Between Hell and Texas (31 page)

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Authors: Dusty Richards

BOOK: Between Hell and Texas
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Two hours later, the wire came. The lieutenant called to Chet, who was sitting on a wooden folding chair, looking at his calloused hands and wondering if they would even answer.
“General Crook is sending his best negotiator this afternoon. He expects his man to arrive here by sundown.”
“Who will that be?” Chet asked.
“I'm not certain. But he has some good staff members. There's lots of bad blood these days between the Army and the Indian agents. But I am sure anyone he sends can advise you on what to do next.”
“Lieutenant, thanks. How many will be in the party coming?”
“Maybe a dozen, maybe one. Probably a few Indian scouts. General Crook counts on them to help him get through these matters.”
“Could you direct him to my ranch? West about two miles on the river road. It's the Quarter Circle Z. And my name is Chet Byrnes.”
“I will do that, sir. And thank you for being so calm in all this.”
“If Swartz tries to take those poor people, they may find my ranch hands are tough, too. They're mad as I am about the conditions for those people.”
“Try to be calm. General Crook has many supporters in Washington, D.C., that can get some things done up there.”
“Thanks. I will be at the ranch and have a meal waiting on whoever he sends.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Chet rode his horse home in a short lope. Still mad about the agent, he wondered how many more Indians were being treated this badly. No wonder Indians went on attacks.
“Any sign of the Indian Police today?” Chet asked Tom when he met him.
“They coming?”
“General Crook is sending a negotiator.”
“Who is that?”
Chet dropped heavily out of the saddle. “Danged if I know, but the young officer at the camp says he'll be a good one.”
“Meanwhile, they won't find the camp easily.” Tom gave him a sharp nod. “We hid them.”
Chet rubbed the back of his stiff neck, and then smiled. “That agent Swartz has a lot to learn in this world.”
Near sundown, an army officer and three Apache scouts rode up the lane. The man in charge was in his thirties, with a short mustache. He reined up at the yard gate where Chet waited for him.
“You must be Mr. Byrnes?”
“Get down, Lieutenant, we have hot food ready for you and your men.”
“You sound very serious, sir. We won't turn that offer down.” They all dismounted and the ranch hands took their horses to the corral. The three Apaches, wearing knee-high pointed-toed boots and loincloths, squatted on the ground with their Spencer rifles over their legs.
“Let's go eat.” Chet waved for them to follow and he shook Chet's hand.
“My name's Jim Hulbert.”
“Nice to meet you.” Chet noticed the scouts had stopped at the stairs. “Won't they come inside?”
“I doubt it. They fear large houses might fall in and kill them.”
Chet shook his head. “Cory, fill three plates and feed them. They don't like roofs.”
“I can do that.” The barefoot boy went off to get them food.
Chet showed the man a chair and took one opposite him at the large table. He indicated for Hulbert to help himself to anything on the plates Hoot had prepared. Sliced roast beef, mashed potatoes, fresh green beans, fresh bread and butter. Hoot had learned lots about local farmers and available items. They came by twice a week and sold him fresh things.
“How are the scouts doing out there?” Chet asked Cory on his way going back with a granite coffeepot.
“Hungry as wolves.”
“Good.”
“Mr. Byrnes, tell me about the Indians you are concerned about.”
“Call me Chet. My ranch hands came across a camp of starving Yavapai a few weeks ago up on our land. Mostly women and children. They told us the food the agent gave them for supplies was moldy and rotten. The two cows were just old bones. There was nothing for them to eat. So we gave them a fat bull and a few crippled, but fat horses to eat. Also some beans and flour.
“They were afraid the Indian Police would come drive them with whips back to the reservation. I went to reason with the agent Swartz, and he shouted I was making them hostile and belligerent. No way. They're polite, gentle people. As I said, most are women and children, some are real old.”
“The Indian Service hates us. I know how crooked most agents are and how they buy sorry products that are cheap and pocket the difference.”
“What can we do about it?”
