Chaparral Range War (9781101619049) (18 page)

He reigned the pony around. Time to get back to the ranch. Still no sign of Whitmore or any of his hands in town. Guthrey short loped the bay most of the way home. When he halted him at the corral, Cally came from the house, hem in hand, wearing an apron.

“How did it go?” she asked after he kissed her.

“Fine. A man in town told me that in the last election, Killion counted himself in and discarded the votes against him. You hear anything about that?”

“They do some bad things to win is all I know.”

“Maybe a U.S. marshal can help count the next election?”

“We may need one to do that.” She swung on his arm and headed for the house.

“You'd cheer up a sour lemon,” he said, amazed at her ability to free him of his worries.

“You're easy to cheer up. I hope selling the cattle doesn't interfere with your plans too much. I really believe you will get the signatures.”

“You need to sell those steers. We won't be that distracted by doing that.”

“I bet I can find you some lunch.”

“Good.”

* * *

S
ATURDAY MORNING, HE
left by himself for the Farnam Schoolhouse gathering. He knew the ride up to the northeast settlement in the county was far away. Rather than going to Steward's Crossing and turning east, then back north, he cut across country, following a map that Noble had drawn for him. Noble made sure he had a complete map for the trip. Guthrey kissed Cally good-bye, satisfied he'd be there in plenty of time.

He used Lobo, who was well rested and the toughest horse on the place. He set out in a hard trot to the river crossing and then took the mountain range trail. It was mostly unpopulated desert country, and he caught sightings of several cattle bunches but could not see their brands. He pushed the tough horse hard to reach the summit and dropped off the top into a canyon. The scent of a fire made him sniff the air. The narrow cut he rode down through must be working as a chimney for the country that opened ahead. He hoped it wasn't a range fire he was smelling. Then he could hear cattle bawling loud like they were being worked. When he topped the next stair step, he reined up and could see the dust made by several head of cattle being worked far down country. The crew down there was branding, and they had lots of stock gathered. Something was wrong here.

He was outnumbered twelve to one, by his count of various riders. Somehow he needed to cross through them and get out the other side. The smart thing for him to do at the moment might be to ride back over the mountain and find a new route. But he had no map to a new way, and he could easily get lost for a day without any supplies. This was to have been an easy ride to a social event, not riding up on what he suspected was a large, wholesale rustling deal in broad daylight.

If he could stay to the juniper brush that grew at this elevation and sidle his way down the mountainside before he was discovered, he might get by them. He pushed Lobo into the brush, which would take more time but might make the difference between life and death for him. This had been a well-planned deal to have this many cattle bunched and that number of men working the brands over. Might be the largest rustling operation ever handled.

Finding himself facing a sharp drop-off, Guthrey was forced to retreat to find another way off the mountainside with his horse. Not taking any chances, he jerked the .44/40 out of the scabbard. He didn't carry much ammo for the long gun. He had plenty of the Texas legislature's free .45 ammo in his saddlebags, but that was not long-range ammo. Damn, this could be a pickle of a place to be if they spotted him coming through.

All the way down the mountainside, the juniper made good cover and unless some puncher stopped and saw him, his approach was working. On the flats they'd be hard-pressed to chase down his tough horse. Besides, from what he could see their horses were lathered from working the stock and would not stand a long chase. In the brush, he could hear a lot of their swearing and shouting over the cattle's complaining.

At last, undiscovered, he reached the bottom of the grade. The sun began bearing down on him, and ahead of him he saw open country save for two hands driving some breakaway cattle back to the herd.

This pair of men, who he didn't know, looked tired. Good—their horses were breathing hard and were lathered. His own was barely breaking a sweat. If they didn't manage to shoot him, they'd never catch him.

Guthrey broke out of the junipers and headed for what looked like open country ahead and away from all the herd activity. This was his break for freedom and he set spurs hard in Lobo's sides.

Shocked at the sight of him and his horse breaking out of the cover, the two riders tried to rein up and draw their pistols. That was a big mistake. The rider on the sorrel found his horse went to bucking like a high-lifed mule. The second man accidently fired his pistol in the ground next to his horse. That pony started bucking as well, and last that Guthrey saw, the rider was out of his stirrups. The cattle ran bawling away from the herd. And behind him he heard the entire herd make a familiar thundering sound—stampede.

