Chaparral Range War (9781101619049) (24 page)

TWENTY-SIX

G
US
A
GNEW, UNDER
a bushy mustache, arrived the next day. A short man in his forties, he wore a brown business suit, white shirt, and tie. He hardly looked like a lawman, but of the four of them, Guthrey considered him the toughest of them all. He was a few years older than the other three, and they'd served under him as their captain.

They went through lengthy meetings with the three law clerks about who would be where and how they would arrest them. Whitmore's was the prime site. Guthrey wanted Chuck to lead that posse, and Noble was going with him. He wanted Gus to get the two raiders hiding in the Chiricahuas, and those ranchers from Farnam were his choice to help him. Noble said he knew a breed tracker who had been up there a lot with the army and could find them easy.

“What in the hell are you going to do while we're all out working?” Chuck finally asked him.

“I'm going to ride up to the ranch of the former sheriff, Killion, north of Soda Springs and arrest him for malfeasance of his duties. And Todd will be leading another group going after the rapist and his gang.”

They all nodded. The plan was set.

On Saturday, they attended the supper and dance at the Cane Springs Schoolhouse, and there was a beehive of talk about things. Folks visited with Guthrey's new bride and many talked privately to him about helping his efforts.

He reminded everyone, “Be sure to vote Tuesday or we can't do anything.”

It sounded to him like they'd have plenty of help. He wasn't saying much that would forewarn them, but the raiders weren't dumb and might be better prepared than he imagined. He hoped that loss of lives would be very small or none. That worry niggled at him.

When he danced with Cally and she looked so happy, he was bursting proud of her. Her presence was enough to make him satisfied. He'd done the best thing in his life, marrying her. If things held together for an election, his appointment went through with no problems, and the roundup all worked, he'd be in tall cotton. That wouldn't make much sense to a non-farmer, but tall cotton had lots more bolls on it than bumblebee cotton. Those were the plants the bumblebee had to bend over to pollinate the blooms. Amused with himself to be recalling that old saying, Guthrey led Cally outside into the yard with the bonfire.

“Guthrey,” someone on horseback shouted from back in the shadows at the edge of the grounds. Without a thought, Guthrey shoved Cally aside and drew his gun in one swift move, trying to locate the challenger. The fire's glint off the barrel of the shooter's weapon gave him a target, but another gun barked twice before Guthrey or the challenger could fire a shot, and the shooter was pitched forward off his shying horse.

“I seed him all evening kinda slinking around,” Todd said, holstering his gun. “Sorry your missus had to get in on it.”

Guthrey pulled her up to her feet. “I didn't see him in time. You all right?” he asked his wife.

“I'm fine. Is he dead?” She brushed off her dress with her hand.

“I'll be surprised if he ain't, or at least halfway there,” Guthrey said as they joined the onlookers around the still body.

A man stood up from checking the fallen form and shook his head. “He's dead.”

Guthrey made Cally stay back and stepped over among them. “Anyone know him?”

“Called himself Denver something. He worked for Whitmore,” a rancher said, pointing at the dead man. Another man nodded.

“He sure ain't going to tell us much,” Bowles said. “Sorry, Miss Cally.”

“I'm fine, and so is Phil. That's all that matters. Glad you were so attentive.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

Guthrey said, “I want his body taken to the funeral parlor in Steward's Crossing and a justice of the peace hearing held on his death.”

“Don't worry, Bowles. What you did was necessary,” a man said. “And we'll all testify for you.”

“Todd understands,” Guthrey said. “It's the way the law should work.”

* * *

I
F THERE WERE
any more raiders in the crowd that evening, they didn't show themselves. Though Guthrey had had nothing to drink, the danger that exposed Cally concerned him and it felt like it sobered him up. He also needed this matter of the shooting to be settled in a legal way.

Guthrey drove her home instead of staying the night. He felt a lot more comfortable being back at the ranch. Chuck Magio, Guthrey decided, must have found a generous widow woman since he wasn't around.

