Brothers in Blood (11 page)

“Why're you men going to Young?”

“Bank robbers went that way.”

“I hope you catch them.”

“We do, too.”

“I wonder what happened to that lady's man?” Cole asked.

“I was thinking the same thing. No sign of him so far.”

Two hours later, they'd crossed Tonto Creek and circled around on the north bank to reach the Young road. There set the grounded ferry, and a man on foot was sitting on it.

“Are you Art?” Chet asked.

“I am. How did you know?”

“Your wife told us you were kidnapped and is worried that they killed you.”

“Them sons a bitches might have, but when I told them I couldn't swim they laughed and cut the ferry ropes so I'd be stranded over here.”

“We crossed Tonto Creek and rode around here. That isn't too far across there to swim. We can take our lariats and swim over there and get it hooked up.”

“I can do it,” Cole said, and began undressing.

Jesus rounded up their ropes.

“Let me tell them over there what we're going to do.” Chet stood in the stirrups and called loudly, “We're tying on the rope and my man is coming across with it.”

“Yeah!” went up a cheer from the opposite bank.

“How deep was your crossing on Tonto Creek?” Art asked.

“Not much over our horses' knees.” Chet stepped off his mount and hung his gun belt on the saddle horn.

“You get in trouble, I'm coming after you,” he said to Cole who was down to his long handles, standing in water up to his knees. “I can swim good enough for both of us.”

Boots off, his shirt shed, Chet dropped his pants and watched Cole swim for the far shore. The current took him a ways downstream, but not bad. Jesus threaded out the tied together lariats. The current was pulling on them, too.

The four men on the far side waded out to meet Cole. They took the rope and tied it on a heavier one. Then they hauled it back and tied it so they could hook it up to the winch on board the ferry.

“Launch it,” they shouted.

The barge was well up on the shore and they had all they could do to inch it through the mud and, at last, in the water. Then they climbed aboard and winched it across.

Chet redressed, and Jesus took a blanket and Cole's clothes to him. He told Chet that Cole looked frozen over there standing huddled by the fire on the south bank.

“You men are life savers.” The older man shook their hands. “None of us swim that good.”

“Dry landers,” Cole said. “You've never drove cattle to Kansas like Chet and I have. You'd learn quick how to swim good or drown.”

“What do I owe you three?”

“Not a thing. Glad to help. They said you lost the other ferry they cut loose?” Chet asked.

“I did for a fact, and I'll be months getting another to replace it. Oh, we can cut down some pine trees in the mountains, I guess, and make a temporary one.”

“Sorry we can't stay and help, but we want those five men. Marshal Bailey should be coming along. If he does, you tell him we're headed for Young.”

Chet turned to Art. “In your condition, don't you try to go over that dizzy mountain. Your wife needs you, but not that bad or dead. She's powerful upset and told me what they did to her. Take your time and hitch a ride the long way home. You have a good woman there. None of it was her fault, and these outlaws need hung for their deeds. Get us back across, men. They're getting away.”

On the ferry, Art shook his hand. “I'm glad you stopped and saw her. I worried she might go crazy. People do that over like experiences. Tell them when you run them down that Art Kelly hopes they hang.”

“We damn sure will,” Cole promised.

In a short while they were trotting their horses north on the wagon road. Jesus estimated the gang was four hours ahead of them. In these short winter days, by then it would be sundown.

When the sun started to set, they found a campsite for the night. They unsaddled the horses and gave them all grain in the nosebags they'd brought along. Chet and Cole drug in enough firewood, while Jesus cooked.

“It's good to be sipping your coffee again,” Chet said, squatted on his heels. “That poor woman at the Sunflower store didn't know how weak hers was.”

“It sure wasn't this good.” Cole took another swallow of the steaming liquid.

“You should have seen that boy who brought Bailey's telegram. I bet he never had tasted hot cocoa until Marge made it for him. But he sure smacked his lips over it.”

