Once a Ranger (12 page)

“I'll do worse than that.” Guthrey straightened in the midst of all the curious goats that were jumping all over each other trying to back away.

Looman's left arm was bleeding and there was a tear in the sleeve, but Guthrey couldn't see any other wounds on his dust-floured union suit. That outlaw ought to be grateful to be alive, but his kind considered freedom their only salvation.

“Stay put,” he ordered and, holding the six-gun in his fist, he went back inside. The woman was holding her head.

“Don't hit me again,” she screamed and crawfished away from him with blood on her forehead and hand.

“Don't never threaten me again, lady. I don't hit women unless they try me.”

The spent gunpowder left a powerful sulfur smoke that hung in the air when he finally located Looman's gun belt. Guthrey holstered his own gun and then put the prisoner's in the sheath, latched the buckle, and slung it over his shoulder. A half dozen dark eyes followed his every move. Nothing else in there worth ten cents—only a fecal smell mixed with the sharp haze. He went back outside. Dressed in white clothing, the Mexican slave boy stood there looking at his handcuffed boss, wide-eyed and afraid, ready to run.

“Saddle your horses, and get ready to ride.” Guthrey spoke in Spanish. “We're going to Tucson. One mistake and I'll shoot you. You savvy?”

“Oh,
sí
, senor.”

“What is your name?”

“Raphael.”

“Is she your mother?”

“No. But I will work for you.”

“Good, Raphael. You behave, I won't cuff you.”

“I will, senor.”

“My name's Guthrey.”

“
Sí
, sen—I mean,
sí
, Guthrey.”

He watched the woman and her kids, all in a huddle, come outside from her jacal, coughing hard. They stopped and stared at him.

“Put his clothes and things in a blanket. Tie them up. He's going back in his underwear.”

“What about his wound?” she asked.

“He should of worried about that when he tried to get the gun. Now get it all loaded. We're leaving here shortly.”

She made a face. “He may bleed to death.”

“I doubt it. Get his things. I'll find a doc along the way.”

The boy was back with their two horses. Guthrey checked their saddlebags for knives and guns—none of the above. The woman brought him a blanket full of stuff, which he tied onto the boy's saddle horn. He told the youth to fashion a lead from the saddle horn of Looman's horse to his and then he put a halter on the boy's bay horse. Guthrey locked the second pair of cuffs on the horn, jerked up the moaning killer, and loaded him backward up on the saddle. With one cuff on the horn, he latched the second one on the outlaw's hands behind his back. No way he could run off riding that way.

“I'll fall off,” Looman screamed, facing the rear of his mount.

“Better hope you don't. It might break both your arms. I don't want to have to look at your sorry face all the way back up to Tucson.”

The woman had a Mexican cussing fit and spat at him, all at a safe distance. At the gate, Guthrey unhitched his horse and mounted up. In the saddle and holding the lead to Looman's horse, he led them out the gate. The boy followed his boss.

When they were down the way a bit, the woman discovered her nannies were leaving out of the gate as well and began screaming for them to come back. Waving her arms, she drove them back through her gate and inside her yard. More of her screams and cuss words followed him. Prodding their mounts into a trot with the boy and prisoner bringing up the rear, Guthrey turned up the King's Road and set out for Tubac.

THIRTEEN

T
HE WHOLE JOURNEY,
Looman was moaning that he was dying from his wound, and Guthrey was hoping that he would. It would save the county a hanging. But there was no chance of him being so lucky. He'd find a doctor in Tubac and get him seen to.

How many friends did the killer have that might try to get him freed? It was a good question. Guthrey knew little about the criminal element at the border and how close Looman was to them. His helper, Raphael, so far acted simple enough and did what he was told, but he still needed to be watched for what he might try. Looman locked up in jail would mean the boy would be out of a job and that could be tough for him. Slaves like him were fed and given money at times to keep them. They also were savagely beaten on occasion to keep them in line and to enforce their slavery.

Abe Lincoln might have turned all of the slaves loose in the United States, but Mexico overlooked such status in their homeland and various stages of slavery still existed below the border. No one enforced the slavery freedom law in the territory except U.S. marshals and their deputies. The boy's chances of even being recognized as a slave wouldn't matter much to them.

Past midnight, they reached the inn in Tubac and, unloading the prisoners, made enough noise to bring Ida Bartlett down and outside holding a candle lamp.