Chuck didn't make it back till midmorning Sunday, and the rest of the Rangers chided Magio pretty hard about him getting lost. The day passed with the crew busy feeding the spare horses that folks had delivered and setting up tents for those coming from a long distance.

Monday passed uneventfully. Guthrey expected no problems. But the day went by slowly. The hands on his gold watch seemed to turn slowly as well. There would be some tough problems for him to solve in the coming days, but he wanted all that behind him. The thing that concerned him most after the try on his life Saturday night was thinking of how Cally might have gotten hurt in his company. He needed to minimize the chance of that happening altogether. It would be a hard thing to do.

The Rangers played cards. Low limits and lots of fun, card tossing and storytelling. Todd recalled a time when they were chasing a couple of horse thieves and had run into a hornets' nest.

“Why, Guthrey's eyes were so swollen from the wasp stings, he couldn't even see them when we rounded those two up.”

“Or the time,” Guthrey said, “when we were sneaking up on the guy's house to make an arrest and Chuck fell in the old outhouse hole.”

“Yeah, and you guys wouldn't pull me out by your hands. Gus went and got someone else's rope to do that. I'll raise.”

“Well, you did stink pretty bad.”

“What about the time we charged the barn we thought that guy was hiding in and ran into that skunk? He sprayed us all. That was almost as bad as the dunking Chuck took.”

“I ruined a damn new pair of boots the day we arrested that skunk,” Gus complained. “Texas didn't pay me for them either. That pencil pusher said, ‘Aw, it'll wear out,' but it never did.”

Guthrey spoke to most of the arrivals coming early to his place. They'd butchered a fat yearling and put him on a spit to cook. He hired a young Mexican boy to turn it and keep the fire built up. Cally told Guthrey that she hoped the meat held out.

“We can always kill another one,” Guthrey decided.

“I just didn't want to be short,” she said to him privately. Three ranch wives were helping her make pies, cobbler, and bread. Her range was getting a workout and so were the Dutch ovens outside the house. All in all he felt they were doing a great job.

Election day came. The ranch looked like a military base, buzzing with activity. Guthrey prepared to go to Soda Springs that the afternoon and be there for the counting of the ballots. He had not been in the territory long enough to be considered a voter, so he had to abstain.

Reports came in all day: Things were quiet, and the deputy U.S. marshals had things well in hand at all the election sites. Cally and Dan were staying behind to handle things at the ranch. Guthrey and Noble were going to ride over to Soda Springs, and Gus planned to go along. Chuck and Todd had gone to Steward's Crossing for something.

Guthrey kissed Cally good-bye, and the three left for the county seat. The summer heat was settling in on the long days of June. The ride into Soda Springs was hot, hot enough that they had to mop their faces a lot. A large crowd had formed around the courthouse. The bars were doing a good business. There was no room to hitch another horse at the racks.

Folks spoke to Guthrey when he rode up to the courthouse. He asked a man on the street who he recognized whether the sheriff was there.

“Why, hell no. He's rarely here, so why be here today?”

Guthrey nodded and rode on. No sign either of the big ox of a deputy he'd tangled with. He handed Noble the reins to his horse and went inside the courthouse to see if Tommy was working the key. He found him busy taking down messages and held back so as not to disturb him. The halls were full of people, and he could hear the prisoners bitching back in the jail.

“Be right with you,” Tommy said, busy writing out an incoming telegram message.

From the way Tommy sounded, Guthrey thought the man wanted to talk to him. Guthrey stood with his back to the wall, nodding to people he recognized who came by in the congested halls. The note that Tommy handed him read,
Watch your back, they plan to shoot you down today.

With a slow nod of his head, he thanked Tommy and stuck the note in his vest pocket. He eased outside and moved between Gus and Noble's horses.

“Tommy gave me a note in there,” he said in a soft voice. “Says they plan to kill me today.”

Gus frowned and Noble swore under his breath, “Them bastards better not try.”

Standing in the rising heat, Guthrey moved to mount his horse. They'd better have gotten up early and dressed nice. He wanted them to look good on their way to hell.