“We can scare Swartz into giving them the staples by law he is required to give to them. There are some inspectors who have to cover too many agencies that have some power of enforcement. I can try to wire for one of them to come up here.”
“If they're slow, these people could starve.”
“The government took the care of these people away from the army. People like Swartz are going to make enough Indians mad enough to have more trouble.” Hulbert took up his coffee and blew on it. “You set a great table, Byrnes. No wonder those Indians want to stay here.”
“What can I do to help them?”
“I'll put my three scouts to guard them and call them runaways. The tribal Police won't mess with my guards. Then I'll try to get an inspector up here to look over the conditions. I can't guarantee to do much more than that.”
“What can the General do?”
“Raise cain in Washington.”
“Will they listen?”
“Sometimes. But it isn't at lightning speed.”
“Will you go up and talk to the woman in charge? She's very serious. You want to go tonight?”
“In the morning will be fine.”
Chet looked him straight in the eye. “I know how I'd handle it. But that would probably draw me some time in a federal prison.”
Hulbert nodded. “Don't go that far.”
“Will your men need a place to sleep tonight?”
“No. I have a bedroll on my horse. I'll sleep with them.”
“Breakfast is at dawn.”
“We'd appreciate that.” Hulbert shook Chet's hand. “The general sent his regards.”
“When you get back, thank him for me.”
“I will, sir.”
After Hulbert went outside, Chet and most of his crew huddled.
“What's he going to do?” Hoot asked.
“Try to get an inspector of Indian agents in here. Otherwise, the Lieutenant is making them his prisoners so the Tribal Police can't take them back.”
“Good,” Wiley said as if satisfied.
“We've done about all we can for them, boys.”
“You did well,” Bixsby said. “You must have seen what we saw up there when we found them.”
“Boys, we're doing all we can for those poor devils. Let's get some sleep.”
“Night, boss man.”
“Night.”
But Chet didn't find sleep easy. So many unsettled things beyond his control in this world. But no matter, he'd still stand up for them or anyone else in that shape.
What was happening at home?
Chapter 30
Hoot's bell woke the dead. Cory could make it ring. Chet opened his eyelids, and finally his pupils began to focus. If he could wind up his business, he should be on the road to Texas—shortly. Maybe not soon enough. His gut feeling was there were things going on back there that he needed to attend to—that they simply weren't telling him everything. Dressed, he went downstairs and found the blue uniform already at the table and eating. Hulbert raised his coffee cup. “Your food is excellent.”
“They feed your scouts?”
“Oh, yes. We'll be on our way in a few minutes. Thanks again.”
“One of my boys need to take you up there?”
“No, one of my scouts made contact last night with Mary. She is expecting us.”
“Wonderful. You're organized. We'll get on with ranching. All my men have been concerned about their welfare and the state they're in.”
“Very generous of them. We can handle it from here.”
“Good.” Chet would take the man at his word.
The lieutenant soon excused himself, then shortly he and his men rode out.
Wiley said, “Imagine that. One of them scouts found them and made contact with her. I never thought much about them soldiers before except for Sarge here. But there are some sharp folks in our army.”
“They ain't all as dedicated as he is,” Sarge said.
“I guess you'd know,” Chet added.
The ex-soldier nodded and went back to eating.
In an effort to get the ranch deal closed out, Chet saddled Dyer and headed for Preskit. When he stopped at Marge's place, she was jumping rails with a young horse. Dismounted, she came in her riding clothing and knee-high English boots to greet him. The fresh look on her face under the large Western felt hat brim made his guts roil.
“How are things going for you today?” she asked.
“Better. General Crook sent one of his staff up to the ranch to help the starving Yavapai. I think he can handle a sorry agent and get those people some provisions.”
Marge shook her head in disbelief. “What else do you do?”
“I'm trying to get this ranch deal settled, so I can head home and sell out.”
Marge stepped in and hugged him. “I never cease to be amazed at you, Chet Byrnes.”
The whisper of her perfume ran up his nose and began to intoxicate him. He pressed his forehead to hers. “I don't know anything else.”