“So you caught him. I have never seen this man before.”

“He's not much to look at. We had a hassle early this morning and he went for his gun. He was shot in his arm. Is there a doctor available to look at him?”

“Dr. Santos would do that,” she said.

“Where at?” He searched around in the starlight.

Ida turned to the girl who'd been standing aside in the shadows. “Macita, thanks for being up. Go get the doctor. Tell him a man has been shot.”

The girl ran off with a quick, “
Sí
, senora.”

“Bring him inside.”

“No, he's filthy and ain't had a bath in six months. Can we move a table out here to lay him on?”

She shrugged. “We will have to hold up lights for the doctor.”

“It's not a big wound,” Guthrey said, not concerned. “Raphael, go help her bring a table out,” he said in Spanish to the boy. The youth moved fast at his order.

“What about me, half-dead on this gawdamn horse?” Looman asked. “Ain't one of you sonsabitches worried about me?”

“I'll get you down in a few minutes. Quit cussing. This nice lady is trying to get you medically looked after and she don't need to hear your profanity. So shut your mouth.”

He didn't smart back. Two of her men arrived to help move the table outside. Ida fixed some more lamps and her men put up a rope to string them on. She introduced them as Franco and Sandal. Franco was in charge and he shook Guthrey's hand. “So good to meet you, Sheriff. This man is one of the most feared men on the border, and you captured him alone?”

“See, I was a Texas Ranger before I came to the Arizona Territory, and down there, for one outlaw, they only send one Ranger.”

The two men laughed.

“You ever come to arrest me, you say, ‘I'm Sheriff Guthrey,' and I will come out peacefully.” Franco laughed again and so did his cohort. “That's all you will have to say.”

“Help me get him off his horse. Easy on his left arm. That's the one I shot this morning.” With his keys, he unlocked the first set of cuffs from the saddle horn, then they lowered Looman to the ground, but his legs collapsed under him.

“Hey, hombre, you couldn't run away if you wanted to,” Franco told him with his body suspended between the two of them. The outlaw, on his feet at last, shot up.

“You sonsabitch—”

But Guthrey backhanded him to shut his mouth.

With a fistful of Looman's underwear in his hand, Guthrey drew his face up. “I told you if you started swearing I'd cut it off. You know what I mean now?”

In their grasp again, hanging between the two men, Looman nodded.

“Put him on his stomach on the table. I'll unlock his hands. But if he tries anything, moving in any way, you can gut-shoot him. He don't deserve anything more.”

“We understand,” Franco said. None too gently they threw him on his belly across the table.

Guthrey stepped in and unlocked the left cuff, then fastened the end of the second pair to the table leg. Looman wasn't going anywhere. Ida came out of the house with three beers on a tray for the men.

“Doesn't take long for you three to get things done.” She laughed openly, looking at the outlaw and shaking her head. “How many men has he killed? Does anyone know?”

“Five or six, maybe more,” Franco said. “Who knows?”

“He murdered an entire family in my district. A cruel, mean way for them to die.”

“Why didn't anyone stop him?”

“He escaped from Yuma prison. I have no idea when. We had no law in Crook Country before I took office two months ago. Besides, I had no idea he was in my area or I'd have had people watch for him. I probably would have imagined he was down in Mexico with his compadres. He slipped in and murdered that family.”

“Did they have money?”

“No, they were poor, but they had a daughter of thirteen or fourteen that he and his companion raped and then smothered to death with a pillow. Sorry, that's a bad story to have to tell to anyone.”

“If I'd known that, I'd never have asked the doc to come.” Ida turned away, her shoulders shaking.

“I'm sorry, ma'am. He's not worth much, but I have to uphold the law, and that requires I protect him and make him go to trial for his crimes.”

“Did you—”

“Yes, I was at a dance with my wife when a lady reported the murders. I borrowed a horse and rode up there with another man to look at the murder scene. Not a nice sight—”

“I can imagine. The doctor is here.”

A short man with a medical bag came in the lighted front area. “Good evening. Where is this wounded man?”

“On the table. If you need to cut his arm off, we'll hold him down.” Guthrey held out his hand toward the facedown outlaw. “It's his left arm.”

The doctor shed his suit coat. Ida took it and folded it over her arm. He took scissors and split the stained sleeve of Looman's underwear.

