The man recalled the gang and Sheila passing by there. He said he knew she looked distressed but never approached him for help. “Them buzzards with her was tough and I knew it, but she never asked anything of me. I was glad when they went on. They were like you said—sure enough hard cases.”
“Any idea where they went?” asked Chet.
“I figured they were headed for Mexico, but I’m not certain.”
“Any reason to think that?”
“Yeah. The three were wanting to go to the brothels there, they said.”
“Anything you can tell us about their names and looks?”
“One was called Slick; he was about five-eight. Maybe twenty, and had slicked back hair. He was a cocky sumbitch with ivory-handled guns.”
“Who else?”
“Denver, he was forty, I bet, but he was tough. Those other boys didn’t cross him none.”
“What else?”
“He wore a low-crowned, light-colored hat with rawhide strings to keep it on.”
“And the last one?”
“Claude, they called him. He wore a derby hat and cowboy gear. Another cocky bastard. All told, they were asking for trouble, but they listened to Turley when he said something.”
“Thanks. You’ve been a big help. We know enough now to find them.”
“They kidnapped that girl?”
“Yeah, we’re pretty sure they did,” Shawn said. “She’s my sister.”
“Ride easy, men. You’re the posse been bringing them in, aren’t you?”
Chet nodded.
“I’m damn glad to meet you and hope you catch those bastards.”
“Thanks, we’ll find them.”
“I’ll leave you all to turn in,” the rancher said, and headed for his house a short distance away.
“Well, we have a good picture of them. I’m going to bed,” Cole said.
“It’ll sure help us down the road.” Chet kicked out a place for his bedding. Once the space was clear of rocks, he spread it out. He was ready for some sleep. Plus, his wife was all right at home. It always eased him to get home between these trips to check on her. When he yawned big, a coyote answered him. He laughed as he crawled inside his bedroll and was asleep right away.
In the early morning light, they rode on to the small village called Phoenix, named for the old ruins of a past civilization that they thought was from the Aztecs. Chet had heard some called them Hohokam ruins, for a people who vanished before the white men came. In his travels, he learned the territory was full of such former civilizations.
It was a long day in the saddle. When camped for the night Cole visited a few cantinas, but learned nothing about the Turley Gang.
The next day, though, the Hayden’s Ferry man remembered seeing them and said that Sheila was still with them. The gang had a two-day lead, but they wasn’t moving very fast. Chet and his men had gained some time on them. It may be that Turley had no concern about the McElroys’ chasing them. Knowing nothing about the man’s plans, they could only keep tracking him.
In Casa Grande, a blacksmith told them he’d shod a horse for one of the gang. That shortened their lead, but Tucson lay ahead. It was a big place to cover and try to learn something about the men they followed.
When they rode into the city, Chet wished he didn’t have on long handles. They damn sure didn’t have to worry about any snow there. It was hot. He sent Shawn and Cole one way, and he and Jesus went the other.
Tucson had the usual crowded streets—peddlers and cart sales, burro trains with water and firewood. The firewood consisted mostly of sticks from the desert, stacked high on sleepy burros’ backs. A boy guided the animals with a switch, giving them sharp voice commands. The man who owned them hawked his ware and sold bundles to women for their cooking. Goats, too, that they milked into the housewives’ buckets, with the bleating herd gathered around the sale.
They found a cantina and went inside for a beer and information.
“I don’t know any John Turley,” the bartender who brought their beer said.
“Four tough gringos. One was a cowboy with a bowler hat.”
“Oh, they were in here last night.”
Chet slapped a half-dollar on the bar. “What else do you know about them.”
The bartender hesitated, and Chet placed another half-dollar on the scarred dirty bar.
“They said they’d go to Mexico, that my putas were too high-priced for them.”
“What did you tell them?”
“I told them yeah, but all those down there had the clap.”
Jesus laughed, and the bartender joined in, pleased at his joke.
“They have much money?” asked Chet.
“They had money to pay me for the bottle of whiskey they drank. That big man, I’d seen him before. Yes, in El Paso. I don’t know his name now. Them others I hadn’t ever seen before.”
Chet paid him another half-dollar and thanked him.
“Oh, sí, señor. Muchas gracias. I hope I can help you again.”
Chet drank only half of his warm beer and they left the place. When they cleared the door, Jesus said, “That money was probably more than he makes in a day.”
They were only a day behind. Turley’s outfit probably took the King’s Road south to Nogales. Determined to catch them, they rode out in a trot. Stopping at a cantina down the road, the whiskered barman said they’d been there that morning.
The three of them remounted and hurried their horses along. Jesus found tracks where they’d turned off the road. After following their trail for a distance, they smelled smoke, dismounted, and drew their rifles.
“Shawn, don’t shoot too quick,” he cautioned the younger man. “We don’t want anyone shot that doesn’t deserve it.”
“Yes, sir.”
The boy acted level-headed enough, but he might overreact when he saw his sister. Chet set out, making his way through the willows. The smell of wood smoke from a campfire grew stronger. Soon, he found a path that led there and he took it.
Moving with caution, he spotted a man and two horses. The rest may have gone on to Nogales.
