Chaparral Range War (9781101619049) Page 17
EIGHTEEN
DAWN WAS PEEKING over the Chiricahua Mountains at their backs when Guthrey and Dan finally reached the ranch. A light was on in the house and Cally ran to the doorway.
“Are you two all right?” she asked, holding her skirt up and heading for Guthrey’s arms. He kissed her, and she shook her head.
“Why, I’ve been praying and crying and worrying about you two all day and the night. What took you so long to get home?”
“We’ve been busy,” Dan said. “Wait till he tells you the whole story.”
Oh, fine—Dan wasn’t going to mention a thing about his part and leave Guthrey to tell her about their activities in some cleaned-up form. Noble brought in the milk pail. Looking them over, Noble nodded. “Why, they ain’t got a scratch on ’em that I can see, missy. I told you they’d be fine.”
Guthrey started his recitation. “I went to see about Dan. Then there was an altercation at a house of ill repute and I stopped it. I arrested those three troublemakers and tied them up. Dan guarded them while I went to see Sam Joyce, and he told me a few things about the raiders from the night before. But his wife also told me this mystery man who wears the ruby ring was the leader. Also, he had repeatedly raped some other wives—”
Cally’s loud inhale and pale face scared him. Fingers pressed to her mouth, she said brokenly, “I told you—he did that before. There were even more than the woman I knew about?”
“Yes, there were more. I’m sorry this bunch is so mean. Yes, she named others.”
“Did they harm her?”
“No, she’s about to have another baby.”
“That’s why I asked.”
“She’s fine. Nice young lady.”
Chewing on her lower lip, Cally agreed. “Go ahead. I’m sorry I interrupted.”
Then she went to get the coffee for them that he could smell boiling on the range.
“To make things short, I found new masks in the saddlebags of each one of those men who I had held for causing the ruckus. So they will be charged as terrorists in the Joyce matter.
“After all that we took them to Soda Springs, where the jail is full and the jailer complained he couldn’t take any more, but he did take them and I filed charges on them. We had supper late over there and have been riding ever since.”
Coffee poured, she kissed him on the cheek and put the pot back. Then she brought them each a large platter of food for breakfast from the oven. “It’s still hot. I imagine you two need to rest all day.”
“Half a day anyway. You have any trouble, Noble?”
“Nope, doctored a few cattle. But we seem to be doing all right.”
“No sign of that branded calf?” Dan asked.
“Nope, he’s vanished.”
Dan, between bites, promised him they’d find it while Guthrey was off politicking.
After breakfast, Guthrey had a cold wash in the sheepherder’s shower, shaved, and went back to the house. Cally had given him some fresh clothes to dress in afterward and wanted his other clothing for her to mend and wash.
“You can sleep on my bed today,” she said when he came inside with the dirty clothes in his arms. “You look real nice all cleaned up. You have any money? We need to buy some better clothes for a sheriff candidate.”
“I have enough. I also need to ride into Tucson and see about selling those cattle you wanted sold.”
“It can wait. Sleep in your britches on my bed and get some rest today. Your eyes look drawn in the sockets. My, you are a tough man.” Then she dropped her voice to a whisper, “Who is this dove my brother is seeing?”
“Steffany. I’d say she’s close to his age. Dark hair and dark eyes. She acted pleasant enough. I don’t think she’s mouthy.”
She nodded. “I don’t want to run him off, but does he realize most of those girls don’t stay married long and that he doesn’t have a lot of money as she might think he does, being a rancher?”
“Whatever.” He was about to laugh.
“You go sleep. It is not funny.” She shooed him off, but not before he kissed her lightly on the cheek.
On the bed, he sank into the goose-down mattress. To him it felt like sleeping on a cloud. He closed his eyes and, before he fell asleep, the faint aroma of Cally’s lilac perfume went up his nose. That smelled lots better than the thick aroma of heavy-duty scent he’d encountered in the kitchen yesterday morning at the big house. Whew, that about made him dizzy. . . .
* * *
HE AWOKE IN midafternoon, swung his bare feet over the bed, and combed his too long hair back with his fingers, then he headed for the kitchen. Maybe he had found his own piece of heaven in the spiny desert outside. For once, he really hoped so as the creosote aroma of the desert came on the breeze. Since he’d greased its gears, the windmill outside only clacked as it spun more water up from the depths.
A couple of chickens squawked in the yard, and Cally came back in with a basket full of produce from the garden. She spent hours working out there: weeding, watering, and making it work. Guthrey needed to pay more attention to her operation of it. Then she had rows and rows of canned jars in the cellar a few steps outside the back door. Dan and Cally’s father must have been quite a detail man—all the things he fixed and built to provide for them on the ranch amazed Guthrey.
“You sure slept hard.”
He laughed. “I felt you watching me.”
“Good. How are you doing after the short nap?”
“Ready to do some work.”
“Why don’t you simply rest this afternoon?”
“Hard for me to do.”
She took the ears of corn out of the basket and put them on top of her dry sink. “You know what it’s hard for me not to do?”