Looman screamed when the doctor lifted the limb to examine it.

“This all the damage?” he asked Guthrey.

“He made a break in the dark after I warned him not to. I shot him.”

The doctor nodded. “I can bathe it with a disinfectant and then sew it up. If it turns gangrenous it will have to be amputated.”

“I understand.”

“Doc, give me some pain medicine. It hurts bad. It's killing my brain. Doc, please—”

“Shut up,” Guthrey said. “Sew him up.”

“What did he do?” Doc asked as he washed his hands in a bowl of water the girl brought to him. Careful-like he dried them on a towel, then handed it back to her.

“Murdered a man, his wife, then used their teenage daughter and smothered her to death with a pillow.”

Doc dropped his head and shook it. “That sounds horrific.”

“The death scene was bad.”

“I'm glad you were there and not me.”

“Yes, sir. Sew him up. I need some sleep. He ain't worth wasting a minute of it.”

“Franco and my men can guard him. Go inside to the second room upstairs and get some sleep. It will be taken care of,” Ida said.

Guthrey hesitated. “I want him alive in the morning.”

“I understand.” She pushed him with both hands.

He laughed. “Gag him if he raises too much hell.”

“We can handle him, senor.” Franco folded his arms over his chest.

Guthrey nodded and removed his hat. “Wake me early. I want him in the Tucson jail by tomorrow night.”

“Go to bed.” She gave a toss of her head.

“Thanks to all of you.”

Guthrey retired. Looman was in his custody and in another day he'd throw him in the Pima County jail. Then he'd ride on home—he missed his sweet wife. But they'd be together in a couple more days. Boots off, he sat on his butt on the bed. It had been a long day, but a good one for his role as sheriff—he shed his britches and soon fell asleep.
Cally, I'm coming home.

FOURTEEN

T
HE MORNING HELD
a cool breath. The quail were whit-wooing in the chaparral when Ida woke Guthrey by knocking on the door. “You said early. Breakfast is ready downstairs.”

“I'm coming. Thanks.” He pulled on his britches.

“Your prisoner is still alive.”

“Good.” With effort, he pulled on his boots and strapped on his gun belt, then his hat. His mouth was dry and he hoped the coffee was as good as the last time. On the open porch he looked at the sky over the towering mountains to the east. No clouds, and the heat would rise. It was August in the southern part of the Arizona Territory.

He washed his hands and face at the bowl outside the door to the dining room. Before he reached home his whiskers would bristle. He dried his face and hands, then entered the dining room, smelling the aroma of food. Ida steered him to a table already set. “Have a seat. Franco has your stallion saddled and the other horses are ready. We fed the two prisoners already.”

“I must have a big bill run up here.”

She swept her dress and skirts under her and sat down across from him. “Will your county reimburse you?”

“I suppose they will.”

“I will send the bill to them.”

“How much?”

“Oh, twenty-five dollars.”

“If they won't pay that, I will send you the money.”

She shook her head like she was speaking to a small boy. “I won't accept it.”

“Thanks. I appreciate all you've done for me. People like you will make this a great state someday.”

“I hope so. And you are a good example of real law enforcement. I am honored you chose us to help you.”

“Thanks.” He busied himself eating.

“Do you expect anyone to try to stop you from delivering him to the Tucson sheriff?”

“No, ma'am.”

“Franco said he would like to ride with you just in case someone tries.”

Guthrey tore a piece of bread off the loaf on the table. “I'd be honored if he did that. Can you spare him?”

“Sure. He is a brave man.”

“I saw that last night. Sure, I'd be proud to have him along. But I doubt Looman has enough friends anywhere to come and rescue him.”

She laughed. “That might be so. I'll tell him you would like him to go along.”

“Ida,” he said softly. “Thanks, you are a generous lady.”

She sucked on an eyetooth for a moment, then nodded. “I am very impressed by your dedication to your job—and your wife.”

“Tell Franco I am coming.”

“Ride easy, hombre.” She went to tell her man.

* * *

I
N A SHORT
time, Guthrey and Franco had Looman handcuffed to the saddle horn. The boy, Raphael, was on his horse and Guthrey told him if he didn't try to escape, he could ride his horse without a lead. The youth quickly promised not to do anything. They set out for Tucson with a wave for Ida and her crew.