“Where're we going?” Noble asked him when he was mounted.

“Doc's office. He won't mind. We can put our horses in his corral, water and feed them.”

Gus looked over the crowd and then he nodded in agreement. “Lots of folks here. We'll need to pick our ground to stand on.”

“It may be another bluff. Killion looks like he's avoiding town so far.” Then Guthrey spoke to a man who told him, “Good luck.”

“Thanks. We'll need it.” He tipped his hat to a farmwife who waved at him.

At Doc's house-office, he dismounted and handed Noble the reins.

Doc's wife, Kathryn, answered the door. “How are you, sir?”

“Good. We'd like to stay around town for the election results and not be too obvious.”

“Fine. How is your wife?”

“Doing well, ma'am. The two men with me are Noble, who you've met, and Gus Agnew, a friend from Texas.”

“I think you are a shoo-in,” she said. “You have aroused the public against all these raiders.”

“Yes, ma'am. We hope so anyway.”

“Make yourself at home.”

“We may simply stay on the porch.”

“You're welcome to the entire house.”

“Thank you.” He went to tell his associates.

“Noble, put the horses out back and we'll stay here. I'd leave them saddled.”

Gus asked Noble if he needed any help with them and the man shook his head. Gus thanked him and went to join Guthrey. They found seats on the old furniture on the porch, which was shaded from the hot afternoon sun. 

“There is no law in this place?” Gus asked, taking a seat on the old couch.

“There's that big clown who tried to arrest me. But he does little of anything except drink.”

“How will you handle this?”

“I'll need some real deputies.”

Gus frowned at him. “Do they have the money to hire them?”

“They paid Killion twenty thousand for ten percent of his tax collection last year.”

“Whew, that would hire several deputies.”

Guthrey simply nodded. “We will need them.”

They spent the rest of the morning watching traffic for any signs of trouble. Things were quiet. Kathryn served them lunch. She brushed aside Guthrey's polite attempt to stop her. Not to be denied, she brought trays of food for them and smiled.

After lunch, they continued their watch. By sundown, they thanked Kathryn for her hospitality, took their horses, and went to the courthouse. Horses hitched, they moved through the throng of onlookers as marshals with ballot boxes came in from the far corners of the county. Most parties with ballot books brought a large group of concerned citizens making sure no one messed with the election results.

McCall met Guthrey at the door. He acted as an overseer for the recall vote. He told Guthrey in the hallway that they had so far received eighty percent of the votes in favor of the recall.

“Sounds good. I'm going back to the ranch. Things have been peaceful enough here. Send me word when the governor puts us in charge. We are ready to close the doors.”

“It should be in the morning. I understand an assassin tried to kill you Saturday night?”

“He didn't manage it.”

McCall frowned hard at him. “Be careful.”

Guthrey nodded. “I want you and Brown to watch the jail too. So no one escapes. We will make our sweep and bring everyone in on Thursday morning.”

When they got back to the ranch, Cally had food waiting in her warming oven for them. Pleased that Guthrey was unscathed, she hugged him.

The messenger from McCall arrived on a hot horse at dawn. An out-of-breath youth said, “The governor's appointed you as the man in charge by executive order, sir.”

“Thanks. Get down and have some breakfast. Rest your horse.”

“Yes, sir.”

* * *

C
ONSIDERABLE NUMBERS OF
men filtered into the ranch all day on Wednesday. Things were made ready, especially the wagons to haul their prisoners back to the county jail.

“What do you think now?” Cally asked during a slow moment.

Guthrey hugged her and threw his head back. “I'll be glad when it's over.”

“I imagine you will. But you know I love you and I'm proud of all this. It's an effort my father would have really enjoyed.”

He closed his eyes and savored their closeness. One more day.

TWENTY-SEVEN

N
OBLE HAD GONE
to Whitmore's with Chuck Magio and that posse, since the old man knew that place well enough to keep the team leader informed.

