Between Hell and Texas (4 page)

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Authors: Dusty Richards

BOOK: Between Hell and Texas
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Chapter 4
The village of Mayfield sat in the cool sunshine of that early February morning. A dozen houses, a small church, six businesses, and a blacksmith shop, smoke from the forge, and the sound of the new blacksmith, Harley Taylor, hammering on steel, rang out like a big bell. A brave rooster crowed while a red-tail hawk skimmed the ancient live oaks, looking for a meal. Chet arrived in town on Fudge, a sixteen-hand-high bay horse, and dismounted at Grossman's store. He hitched him at the rack and said hello to the middle-aged man in the fresh white apron sweeping off the board porch.
“In town early, aren't you?” The man, in his fifties with white sideburns, looked him up and down, leaning slightly on the broom.
“Early enough. I have a list of things Susie needs and I want to buy some candy.”
“Oh, I wasn't complaining none about having your business.”
“I know that. You're one of my steady people on this world.”
Grossman dropped his chin. “I've heard they tried you again.”
Chet paused and nodded. “They damn sure don't give up.”
“I've been praying for the good Lord to intervene for you.”
“I could use his help. I sure could.”
“Oh, give me that list, I'll have it filled—”
“No rush, I'm going over to see Kathren. Any word on her dad's condition?”
“Doc says he's alive. Don't sound good. Guess he can walk some, but not far. How is your family?”
“Doing well as can be expected. Rocky is less in our world every day. If I didn't have Susie, May, and those two Mexican girls, I guess I'd go crazy. By the way, what in hell did Louise buy that cost three hundred dollars?”
They went inside. Grossman set the broom in the corner by the door. “Let me see. Two dresses and three hats plus some undergarments. You know what I mean by that?”
“I do. She say where she was going to wear all that?”
“No, she didn't.”
Chet dropped his gaze to the floor. “That's a damn shame, 'cause I didn't want to miss the big affair.”
“She show them to you?”
“Heavens, no. I saw them on this month's bill.”
“She's always charged things.” He looked hard at Chet over the matter.
“Hey, I'm not mad at you. I'm mad at myself for not facing her about this business.”
The storekeeper nodded and opened the candy case. “What do you need?”
“Something for a twelve-year-old. Kathren's daughter, Cady.”
“I'll mix the kinds of candy up, alright?”
“Fine. Is there much talk about that incident I had two days ago?”
The balding storekeeper looked up from his candy choosing. “I've heard some. Those Reynolds women always talk bad, like those three were just riding along minding their business—you know what I mean?”
Chet agreed, took the sack of candy, and thanked him. Exactly what he had expected. Always innocent, like that boy they'd lynched up in north Texas. Oh, sure, he was going to bring them back. Those others just tricked him into doing that. Yes, sure thing, ma'am. He closed his eyes to try and shut off all that talking in his head.
“Here's your check for last month.” He fished the folded paper out of his shirt pocket. “I'll have to handle Louise. I'll get those things Susie needs on my way back.”
“They'll be ready and waiting.”
“And thanks, I hope they don't hurt you for being nice to me.”
“No problem. Anyone mention having a hearing about it yet?”
“Trent did when he came by. I'll hire a good lawyer from San Antonio if they have one.”
“Good, I was really concerned.”
Chet nodded and left. The morning chill struck his face outside on the porch. He undid the reins and remounted the bay. Candy in his coat pocket, he short-loped Fudge east for Kathren's place.
Kathren Hines, a year ago, became a big feature in his life. There had been complications in both of their lives. Her husband had been another on the list of those three horse thieves they'd executed up in Parker County. She'd later told Chet he had long since left her for good, and she knew he wasn't ever coming back. His and Kathren's arrangement then turned serious. He was set to marry her in a week when he learned that Dale Allen had been killed by the Reynoldses up in the Indian Territory. The remuda had been stolen and the herd stampeded. Their marriage plans were set aside and none had been remade. Her father had had a serious stroke and she was overseeing two ranches herself with some hired help. Nothing turned out right—nothing. He booted Fudge into a faster lope.
