Brothers in Blood (21 page)

Her brown eyes got bigger.

“I can afford them.” He wanted to assure a poor rancher's wife it was all right to spend the money on the meals she'd serve them.

“I can do that.”

“Good, 'cause we sure appreciate you doing this.”

“Oh,
señor
. There is not much way to make money around here. You understand?”

“Yes, I do. But call me Chet, all right?”

“I can do that.” Maria smiled at him. “I will tell the others that is your name?”

“Yes.”

“You have a wife?”

“Yes, and we'll have a baby in a few months.”

“You look happy saying that.”

“I am. Very happy.”

“I will not make lunch today?”

“Not today, but we'll be back tonight.”

“I plan on the fajitas.”

“That sounds great. Don't fret. As long as we don't have to cook, we'll like yours.”

She giggled as she returned to her
jacal
.

He caught his horse, then he and Shawn went to see about the nearby mines in the mountains. The roads to these places were crudely blasted out notches in the mountainside. So steep, he wondered how they ever hauled in timbers for their operations. They stopped to talk to several dust-clad miners who'd come out for air.

One man spoke about his concern about conveying any gold he found to Tucson.

“Alfred Brannon had a mine up here. Left here with I figure a thousand in gold dust. We never heard of him again. I checked in Tucson and he never made it there. That's my worry.”

“You or anyone else has gold to carry out, come see me or my men. We're at the Two Eight Slash ranch, and we'll guard you to get there with it.”

“What do you charge?”

“There is no charge.” Chet studied the man before telling him, “Keep this information quiet, but we're US Marshal deputies working undercover to stop these Mexican border bandits.”

“Well, how about that? I'll only tell people I trust.” He shook Chet's hand.

“If you pass on to us any information you receive, or even suspicious people you see, we'd appreciate it. We aim to stop them.”

“God be with you, brother. You have a tough job to do.”

“We can handle it.”

They rode on, meeting several more miners on the way and learning they were all concerned about getting their gold out. He told them to pool their gold for the journey and some of his men would guide them. When he and Shawn headed home, he felt they'd made a good round. Maybe to be more effective, they needed to protect a few such men and stop the robberies.

Maria delivered a telegram that arrived while they were away. It was from JD.

“What happened?” Jesus asked.

“JD and Roamer are riding off after stage robbers with a Wells Fargo man, two Earp brothers, and a scout.”

“Wow, they already got into it.”

“Right off.”

“Jesus and I talked to five different ranchers today,” Cole said. “Horse stealing is a big problem down here. They can't hardly keep them.”

“More Mexican bandits?”

“They say they are.”

“We need to keep our eyes open and stop to talk to the suspicious looking ones.”

“I bet they take back roads, too, but we are learning them.”

“That's why we want to know this country better.” He wondered about the Tombstone stage robbery chase and his men's part in it. In time, they'd be back to tell him more.

“Maria is making great food for us tonight,” Jesus confided.

“Beats you having to do it.”

“Oh, my, yes.”

Supper was a fiesta, and Maria had good red wine for them to drink with it. All the families joined them for the meal. Bronco's wife, Consuela, sang Mexican folk songs in a beautiful voice and played the guitar.

Maria acted a little concerned. “I hope I wasn't wrong to tell them to come tonight.”

“No, we love it. Anytime you're the cook, feed them.”

“I will. It livens up all our lives, huh?”

“Indeed, it really does.”

The camp situation had been a good move. He listened to the music and thought about May and her music. Memories like that made him question why he was so far away from home. But he'd chosen his cause—border rangering.

Later, he wrote to Marge and asked Maria to see that the letter was mailed.

Before the sun came up, a youth rode up asking for Jesus. The boy had ridden the lathered horse a great distance. Jesus hurried over to him.

“What is wrong?”

“They stole six of our horses last night.”

“You live where?”

“The Triple X Ranch. My father is Antonio Amadore.”

“We met him yesterday. We will saddle up. The nice lady is fixing breakfast, so you must eat with us. Then we can chase down these rustlers.”

“My father was very upset. He said you would help us.”

“Yes, we will get your horses back. Which way did they go?”

“To the Papago Reservation, like they always do.”

“That means west,” Jesus told Chet.

“This is Tomas,” Cole said. “We met him and his father yesterday, and we already have business, huh?”

Jesus nodded. “They said then that they worried all the time that someone would steal their horses.”

They all sat down to eat Maria's breakfast.

When Ortega joined them and learned what happened, he asked, “Any of you ever been on that reservation?”

“No.”

“I could go there with you. I have been all over it looking for stray livestock. Ranchers pay by the head to recover their stock that drift over there.”

“If she can spare you. Should we take a packhorse along?”

“
Sí.
It is a big place. Not many stores.”

Jesus spoke up. “I will set up two panniers to take and that horse can haul our bedrolls as well.”

“Do that,” Chet said, and turned to Ortega. “We leave shortly.”