Then Chet stepped back and smiled. “I only came by to say hi. Maybe if I have time, I'll stop by, going home.”
Marge started to walk toward his horse with him. “Do that. I can hold some supper for you.”
“Better not hold that. I don't know when I'll come back—tonight.”
“No problem, I will have something for you to eat.”
“Good-looking leggy colt that you've been riding. He's taking to the jumping business?”
“Oh, yes. He's got plenty of jumper in his bloodlines and he shows it.”
He gave her a peck on the cheek and then swung into the saddle. “See you later.”
“I certainly hope so. Be careful, too.”
He touched his hat brim and sent Dyer off for town.
In the Palace Bar, he found Jane, and she said Bo Harold had been up all night playing poker and was sleeping in her room in the Duffle Hotel. Her directions were go out the back door, take the bridge over the small creek, and go up the hill to the gray building on the right.
Chet did all that and twisted the knob on the front door. A bell rang, and a stout woman in her forties came in the living room, dressed in a corset. “What may I do for you, sir?”
“Bo Harold is sleeping in here?”
She gave a tug up on her underwear to get the top end higher, then pointed to the stairs. “Second room on the left. My name's Clair.”
“Nice to meet you ma'am. Mine's Chet.”
“Now Chet, you need anything, simply whistle.” She looked him over from head to boot-toe and then smiled. “Just whistle, darling.”
“I'll remember to do that.”
He found Harold half-undressed, laying across the bed, face-down and snoring. He shook him by the shoulder.
“Huh?” He sat up and blinked his eyes. “Oh, it's you.”
“Where are we on the ranch business?”
“The papers are in the mail from back there.”
“How many days will they require to get here?” Chet squatted on his haunches.
“A good week, maybe longer to get here from there. What do you need me to do?”
“Tell me I have no worries and can go back to Texas and settle things there.”
Scratching his rumpled blond hair, Harold nodded. “I can do all that. Brand deal is done. You have the Quarter Circle Z in your name. Don't have the bar-C deal made yet.”
Chet pivoted back toward his man on his boot sole. “A few more things settled, and I'm going back to Texas.”
“You figure it will take a year to get that straightened out and sold back there?”
Chet shrugged. “I'm allowing that much. It may be quicker.”
“There's talk about an Indian uprising—”
“No, the agent's starving the Indians and I've got General Crook to intervene.”
“Good. I don't need any more Indian wars around here. Bad for my business.”
“I'll let you sleep.”
“How did you find me anyway—oh, oh, you know Jane, I forgot.”
“You better take her more serious. She looks out for you.” Chet rose to his feet. He would soon be Texas-bound. He better go get Heck cleaned up and some new clothes for the trip. He had a new family headquarters on the Verde River. All he had left was settling out back there and hauling his tribe out here.
“Oh, I take Jane serious enough.” Harold yawned and stretched his arms over his head. “Sometimes. But you're right, I should be more serious about her.”
Chet left the agent and took the stairs two at a time. Clair opened the front door for him. “Don't run off the next time. We might find something interesting to do.”
He winked at her going out. “We might.”
The counter stools were full when he reached Jenny's for lunch. So he stood back of the eaters. When she looked up after delivering a lunch plate to a customer, she frowned at him. He smiled back at her and said he was fine.
At last he was seated; she brought him a plate of barbequed pulled pork with fried potatoes and hot bread on the side. Then she filled a coffee cup for him. “Everything going alright?”
“I'm close to being wound up here and headed home.”
“I'll be caught up in a minute then you can tell me all about it.”
“I'll be here.”
“Good. What was it you needed?” She asked a man down the row. “Oh, more bread. Coming up.”
“She gets any busier, she'll be feeding some of us in the street,” the short man beside him said.
“She may have to.”
They both laughed.
The crowd soon thinned and she came by, writing down charges on a small tablet to hand out. “You okay?”
“Fine.”
“I heard about an Indian uprising in the Verde Valley. What was that about?”
“I wired General Crook for help. That agent was starving them to death.”