Mid-morning sun time, he walked Fudge the last mile to her place under the live-oak cedar-clad hills. The temperature had risen some, and the gelding was cooling fine when he reached the yard gate and dismounted. Two stock dogs were barking a welcome, and he looked around for sight of anyone. She might already have ridden out to check on her stock for the day. His guts roiled. This business between them had not gone smoothly since he had returned from Kansas the past fall. They'd been on a heaven-sent ride up until his brother's death—Chet had even come by to see her before he went to settle the mess up there.
She came around the corner with a small shovel on her shoulder. Tall, with a willowy figure, dressed in men's pants and shirt, run-over boots, she still looked like a female. Her blond hair tucked under her felt hat, she appeared as fresh as usual to him. A smile on her face—not a wide one, but a grin, anyway.
Kathren set down the shovel. “I'm expecting rain and needed some work on a small ditch that diverts water into my garden.”
He hugged her, then he kissed her forehead. “I could have done that.”
“Chet Byrnes, you haven't time to think, let alone worry about my details.”
“You never asked me.”
“Word's out they tried to ambush you again.” A serious look swept her smooth face.
“Two days ago. Three of them shot at me down on the south border of our ranch. I managed to make some cover and exchange some gunfire.”
She nodded. “They're all dead?”
“Yes.”
She hooked his arm in hers. Then she guided him toward the front door. “You know that you're using up your nine lives—fast?”
“I didn't ask them to come after me. I never had a cross word with any of them. They shot at me unannounced and I got under cover.”
She opened the door and they became caught in each others arms, his mouth tight on hers in the open doorway. He forgot all about his problems, Louise's extravagant purchases, the Reynolds clan, all the rest, and savored her kisses. Damn. Why couldn't they be man and wife?
“We're chilling down the house,” she whispered, and pulled him inside. With both of them indoors and her back pressed against the door, she returned more of his attention.
Finally out of breath, they snuggled with each other.
“Damnit, Chet. We're both trapped in this world.” She closed her eyes, toying with his jacket front. “Why can't we both find some solace from all this bloodshed and my father's health?”
“I hear he's walking some.”
She shook her head. “He'll never ride another horse.”
“What can we do?”
“Sneak around—” She chewed on her lower lip and tears began to fill her blue eyes. “Damn, I wanted you and me—married. But the outside forces in our lives will never let us. I know. I know.”
“Speaking of sneaking around, where is your daughter?” He held out the sack of candy from his coat pocket.
She peered into the bag. “You have bought her off again. You know, her father never brought her a piece of candy in her entire life. She's over at her girlfriend's place doing math today since the school up here has not been opened this winter.”
“I guess you have more chores to do?”
“No, but I do have hot coffee on the stove. You sip on some and turn your back while I get into a dress.”
He blew on the hot brew, seated at the table, facing the dry sink until she joined him, brushing on her blond hair that reached her shoulders and wearing his favorite blue dress.
“You still don't plan to ship any cattle this spring?” She poured herself a cup and joined him.
“I may ship some with someone else. But no—”
She squeezed his arm. “I know. Dale Allen's death and all. I can see what you're thinking and don't blame you, but who will we get to take our cattle to market?”
“I'll find you someone honest.”
“Thanks.” She smiled and leaned over for him to kiss her. “You've not been by much lately. Guess you have had lots to do, too.”
They settled back on the wooden chairs, but were unable to take their eyes off each other. He finally cleared his throat. “I am going to have to find us a new place to ranch. These crazy people won't quit. I can't risk the others being killed or maimed. I need to—”
“Let's talk about it later.” Her finger closed his mouth.
Slow like, he finally perceived her desires and reached over to take her onto his lap. But instead she took his hand and led him to the bedroom doorway and in sight of the bed. He closed his eyes. It all could wait.
Chapter 5
Clouds gathered off the Gulf when he set out for home in late afternoon. He needed to get Susie's supplies before Grossman closed the store. There were more barriers in his life. Kathren's father could never stand selling out his home and moving to God-knew-where—and there was no way she could ever leave her mother behind. Being frank, she'd spelled it all out to him, but that didn't dampen their lust for one another. The notion of not ever having her for his bride gnawed on his insides when he dismounted at the hitch rail in the twilight in front of the store.
Grossman brought out two bulging pokes of the things Susie'd ordered. “I have it all in these two bags.”