“What’s that?”
“Not sit on your lap and kiss you till the sun goes down.”
He rubbed his knees under his pants and shook his head. “That’s mutual, darling. We need to do something about that.”
She washed her hands in the pan on the counter, then threw the water out the front door. When she turned around, she looked hard at him. “I knew one day a knight would come riding up that road from King Arthur’s Court, and when he finally did come, I damn near ran him off with my snappy mouth.”
“Naw, I don’t run away easy.”
She repeated his words. “We need to do something about what?”
“You and me.”
She chewed on her lip. “I’m going to ask you a question—and it’s a hard one for me to ask. Did I drive you to use that place where you found Dan?”
“Lord, no, girl.” He swept her up in his arms. “I went there to find him, not some woman dipped in loud perfume. No, you haven’t done anything. But—”
She began humming a waltz. He held her close in his arms and they danced slow-like around the table. He forgot about the ears of corn, the girls in the whorehouse kitchen yesterday morning, the terrorists, Whitmore, and all his problems with the law business. His world became simply him and her, and he’d never felt anything in his life like their being there together that afternoon, dancing slow in each other’s arms. Dear God, I’m grateful you sent me here. . . .
NINETEEN
TUESDAY NIGHT, GUTHREY and Noble were at the Alkali Hills Schoolhouse for a meeting with folks, asking them to sign the petition. Guthrey shook hands with the men, dipped his hat to the ladies introduced to him.
After she was introduced to him, one sharp-eyed woman in her late thirties asked if he was married.
“No, ma’am. I’m not.”
“Lucille, get over here,” she demanded, and a gangly teenager about fourteen came over.
“This is Mr. Guthrey. Stand up straight and show him what a nice-looking girl you are. Mr. Guthrey is single and he will need a wife when he becomes sheriff.�
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“Nice to meet you, Lucille,” he said to be friendly.
She nodded. “Nice to meet you too. You got any good horses to ride?”
“One of my own.”
“You going to get any more?”
“I don’t need any more. Why?”
“Well, if I was going to marry you, I’d expect a nice paint mare and saddle for me to ride.”
Mother swallowed hard. “Lucille, why, that ain’t a nice thing to say.”
Guthrey agreed with the girl. “Looks like I’m out of the running, then.”
He and Noble shared grins as the mother took her daughter away by the arm, scolding her all the way outside the front doors about killing her chances to marry the next sheriff.
One man named O’Riley waited till after the petition signing to speak to Guthrey. They were standing aside and Guthrey was waving and saying good night to people, fixing to leave.
“I heard something today,” O’Riley said. “I heard that Whitmore told a man he’d pay him two hundred dollars gold to get you out of this country.”
“Did he tell you the name of the man Whitmore told that to?”
“No. Guess the guy he talked to must have been tough ’cause he wouldn’t tell me that either.”
“Did he say if the man took the money?”
“No, sir, he said that guy wanted five hundred to kill you. The man who told me all that said Whitmore acted mad and walked off, told him he could get it done a lot cheaper than that.”
“No names mentioned?”
“Nope,” O’Riley said. “But you better keep your head down.”
“I appreciate the news. I’ll watch closer.”
Satisfied, O’Riley moved on.
Noble asked under his breath. “You believe that?”
“Maybe Whitmore paid him ten bucks to give me that warning. What do you think?”
“More than likely you just hit the nail on the head.”
“Did O’Riley sign the petition?” Guthrey asked.
Noble laughed aloud. “Hey, we can check on that, can’t we?”
“Yes,” Guthrey answered, then said good night to more folks who were leaving.
After everyone left, Guthrey checked and they’d gathered forty-six signatures. He didn’t find O’Riley’s name among the signers. Glad he’d checked, he blew out the candles and they rode up to the place of a rancher friend, Mike Thorp, and spent the night at his house. Mike’s wife, Melda, cooked them a big breakfast in the morning and they had an interesting talk at the table afterward. When Guthrey asked him about O’Riley, Mike told them he didn’t trust the man. Then Guthrey told him about the supposed threat.
“I doubt he knows anything at all about any plans to plant you. He’s just sizing you up for a silver deputy badge when you get elected,” Mike said.
“Why do that?” Noble asked.
“Hey, there’s lots of guys would like to walk around as deputies.”
Guthrey nodded. He’d forgotten about those men who did that back in Texas. Good point. He’d watch who he deputized if he ever got elected. Guthrey and Noble left Thorp’s place and rode back home.
Guthrey had down in his small notebook that on Saturday night he was to attend the social at Farnam Schoolhouse. The person who set it up was Earl Southern, a man he could not recall, but perhaps the organizers had made the appointment. Carl Brown and Lester McCall were a big help to the campaign, and he was anxious to learn how many signatures they had gathered that week. Maybe getting eight hundred signers was actually feasible. He hoped so; spending all his days going here and there had proved time-consuming for him.
Cally came out from the house when they rode in. “How did you do?”
“Near fifty signed up.”
