused, Vance nodded his head. “That might prove I don’t.”
“I’ll write the Wells Fargo rewards man this morning and flat out ask him for the guy’s name that collects the reward and tell him why.” He lowered his voice. “I am sorry I doubted you could learn those facts. Cole and Fred spoiled me with news about what white folks were doing.”
“Tell us what they wanted him
in Colorado for,” Natalie asked, refilling coffee cups. “Julie and I are curious.”
“I bet I can do that.” Chet lifted his hot coffee mug up to sip it. Things would work out. “That Alfred, who went along with us yesterday, I think was afraid they’d arrest us for killing him.”
Vance chuckled. “I’ll send a tougher guy with you and Vic next time.”
“No. He has to learn how to live up here.”
“You’re right. But he would have sold his soul if he thought he would be arrested.”
* * *
Things settled down. Everyone in ranching was getting ready for spring roundup. Chet and Lisa were in town to handle some business. Judge Roger Hannaby stopped them in the bank lobby and Chet knew he had something on his mind.
“I had been wondering if I could speak to the two of you in private.”
Chet smiled. “We under investigation?”
“No. This is more personal. About an individual minor.”
“They serve soft drinks in the pharmacy and have private booths. We could be pretty private in there.”
“Excellent. Let’s stroll down there. I guess you are busy ranching?”
“It never quits.”
“I understand the railroad came and stole your man Cole away from you again.”
“Yes, they did. It is a great opportunity for him, no doubt.”
“Generous of you to let him go back.”
“They needed him. They are paying him well and when he comes out of that job he will be able to do anything he wants to do.”
“How can an ordinary cowboy run a stage line and a telegraph company and make them money?”
“Your Honor, Cole Emerson is no ordinary cowboy.”
Hannaby chuckled. “He must not be, Mrs. Byrnes.”
“Trust me, he isn’t.”
“He got that stage back on the timetable in ten days. His telegraph business is doing four times the business they had when he took it back over.”
“Wonderful.” They took seats in the booth. “Do you know the Lindsey girl, Mrs. Byrnes?”
“I am Lisa, and no, not well. I heard she lost her mother.”
“Yes. She lives with her maternal grandparents. She is twelve years old.”
Chet nodded. “A little older than my oldest boy.”
“Her grandparents asked me to find her a home. They live in town and she is, well, a tomboy cowgirl. Well, I wondered if you two would consider her as a visitor out at your place.”
“My oldest son lives with Cole and his wife up at Flagstaff. The other, Adam, lives with Victor and his wife at the Verde Ranch.”
“They are both planning to live with us for a time this summer,” Lisa said.
“Well—”
“I guess she and those boys could ride horses?”
“I understand she rides very good.”
“I’d damn sure be sad to know I couldn’t ride horses all summer as much as I like to ride.” Lisa shook her head. “Would she become ours if it worked out?”
“I believe so. Her grandparents are really too old to be parents. But they would want to know her foster parents wanted her.”
“When could we meet her?” Lisa asked.
“Tomorrow?”
Chet bobbed his head yes. “Didn’t her father die two years ago?”
“Yes. I heard he was a good businessman.”
They drank their sarsaparilla and set up a ten a.m. meeting at the grandparents’ home, then drove home. Lisa was excited.
“What was her first name?” she asked him as they were going downhill.
“I didn’t catch it. He’ll tell us again.”
“Will the boys approve?”
“If she’s not stuck up and doesn’t mind riding horses she will get along with those two.”
“It might be a great summer for the three of them.”
“It will be a great summer anyway.”
“I plan for it to be that.”
“What about the trip to the strip?”
“We can just play the whole thing by ear.”
Lisa hugged his arm. “I think that having her will be a dream come true for me or the worst thing I ever agreed to.”
Chet laughed the rest of the way home.
* * *
The next morning came quickly, and they were on their way to town.
“What were you like at twelve?”
“Horsey. I went to roundup when I was twelve. I learned boys peed standing up and kept their back to you doing it. I never had a brother. That may be why I ended up in Colorado with that pretty boy. Here I was, in a world no one explained. I had no mother to tell me a damn thing. She died when I was eight. I’ve been pondering on how to talk to a twelve-year-old girl ever since yesterday.”
“You told me you hoped you had a girl so you could point out your mistakes.”
“Yeah, but not twelve. I wanted some practice time on her at two and three years old.”
“No such deal. Today is the deal.”
“I know and I am shaking inside.”
“I think you will get along great with her.”