“I will be ready.”

The others nodded their approval. In forty-five minutes, they were ready and left their camp. Tomas road in front with Chet.

“My father really hopes you can find his horses.”

“I do, too, Tomas. We'll try.”

“This is the only one we have left.”

“Well, we better find them then,” he said to the boy.

Standing in their stirrups, they trotted their mounts through the rolling desert dotted with thirty-foot tall saguaros. He could smell the flats of pungent creosote brush, then giant patches of pancake cactus spread across the land, with bunch grass all over. The flour-like dust rose from the road and gave him an acrid taste in his mouth. They reached the ranch and Chet spoke briefly to the father while Ortega and Jesus checked the rustlers' tracks and soon had their direction fixed and headed out south. Chet lingered to thank the boy and tell his father they'd try to get the horses back, then left in a short lope to catch up with his posse.

When he joined them, Ortega reined over close. “They think they got all his horses, so they were in no hurry last night. We may catch them.”

“I hope so.”

They'd reached some hilly country when a few shots rang out. Chet reined up and saw someone blasting away from up on the hillside. Too far away for his .44 pistol to ever be effective. Chet jerked his .44/.40 out. His shots made from the back of the excited roan horse were all around the shooter, sending off dust puffs until finally the outlaw went down holding his leg and screaming.

“Those others are getting away,” Ortega told Cole.

“We can handle this one,” Chet told him. “Ortega and Cole, you two try to stop them and not get shot. Go after them.”

The two rode off in a pounding of hooves. He jammed his rifle in its scabbard and charged up the hillside with Shawn and Jesus. Colt in his fist, he wondered about the man that shot at them. Obviously, his plan was to stall them while the others tried to get away with the horses.

“He was foolish to shoot at us with a pistol,” Jesus shouted as their horses struggled up the steep hillside with a stretch of girth and leather in the pull. Hooves clattered on rocks, but they soon gained the crest and found the downed man and his horse.

“Don't shoot me! I'm bleeding to death.”

“They must have found the others. I hear shots,” he said to his men as they stood over the shooter.

They both lifted their heads and nodded indicating they heard the shots, too.

“Who do you work for?” Chet demanded.

“No one.”

“You look like you're going to die. Confess now or roast in hell.”

“My name is Jose. I live in Sonora. My wife is—” The man keeled over.

“You must have shot him in an artery,” Jesus said, looking puzzled. “He is already dead.”

Shawn looked pale. No doubt his first time to participate in a scene like this.

“He came to do us harm and he died in his boots. Catch his horse, then tie him across the saddle. I'm going to see what those boys need.

“Get the gun he dropped, too.” He swung on the roan and took off down the steep slope, dodging cactus as he rode hard until he hit the flat, then spurred the horse on.

Ortega was still on his horse, taking shots at the shooters in the brush. Cole had his rifle out, firing at them and made a good mark on one of them that shouted he was hit.

They only made an occasional shot in return. Then Chet reloaded his rifle and joined Cole on his belly.

“How many are left?”

“I don't know. They won't give up.”

Ortega joined them. “Everyone hangs the horse thieves they catch. So they might as well fight to their death.”

“If I offer them prison time, would they surrender?”

“No. How is the other one?”

“Dead. I must have hit an artery in his leg.”

“Let's all three shoot at once,” Ortega suggested.

They did, in a barrage of rifle shots, and then they stopped. In the near silence, only the topknot quail called out with its whet-whew cry.

“Be careful, dying snakes can bite,” Chet said as they advanced toward the bandits.

With no further resistance, they moved in but with their guns in hand. They found the three men dead or dying. Beyond help, those dying were soon gone.

With Jesus's and Shawn's help when they arrived, the bodies were soon loaded and all the horses gathered. They rode back to Tomas and his father's ranch with the four dead rustlers and eight horses recovered. He'd file a report for Blevins. The task force was doing its job, but they were far from the end.

Antonio knew none of the dead. He said that he, his son, and his helper would bury them. His wife wanted to feed Chet's bunch, but he told her they needed to get back to their camp at Tubac.

Antonio was in great spirits, poured them all cups of red wine in celebration, and raised his to them.

After they all drank, he said, “I knew they were coming. I was one of the few they had not raided. I will share their horses with a few of my neighbors so they have something to ride, if that is all right?”

“Fine with us,” Chet said, and the others agreed. It would damn sure be tough to be afoot out in this part of the desert.

Chet thanked them for their offer to feed them, and for burying the outlaws. His bunch, anxious to get back to camp, headed out.

It was long after dark when they got back. When Maria learned they hadn't eaten, she came down and began fixing supper for them. Some of his worn-out men had to be woken up from a siesta, but her roasted goat, rice, and beans were good and she was cheerful. After the meal, they dropped in their bedrolls. Chet was settled enough by then to sleep, too.