“Folks don't know what they're missing.” Cole shook his head.

While they turned in, Chet wondered how much longer this chase would continue. Would shutting down the ferry system make the outlaws feel more secure? Maybe they'd let up somewhat and drop their guard. He'd bet they were wanted all over, besides Arizona and New Mexico, so they'd be running scared.

When they reached the little community of Young, it consisted of a small store, a blacksmith shop, a saddle and gun repair shop, and a Mormon church.

“Welcome,” the burly blacksmith said. “What can I do for you three?”

“We're tracking five men who came through here today or yesterday.”

“You the law?”

“That's right. US Marshal Byrnes.”

He drew off his heavy work gloves and reached to shake Chet's hand. “You're about six hours behind them. I hope you catch them. They were thugs. Ordered folks around and shot at two people. Some of us would have shot them, but we were afraid of them shooting an innocent bystander. My name's John Orr.”

“Nice to meet you. Quiet town you have here. I understand it must have upset folks.”

“This is too nice a place to put up with the likes of them.”

“They sank the ferry that crosses the Salt to go to Globe, and they beached the one that comes up here. We got it back in the river and it works, but the other one is gone.”

“What have they done besides that?”

“Held up a bank in Tucson, besides shooting three townspeople. They raped a woman west of Four Peaks. Robbed two banks in New Mexico. Lord knows what else.”

“You and your men have been in some tough places getting here.”

Chet shook his head wearily. “Don't even talk about it. That trail crossing over Four Peaks is real bad.”

The blacksmith rubbed his forehead. “Never been over it, but I can imagine. I do appreciate you men putting your lives on the line for the rest of us.”

“Any idea where they might try hanging out up there?”

“Horse Head Crossing, on the Little Colorado. There's lots of stolen horse business goes on up there and the no accounts hang out there.”

“I passed through there when I moved my people to the Verde Valley from Texas. No trouble, but we avoid it when we ship cattle to Gallup every month.”

“Good place to stay away from. But it's two days' hard ride from here.”

“Can we cross the Rim?”

“There's a few roads go up on top. They aren't hard to find or follow.”

“Thanks. The store here have any fresh meat for sale? We're tired of beans.”

“He sure might.”

“Jesus, go buy us some. We'll put the horses up.”

John Orr gestured toward the back. “Put them in my corrals. I've got hay and grain. Anybody looking for outlaws is a real sight to see up here.”

While they unsaddled and unpacked, John brought them a huge armload of cut wood for cooking. “I'll get you one more load of wood. Grain's in the shop in my bin. Feed them mine. You and them horses are my guests.”

Jesus brought some nice beef back from the store. “They found out who we are and wouldn't take your money. I thanked them.”

They enjoyed the beef cooked on a grill and savored canned peaches for dessert. This trip was sure dragging out, but they still had the trail of the five. Chet worried they might split up at Horse Head Crossing and go five different directions. They'd need to push harder.

Had Bailey given up finding him? Hard to tell, but without success posses get the quits in about three days. They might have run them in the ground somewhere.

 

 

Chet and his men topped the Rim two days later. Saddle weary, they rode through the tall grasslands that the Windmill Ranch shared with this country. It went clear back to where the Rio Grande sliced through New Mexico.

They saw a steady stream of smoke in the sky and stopped on a rise. Chet used his field glasses to focus in on the dots that were horses by a weathered gray wooden building. Two white horses stood among the five hipshot animals at the hitch rack.

He handed the glasses to Cole, who nodded and passed them to Jesus.

“Thank God they are there.” Jesus crossed himself and handed the glasses back to Chet.

“Cole, you take your rifle and ammo and get behind that outhouse and cover the back door. Jesus and I will take the front. We'll hobble our horses and leave them here. Keep down. Only shoot when shot at.”

Their horses under control, they each took a Winchester and ammo and with care circled around to the front of the cabin. They were close enough to hear the men raising hell inside.

