Between Hell and Texas (30 page)

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Authors: Dusty Richards

BOOK: Between Hell and Texas
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“You alright?”
“I will be. I could see him shooting a dozen people and killing you.”
“It was a tight place. Not a spot for gunplay, but there seldom is. Ignorant people like those two are the reason I'm having to leave Texas.”
“Oh, hold me. I usually don't get this upset, but that was close.”
Chet hugged her face to him. “Part of life. It ended well.”
He kissed her and let her composure return before they went back for some lemonade.
“Getting late, isn't it?”
“You tired?” he asked, before sipping the sweet-sour. icy drink.
“No, I could stay up till dawn in your company, but I know you have things to do.”
“They'll get done.”
“Fine. I hope I'm not confining you so much you can't stand me. I simply can't resist holding your arm or hand. I enjoy connecting with you. I steal some of your strength.”
“I understand. I feel the same way, but I also have obligations.”
“I hope you can find your way back here. And I will treasure the fun and the excitement we had and how polite you are to me, as silly as I must be.”
“You are excused,” Chet said and laughed.
Marge jabbed him in the side with her hand. “What shall we do?”
“I'll walk you back to your camp and then I'll go find my bedroll. It has been a lovely evening.”
“Yes, I seldom have shared such company. You are a real gentleman.”
“Just me,” Chet said to dismiss her compliment as she swung on his arm, heading through the camps for hers.
“Breakfast at seven?”
“Sounds excellent.”
“Tell the crew.”
“You sure?”
“Positive.”
“Alright, it's your problem.”
Then, at the large tent under the stars, he kissed her and stepped back with a bow. “My pleasure.”
“Go.” Marge pointed away. “Before I cry.”
Chet laughed and strode away in the starlight shining through the tall cottonwoods. Damn, he'd boxed himself in. One woman in Texas, another out here. Heaven help him if he had to make a decision—maybe he'd join the LDS church and marry both of them.
No, that would not be an answer. Chet hoped his family in Texas faced no tougher decisions than he had to make out here.
Chapter 29
In the cool air of the early morning, Chet was dressed and ready to go. He set out kicking sleeping hands in their rolls and telling them they could have breakfast with a lovely lady.
Heck grumbled and told Chet he was coming. Sarge agreed and turned over. Wiley mumbled he'd sleep, and Bixsby wasn't there. He must have found a bedroll to share with some widow woman. Shame he'd miss all the food Marge's crew stirred up.
Seated at the long plank table under a white linen cloth, Chet sipped rich coffee as the crew arrived. He wondered if Heck had imbibed any the night before, for he acted like the rest. Maybe just worn out from all the things that went on. He'd noticed the boy had even danced some with young ladies.
“Good morning,” Marge said, with freshness, to the crew. “Be seated. We have some wonderful things to serve you.”
They obeyed. Some stared in wonder at the boneless trout served after the canned peaches. Then came the scrambled eggs with spinach, fried ham, sourdough bread, and fried potatoes, followed by Danish pastry.
Chet about laughed when Wiley elbowed him. “Wait till Hoot hears what we ate.”
Heck made a serious face when Marge excused herself to go check on something. “Whoever ate fish for breakfast before, save on a camping trip?”
The boys shook their heads. Sarge spoke up. “I'd dang sure take it over army beans.”
They all laughed.
Politely, they each one thanked her after the meal. Chet was glad that Heck was thoughtful enough not to ask her about the trout. He let them go to pack their things and smiled big at her. “Well, my hands are all ready to quit me now that you've spoiled them.”
“Oh, Chet, at times I can't help myself. I love them. I never saw that Sarge do anything but stand back. Last night he stepped out of nowhere and handled that boy like it was nothing.”
Chet slapped his leg with his hat. “Those boys know what is supposed to be right, and I trust them.”
“Where was the big one?”
“Hampt was helping a widow, I guess.”
“Oh—”
Chet bent over and kissed Marge. “Thanks,
mi amiga
.” With that he slipped his hat on his head and went for his horse.
“When will I see you again?”
He stopped and showed her his hands with a shrug. “Some time this week.”
“Good enough. I'll be home.”
At the ranch, Hoot came out on the porch wiping his hands on his apron. “Fine-looking lot you all are. What mischief did you all get into, and where's Bixsby?”
“He's been delayed,” Wiley said, stepping down.
“Yeah,” Heck said with mischief written all over his face. “Maybe derailed would be better.”
Everyone laughed. Then they began telling him about the excitement, and Chet went inside for a cup of coffee.
He heard Hoot ask them, “She served you fish for breakfast?”
Cory came in carrying an armload of split wood. “A big tall Indian woman was here asking for you earlier.”
“She say what she wanted?”
“Nope, wouldn't tell me or Hoot anything.”
“I'll ride up there and ask her.” Chet couldn't imagine what she needed, but it must have been serious or she'd not have come and asked for him.
He rode upstream to their camp and saw it was empty, save for some things they couldn't carry or didn't want. Where had they gone? He found some tracks and rode his horse up in the hills to the north. They were sure being careful and not leaving much sign.
Chet crossed a long meadow surrounded by pines on the slopes. Some movement in the timber and then Mary appeared, coming on the run. He booted his horse out to meet her. Sliding him to a stop, he swung down. “What's wrong?”
“They put my brother in irons at the reservation and some other men. Then one of the police said they were going to drag us back to the reservation like dogs.”
“I haven't had time to meet this agent. Sorry. What can I do?”
“Nothing I guess, but there is no food here. Children and women will starve.”
“Can you lose their trackers?”
“I think so. Why?”
“Gives me time to go speak to the agent and if he has no answer, I'll go see General Crook.”
“I will hide them long as I can.”
“Two fires means it is okay to come down. Three means stay up there.”