In the predawn, Guthrey sat quietly on Lobo and studied the dark buildings of the Killion Ranch headquarters in the clearing. Juniper rangeland surrounded the place, and it was cooler there than in the chaparral country lower down in elevation. His posse members ringing the ranch were in place. He kicked Lobo off the slope, and he and his second in command, rancher Mike Thorp, got closer to the house.

“Killion,” Guthrey shouted. “We have this place surrounded. I am here to arrest you.”

Half-dressed men came out of the bunkhouse only to face the rifles of Guthrey's posse. His crew searched the corrals and buildings. Waiting for the ex-sheriff's response, Guthrey dried his right hand, sweaty from holding the rifle, on his pants leg.

A woman came to the door. “He's dressing.”

“Very well, ma'am,” he said and dismounted. “Watch for him,” he told Thorp and walked to the men being held at the bunkhouse.

“Are any of you men deputies?”

“No, sir.”

“Have any of you participated in a raid on anyone's place?”

Heads shook. One man motioned to him.

“Yes?”

“Sir, we're only ranch hands.”

“I understand.” At the sound of the front door opening, Guthrey turned to see Killion in his suit coming out of the house in the predawn's low light. He held his coat open to show them he was unarmed. Guthrey left the ranch hands and hurried over to face the man.

“Why in the hell are you here?” Killion asked.

“I am arresting you for malfeasance of office. You may ride unhandcuffed if we have your word that you will not try to escape. The governor has appointed me as the chief law enforcement officer of this county.”

“You have my word.” Killion turned to speak to his distraught wife and reassured her. One of his men went to saddle him a horse.

With the tension defused, Guthrey spoke to his posse members. “All we need is a small patrol to take him to Soda Springs. I thank all of you for coming to make this arrest go so smoothly. I want you to report any future infractions of the law. Crook County has a new law enforcement agency working for everyone.”

He went down the line shaking hands with each man.

Then he excused himself, and they left in a hard ride back to Soda Springs. How the rest of the groups were doing concerned him, but his best men were handling those situations.

* * *

W
HEN THEY GOT
to Soda Springs, Guthrey took control of the crowded jail from McCall and Brown, who looked like they had gone two days without sleep.

“When do expect to hear from the others?” McCall asked.

“Chuck Magio and Noble, with a large posse, are at the Whitmore Ranch this morning. Noble knows that bunch and he can separate the plain workers from the gun hands. They better not try Chuck. He's quick with a gun. Then Ranger Todd Bowles and more good men have gone to arrest Curt Slegal and his bunch. Gus Agnew, along with Ute and Kelly as lead men and with an Apache scout, have gone to the Chiricahuas to arrest a couple more men. One is at the sawmill and the other one was wounded in the Rawlings murder and is recovering around there somewhere, hiding out. A dozen volunteers are with them. They may be a day or two getting back.”

“I figured Whitmore would have a lawyer here already.”

“I met a guy named Bentson, who said he was a lawyer and offered me a ranch up on the Verde for Cally's place and to simply ride off and turn my back on this job.”

McCall shook his head. “That's pretty country up there. You missed a good deal.” He laughed. “I doubt a trade for the King Ranch would have suited you.”

“He didn't offer me that place.”

Brown said, “There are ten men out back going to build a barbed wire compound for you to hold the rest of the prisoners.”

“Thanks.” Guthrey nodded his approval.

Late afternoon, Noble rode in on a frothy-shouldered, spent horse. From a distance Guthrey saw the old man and rushed to see what had gone wrong up there. When he reached close to his man he had to clear back the crowd of bystanders who closed in around him.

“Let me in. Give him some room.” Guthrey could see that though Noble had dismounted, he still clutched the horn to hold himself up. “Everyone get back now.”

They finally backed up, but not before they'd put an edge on Guthrey's temper.

“You all right?” he asked Noble.

“Yeah. Yeah.” But he still clutched the horn. “Things went good. Chuck's got it under control—” He gasped for his breath.

“Sit down.”