Whether they were headed after him he wasn't certain, but he was racing Lobo as hard as he could eastward across the greasewood flats for the next range of hills. Pursuit or no pursuit made no difference; he'd done enough to distract the rustlers and was actually fleeing them at a fast pace.

In a short while as he came to the top of a rise, he reined Lobo in and turned him around. There was lots of dust boiling up in the sky in the south, obviously the direction the spooked cattle had taken. No sign of anyone coming after him. Good news.

He turned Lobo northeast and short loped him. Whew, that had been close. He'd have to investigate that operation and somehow stop them from selling those cattle. That was all he needed—one more job. Looking back and seeing nothing, he felt some more of the hype that had built up in him melt away.

Midafternoon, he reached the schoolhouse and mingled among the early arrivals. Womenfolk fed him apple and cherry cobbler. Men visited with him about their problems with rustlers and the pressure from Whitmore to sell out. Guthrey told them they needed serious law enforcement and protection. They agreed, and before the dinner even started, he had twenty-two signatures.

He felt better about his narrow escape by the time he sat eating his supper with two widow women on the wall bench. They both were in their twenties and nice-looking ladies. Both had young families and would suit any eligible man, besides the fact that they owned small ranches.

“Guthrey, have you ever been married?” Laura asked, seated on his right.

Both women waited for his reply.

“No, ladies. First the war came along, then the cattle drive business to Kansas, and I rejoined the Rangers.”

“Well, if you become sheriff, will you have time for a wife then?”

He acted pained. “Being a sheriff's wife is not good. He's so busy.”

“I could manage,” Laura said, and Candace added that she felt the same.

There would be no beating those two, so he listened to the advantages of marrying either one and felt like he always did in these cases—he had to escape them. Not because they had any bad deals about them—they just were not what he wanted. Cally beat them all to death for his part.

Later he talked to two ranchers, Kelly Brightwater and Ute Gleason. The three men squatted on their boot heels out where the tall shadows from the bonfire started petering out. Guthrey told them about the suspected rustling operation he had come across on his way here.

Brightwater twisted the end of his mustache and nodded. “Cobberly Flats.”

His buddy Ute agreed, then he asked Guthrey, “You recognize any of them?”

“No, I was trying to slip by them. I figured I'd be dead if I wasn't careful.”

“Good idea.” Ute scowled. “How many cattle did they have?”

“Maybe a hundred and fifty head.”

“That was real rustling, wasn't it?” Brightwater shook his head. “Those bold bastards.”

“If you two can get some evidence we can give to a grand jury, we might get them rounded up.”

“How?”

“I have a half dozen or so in jail now waiting for trial. Jailer has to hold them until the judge says they can go.”

“How did you do that?” Ute asked.

“It wasn't hard. I found the judge after they let one get away, and he told them they could pay the reward on the escaped ones. They've held them all in jail since then.”

“We can take several men and ride up there, can't we, Kelly?”

“Damn right. They may have several head of our own stock in the ones they got up there.”

“Go easy. That jail is about full.”

All three men laughed. “We'll get all the evidence and get someone who wants to talk a lot about it.”

“Good. All we need is some evidence to get them arrested and tried.”

* * *

I
N THE MORNING,
he rode back with sixty-two names on his petitions all told. He stopped and rode across the ground where the rebranding had been held. No sign of much but cattle tracks. He hoped maybe his new friends could find answers for him, and he hurried up over the mountain. It had been a great gathering of his supporters to attend despite the close call with the rustlers. By noontime, he was back at the ranch, though if he'd had to go around the area the rustlers had been, it would have taken all day.

“So you made it back,” Cally said, coming out in the sunshine when he dismounted at her doorstep. Before she even realized it, he had swept her up in his arms and kissed her.

“What are you doing in June?” he asked her.

“Why? What does that matter?” She looked shaken, being held in his arms.

“'Cause I want to get married then.”

“Who—oh my God. . . .” She pressed her fingers to cover her mouth. “You're asking me?”

He looked around and mildly shook his head. “Is someone else here?” Then he let her down to stand against his body. “I want to marry you, and I don't have a paint mare for you to ride.”

“You crazy man. When you rode off yesterday, I said to myself, ‘He's a going over there and find him a real woman for sure.'”

“I don't need a so-called real woman. I need you.”

“Why, any day you want you can have me.”

“No, the bride sets the right day for her to be married on.”

“Oh, I never knew that.” She began counting on her fingers. “June third will be a good day.”