“Wow, you two did good.”
“Anything happen here?”
She shook her head. “Just same old stuff. Dan went to check on water holes. He promised not to be out too long.”
“He’ll be fine. What are you doing?” he asked.
“Canning corn and more green beans. I need some beets harvested so I can put them in jars tomorrow.”
“Noble and I can do that, soon as we put up these horses.”
“I hate to bother you politicians. But I better get back and watch that cooker.”
He kissed her and she hurried back inside.
“She’s a busy girl,” Noble said. “Don’t forget to tell her about that girl that rejected you.”
“Oh, the one who wanted a paint horse to marry me.” Guthrey chuckled.
The two men pulled up the red beets and hauled them to the house in a wheelbarrow. Then they busied themselves washing them down by the big tank and separating the beets from the tops. Cally had told them she’d can the beet tops too.
Dan rode in and laughed when he came up to the site where they worked.
“She’s got you working, I see. Did you do any good up there last night?”
“Near fifty signatures,” Guthrey said, straightening his sore back. “Water holes working?”
“Yeah, but we need rain.” He looked with concern at the blue sky.
“Part of being a rancher, always looking for one more rain.”
“I used to let Dad worry about that. Now he ain’t here, I figure I have to worry about it.”
“Well, don’t just sit that horse,” Noble said. “We’ve got beets to wash.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll put Snorty up and be right back.” He rode off, laughing.
With the beets finally washed and separated from the tops, Cally came out to inspect their work. “You three do good work. Thanks.”
Noble had to tell them the story about the girl and her mother along with the paint horse. They all got a good laugh out of how he told the story.
Cally shook her head afterward. “Maybe I better go along with him on his trips and protect my interests.”
“Who’d do the canning?” Dan asked.
She laughed and invited them up to the house for coffee and the fresh dried-apple pie she’d just taken from the oven.
* * *
THE NEXT DAY, her three ranch hands rode hard, looking for the Whitmore-branded calf. No sign of him or his momma. Guthrey was beginning to believe that he’d been taken from the range, along with the momma. The whole thing about the branding made little sense, but there was no reason for lots of things these raiders did, except someone wanted them crowded out. Whitmore wore that cap.
By the third day back at the ranch, he began to wonder about his main opponent. Since the day he saw Whitmore standing by and watching the aborted gunfight between his gun hands and Dan, Guthrey had not had a peep out of the man. These days, Guthrey did not frequent as many saloons as he used to do in Texas, with a Ranger camp close by them. Still, in all his trips to the county seat, arresting men, he’d not noticed Whitmore once. Maybe Guthrey needed to find out more about the man and what else he was up to.
“Anyone seen Whitmore lately?” he asked at breakfast.
“Not me,” Cally said.
Dan shook his head.
Noble looked up before spooning some oatmeal in his mouth. “Not seen hide or hair of him.”
“Odd, isn’t it? He sent Hampton after me at the first dance I attended. Hired some men to shoot at me here, and has been sending raiders out to harass folks.”
“He don’t like his own hands to get dirty,” Noble said between bites.
Dan agreed. “Why do anything when you can hire idiots to do it for you?”
Guthrey agreed and changed the subject. “I’m going to ride into Tucson and try to find a good cattle trader to buy some steers before the heat gets worse and they lose their fleshy condition.”
“Do you have the time to take off now?” she asked.
“We really should have some more money,” Cally said.
“We can do this,” Guthrey said. “Gathering and moving the cattle may be a bigger challenge. You two keep your eyes open for the big steers and each day push the ones you find over this way. That way gathering them won’t be such a problem. Three dozen do?” he asked Cally.
“That should tide us over,” she said. “But how do we send them all at one time?”
“I’ll try to figure that out. Let’s get busy. I’m going to ride in and see McCall today. Maybe he has more ideas.”
The other two men left the room and Guthrey kissed Cally good-bye before he left her with the dishes.
Two hours later, he dismounted at McCall’s yard gate. His place was set under some big cottonwoods above the river. Guthrey felt certain the man was busy farming at this time of day. A woman came out and welcomed him. A full-figured woman, she smiled big at him.
“You must be Mr. Guthrey. Lester’s around at the barn shoeing a horse. How have you been, sir?”
“Fine, nice to see you,” he said, tipping his hat to her, and started around the yard, leading his horse.
McCall was in the shade of one of the big cottonwoods. Bent over, busy nailing a plate on a nice-looking bay horse, he looked up as he finished and dropped the hoof. “How are you today, Guthrey?”
“Better. We collected forty-six signatures up at Alkali the other night.”
Taking off his leather apron, McCall nodded. “With the ones Brown and I’ve collected, that makes over two hundred. In the short time we’ve been working on this. I think it’s going good. Any more news? I heard you helped fill the county jail some more.”
“Those three men I think were in on a raid at Sam Joyce’s place and burned his haystacks. I found new masks in their saddlebags.”
“Good. That business needs to be stopped. I heard the sheriff was complaining about our campaign against him.”
“What was that?”