Blood on the Verde River (11 page)

Heads nodded.

“Now, who are the defendants?”

A man with a deputy badge stood up. “The men being charged with disturbing the peace and terroristic threatening are Wade Steward, Jefford Steward, and Clyde Steward.”

“How do you plead?”

“Not guilty,” Wade said, jumping up and pointing at Chet and Reg. “These sons o' bitches are stealing our cattle. No one will stop them.”

Sam hit the board. “That is a ten dollar fine for that outburst. You will have your time to testify. Pay the clerk right now.”

Wade nodded and dug the money out for the bald-headed man who obviously was the clerk.

Sam directed the other two to plead their case.

“Not guilty,” each said. They did so without any other word.

“Who is swearing out this warrant?”

Chet stood. “I am. Chet Byrnes.”

“Step up here, take the oath, and sit in that chair, Mr. Byrnes.”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

“Now, how did this all take place?”

“Reg Byrnes and I came into the saloon, met the bartender, ordered two beers and took them to a table over there.” Chet pointed across the room.

“Continue, sir.”

“We'd been busy working mavericks all day. We wanted a few quiet minutes while his wife Lucy shopped. We were minding our business when these three brothers came in, ordered whiskey, and demanded to see the men branding the maverick cattle. All three gave statements what they'd do to anyone branding maverick cattle.

“Wade threatened us openly if we did not cease our operation.”

Sam nodded. “He told you to stop branding mavericks?”

“Yes sir.”

“What happened next?”

“Reg's wife Lucy saw the conditions in the saloon as threatening. She fired a rifle shot at their feet from those batwing doors and ordered them to get their hands in the air. That ended the matter. We disarmed them. Your Honor, if armed men can demand that ranchers stop legally branding range cattle, this territory will never become a state.”

“Did you feel threatened by their actions?”

“I have been in such gunfights with unreasonable men before. These men were at the point of being unreasonable unless I agreed to stop branding maverick stock on my own deeded land.”

“I want the men in the room now, who were in this room when it happened, to stand, come forward, and take an oath to tell the truth.”

Several men rose and walked to the bar where Sam sat.

The clerk rose and took the Bible over to them. All touched it. “Do you swear to tell the truth?”

“Yes,” rang out as a chorus.

“Did Mr. Byrnes tell the court the truth as it happened?”

“Yes, Your Honor.” Several spoke, others nodded.

Sam looked at Chet. “They have verified your testimony about the altercation.” To the witnesses, he said, “Go sit down.”

He turned back to Chet. “Mr. Byrnes, I understand you are a rancher in the Verde Valley.”

Chet stopped. “Yes, and I own nine sections of land up here where Reg and Lucy are building a ranch for us.”

“Thank you, sir. You may return to your seat.” Sam looked at the audience. “You, the short one. Stand and come up here and take the oath.”

He did—looking stone-faced.

“Sit down,” Sam ordered. “What was your business in that saloon?”

“My brothers and I were tired of these land grabbers gathering all the unbranded cattle up here that should be shared by all of us.”

“Wait. Mr. Byrnes owns eight or nine sections of private land. How much land does your family own?”

“We have a homestead.”

“A hundred sixty acres?”

Steward nodded.

“Then if you three were to get on your horses, by virtue of the land your family owns, you must be entitled to at least a dozen head. How many mavericks have you branded lately?”

There was titter of laughter that Sam frowned at.

“Oh, some.” Steward shrugged.

“Well, I'd say rather than threatening these people, you need to get off your asses and catch your own mavericks. I am fining the three of you one hundred dollars apiece for disturbing the peace.” Sam hammered the board. “Court adjourned.”

Chet thanked him and the clerk, then went out to join Lucy and Reg in the street and to shake hands with the other friendly, supportive ranchers.

“What do you think, Chet?” Reg asked.

“I'm going to send four good men up here. Don't you two go mavericking alone any more. This incident is not different from how the Texas feud started. It could become wildfire serious in the event of one death. Any of those cocky Steward boys steps out of line and there will be a shoot-out that will kindle a big fire. Reg protect what is ours, but don't let them lead you into that form of action.”

“I'm not taking any of their shit, Chet. Lucy says they're blowhards.”

“No, they're jealous ignorant fools, but that's what starts range wars and feuds. They want what we have without working for it. In there, Sam the JP, called their bluff. ‘How many mavericks have you branded?' ‘None.' That won't stop them from causing more trouble.”

Chet knew that mavericking had been fun for Lucy and Reg. He'd just stopped it to prevent a feud busting out. “They'll catch you roping, not paying any attention, and shoot both of you in the back.”

He shook his head to try and clear the dread he felt in his skull and stomach. Way too damn close for anything.

“I think we can go home.” He had to stop and shake hands with several more men who passed on the word that those lazy boys wouldn't brand many mavericks. That was work. They appreciated the three of them for stepping in to cut off the bullying folks. He thanked them for their support.

He turned to Lucy and Reg. “Let's get out of here.”

They mounted up and headed to the ranch.

“Chet, are you really concerned about a feud sprouting up with them?” Lucy asked.

“Yes, I am. Back in Texas, I'd known those Reynolds boys all my life. They never were good cattlemen—I'd called them hog farmers. We had some fistfights after school. My brother held my books and I once fought two of them.