“I will watch for the smoke. Chet, thanks. We will repay you.”
“No need in that. I'll try to find out what I can do.”
Then Mary hugged him and stepped back as if embarrassed by her boldness. “May your God be with you.”
With his nose full of campfire smoke from her closeness, Chet nodded. “I hope so, too.”
He watched her run through the knee-high brown grass, then swung up in the saddle and headed for the ranch. He told the boys about what happened and they were all on his side—how could that agent expect them to return and starve?
By dawn, Chet was at the agent's house, pointed out to him by an old woman. He knocked until a sleepy man answered.
“What in hell's name do you want at this time of day?”
“You the agent here?”
“Yes, why?”
“I want to know some things—”
The man tried to shut the door, but Chet blocked him and moved him back with a shove. “Not so fast. Do you have any food for the Indians on this reservation?”
“Of course, they get monthly rations.”
“No, they get little but spoiled food, and now you want that small band on my ranch to come in here.”
“They aren't supposed to be out there.”
“Listen, Swartz, I am going to have the U.S. Marshal and General Crook down here looking over your shoulder and seeing how bad you are treating these poor people.”
“Bring them. Crook has no authority over me.”
“By damn, someone does, and I'm getting to the bottom of this. You better have everything in order or you're going to Alcatraz for a long time.”
“Who do you think you are, busting in here threatening me?”
“I ain't threatening you. I'm telling you what I'll get done. Now you want to talk or hear from higher authorities.”
“I'll do as I'm—”
“Listen, you come or any of your police come on my ranch without the proper papers, my boys will shoot you for trespassing. So come prepared to die.”
“Who is this man?” a woman in a robe demanded.
“A wild man obstructing the business of a duly appointed Indian Agent.”
“What is he saying?”
“Ma'am, I'm sorry, but your husband is abusing people who are under his care. They are starving and that's not right.”
She raised her face and double chin, shaking it like a wattle on an old hen. “You, sir, are a liar and a troublemaker.”
“When you ride the boat out to Alcatraz to see him you won't think so.”
“Can he do this?”
“No.” He shook his head at his wife.
Chet used his finger to point at him. “If you're so sure, go right on. I'm going to the authorities this morning. You might ought to pack and run cause I'm bringing the federal law back here.”
“You are absurd. No one but Washington, D.C., or the Indian service can remove me from office.”
“Alright, you won't cooperate. Wait until I get through with you. You'll wish you'd listened.”
Chet started to leave. “And don't send those Indian Police after the band on my ranch. They won't come back alive.”
He left the huffy agent shouting after him, and rode for the military base nearby. With a sharp nod, he went by the two black soldiers guarding the door to headquarters.
“I have business here.”
The non-com nodded to him. “And your business, sir?”
“Who is the commander here?”
“Colonel Carr; he's not here.”
“Who is next?”
“Major Brown. He is not here.”
“Who's after him?”
“Lieutenant Granger.”
“He here?”
“Yes, sir. What do you wish to speak to him about?”
“Starving Indians.”
“But sir, the army is not in charge of them. They are under—”
“May I help you, sir?' A young man in an officer's uniform came to the door.
“Yes. My name's Chet Byrnes, and the atrocities being laid on these Indians is criminal. They are given little food and are starving to death. We have been feeding a small band of mostly women and children on my ranch. Now the agent is demanding they come back and starve here.”
The young man folded his arms over his chest. “We have heard this report before, but we are not in charge of the Indians any longer. They are wards of the Interior Department, and there is nothing we can do.”
“What happens if a bunch of them go on the warpath?”
“I guess then they'd want our help. But I have not heard or seen of any trouble with them.”
“Then you'd have to take charge of them, right? Why don't you wire General Crook that there is a band of Yavapai off the reservation who will only surrender to him?”
“You know General Crook, sir?”
“No, but I can lead him to talk to this band, if he is willing to come down here.”
“You know, he is a very busy man.”
“These Indians respect him. They don't the agent.”
“You know, I could be court-martialed for this if it turns real ugly?”
“This is serious business.”
“I will wire Whipple and see what the general says.”
“Good, I'm finally getting some action.”
“This will require several hours, I am certain. Do you wish to wait?”
“I'm going to sit right here until we hear from him.”
“Your name again is?”
“Chet Byrnes. I own the Quarter Circle Z ranch just west of here.”
“Thank you, Mr. Byrnes.”
About that moment, a red-faced Swartz rushed into the office and demanded that the lieutenant arrest Chet on the spot.
“Agent Swartz, this man has filed a report with the U.S. Army that due to your lack of proper care a band of Yavapai have fled the reservation.”
“They are nothing but some discontented women and children.”
“I am wiring General Crook and asking his advice.”
“That's stupid. Here is the troublemaker. He encouraged those people to leave the reservation, and now you are doing an equally stupid thing asking for military help. My tribal police will have them back here in a short while.”
“You don't even know where they're at.” Chet rose to his feet, ready to throw him outside.
“Gentlemen,” the officer said. “The General or his staff will tell me what to do.”
“Stop that wire. I need to wire Washington instead and have them tell you and this cowboy who runs the Indian affairs here.”
“I won't stop the wire. It is an army telegraph; usage for other business is not allowed unless an emergency. The army business comes first and until I hear the reply from Whipple the line will not be used.”
“You'll be peeling potatoes when I get through with you!” Swartz stormed out of the office.
“Will you need some ranch help when he gets through with me?” The officer grinned big, and then shook his head to dismiss any concern on his part.

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