Then he heard the man say, “Don’t try to get them ropes free, little girl. You ain’t escaping John Turley’s camp with me here. Besides, I may wanta take a peek at you naked.”
“You do, and when he hears about it you won’t ever see anything again.”
“Ha, ha. He only took you along to sell you to a rich hacienda owner. He’s gone to get him right now.”
Chet stepped out of the willows, his gun pointed at the man. “Make one move and you’re dead.”
The girl screamed, then saw her brother following close behind Chet. “Shawn, you found me.” Then she began to cry.
Chet disarmed the man and sat him on his butt beside a log, while Shawn comforted his sister and untied her. Jesus checked around the camp and removed a rifle from the scabbard on the outlaw’s horse. Then Chet and Jesus tied the man up.
Chet squatted down on his boot heels beside Sheila as she used her hands to wipe the tears from her eyes.
“Sheila, did any of these men rape you?”
She shook her head and took Shawn’s kerchief to dry her eyes.
“I’m not trying to embarrass you, but we have to know. Neither Turley nor any of his men molested you?”
“No, they were saving me to sell to some rich Mexican rancher as a . . . virgin.”
“I understand. Your father, mother, and brothers want you home. You know that?”
“I sure hoped they did.”
“They do, they said even if you married Turley but wanted to come home, bring you home to them. That’s pretty strong, isn’t it?”
“I would never marry him. He’s an outlaw. And I think I know where they buried one of the men they killed.”
What a piece of luck. “Where’s that?”
“Under a shed on the place he had up there.”
“When you get home, tell Deputy Roamer where that is. No one else. He’ll dig
it up. When the others come back to camp, we’ll capture them. After that, I’m sending you home on the stage, so you get there quicker.” He patted her arm and stood up.
Chet pointed at the man on the ground. “Gag him. Then hide our horses down the road a ways, so they don’t see them. We’re going to have a big welcome party for them.”
“Can I kiss you, sir?” she asked, getting to her feet.
“Sure.” He bent down and she kissed his cheek.
“Oh, thank you. And thank God, too. I never thought anyone would ever catch them. I’d gave up all hope and decided I’d have to be a captive mistress for someone.”
“Well, you’re safe now, missy.”
They laid plans, and Jesus fed them before darkness came. They built up the campfire, sat the gagged man near it, and concealed themselves in the nearby willows. Stars came out before two riders came into camp.
“Denver, where the hell are you?” a voice called out.
“Get your hands high, or we’ll kill you.” Cole slipped in on one side and Jesus the other and disarmed them, then forced them on their bellies with their hands behind their backs.
“Where’s John Turley?”
“He went to San Marie to see a man about selling her to him. He won’t be back till tomorrow.”
“You better not be lying. If you are, we’ll cut your throat and leave you here to die.”
“No, no, I’m not lying.”
“He went there all right,” the one called Claude said.
They put the three in handcuffs, then Chet posted guards to watch them throughout the night.
Chet told them that if any one of them let out a peep to warn Turley, he’d shoot them dead. Then they waited.
Jesus and Sheila fed them a breakfast of oatmeal, then beans for lunch. Shortly after lunch, riders approached and everyone cleared out of the camp, taking cover in the willows.
A big dark-complected man rode in, then a well-dressed Mexican on a fine Barb horse came in with two pistoleros. Chet and his men got the drop on them, made them get down, and disarmed them. They cuffed the men together, but each was cuffed so they faced front to back.
The patron made wild threats at Chet until he showed his Marshal’s badge. Then he slumped into silence.
“You’ll be charged with kidnapping and slavery in the Federal court at Tucson. Miss McElroy will give testimony there, and you’ll be tried in a federal court. I’ll also ask them to hold you for murder charges in the Coconino County courts.”
Since they now had seven prisoners, Chet sent Jesus and Shawn to rent a wagon to haul them to Tucson. That process took two days, and lawyers hounded Chet in front of the courthouse. Someone told him the Mexican authorities wanted their citizen, Fernando Vasquez, released immediately. If not, they threatened there would be an international incident with Mexico.
Chet shook his head. “No. He broke the law in the Arizona Territory. He doesn’t have any special privileges in this country.”
“You don’t understand,” said one of the lawyers. “He is—”
“Oh, but I do. He broke the law in the United States. You can’t sell people anymore. He came here to buy a white woman. That breaks our federal laws.”
“You trapped him!”
“Talk to the judge. He’ll rule on this business.”
News reporters flocked him for a story about what happened and why he was there.
“A young woman was kidnapped at Preskitt and her father asked me to look for her. We found her and learned Turley and Vasquez were arranging a sale for her.”
“They say Mexico may send troops to free him.”
“Come on, men.” He frowned at them. “Mexico ain’t going to send any troops up here to free some farmer who tried to buy a young innocent woman for immoral purposes.”
“You said it pretty frank, Marshal,” one reporter said, chuckling.
“I mean it that way. We’ll also file murder charges against Turley and his men up in Preskitt.”
“What do you call this agency you run?”
Chet sighed. These reporters just wouldn’t let a body alone. “I call it, Don’t Mess With Me.”