Noble shook his head. “That damn Whitmore ran off—maybe he got word last night . . . we was coming . . . Chuck got someone . . . to spill the beans where he's gone. My God, that man can get tough.”

“I know him. He can do that when you won't answer him. Noble, sit down.”

“I may not get up. You ain't never been to that canyon—I'm going with you.”

Damn. That hardheaded old man was going to die, he was so worn out already and still insisting. Guthrey turned to the crowd. “Someone get him a chair and find my horse.”

“Get me a fresh one too.” Noble's shoulders gave a shudder.

Guthrey shook his head, looking hard at Noble. There was no talking sense to him. He'd probably fall off his horse when he did get one and break his neck.

A chair arrived, and Noble looked over his shoulder at it and nodded. Guthrey caught him and set him down. “Did the man say how many were with him?”

“Two of his gunmen rode out with him,” Noble said. “We got Hampton and the rest. Chuck's coming with them.”

Someone handed Noble an open canteen and he took it in both hands. “I'll be fine in a minute. Just hold your horses; we'll get 'em. I'm damn sure going along for all them folks that the sumbitch ran off and hurt. You know, it's harder than hell to get a toehold in ranching. Takes years to get one going, and not many folks do it. Those people he ran off, they had a toehold and he broke it off for them. All that bullshit we been hearing about how he was going to have you kilt—it was just that, bullshit. That bastard hurt women and kids—but he wouldn't buck a real man.”

“Noble, I appreciate your concern. My concern is that you are completely worn out.”

Someone brought two fresh horses and they began to unsaddle the worn-out ones.

“Hold it, don't saddle him one. Can't you see he's done in? Sit there, Noble. I can get a guide to show me this canyon,” Guthrey said.

Noble took off his hat. “No way, I'm going along with you, even if I have to crawl on my belly and back you up. Now saddle me a damn horse.”

“All right, but you tell these folks what you want on your tombstone when I bring your carcass back belly down over that horse.”

Several folks in the crowd offered to go along and help Guthrey. There must have been twenty or more ready to join a posse. Guthrey took off his hat, scratched the hair and an itch in the middle of his skull. “Boys, boys. Since I can't talk sense into this ole man, I'll take him along. I don't want any innocent citizens shot by these three. So I'll handle arresting them.”

Someone in the crowd shouted, “One problem, send one Ranger.” The crowd shouted, “Yeah, they do it that way tin Texas.”

“And we got one of them right here in Crook County. Made more arrests today than Killion did in four years.”

Another roar went up.

“Give us a little room, folks. Back up, please. This old man's going with me. He's one of the best friends I have—”

The applause was loud, and they did back up.

“Noble, you all right?” Guthrey's mouth was close to the man's ear when he spoke.

“I'm getting there. I'll be ready in a few minutes.”

“Good, take your time. I know what getting Whitmore means to you. I won't deprive you of that. I am real concerned about your condition. You are plumb tuckered out.” He glanced up at the crowd of people, who probably couldn't hear his conversation. This grand old man had been his steady partner since Guthrey'd hired him. Noble wanted to see Whitmore arrested and put behind bars before the sun set. Guthrey's own lovely wife would be on pins and needles if she knew he'd given in to Noble by letting him go along when he was so worn out. But he trusted she'd understand in the end. He could just ride slower up there and maybe Noble would recover some from the pressure of the hard ride to tell him that Whitmore had run.

They helped Noble onto his horse. He looked better in the saddle and forced a smile, then he nodded thanks for their help. When he reined the horse around, they gave him a cheer, and the two set out with many words of encouragement from the crowd.

One old woman with an age-wrinkled face under her sunbonnet turned back, stepped out of the bunch, and spat tobacco in the dust. “I hope you wring that damn bastard's neck. He kilt my husband, John.”

“We'll get him, lady,” Noble said and they rode on.

About to laugh at the woman's defiance, Guthrey kept a straight face and looked over at Noble. “Can you stand to trot these horses?”