“Then that's the day we'll get married. I think it may rain today.” He looked at the gathering clouds.

“Noble and Dan went way west today. I hope they are already headed back.” She pressed herself hard against him. “You know, I can hardly wait. When you were sleeping on my bed the other day. I wanted to just sleep in your arms, but I behaved, didn't I?”

“Yes, you sure did not misbehave. But you are as tempting to me as a fresh-cut layer cake.”

She swung her head from side to side like a clock pendulum. “Now I've got to wait even longer.”

“Now you need to see if my grandmother's ring will fit you.”

“Fit me?” She threw her hands to her chest and looked ready to faint.

“She'd be proud of me today.” He reached into his pocket and took out the ring, which was wrapped in cloth, and used his knife to reveal it. He held it up in the sunlight; it glinted brightly.

“I can't believe you have her ring. I better sit down. It's my knees. They feel awful weak.” She reached around behind her to find a chair, and he caught her so she didn't fall down. At last with her seated on the chair, he slipped the ring on her finger.

She swallowed so hard, he thought she'd choke. Then she looked up, her face all drained out. “Phil Guthrey, I love you with all my might.”

Thunder rolled across the sky, and they were united kissing each other. Soaking wet, Dan and Noble soon came stumbling in.

Her brother, sounding peeved, asked them if all they had to do all day was stand around and kiss each other.

Cally finally perched her face on Guthrey's shoulder to look at them. “We're getting married June third.”

“Well, hell, let's dance,” Dan shouted. “Good for you two.”

Let's dance. . . . That was what Guthrey thought as well.

TWENTY

T
HEY TOOK HER
measurements for the wedding dress Guthrey was going to order in Tucson. She gave them the directions on what to measure, Dan used the tape, and Guthrey wrote the numbers down. It was a trying deal, but they finally finished taking the measurements. Guthrey planned to leave early the next morning and when they were done, Cally ran the other two men off so she had some time alone with him.

“How will we pay for the dress?” she asked, wringing her hands.

“I have some money. I can buy it.”

“But, but—later you may need that money.”

“Let me buy the dress.”

She looked at him for some sympathy. “The girl's family usually does that.”

“It will be fine. The guys say we can easily get forty head up to sell. I'll find a market for them.”

“What will they bring?”

“That depends on the market. The army and the Indian agents buy beef all the time.”

She made a sour face at him. “Whitmore has those markets tied up with Ike Clanton.”

He agreed. “Half of it is stolen too. I'm going to get a handle on those rustlers I almost ran into and lock a bunch of those thieves up one day.”

“Good, just don't get yourself killed doing it.”

He rounded her up in his arms and kissed her. “Listen, Miss Bridges, you can't go through life married to a law officer and tell him that all the time. I won't do anything to get myself shot, but I want you to know I won't let anything illegal happen that I can stop.”

“I know. I know, but I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to you.”

He hugged and kissed her some more. “Three to four days and I'll be back. Now buck up. We are going to have fun in this world. You and me, we can whip anyone.”

“I will try to be brighter.”

“Be yourself.”

“I will.”

* * *

T
HERE WAS LITTLE
sign of the day before's shower when Guthrey rode away long before the sky lightened the next morning. Tucson was forty miles away on a hot, dusty road and no shortcuts. He used Lobo again and by evening that day he had him in a stable rubbed down and eating grain.

After a Mexican woman on Tucson Street fixed him some spicy beef wrapped in a flour tortilla for his supper, he took a bed in the Congress Hotel. At dawn, he was up, he had a street-side breakfast, and then he went looking for a butcher to sell his steers to. After several tries, he met a burly man named Michaels with a small slaughterhouse at the south edge of town and explained his business. He had forty half longhorn–shorthorn cross steers, fat and ready for the butcher. They weighted close to nine hundred pounds apiece.

The man nodded. “I would like them better than those straight longhorns I get all the time. But I can't hold half that many at my ranch. Usually with good beef I can slaughter and sell two a day. Maybe three if they're fat. That means, say, fifteen a week.”

“It is a two, three day drive in here. Is there any pasture I can rent while you work through them?”

“Maybe we can find such a place today. I really want those cattle, if they're like you say.”

“No problem, I know cattle. These are good ones.”

They hurried out of his office, caught a ride across the shallow Santa Cruz River, and went to see a man that Michaels called Gar. The man's property was under new steel barbed wire fencing strung on stout posts. Many blacksmith shops were making this wire and it worked, once experience with it taught cattle to stay behind it.