She punched his arm. “Silly, I don’t even know her.”
“You will, Lisa.”
“Will the boys share you with her?”
“I guess so. Never thought about it.”
The girl’s grandparents’ house was one of those large, rambling mansions with a butler. They didn’t have one of them at Preskitt Valley. The butler took Chet’s good hat and placed it on a hatstand in the hall closet, closed the door, and led them into the living room.
On a raised voice he announced, “Mr. and Mrs. Byrnes.”
A redheaded, freckle-faced girl rose and came over to shake their hands. “I am so pleased that you came today.”
“So are we,” Chet said. “Your grandparents here?”
“No. They feared that they would cry. I told them I’d be fine on a ranch with two guys.”
“The boys aren’t there yet. But they are coming, and Lisa wrote them that you would be coming as well.”
“That was very nice of you. My suitcases are in the hall.”
“Then it’s off to the races.”
“Do you go to the horse races, Mr. Byrnes?”
He stopped her. “My name’s Chet. No mister. I go sometimes but never thought about having a girl to go with me.”
“Your wife doesn’t attend them?” She looked down at her polished shoes, a little crestfallen.
Lisa hugged her. “He’s been busy all spring but this summer he’s taking both of us to every one of them.”
“Wow. I’d love that.”
“So would I.” Lisa winked privately at him while he was loading the buckboard. “My name is Lisa.”
“My proper name is Ringold, but I like to be called Renny.”
“You are christened Renny for all summer. Have you ever driven a team?”
“Oh yes.”
“Why don’t you drive us home?”
“I have never been there.”
“Here, hold the reins. I’ll get in back.”
“Cluck to them,” Lisa said.
The team began to move out and their new ward did a professional job of turning them around and they were off to the ranch. Lisa coached her through the town traffic and then onto the open road eastward at a trot. Chet enjoyed watching Renny, filled with excitement as she handily handled the horses. His wife was busting her buttons. He felt it was neat to get off to such a good start with the girl. If this was any sign of the summer’s future, they’d have fun with the boys and her.
* * *
On Saturday, Cole and Valerie brought Rocky down. Chet and Cole had lots of time to visit and talk about the stage and wire services. The telegraph was running well and Spencer was busy making up a list of needs for a four-line setup for it across Arizona. His plans were to be at Wagon Wheel ranch for roundup before he seriously tackled that job.
Cole told Chet that the railroad was going to repay the ranch the
salary that Chet paid him while on the repair job and did not expect for Chet to pay him for the construction of this larger line.
“They think with the hookups on each end they can really make it pay for itself before the train arrives.”
Then Cole lowered his voice. “Whose girl is she again?”
“Renny’s mother died first, and then her dad was killed two years ago. She’s been with her old grandparents. She is with us for the summer. Judge Hannaby thought she’d be happier riding horses out here than living in a mansion in town. She’s a cowgirl and she gets along with Lisa well.”
“I bet she can beat those boys at anything.”
Chet agreed. “They have their work cut out for them.”
“How is the new ranch doing?”
“Thurman’s son says well. He writes his father’s letters. They have recorded over eighteen hundred mother cows. That is a bigger outfit than they promised me, which is usually the opposite. Roundup may show more. I may move some cattle from there over to Toby’s Rustler’s Ranch. He has the hay and feed and I don’t want to eat the range to the roots over there. We have lots of open range that Toby opened with water sources at the homesteads and windmills to spread them out.”
“Are those alfalfa fields we set up working?”
“Yes. They will mow them in a few weeks. They look great. Cutting them in two parts worked.”
“I knew a shorter run was the way. We are getting more jobs from Wells Fargo on the stages, too. In fact, I met a man named Dodge who knows you from the marshal days in southern Arizona. He’s one of their top men now and he laughed when he met me. Said why in the hell did they fire me in the first place? Why anyone who knew anything would have kept a Chet Byrnes–trained guy in charge. I told him they cut my pay and I quit. He laughed and said they were lucky to get me back and to tell you hi.”
“Your boss figured that out, too.”
Cole agreed. “In a few months, I will have all that junk cleaned up on our locations from New Mexico to the Colorado River. All sound top horses, sober drivers, and on schedule.”
“Will Val be all right without her son over the summer?”
“She understands. He’s growing up fast.”
“Yes, both him and Adam are.”
“You going back to the strip?”
“After roundup. One of the brothers is going. Can you spare Salty for a month to six weeks?”
Sharpshooter Page 22