One man stuck his head out the front door and Chet and Jesus flattened themselves on the ground. He never saw them, but went back inside and closed the door. A woman's high-pitched scream made him and Jesus frown at each other. They remained on the ground where they could cover the front door. Guns beside them, they listened. It sounded like there was another female in there as well.

“I'm going to put two shots in that rusty stovepipe on the roof. You be ready. It should spook their horses out of the way.”

Jesus nodded he understood.

Chet took aim, and the first shot made every horse tuck his tail between his legs. The number two shot made them panic and reins were broken. The horses jumped on each other and broke their headstalls. The first white one led them away, bucking like a hellcat was raking his butt. The stovepipe had disappeared, and he heard lots of loud cussing and coughing coming from inside.

“You got the stovepipe,” Jesus whispered.

Chet nodded and looked through his sights at the front door.

Two quick rifle shots and someone shouted, “They're out back, too.”

“They've found Cole. Or he found them.” Chet smiled.

After a lot of coughing, two half-naked women ran out with their hands high and screaming, “Don't shoot.”

“Watch behind them.” He nudged Jesus.

A man came out next, with his hands in the air and threw away his pistol.

“Get on the ground. Face down and spread eagle. You jump up, you're dead. You hear me?” Chet demanded.

“I won't move.” He sank to the ground and followed orders.

“You girls get way north of here. We'll shoot you if you do anything wrong.”

They waded through the tall grass. “Is this good enough?”

Chet rose to his knees. “Far enough. Put your hands down.”

At the sound of more shots from out back, he whirled around. Someone must have gone out the back door firing his handgun. There were two loud reports from Cole's rifle, then quiet save for the coughing men still in the smoke-filled building. One man tried to crawl out the front door on his hands and knees aiming his gun. Jesus shot him and he went face down.

Chet heard someone inside say, “Go ahead. We can get them.”

He whispered to Jesus, “You get number one. I'll get number two.”

The first one burst into sight his six-gun blazing, but slumped face down from Jesus's two quick shots. The big man came next. He fired too high and was slammed into the wall by Chet's bullets in his chest. He slid down the wall and the gun spilled out of his hand.

In the following quiet, a meadowlark sang and the wind in the grass sang a hymn. The two women huddled together. They cried more from being scared than any losses, Chet figured. He looked the downed outlaws over, then checked on the one-eyed outlaw who ran out and gave up. He still lay face down.

“Handcuff the one-eyed one,” he told Jesus.

“The two out back are dead,” Cole said from the side of the shack.

“These two here are, too, or will be shortly. Jessie Combs is the only one we have to take back. You boys better round up your horses that you'll have to sell. We'll need the bank money, too. They usually pay twenty percent as a reward for its return.”

“How much are they worth?” Cole asked, indicating the dead men.

“Five hundred apiece,” Chet said. “You guys are doing all right.”

“What about us?” one of the doves asked, still seated on their butts in the grass.

“You get a chance to go find a new place to entertain your company. Get your things and get to hiking.”

“But it's a long ways—”

“You got here. You can get back where you came from.”

“You damn sure ain't nice to ladies.” They stomped off down the wagon tracks headed north.

“It's the company you keep,” he said after them.

He and the crew got what was left of the stovepipe back up and drew the smoke out. After that, they gathered up their horses. Then, with a rope, and on horseback, they dragged the four corpses around and lay them in a row for Bailey to see if he ever came. Chet wanted to spare chopping off their heads to take back as evidence they'd gotten the wanted men. He covered them with an old blanket to keep the buzzards away.

Jesus fixed supper. Chet and Cole rounded up all the money that was in the outlaws' saddlebags and a valise. It was too much money to count. If those outlaws had ever reached civilization, they'd have had a wild party. They had a pretty good start on one and were probably drunk when the gunfight broke out. Those two women must have had a supply of whiskey on hand. After a brief search, Cole discovered some full bottles in a wooden crate.