Gar sat in an old stuffed chair on the porch of his jacal and greeted them, rising to shake their hands. After Michaels introduced Guthrey, he went on to explain that they needed a pasture to hold forty head for not more than four weeks.

Gar considered the matter and said, “I'd take forty dollars.”

“How about thirty?” Guthrey asked.

“All right, thirty dollars. When will they be here?”

“Inside of a week,” Michaels said, looking at Guthrey for his approval.

“There's plenty of grass in there for them to eat,” Gar assured them.

From viewing it, Guthrey was sure there was. Michaels nodded and they left.

“If those steers are as good as I said they were, how much can you pay a pound?”

“Twelve cents a pound on the hoof.” They kept walking.

“I think you are the most honest man I have met in the beef business,” Guthrey said. They shook hands again, then they hailed down a man driving a buckboard for a lift across the river.

Seated on the tailgate, Michaels asked Guthrey what he was going to do next.

“Go buy a dress for my wedding in June.”

The big man looked over at him. “You're getting married?”

They both slipped to the ground and thanked the man for their dry crossing.

“I thought it was about time.”

Michaels laughed. “I guess it is.”

The beef deal completed, Guthrey walked to the business district. He found a nicely dressed Mexican woman coming back from shopping with her baskets full. He tipped his hat to stop her and asked her in Spanish where the best dress store in town was.

“What do you need to buy?” she asked, looking him over critically.

“A wedding dress for my bride.”

“Hmm,” she snuffed and made a face. “The Paris Shop is expensive but very good. I would have liked them to have done mine. They are very good.”

“But high priced, huh?”

“
Sí
, but Louise is just five doors down. They are very good but—” She dropped to a whisper and he leaned over. “They will dicker with you.”

She leaned back and looked pleased at him.

“Just what I needed to know. I am very grateful for your generous help.”

“You are most welcome. She must really trust you to order her dress.”

He agreed and thanked her again.

First place he found was the Paris Shop. A stiff-backed woman in her thirties met him when the small bell rang as the door closed.

“May I help you, sir?”

“I need a wedding dress for my bride.”

“Oh, is she here?” The woman tried to see if she was outside in a buggy.

“No, but I have her measurements.”

“Well—I guess we could fill that.”

“Do you have some dresses to choose from?”

“Yes, will you have a chair? I will have the ladies bring you some dresses to examine.”

He pushed his hat back on his head. “Ma'am, bring me three or four and tell me the price on each one and we can close this deal.”

“Yes, sir.”

Three ladies brought out dresses. He couldn't see Cally in any of them. But the fifth dress looked more like her. The girl held it up and he studied it.

“That dress is priced at sixty dollars,” the saleswoman said.

“How about forty-five?” he asked.

She frowned at him. “What did you say?”

“I offered you forty-five dollars for that dress made to fit my bride.”

“The price is sixty dollars, sir.”

“I've been in here about twenty minutes. Not another customer has come in. I offered you forty-five dollars for a dress you asked me sixty dollars for.”

She squared her shoulders and said, “The price is sixty dollars.”

“I bet your competition will take my money.”

She folded her hands together in front of her and looked at him very hard. “Sir, this is not an auction. We are the finest dress shop in this city. We sell that dress for sixty dollars every day.”

“I see you don't want to sell me a dress. If I want a sixty-dollar one, I'll be back. Thanks.” He tipped his hat to her.

In the second dress shop, Louise's, he found a dark-eyed lady who was older than the woman at the last shop.

“I am looking to buy my future bride's dress today. I have every measurement you need. Will you show me the dresses you have?”

“Certainly.” She clapped her hands and two young Mexican girls appeared. “This Mr.—ah?”

“Guthrey.”

“Mr. Guthrey would like us to model some of our wedding dresses.” She showed him to a chair and sat down beside him. As the girls went in back, she offered him a glass of champagne.

“No, I simply need a nice dress.”

“Certainly.”

“How does this dress look?” she asked as one of the girls modeled a dress with a long train. That wasn't Cally's style.

He shook his head.

Dress number four was his choice, and he turned to ask her the price.

“Sixty dollars.”

“Would you take forty-five dollars for it?”

“Would you tell anyone what you paid for it?”

“No, ma'am. You've got my word on it.”