Looman, his left arm bandaged, clung to the horn with his good arm when Cochise began to trot and his horse kept pace. The road north for Guthrey and company followed a silver stream that rushed north to the Gila. In places there was even shade to ride under the towering gnarled cottonwoods. A nice relief from the surging sun's rays.

Midday they stopped at a community store and ate lunch fixed by a vendor under some ancient trees. Guthrey knew the trip would be a long one, close to fifty miles, but Franco was a cheerful man to ride with and they shared some tales about their lives.

Guthrey told him about being a Ranger. Franco had some good stories about his life growing up in Tubac. Like what Ida's husband, Howard, had been like.

“He was a good man, really like a father to me. No one walked over him. I was with him when he caught three men stealing his horses. They won't ever steal anymore.”

“The rope law was once all people had in Arizona,” Guthrey agreed with him, riding beside the man.

“No one ever stole another horse from Howard Bartlett.”

Guthrey stood in the stirrups and looked over their back trail to be certain no one was trying to catch them. Satisfied that nothing was coming, he poked Cochise with a spur to trot faster and Looman moaned.

Franco knew the way to the Tucson jail even coming through the dark streets after midnight. The prisoner was delivered to the yawning guard. The man recognized Looman when he came inside the main room.

“How did you catch him?” the man asked.

“He was staying with a woman. I simply woke him up.”

“He's listed as a killer.” The guard frowned, looking at a wanted poster,

“He will be tried in Crook County for three people he killed. My deputies will be back here after him in a few days. He's a wanted felon so you can hold him that long.”

“Why is his arm bandaged?”

“He tried to reach for a gun.”

“That was stupid. Unlock the handcuffs. I've got a good cell for him. He won't get out of here. Send your men to come get him.”

“Tell Sheriff Ramos thanks.”

They took the boy and the horses to a livery. They told him to eat some jerky and sleep. They'd be back in the morning for the horses to return to their homes.

* * *

F
RANCO KNEW A
woman in town who'd cook them food and give them a place to sleep. Her name was Rosa and she quickly threw a meal together along with some red wine to go with it. She was a middle-aged woman and acted very interested in their business in Tucson.

“The sheriff arrested this man down by the Kitchen Ranch and brought him to Ida's inn,” Franco told her. “He knew her and we helped him, then I asked to ride up here so he wasn't troubled by any of the killer's friends.”

“Did anyone try you two?”

Franco shook his head. “But we were ready.”

Guthrey agreed.

“You should be a big hero. He was an escaped prisoner from Yuma and no one knew where he was hiding at. You found him.”

“I'm just happy he's in jail. That's enough for me.”

“I savvy, senor. May God bless you for your hard work. There are beds in the room over there. Should I wake either of you?”

“Yes, my wife is wondering where I am by now. A few hours is enough sleep,” Guthrey said.

“Let me sleep.” Franco laughed. “I am going to take another day off since I am here.”

“Thanks for all your hard work.” Guthrey rose and shook his hand.

“Anytime. Anytime,
mi amigo
.”

* * *

G
UTHREY FOUND THE
bed and soon was asleep. The red wine had settled him some. But the time spent in slumber felt like no time at all to him when Rosa shook him awake. “It is about dawn, senor.”

“
Gracias
. I will be up in a minute.”

“I have some food cooked for you.”

He dressed and went out in the candlelit room. She showed him his place at the table. Her food was spicy and fresh tasting. He left her a dollar and she protested about him paying her, but in the end she kept the silver cartwheel.

All their horses were saddled when he reached the stables. Guthrey told the man to put Franco's mount back and that he'd be after it later. He paid the liveryman all the charges on all of them. Then Guthrey asked the boy if he had eaten.

He nodded.

“Get on your horse; you can lead Looman's. The county can sell it for the bills he will cause them.”

Guthrey decided Raphael didn't understand a word of what he had told him in English. In the saddle he shook his head at his dilemma about what to do with the teenager. Take him home, he guessed. They left in a hard trot eastward.

* * *

B
Y DARK HE
was back in Soda Springs and the deputies were there to welcome him.

“The Tucson sheriff notified us by telegraph that you'd put Looman in the jail there. We figured you were coming home,” Baker said. “Your wife is down at your shack. We told her you'd be here tonight and she came to town to meet you.”