The sun was about to set when Chet heard horses coming. Led by a hatless Indian, he had no doubt these men in suits and high-crowned hats were Bailey and his posse. Plate in hand, he stood in the doorway and waved as they dismounted.

“Boys, welcome to the Horse Head Crossing Brothel. Come on in. Jesus has plenty of beans.”

“Thanks. I'm Bailey, and you must be Byrnes. You're a hard man to catch. What in the hell happened here?”

“We rode up about midday, saw two white horses at the hitch rack, and surrounded the house. When we ordered them to come out hands high, one man and two whores came out. The others decided to fight their way out. If you check under that blanket, there's your gang, except Combs who's cuffed and resting. I think his head still hurts from the moonshine he drank.”

All the men with Bailey looked like businessmen or large ranchers. When they looked under the blankets at the four bodies, they all reacted, shaking their heads or looking away.

“I'm glad to see you. We were fixing to chop their heads off and put them in a sack to bring to show you,” Chet said.

“Chet Byrnes, you ever shoot a wanted man, your word is good enough for me. You don't have to bring in any dead heads to prove it. You think they were drunk, huh?”

“Yeah, the evidence of that is inside. I ran off the shady ladies, but they had a good supply of untaxed lightning. I think they thought they'd stopped everyone from finding them and they might have done it, but we didn't take no for an answer.”

“We know that. We've been on your trail. Thanks. The money?”

“More than we can count. We have all we could find on them in their saddlebags and a valise.”

“That Kelly woman told us you three went over a trail even a goat would resist.”

“I've been over better ones, I can tell you that.”

One of the posse members chimed in. “Byrnes, we kept asking each other where you'd go next.”

Bailey smiled. “We heeded your advice and the woman's, too. We went around.”

“Just be grateful you did,” Cole said. “You didn't miss anything but hell.”

Busy eating their supper, some of the posse members sipped on the liquor. They all agreed it wouldn't take much of it to get real drunk.

Afterward, the men took turns using Jesus's short-handled shovel to dig a common grave, then dumped the four bodies into it and covered them up.

When Bailey had a chance to talk privately with Chet, he brought up the reward money. “You know that you're entitled to the rewards for these men and a percentage of the money recovered.”

“That money goes to my men, Jesus and Cole.”

“It'll be a pretty large sum.”

“Good, they need it. Jesus is getting married this spring to his sweetheart, and Cole is courting a young woman back home. They'll put it to good use.”

Bailey shook Chet's hand. “Without you, we'd never of made it up here. And you've put an end to a dangerous gang who'd have gone on robbing and killing until someone finally stopped them.”

“I'll write Mrs. Kelly and tell her about their end. People like Grisham and his men raping her bothers me the most. She would have fed them and never said a word, but she was violated by men too cruel to live in anyone's world.”

“You're right.” Bailey nodded. “I guess lots of us in the law business know about that article in the
Globe
newspaper about the Rye lynchings. When I heard the entire story of their crimes, I understood how you felt that day. This one ended well. When I write the news release on their capture, I'll mention you and your men's names, if you don't mind.”

Chet shrugged. “We were just doing our duty.”

“Hell, that ferry problem about shut us down. Who swam the Salt and brought the rope over? They really bragged on him.”

“Cole did it. If you ever took cattle to Kansas on one of those drives, you had to learn to swim or die. After that first run to Kansas, Cole and I both learned to swim better. I came home and swam all summer until the creeks went dry.”

“How will you go home?”

“Ride west. I have a ranch at least one day's ride west of here.”

“Then how?”

“We'll ride the next day to the Verde ranch, and then up to the Preskitt Valley place. From there, we can ride south to the Hayden's Ferry.”

“We're going back with you,” Bailey said. “How much land do you own?”

“We have five ranches.”

“I know folks say you're busy and I can see why, so I sure appreciate you helping us get these outlaws.”