Between Hell and Texas (6 page)

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Authors: Dusty Richards

BOOK: Between Hell and Texas
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The crack of her rifle broke the sound of flittering small birds. She emptied the long gun into the cedars and a horse screamed in pain. Men were cussing and he listened intently—one or more of them was hit. Good.
In a short period of time, she fired the rifle from another window in the house. She emptied it again. They must have pulled back some, for the results of her shots were not as rewarding. He couldn't see shit from under the wagon, but dreaded the pain of getting up. Then he thought he heard some horses galloping off.
This time she shot from the front door. No reply. Obvious she'd hurt them with the first rounds, and then, like most cowardly back-shooters, they'd retreated. But who in the hell were they?
 
 
No doubt Reynoldses or hired guns of the clan. He clenched his teeth and managed to gain his feet, standing behind the wooden box.
“I think you put them on the run,” Chet said as she stepped outside the front door, reloading the Winchester in her hands.
“You alright?” Kathren asked, hurrying over.
“I'm not scratched.”
“Should we go up and see what happened to them?”
“It will take me some time to climb that rise, but yes, let's go.”
“I can get—a wheelbarrow, I guess.”
They both laughed. Not a happy eruption, but it drained some of the held-back tension from both of them. She waited on the slope for him as he hobbled up the grade until they were at the small cluster of pungent cedar, the smell of gunsmoke still in the air. With her gun barrel she swept back a bough, and then her eyes narrowed at what she saw. He gave a hard effort to get beside her. On the ground was a dead man. His face a bloody mess where the bullet had struck him.
She turned away and for a moment he thought she would get sick.
“I'm sorry, Kathren.” But his sore body couldn't hold her.
“I-I'll be fine in a minute.”
A saddled horse lay on his side ten feet away, whimpering in pain. He'd need to destroy him. A plain bay horse—he knew without looking there was no brand on him. Which one of those three hired guns was he? Even with his face disfigured and shot up, he knew this man wasn't from the area. He'd bet a hundred this was one of those Grossman had told him about.
“Who is he?” she asked.
“A hired gun.”
“You know him?”
He shook his head. “Never saw him before. I'm sorry I brought them down on you.”
She chewed on her lip. Then she bent over and buried her face on his shoulder. “I'll survive. I simply wasn't ready for this.”
He half-raised his right arm to hug her despite the pain that ran up his jaw and shot into his cheek. “Why in the name of hell won't they let go?”
“They're crazy. No other way to explain it.” She stiffened her back and wet her lips. “They're so infected with getting revenge, they won't ever quit.”
He agreed and closed his eyes. She stepped over with the rifle and destroyed the wounded horse with a loud report. With a nod of approval for her, he collapsed to his butt on the hard ground.
“You alright?”
Wearily he shook his head, considering what had happened. “I'll live. This should have been my job. Not yours.”
“Listen, big boy, I'm not going to let them harm a hair on your head. You hear me?”
“Yes, ma'am.”
Chapter 8
Kathren went back and covered the body with a blanket so the buzzards wouldn't pick out his eyes. Then she saddled a horse to ride into Mayfield to tell the authorities there had been another altercation. With his six-gun in his lap, Chet sat in a stuffed chair and waited on her return.
Sundown came early in late winter, and he had to light a lamp to set on the table before she rode in with four men. The justice of the peace, Gunner Barr, and three others he'd gathered up. They stopped in the dimming twilight on the hill to look at the dead man, and she rode on to see about Chet and fix some food for all of them.
She stoked the range with wood to start a fire, and he joined her on a ladder-back chair. Her first mission was to get the coffee water boiling and it soon nested on the range top.
“You made good time,” he said, as she tied on an apron.
“I worried they might have came back for revenge.” A serious mask of concern covered her face as she looked hard at him.
He shook his head. “I regret the most that they came here to shoot at you.”
“Guess I chose that when I brought you here. I'm not afraid for myself. Men like that are worthless and they have to be stopped.” She set in to scrub off some potatoes in a pan of water and had the large cast-iron skillet heating on the range.
“Kathren, the worst thing that could happen for my part is that something happen to you or your family.”
She looked up at him. “I think the same about you, Chet Byrnes.”
The soreness in his mending ribs knifed him as deep as her words.
 