“We need to send two men to bring Looman back. Raphael here was his slave. Give him a bed in a cell. He is a scared young man who doesn't savvy much English. Assure him he is not a prisoner. We will find a place for him. He can testify for us in court.”

“We'll look after him,” Zamora said.

“You look caved in,” Baker said. “We can take care of your horses.”

“Cochise can go in the corral down there. If you can care for the other two, I'll be fine.”

“Looman's been on the run since he broke out of Yuma. How did you find him?” Baker asked.

“I started south from Tucson, talking to people until a man told me about some goat lady Looman had gotten pregnant several times. I found her place and caught him when he dropped in to see her.”

Baker shook his head. “The Rangers taught you well. One outlaw, one Ranger, huh?”

They all laughed, including Guthrey.

“Good night, boys.”

Baker held up his hand to stop him. “Oh, that Walter Pierson is trying to run off ranchers. We have three reports on what he told them.”

“Anyone do anything about him?” Guthrey looked them over for an answer.

“No. We knew you'd be back and would want to handle it.”

“I will. He hurt anyone?”

“No. All words so far.”

“We need to find more than words to do much about him. I'll think on it some.”

“Go see your wife,” Baker said and turned Guthrey toward the jail door. “She's waiting for you.”

“Thanks. We can handle Pierson when I get rested if we get some real firm details or evidence.”

“Get real rested,” Baker said. “You've earned one.”

Guthrey mounted Cochise and turned him downhill toward the shack. Stars flecked the sky as his weary horse moseyed down the road. He knew his paint horse was ready to rest too. At the corral, he dropped heavily from the saddle and went to loosening the latigo straps to his girths. Then he pulled the saddle off his back and set it on the ground atop the horn.

Cally's arms encircled his waist. “You made it back.”

Wide-awake in her presence, he twisted around and squeezed her to his body. “Gods, girl, I have missed you. You all right?”

“I'm fine. I must say, I've been worried about you. The telegram said you'd captured that killer and he was in jail. We all guessed you were all right.”

“I'm sorry. I was so anxious to get back I forgot about the telegraph. You don't have a telegraph key at the house, so I was riding home quick as I could.”

“Oh, I knew you'd come back.”

“I am so dirty,” he protested as she hugged him close again.

“I filled a barrel of water and I can help you get in it, but what you really need is a shower setup here.”

He laughed. “I just bought this place to sleep overnight here.”

“Well, it needs some facilities, I can see that.”

“Cally Guthrey, you're sure something.” As they left the corral, he asked, “Did Dan come home?”

She nodded. “Oh, he's so pouty, I came in here to meet you.”

“What about the woman?”

“He said you ran her off.”

“I told him to marry her or she could leave the county.”

“She left.”

“No big loss. He'll get over it.”

She hugged him as they approached the barrel set out behind the house under the stars. “I hope so. I have a chair out here to hang your gun belt and clothes on. There are fresh clothes in the house for you to wear tomorrow.”

He undressed, shaking his head. “Darling, I have been so lonesome for you, night after night. This is sure sweet.”

“I knew you'd need a bath, so I set this up. I hope it is still warm enough to sit in.”

Once in the barrel he found the water was cold, but he squatted down inside to his chin and sighed. “It ain't warm, but it damn sure feels good.”

She scrubbed hard on his back with her long-handled brush and they went to work slipping off the dirt he had collected. She leaned over and kissed him. “Glad you're home.”

“Me too.” He came out of the tub shedding water.

“I swept a path to the back door, if we can find it, so you don't get needles in your soles.”

“I'll let you lead me.” He slung the gun belt over his shoulder and carried his boots by the ears.

She put on his hat and carried his clothes in a ball. “I want to fix this house up. We have the money. Can I?”

“Sure, darling. Whatever you think.”

“You spoil me, Phil.”

“No, I'm just pleased to have you. You have hot water in there?”

“Sure. I can shave you.”

“Good. I need it.”

“Hey, I'd take a whisker burn to get you in bed. Now, aren't I bad?”

“No, just the wonderful woman I married.” They went in through the back door. Her plan had worked; no needles or goatheads in his soles.

After he ate some cold biscuits with butter and prickly pear jelly, she shaved him, then they slipped off to the fresh sheets on the bed and enjoyed each other until they fell asleep.