“You have her measurements?”

He handed them to her.

After she looked at them, she nodded. “I can have this ready in two days.”

“I'm bringing cattle back in a few days, oh, maybe a week. I'll pick it up then.”

She smiled. “It will be ready, Mr. Guthrey. And thank you again for shopping with us.”

He tipped his hat to her. More grateful than anything else to finally have his dress buying ordeal over, he could only hope that Cally liked the one he'd chosen. On his way to the livery he passed the first dress store and went on by, whistling. They didn't look like they'd had any business since he left them.

He checked Lobo out of the livery and rode out of Tucson before noontime. The journey would be a long ride home, but he had his bedroll if the way was too far. He'd sold up to forty head of big steers at a good price. That should solve Cally's money worries for the ranch for the time being. Over four thousand dollars would help anyone's needs. He short loped the stout horse. The afternoon was not real hot and he made good time. When the night cooled, he loped him more until by nine he came up the road to the 87T Ranch. A light went on in the house when he passed under the bar, and Cally stood in the doorway in her nightgown.

“I knew you were coming home. I could feel you coming.” She ran to hug him. They kissed and embraced for a long while, savoring each other.

“How did you do?” she asked, out of breath and close to trembling in his arms.

“I sold forty steers at twelve cents a pound. Had to rent some fenced, irrigated pasture so we could take them all in one trip.”

“What did that cost?”

“Thirty dollars, which is cheaper than hiring some more hands for another trip.”

“Good. What about my dress?”

“Doggone, I knew I forgot something—no, no, it will be ready when we go back to Tucson in three days.”

“Oh, you worried me to death. Will all of us go there?”

“No, I'm hiring two men to ride with you, me, and the cattle, and we'll leave our two men here to watch the place. You can be the camp cook for the drive. I'm sure Noble can find me two good cowboys, cost us thirty bucks and food for them.”

She quickly agreed. “I think it's a good idea to leave Dan and Noble here to watch things.”

“Yes. No telling what Whitmore's bunch might try to do with no one here. Any other word?”

“No, but a few folks stopped by and signed the petition for you. Said they wanted to thank you for doing this for them.”

He hugged her neck. “Girl, after we get these cattle delivered, we're going to swoop this country and get that petition drive over.”

“I'm ready.”

“I hope you going along don't ruin—”

She frowned at him. “Stop worrying about my reputation. I don't give a damn about it. Let's see, this is the fourteenth of May. In three weeks I'll be your wife and they can all lump it.”

He stopped and gently hugged her. “Cally, someday I'll tell you about some parts of my life that you need to know. They aren't bad things I did. They were situations that happened, and they may explain why I am like I am.”

“Don't change one bit for me. I like you as you are.”

“Good, 'cause you ain't getting much more, girl.”

“Yes, I am.” She drove a soft fist into his iron-muscled gut.

After eating some of her apple-raisin pie, he kissed her and left the house. In his own bedroll at last, he decided it would be nice to have someone to share his bed. In no time he fell asleep, stiff from all his hours in the saddle.

* * *

I
N THE MORNING
after breakfast, Noble rode out to find two day workers to help Guthrey drive the steers to Tucson. Dan promised he could locate the other five steers they needed and have them in with the bunch they had gathered. He set out to drive them in.

Guthrey wanted the shoes reset on Lobo. So everyone was busy. Cally watered her garden and came by between changing sets while he worked on new shoes for Lobo. He was disappointed when he found the old ones were worn too thin to reset. That meant he would need to heat up the coal-fired forge and reshape new ones.

He looked up from shaping the first shoe during Cally's second stopover. “If you want to, tell me about the money situation for you and Dan on this place, since I'll soon be family.”

She blushed. “Heck, you are now. We owe the bank five hundred dollars that Dad borrowed to fix the water development on the ranch before—well, you know that story. Then we owe two hundred for our food, other things, and salt for the cows, all things we got at the store in town. Plus your wages.”

“You don't owe me anything.”

“I feel we do. You've done lots of work here since you came. I'd never have made it without you after Dan's wreck.”

Finished with forming the shoe, Guthrey rested it in on the anvil and came over to her, removing his gloves. “That's all going to be family, ain't it?”

She shrugged. “I guess so.”

“We'll have to pay Noble. He's been a lifesaver.”

“Oh, I know that,” she said. “But we will be all right for quite a while if we sell these steers like you said.”