“But the older they got, the cockier they got and the better our ranch did, the more they bad-talked us. We lost some horses. I am sure one of those boys took them, but I couldn't prove it. Rumors were spread about us. How my father was going crazy and we'd lose the whole thing. Hell, I'd been running the ranch for a few years by that time.

“I told you about some of them raping and murdering a woman who intended to be my wife. Reg told you about them stealing our remuda and the three of us running them down damn near to the Indian Territory. Women in that family told people it was a joke and they'd brought the horses back.

“I'm sorry, Lucy. I saw the same thing happening today in that Hackberry Saloon.”

She rode in and clapped him on the shoulder. “We'll be careful for you.”

“No.” He dropped his head. “Make it safe for those kids you two will have and Marge and our baby.”

“It'll be a spoiled thing,” Lucy said, shaking her head, amused.

They laughed and rode home.

At the ranch, Harry had food ready for them. Lucy hugged the old man and the effort made that bald-headed, old devil's day. Chet considered her a great treasure for his nephew and the family. Lucy was simply a big-hearted, happy person.

Reg and Chet spent the next morning talking about what needed to be done yet. The buildings projects were getting along fine, but Chet wanted them finished soon.

“I'll push them at the mill harder before the snow flies so you will have the material you need to finish up here. So, despite the snow we can get done. I am hiring two or even four good hands for you if I can find them. Keep your eyes on the Steward bunch and don't you and Lucy go off after mavericks and let them bushwhack you.” He still felt like something bad would come out of the lot of them.

Midday, he left and rode for home. His plans were to stop at the sawmill, check with Tom on the Verde place, and then get back to his wife before he rode off to see about Sarge and his crew. Things went uneventfully, except he swore there was frost on his blankets after camping out near the base of the San Francisco Peaks. He about froze to death making a fire for coffee.

By the next day, after his mill visit, he used the steep military road to come off the rim and the sun coming off the mountain warmed his bones. He reached the Verde operation before sundown.

The “howdy, stranger” from the crew made him shake his head. Hoot had supper ready so he and his about-to-be-a bride sister ate together while Hoot excused himself.

“Those two all right up there?” she asked, taking a seat across from him.

“Those two are in love, my dear. I've never seen the likes of their magnet-like relationship. They are still out roping mavericks and they can do it sweet and smooth. Except . . . while I was up there we had a run in with the Steward brothers, some local ranchers who accused us of hogging all the mavericks. Does that ring a bell?”

“Sounds like the Reynolds to me.”

“Amen. I froze in my tracks.” He shook his head. “Lucy says they're a lazy lot and want all the others to do their work.”

“That sounds like a bunch of no accounts.”

Chet agreed. “I told Reg I'd send them four cowboys and not to go out roping with only each other.”

“Did they cry?” Susie laughed and shook her head.

“I knew they didn't like it. I was not afraid of those goons. I was afraid for Reg and Lucy.”

Susie agreed. “What else?”

“The workers have the house done outside. They're working on the cook shack and bunkhouse and plan to finish the inside of all that this winter. So I came home.”

“Your wagon train is camped west of here. Nice people. The leaders are still at Hayden's Mill looking at the situation. Their blacksmith made Tom a big spit to roast a whole steer on for the wedding.”

“That's good. I'm going to get a few hours sleep and get on home. What is JD doing?”

She chewed on her lower lip. “We have not seen him since he came back.”

“Is he in Preskitt or at Marge's?”

“Someone said he went back to Texas.”

“Did he rob a bank? Where did he get any money?”

“Honest, Chet, I have no idea.”

“I'll check on him and let you know. Sorry. This is your wedding week?”

“Yes. Leif and I are going on our honeymoon in Oak Creek Canyon at the Bailey's cabin. My nephews and my niece showed me how to fish this week. They stayed three days with me this week while May and Hampt had a little time to themselves.”

“She happy?”

“Oh, yes. She sings.”

“Sings? I never heard her sing outside of church and then she had a tiny voice.”

“That was the old May. This one can sing and she has the best time with Hampt. I am almost jealous.”

“It's good she's happy, but don't be jealous.” Chet stood. “Get me up in a few hours. Thanks for the meal.” He turned back. “You get your wedding dress?”

Looking wet-eyed at him, Susie began to cry. “Yes, and it is too pretty to wear. Oh, I didn't intend to cry—honest. Your wife is such a sweet person. I always wondered why she paid your bills when you first came here. That's simply her way. I know that now.”

He swallowed hard.

She stood up and he hugged her, patting her back. When she recovered, he went upstairs and slept four hours. Near sunup, she woke him and fed him a small breakfast and coffee. He left his weary horse in the corral, chose another roan, and rode on before the hands were up, leaving Tom to handle whatever came his way.

 

 

Mid-morning, he came up the drive and Marge ran out on the porch.

“Stay there I'm coming,” he said, dismounting.

Jesus was there to take his horse. “Good to see you hombre. How are you?”

Chet clapped him on the shoulder. “Things going all right?”

“Oh,
sí
. Everything is fine here.”

“Wonderful. I better go see the boss lady, huh?”

Jesus looked up toward the porch and smiled. “I think she always misses you when you are gone.”

“Good thing,” Chet said, anxious to kiss and hug her. He climbed the porch steps and wrapped her in his arms.

“At last you are home,” she said, squeezing him.

“How are you?”

She whispered to him, “Wonderfully pregnant.”