 
A short while later Judge Barr came into the house. His deep bass voice resonated in the room. “How are you, old boy?”
“Fine.”
“Damned if you look fine. They must have mauled you over pretty bad.”
“I'll heal. Who's up there on the hillside?” Chet tossed his head in that direction.
“They say his name's Peters. Jud Peters, him and two more rode in here from New Mexico.”
Chet nodded. “I heard about them coming.”
“Hired gun hands, I'd call 'em. Henton Green hired them, he says, as ranch hands.”
“Green is an in-law to the Reynoldses.”
“I know that. I'd wanted to schedule a hearing on those other deaths, but I can see you ain't in any shape to ride into town.” He made a dismissing headshake. “It can wait.”
The rest of the men came inside and spoke politely to Chet and Kathren. The three looked a little uncomfortable over the situation they found themselves in. They hung their hats on wall hooks and took up her invitation to wash up on the porch. When they filed out to clean up, each one going out made a small sign to Chet that he was glad to see him.
Judge Barr took the cups from her and set them on the table. She poured fresh coffee into them. Pointing out the sugar and canned cow, she took the granite pot back to the stovetop.
“Where were the other two while he was shooting at us?” Chet asked.
“I imagine they can draw up a dozen sworn witnesses that would say that they had been working on their ranch all day.”
“That sure sounds like the past, alright.”
The judge took a seat at the table and shook his head. “This is the toughest job I ever took on, and it don't get much easier. I hate to go over Trent's head, but I may wire Austin and ask for some Rangers. Four men dead, and you beat up within an inch of your life. Mrs. Hines shot at on her own ranch, all in one week. Obviously we can't handle it.”
“Why not speak to him first?” Chet asked. “He's shorthanded and don't have the money to hire any more men.”
“You're right.”
The men came back in: Sam Fisher, a rancher from south of Mayfield, Carney Briggs, who ran the TLN ranch, and Either Hanks. Hanks carried in an armload of split firewood for Kathren and then he stoked up the fireplace. His bald head shone in the flames' reflection when he rose.
“Sure wish you were going north this spring. I've got about three hundred head need selling.” He took up a nail keg to set on. “Guess you're healing some?”
“Doing better, Either. I've got steers that need to be marketed.”
The rancher drew the keg closer, and the others came with him. “What're we going to do?”
“There will be someone going north. It's the only source of money we have.”
“And it takes a damn sight more money each year to just stay even,” the oldest of them, Fisher, said.
Carney climbed into the conversation. “My boss said I needed to chose a sure-enough good outfit. He couldn't afford to lose them all like has happened with some drover outfits.”
Their words in his ear made Chet more concerned than he had been before. Perhaps he should send word to Reg to come over and they could talk about finding a drover to handle it for them. He blew on his coffee. “Going to be a big concern for all of us until we see the final payoff.”
“Dang sure won't be like having you in charge. I never missed a night's sleep. Even when word came back about the raid, I told Molly Ann, ‘Chet will get her done right for us.'”
They raised their coffee cups and toasted him.
After her supper of fried ham, German potatoes, canned corn, biscuits, and butter, she opened two jars of sweet peaches for their dessert. They slept on the living-room floor in bedrolls, and when Chet woke in the middle of the night, the house sounded like a half-dozen saws cutting oak timber. Kathren used the bed in her daughter's room.
At dawn, she made them breakfast of scrambled eggs, ham, and hot biscuits with more rich coffee. They all left bragging on her and thanking her for her hospitality. Barr told him they'd take the body back.
 
 
With pained steps—diving under the wagon the day before had not helped him—he stood beside Kathren in the sharp north wind on the porch and waved good-bye to the crew. She soon hustled him back inside.
“No coat, you'll freeze out there,” she whispered, closing the front door behind her.
He looked hard at her. “I need to get well quicker.”
“I'm not surprised you'd say that, you impatient old man. You wrecked yourself. Now it will take some time.”
“I don't have that time.”
She shook her head to dismiss him. “Oh, yes, you do. I've watched you put on that ‘I'm alright' look. You aren't, and you will simply have to heal.”
That settled, he spent his awake time rebuilding a saddle for her. Reg came on Sunday and she made a fuss over him. Her daughter rode over, and she, too, tried to spoil the six-foot-tall foreman. The laughter and fun made the day pass faster.
Late afternoon, Chet went over ranch things with his man. The corn planting was all set. Heck had settled down a lot and Reg promised he had that in hand. When they got to the cattle herding, Reg managed to tell him the Johnson brothers had approached him about taking the—
cattle along with their herd. The deal about them was that they needed thirty of the new—
horses to have enough mounts for his crew to ride, and needed to pay for them out of their part of the drive's income.
“You think those boys can get there?” Chet asked, feeling Reg was serious about the two brothers handling their cattle.
“Oh, yes.”
“You figure out the deal and we'll do it. We need Kathren's shipped, too.”
“I'll include them. Those horses are worth what?” Reg asked.
“I'd think forty dollars a head. With all the work we have in them.”
He agreed. “They're going to road-brand in two weeks. They want to leave mid-March.”
“That's their call. I'd hold till later in March so I didn't overrun the new spring growth of grass. If it warms up some earlier, that might be fine.”
Reg made a grim headshake. “I'll tell them what you said. They've been up there twice and had good results. Most of the steers they plan to drive have been handled enough, they shouldn't act like deer.”
“I understand. You better head for home. Tell everyone I'm stronger and look to be back. Any trouble?”
Reg drew his even upper teeth over his lower lip and then spoke. “We've had some altercations. But so far we've bluffed 'em.”
“Serious?”
“We've got it under control. You keep healing.”
Chet sat back in the chair. Cold sweat popped out on his face. He had intended to walk Reg out to his horse, but the sharpness of the pain in his body had immobilized him.
Kathren must have seen his discomfort and stepped in. “Well, let me show you to your horse.” Her arm in Reg's elbow, Chet watched her show him outside and clap him on the leg when he mounted up.
Chet saw Reg salute her and gallop off. Damn, he hadn't wanted to show that to the boy. When she came back in, she closed the door. “It's got you again?”
He slumped in the chair. “Guess you saw me going down.”
She covered him with a blanket. “You expect too much. It has only been a week or so since you arrived here.”
“Can't help it. They need me at the ranch.”
“Who has time for you there?”
“No one, I guess.”
She bent over and kissed him on the mouth. “You answer your own questions.”
He agreed.
He closed his eyes and whispered to her, “I love you.”
“Oh?”
“Well, I do.”
“Good. Yes, damn good, because your stay here has made me find that I can't do without you. How I'll ever manage my parents and you with yours, I am uncertain. But I want to be with you—beat up or well.”
“I'll find us a way.” He closed his eyes and fell into sleep's arms.

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