He met at the hotel with his men and Sheila. “We have one more night here. After your testimony, Sheila, you can go home.”
Cole spoke up. “Jesus and I can take the horses back.”
“Okay, you and Jesus take the horses home from here. Sheila, Shawn, and me can go home on the stage.”
“That won’t work,” spoke up Jesus. “One of us has to be with you.”
“Not my words, but my wife’s and Tom’s.”
“Well, I will not be the one to explain to her why we left you.”
“Shawn and I can take the horses,” said Cole. “That Mexican’s horses are good Barb horses, too.”
“Federal law says they’re ours. That means you and Jesus. So take them along.”
“We can sell them?”
“Yes. And the sheriff here is searching for reward notices on Turley and his bunch that the three of you can share.”
“Is that for real?” Shawn asked.
“It is, that and more. My deputies share all rewards that we collect.”
“I think I want to help you more.”
“It ain’t always that easy to find folks, nor do they give up so easy every time.”
“I still want to be on your team,” Shawn repeated.
“We’ll see how that goes.”
He persisted. “Will you really consider me as one of your team?”
“I said I would think on it, but yes, I think we could do that.”
“Great. And I can sure help drive the horses home.”
“Sheila, it’s suppertime. Let’s lead these tough pistoleros of mine to supper downstairs.”
She took his arm and they went down to dine.
“I don’t really like to even think about living in a city,” Sheila said as they descended the stairs.
“I agree. I’d miss the coyotes howling too much.”
“I might not miss them, but I would miss breathing clean air and not being hobbled by traffic in the street. Do you have any other nice cowboys on your ranch?”
“Maybe you can come to the house and go to the dance at Camp Verde some Saturday night, and look them over for yourself. Marge would love to take you with us.”
“That would be a big treat for me. I can dance some.” Her smile was sweet and Chet felt certain her brother being at her rescue put her more at ease with his bunch. After she testified to the grand jury, they could go home until she needed to return for the trial.
Over supper, they went over their plans for the trip home. Early in the morning, Shawn and Cole would set out with the horses for the drive north. Chet, Sheila, and Jesus would catch the stagecoach to Hayden’s Ferry, which would take a day and a half. Then they’d take the Black Canyon Stageline to Preskitt, and be home.
He’d already notified Marge they were fine and in Tucson. Now he could wire her from the ferry to tell her he’d be home on the stage in two or so days, and for her to send word to the McElroys he was bringing Sheila.
They left Tucson for Papago Wells, then went on the ferry, arriving in late afternoon in time to catch the northbound stage, and with time enough for him to send his last telegram. When he came back across the street, Sheila and Jesus were in the coach. The gravel-voiced driver said, “We like to left yuh here.”
“Frog, I’d sue you for all you’re worth if you’d done that.”
“Huh, all you’d get is a half chaw of ’baccy, two swallows in a whiskey bottle I got at home, and my old worn-out pair of overalls. They have to bury me in these good’uns.”
Amused, Chet shook his head. “After all that, you ain’t worth suing. Get up there and earn your keep.”
“By doggies, I can do that. Nice to have you, too, young lady, you brighten up this whole coach.”
“Don’t laugh,” Chet told her. “It only encourages him some more.”
The side lamps
were on as the stage swayed from side to side going down to the ferry. Impatient horse hooves pounded on the hollow barge and they crossed the Salt. He slumped down in the seat beside Sheila to try to sleep. He had lots of that to catch up on. He’d need to retrieve his jacket before this night was over. Farther on, he’d freeze to death without it.
When they changed horses at New River, he opened his war bag from the back storage, got his jacket out, then pulled the drawstring tight and reloaded it. Right away he felt warmth surge through his body. He smiled and helped Sheila back in the stage. “We will get there before this night is over,” he assured her.
“How will I ever repay you for all you’ve done for me?”
“Just live your life with your head high and savor every day. That’ll make me proud.”
“I will. Thank you.”
He wished the canvas covers on the windows fit tighter. The cold night air leaked around them, and the higher they climbed into the mountains the colder it became.
Jesus’s soft snoring told them he was asleep, but they continued to talk.
“I’m going to try to not be too nosy,” she said. “But how did you meet your wife?”
“On this stagecoach, when my nephew and I came up here to look for a ranch.”
“Did you fall in love right away?”
“I didn’t. At the time, I didn’t consider myself free, because of a lady in Texas. I told Marge that.”
Sheila smiled. “She never gave up getting you, though, did she?”
He smiled at the memory. “No, and when stage robbers murdered my nephew, she helped me get through it. Mighty tough days those.”
“But you went back to Texas after that?”
“I did, and never promised her a thing. Turned out the Texas lady couldn’t leave her elderly parents. We parted friends, so I came back still single.” He chuckled. “When I wanted to take Marge on a camping trip on the Rim, my sister told me Marge had gone to a finishing school and would never go with me. Well, she was wrong. Marge agreed to go. But then I went to worrying about folks talking about her, so we wound up going camping all right, but it was our honeymoon.”
Brothers in Blood Page 15