Chet raised his hat and scratched the top of his head, looking at all the items she'd ordered. “I should have brought a pack horse.”
“Aw, we can hang them on your saddlehorn.”
“Poor Fudge may have a bucking fit and scatter it all over forty acres.”
Grossman laughed, then shook his head. “We can take some of it out of them.”
“Lord, no. It would be what she needed the most.”
With one poke hung on the left side, Grossman said, “Mind yourself. Three strangers showed up about noon today. I never saw them before, but they didn't remind me of any workingmen.” He searched around to be certain they were alone before he went any further. Satisfied, he shook his head. “I'd say they were hired guns. No reason why they'd even stop off in Mayfield. Someone hired them, or they were looking for work.”
“Catch a name?” Chet asked.
“Cecil Crown was the name of the one who acted in charge.”
“Crown? Never heard of him.” The name by itself didn't even dent his recall, but in no way did he dismiss the five-letter name—his enemies were determined. “Any others?”
“One of them was a cocky kid and the third guy stood around looking over it all—never said a word while they were in the store. Kinda fish-eyed looking.”
“No mention where they hailed from?”
“No.” He exhaled hard. “I just hate to think—”
“So do I. Keep an eye out. Anything about the horses they rode?”
“Bays. Rode hard. Sure enough nondescript.”
Chet knew the type. Dressed plain, rode plain horses, but they came all armed and ready to kill for what some would consider a small amount, then be gone like smoke on the wind. They no doubt spelled out more trouble for him if they stayed around.
“They didn't even get a drink at the saloon. Just bought a few staples and rode on. But I felt they knew where they were going.”
The second poke hung on the right side, Chet thanked Grossman and then rode for home in a jog trot. The stars lit his way in a silver night. A coyote or two broke the silence except for the wind orchestra. Fudge took a few swallows of water at the creek crossing, and then jogged for home. The groceries hindered Chet's legs, so he rode standing up most of the way. Coming up the silver Yellowhammer Creek bottoms, he could see a lamp that Susie must have hung out for him. He felt relieved about being this close to home, and settled himself in the saddle seat.
“What's happening in Mayfield?” Susie asked, stepping off the porch to welcome him when he rode up.
“Same old sleepy place.” He dropped heavily to the ground and unhooked his first bag. He carried it to the stoop. “Leave that one. That's too heavy for you.”
“I'm not some little sissy.”
“No one said you were.” Then Chet shook his head as she heaved the bag off the saddlehorn.
“Go ahead, feels like lead.” She laughed. “You go see Kathren too?”
“Yeah.”
She carried her poke in both hands through the door ahead of him. “That doesn't sound good.”
“Kathren's dad is still down from that stroke. She's running both places. No way she can move off, and I don't blame her.”
“And you think we'll have to move?”
“If we want to live—Grossman saw three hard cases arrive in Mayfield today. No talk, simply showed up. A hard case, a tough-acting looker, and a cocky kid, all riding nondescript horses and plain clothes showed up like they knew where they were at and never spoke to anyone.”
“You think they're a threat to us?” She set her sack down on the kitchen floor and then frowned at him.
“They'll bear checking out.” He put his sack on the table.
“I'm really sorry about Kathren Hines. You know how excited I was for you two—before it all fell apart.”
He made a thin line of his lips and nodded. “There is lots there for both of us, but no way it can work out under the circumstances. They need her and I need you all.”
“Good night,” she said. “Morning will come early.”
He paused in the doorway. “Louise ever tell you what she bought cost three hundred dollars?”
“No. Why?”
“I'm just wondering.” He shook his head and went on out to put up his horse; obviously Heck was asleep this late.
In the starlight, he undid the wet latigoes and pulled them off, then packed the saddle and wet blankets inside the tack room. He put the saddle in the dark room on its horn and spread the blankets over the top to dry. With Fudge grunting and rolling in the dust under the half moon, he went to the bunkhouse. At the sink, he washed his hands and face, then dried them. The water pressure from the tank worked well. The cold liquid made him wide awake for a moment, and he went on to his dark room.