“Hell, yes. That canyon is in the Red Tanks,” Noble said as their ponies hit a trot. “He must have a place up there. In the past, when things got hot on some of his men for beating up someone, I think he'd send them up there until things cooled off.”

Guthrey had lots of time on his hands while riding through the mesquite, catclaw, and desert vegetation scattered across a strip of bare caliche-exposed surface that grew little forage on it, and he did a lot of wondering about what their man might do when cornered. All those so-called plots Whitmore had taken on to have him killed had evaporated like a mud hole from a summer rain.

“How much farther?” Guthrey asked.

“It's a good ways up there. There's a big spring up close to the top, but the water goes underground pretty fast after that. A former resident built a large stone mortar tank, but you can see there isn't much forage in the country, so who needed the water up here?”

Guthrey nodded. “Funny, ain't it? Where you don't have grass there can be water and vice versa.”

Noble agreed. “It's sure like that. Those kids' daddy was a real hand at finding and capturing water. That's why their cattle do so good up there.”

They entered Gregory Canyon on a wagon track between the towering black rock walls that closed in on them. With an itch between his shoulder blades, Guthrey kept an eye on the rims above them for sight of a sharpshooter. It would be an easy place to dry gulch them if Whitmore and his men were wary of pursuit.

“It's not far from here,” Noble said at a wide place in the road. They dismounted and hitched their horses to some spindly mesquite.

On the ground, Guthrey slipped off his spurs and hung them on the saddle horn. Then he slid the .44//40 Winchester out of the scabbard and opened the lever halfway. The chamber was loaded. From a box in his saddlebags he filled his vest pockets with the long cartridges.

“You up to hiking?”

Noble nodded. He looked tired but determined as well.

The way grew steeper. Noble made him get to the right where it looked like there was some cover for them. Stopped, Guthrey could see a shake roof and then the rock house. No one was in sight, but three horses stood hipshot in the rail pen.

Where were they at?

Guthrey had no big hankering to be out and exposed when he challenged he house. The hundred or so feet from where they stood to the front door was open ground—no cover. Just some gravelly ground.

Guthrey and Noble were backed up and on their bellies where they should be able to duck any bullets when Guthrey cupped his hands and called out, “This is Sheriff Guthrey. Get your hands up and come out unarmed. I have a posse with me, and you won't escape alive.”

He saw a gun muzzle as the door cracked open. He took aim and shot. Someone screamed and another cussed.

“I'm not kidding. Surrender or die.” He shot out the window to the left of the door to punctuate his order.

“All right, all right. We're coming out. Dave can't raise his left arm. He's shot.”

His finger on the trigger, Guthrey closely watched the two men come out. One of them was wounded in the arm, and it dripped blood off the end of his finger. There were only two.

“Where's Whitmore?” Guthrey asked as he scrambled to his feet

“He ain't here.”

“You damn liars, tell him to get his ass out here.” Guthrey turned to Noble and said, “Stay here, this may be a trick. Keep your gun on them and shoot them if necessary. He may be escaping, and I owe him.”

“Be careful, he's a snake.”

“I will.”

Jumping to his feet, Guthrey rushed the house, and then he saw someone climbing the steep mountain. A hatless man, it had to be Whitmore. Guthrey rested his rifle on the corral fence. “Stop and throw up your hands.”

He saw Whitmore look back and then return to scrambling upward. Guthrey's first shot was to the right of the man and must have sprayed his eyes full of grit. He screamed and his hands went to his face. He slid downhill a ways on his belly when he lost his grip on the boulder.

“You can die up there and the damn buzzards will eat you, or you can come down careful and surrender. Your choice.”

Guthrey's rifle was reloaded. Whitmore seemed to be considering his chances of reaching the top safely or being shot while trying.

“Better give up. There's no horse up there. No water either. Dying of thirst is lots worse than going to jail, I can guarantee you that.”

“Damn you, Guthrey. I should have had you shot that day in Steward's Crossing. If I hadn't had such sorry help, I could have done that.”

“You tried to hire several men to kill me, didn't you? What happened to those guys?”