At dawn, they enjoyed the hot oatmeal and coffee Maria had ready for them. Chet was amazed at her resilience and ability to get so much done. Along with breakfast, she brought him another telegram.

A man named Rudy Rayales was found robbed and dead on the road south of Tucson. No other information was available. Not much they could do about that. But he feared there would be more such incidents. So they rested their horses that day, bathed, and shaved. JD and Roamer arrived late in the afternoon from their Tombstone trip and did the same thing. While they were shaving, they told Chet about capturing the stage robbers.

“We tracked them up in the Whetstones. When we rode up, they went to shooting worse I ever saw. Well, that lasted about ten minutes and we had them shot up. I think one was still alive and that breed scout with us went over and finished him off with a bullet to the back of his head. Kinda chilling, huh?” JD asked.

“I guess it's do or die among these border outlaws,” Chet said to him.

“Naw, these were white drifters. Probably had cowboy backgrounds. They were losers. When one of the Earps turned one over with his boot, he called him ‘Texas trash.'”

“JD's right. They weren't border bandits,” Roamer said. “And they weren't going to be taken alive.”

“We heard a rumor or two while there,” JD said. “If Wells Fargo learns you are planning to hold them up, they'll shoot you first and tell God you died.”

Roamer agreed. “That's tough. The Wells Fargo man is sending us checks for a hundred dollars each for helping catch them. Not bad, is it?”

“Not bad at all. After our chase and we returned the man's horses, we got a nice thank-you.”

“Well, it was a different situation than I ever ran into,” JD said, and shrugged.

So far, they'd scored three hits at the outlaws and it all worked out fine. He had a tough crew and Ortega was all the lawman he thought he would be.

After a good supper that evening, the next telegram came.

When the delivery boy was paid and sent on his way, he turned to Ortega. “You know this Sam Crane near Patagonia?”

“I have met him. He is a tough old man. I bet he fought them.”

“He got shot, too. How far is it?”

“A long ride in one day.”

“We'll get up early and ride over there. Jesus, get a packhorse ready for a three- or four-day trip.”

“Who all is going?” JD asked.

“You and Roamer rest up. The other four of us will go. We'll send word if we need you.”

“They're probably across the border by now,” Roamer said.

“We'll check that country out. Ortega, you've been to his place?”

“I can find it.”

“Okay, plan to take us there.”

“Good. I was going to have to build fence for a man. Now my brothers can do that.” He laughed.

They rode out at dawn and cut across country to save time. Ortega's knowledge of the land saved them a lot of time. By late afternoon, with one stop for directions, they were at the Bar C Ranch.

A gray-haired woman met them at the door of her adobe house holding a rifle.

“US Marshals,” Chet said, dismounting. “Can we speak to your husband? We understand he was shot by rustlers.”

“He's inside in bed. I'll ask him if he wants to talk to you.”

She called out in a loud voice. “They say they're marshals. Do you want to talk to them?”

“Where in the hell did they get that many men?”

“Come in. He's crazy. Wants to know where in hell you got all your men.”

“Thanks, ma'am.” Chet went past her into a room where a pale-faced older man was propped up on pillows in bed with his arm bandaged.

“US Marshal Chet Byrnes, Mr. Crane. We came to hear your story.”

“My story? What's yours? I never before saw that many lawmen in one place in this county.”

“That's part of the task force out to clean up the border bandit business around here.”

“Take a damn sight more men than that, I bet.”

“We're working on it one case at a time. We've been here a little over a week and counting arrested and dead ones, I figure we're close to two a day.”

“Well, by gawd, there's hundreds of them.”

“Tell me about your encounter with them.”

“Well, tell him, Sam,” his wife insisted, looking bewildered at his reticence.

“They came busting in here about dawn shooting pistols off in the sky and whooping like mad men. Someone was already in my horse pen, running them out.

“I've got a .45 hog leg and I opened the door and shot two of them off their horses. Then they returned fire at me. Creased my right leg, got splinters in my eye when a bullet struck the door facing, and I went down. She had a .22 and shot them up, but they didn't stop. They picked up one of their own and rode off.

“One man they left was dead. They got nine good horses. All had my brand and all were geldings, four to six years old. Prime horses I can sell for up to two hundred dollars. That's a pile of money to me and her.”

“Did anyone know the dead man?”

“They said his name was Estevan something. Come from over by Aqua Prieta.”

“Nothing else?”

“Naw. If I'd not been shot, I'd a hounded them down myself.”

“Good thing you were. They'd a turned around and killed you,” she said.

“I get my mail and telegrams at Tubac. My name's Chet Byrnes. You learn anything, write or wire me. I want those bastards as bad as you do.”

“I believe you do.”

“Don't fight them alone. If you get us any lead, we'll find them.”

“When I get stronger, I'll work on that.”

“Oh, thanks for coming by. I do believe you will make a difference in these border lawbreakers,” she said.

“Thank you, ma'am, for letting me in to talk to him.”