A few minutes later under his covers, he was sound asleep. Nightmares plagued him and he woke up in a cold sweat some time before the five
AM
bell rang at the main house. Seated on the edge of the bed, he mopped his face in his calloused hands. Even in his sleep, the Reynolds clan ambushed him—this time shooting him in the back. There was no escaping them.
He dressed and went to the house. The Mexican girls were scurrying around, and Susie was turning several flapjacks to make a tall stack on a tray. At the sight of him, Juanita rushed over to fill and deliver him a mug of coffee.
“Gracias,” he said.
The short, dark-eyed teen smiled big at him and, in her best English, said, “You're welcome.”
“What's happening today?” Susie asked over her shoulder, and then she poured more puddles of batter on the hot grill.
“I'm going by the sheriff's office in Mason and talk to him about the inquest. If I need to, I'll go on to San Antonio and find a lawyer to be at the hearing.”
“I'll pack you some clothes.”
“I'll be gone several days if I need to go over there. I guess the crew can handle it?”
“We can handle it.” Susie finished the tall stack and gave it to Juanita to put on the table. “Ring the bell, too, it's time they were up.” She turned back to him. “I just hope you don't need to make that long trip.”
Chet shrugged. “Whatever I need to do.”
Before he left, he was going to talk to Louise, also have the boys heat some water so he could bathe and shave. The crew came in, and May with her little one joined them. He watched the door to see if his aunt was coming—he was going to talk to her if he had to wake her up.
“Chet, you want J.D. and I to scout the west range?” Reg asked.
“No, you two need to stay close. I'm going in to Mason and check on what the law is going to do about those three. Trent said he had to hold an official inquest. I'm going to see if I need a lawyer, and if I do, I'll go onto San Antonio and hire one. Probably take the stage from Fredericksburg in there.”
“We can handle it.”
“Handle what?” Louise asked, sweeping into the room in her usually late manner.
“I may have to go to San Antonio and see a lawyer,” Chet said.
“I thought you were hiring more men to work for you.” She took her place at the far corner of the long table.
“Louise, there is no need for more hands to feed and pay in the winter time.”
She shrugged his words away. “That is your opinion.”
“You may not know, but we aren't taking a herd north this spring. We may ship some steers, but that's not like the income we'd make off a drive.”
“If you were a real businessman, you'd consider how to do both.”
“Louise, we can talk after this meal. No need in upsetting everyone over your opinions.”
“I can tell you one thing, Chet Byrnes. This ranch could be run much better if you'd hire a competent manager.”
He blew on his refill and shook his head in disapproval to cut off Reg before he could start to answer his mother. It would only make things worse. Besides, he could defend himself. Her sharp tongue wasn't hurting him, only balling up the flapjacks inside his stomach.
After the meal, she didn't even excuse herself and headed for the door. Chet excused himself and was right on her heels. Out in the cool predawn light, he called to her as she fought to put the shawl on her shoulders.
“What?”
“I don't know what you spent three hundred dollars on at the store, but there will be no more such purchases on the ranch account. There is no way to operate this ranch and pay such ridiculous expenditures.”
“I own a portion of this ranch, and I am entitled to some normal expenses for myself.”
“Louise, you don't lend a hand to any part of this operation. The rest of us work for free. I'll have no more frivolous spending like that.”
“I may hire a lawyer and find out what my fair share is.”
“When you sue us, you better have a roof to put over your head, because you won't live and eat here.”
“Hmm.” She sniffed up her nose. “You have not heard from me for the last time over this matter.”
“I'll tell them at the store, no more large purchases without my approval if you don't promise me you won't do it again.”
She shook her finger in his face. “You aren't my boss. I'll do as I damn well choose.”
“I haven't left that order yet, but I am going to town today and if you don't promise me you will check with me before you spend over thirty bucks on anything you order or buy, then it will have to be approved by me.”
“Do as you damn well please. You will anyway.” Then, as if realizing his threat was real, she turned on her heel and dropped her gaze. “I won't.”
“You won't what?”
“I won't charge anything over thirty dollars without talking to you first.”
“Thank you.” He watched her stalk off to her living quarters. He'd struck her deep with that “notice” idea. No way she wanted a restriction placed on her buying that everyone could gossip over—he'd hit on Louise's remaining pride. That might work. He beat the side of his leg with his hat. Maybe?

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