“Oh, it was you on the warpath.” She laughed until she cried. Shaking her head and dabbing at the tears, she smiled. “I should have known. You're sure going to brighten up this country.”
“And I will be back, the good Lord willing.”
“You going back to Texas already?”
“Plan to, as soon as I can.”
Jenny crushed her lips together and shook her head. “We're gonna sure miss you. Who will give jobs to all my unemployed customers?”
“By spring, I hope to be back.”
“Good, and be careful, we want you back here.”
He talked to Tanner at the bank, the man at the store, and even went by to shake Frey's hand. The livery man promised him another roan horse or two as good as Roan when he came back. Then he left town and went to Marge's place even before suppertime.
When Chet rode up, Marge rushed out to hug and swing him around in a green velvet dress. Out of breath when they stopped, she beamed up at him. “You're back early. I wish we could polka one more time.”
“Da, da, da,” he began the beat and they did two whirls in the dust.
She laughed so hard he had to let go of her to cough as well.
“This is all very crazy.”
“Who cares?”
“Not me.” She tackled him around the waist, and hugging, they barely made it up the front steps. On the porch, she pushed him against the wall of the house and straightened. “You are something I never thought I'd find. You are one fun guy. And if you have to do whatever, I won't forget you.”
“You are sure on a high today.” He put his arm on her shoulder.
“And I don't drink.”
He sobered up for a moment. “That's good.”
“I don't. I had some drinks one time and didn't like how I felt or acted.” She looked at the ceiling for some help.
“I'm not that well behaved, but it doesn't have any hold on me.”
“I know that. Come on in. We're eating alone. Dad has gone to the lodge. I had a husband that drank—too much. I felt he never could stand his own place in society, always had to be better, do more things, and he crawled in a bottle.”
“Bad thing when you can't stand the world you live in.”
She agreed. “Let's quit talking about bad things. I want this evening to sparkle. I have you alone all to myself, and I just want to enjoy it since you are running away from me.”
He seated her and then at her request took the head seat at the table. The Lone Star flag waved in his mind. It would be hard to leave her and return to yesterday. More things to fret over. If he knew what Kathren would do, he'd tell Marge right that minute. But short of a miracle happening, he'd come back alone. And he could have lots of laughs with her. What would Susie think of her?
The kitchen help brought them their food and poured freshly made coffee in their gold-rimmed cups.
“Kinda fancy,” he said, “to drink out of these, isn't it?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Not for you.”
“Well, I can tell my sister she can have tea with you out of gold-rimmed cups.”
“Would she like that?”
“She'd be impressed.”
“What is she like?”
“She works night and day to make the household right—food right—clothes right—you name it, she's a whiz at it.”
“No wonder you don't have a wife.”
“No wonder she doesn't have a husband. Doesn't have any time for herself. But my Aunt Louise, who's a widow, now she would be impressed. Really so.”
“Who else?”
“I have my brother's widow, May. She's the most tender-hearted woman in the world.”
“Would May be impressed?”
“I doubt it, but she'd be polite.”
Marge sat back in the chair, wiped her mouth on a napkin. “You will have your hands full bringing them out here.”
“Oh, I'm not through. My oldest nephew Reg is waiting for me to get back so he can get married to one of Susie's staff—Juanita. A lovely Mexican girl who's been working at our house over a year. She's sharp and a good soul. But his mother doesn't approve of her—Louise is hard to please.”
“Well, you do face many problems. But I will be here.”
Chet reached over and squeezed her wrist. “I thank you. I'll be careful and you do that same. You are lots of fun to be with.”
When they finished, they rose without a word. She chewed on her bottom lip.
“Now don't plant your feet in the mud,” Chet said. “As much as I'd like to, this is not the night for us to lose ourselves. If I make a commitment to a woman I try to keep it. Besides, if what we have is worth anything, we can wait.”
She nodded and held on to his arm going for the front door. “I don't think I'd regret it.”
“You might.” He hugged her around the neck and kissed her hard on the mouth. Then he dropped back and held her fingers. “Don't fall off your jumper. I want to see you soar over those fences when I come back.”

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