Ambush Valley (28 page)

At the sound of horses at the front yard gate, Chet rose from the supper table and told her he could handle it. It was past sundown.

He could see Sarge was off his horse and had started for the gate.

“What's wrong?” Chet asked.

“They arrested Tom and Hampt both for rustling those cattle and took them to jail.”

“Who arrested them?”

“Two of Sims's deputies.” Sarge was out of breath. “We'd never let them take them, but Tom said for us to watch the cattle and notify you. And not to cause a fight.”

“He was right.”

“What happened?” Leif said from the porch with both women behind him.

“The Hartleys swore out a warrant for our arrest for cattle rustling. Sims's men arrested Tom and Hampt. Took them to jail, Sarge said. Tom wanted no trouble and he did the right thing.”

“What now?” Marge asked

“I'm going out to the herd. They're getting their cattle back in the morning. No matter what.”

“I can go bail them out,” Leif said.

“I can go with him and be sure they're out.” Marge and Susie shared nods.

“Good. We're driving those cattle to their ranch at dawn.”

“Has Sims lost his mind?” Marge asked.

“I'm not certain, but it was foolish, anyway.” He'd damn sure never expected this to happen—arresting his own men to stop him.

“You take care of the herd and those men. Well handle it on this end,” Susie assured him.

Chet went for his horse on the run. Soon saddled, he joined Billie Cotton and Sarge going back to the herd.

“They said they had a warrant for you, too,” Sarge said, riding close as they loped down the road under the stars.

“I'm not worried. A judge will back our move when he hears the whole story.”

“Them deputies were pretty cocky. Weren't they, Billie?”

“Like two banty roosters.”

They all laughed.

Chet found Raphael at his cook camp.

“I am so glad you came. Those deputies said first they wanted you, and asked where were you hiding. Tom made us all be peaceful. I think some of the men would have taken them. That deputy told the men that they all would be on trial for rustling if they didn't ride out and leave the country immediately.”

“We ain't left yet,” someone shouted. “I'd've damn sure cracked them over the head with my pistol.”

“That was the plan—for you all to quit and to let these cattle scatter. In the morning I'll be riding up front with my rifle. They try something, you all stampede the damn cattle on top of them. They won't stop running until they're at least ten miles past Mayer. Then they can go find them.”

“Yeah, we can do that.”

“We will need a few guards tonight. Sarge will give you the orders. Break of dawn, we'll be on the road. Right now, Marge and Susie along with Leif Times are getting our men out of jail. They haven't won yet.”

“They ain't going to either, boss.”

“Thanks. I'll be here all night. You see anything wrong, wake me.”

Victor woke him at four a.m.

With his concern for all their safety, his night proved to be a short one. At the cook camp, Tom and Hampt rode in while he was drinking his first cup of coffee.

“How was jail?”

Tom shook his head. “Nice to be out of there. When Marge and Susie got through with Sims's men, they both were less then two feet tall.”

“Those deputies told your crew they'd be tried as rustlers, too, if they didn't immediately leave last night.”

Tom looked around. “No one believed them, did they?”

“No. But they tried. I told them I'd ride up front with my rifle in the morning, and if they tried anything, to stampede the cattle through Mayer.”

“I'm riding with you,” Hampt said.

“I'll stay with our riders. But we can damn sure stampede those longhorns.”

“Serve them right.” Hampt went for coffee.

One of the night riders rode in and slid his pony to stop. “I seen six riders on the ridge southwest of here. Just made an outline.”

“I'll go see if I can find them.” Chet tossed his saddle on the hobbled roan. Hampt took off the hobbles. With Hampt in his own saddle, they short loped to the high point.

When Chet first saw the riders they were surrounded by more riders, and six men had their hands in the air.

“Who is that?” Hampt asked, unlimbering his own rifle and ready for action.

“Looks like some ranchers with Leif.”

“Yeah, they're waving at us to come over.”

“These men work for the T B ranch,” Leif said, coming out to meet them. “My dad and some of the others came to be sure you delivered those cattle. We have them unarmed.”

“Get them off their horses. Then make them take off their boots and jam them in their saddle bags or tie them on their saddle. They can walk back home. We'll deliver their horses with the cattle.”

One of the Hartley men shouted at his words, “Hell, man, there's thorns all over this mountain.”

“Bet you didn't think about that when you rode out here this morning, did you? Now run for that far ridge and if I see you again, I'll shoot at you with my rifle.”

“Go! Go!” The others threatened to shoot.

The shouting, foot-hurt cowboys hobbled out of sight, crying in pain.

“I'd've never thought of that,” the senior Times said. “Are your men out of jail?”

“Yes, and ready to herd these to the T B ranch. Lots more were around than I had imagined; we have near a thousand head. Thanks to all of you for coming to help. Let's grab a cup of coffee and some grub. This may be a long day for all of us.”

“Hey Chet, what was Sims thinking when he sent those deputies out there to arrest your men, and you, we heard?” a rancher asked him.

“That was the the Hartleys' first response when they learned we were coming. They thought my men would scatter under the rustling threat of arrest and they could gather these cattle and re-scatter them.”

“Sims never rode out here and talked to you?”

“No, he doesn't talk to me.”

Another rancher drove his horse in closer, leading their saddle horses. “He don't need to be talking to anyone for my part. We need a new sheriff. Byrnes would you run for office?”

“Boys, I'm way too busy.”

“No, we want you. Things won't get straightened until we have a sensible man in there.”

“My sister says I'm too tough to be elected. I call a spade a spade.”

“She's way wrong. We need you.”

“I'll consider it.”

“Good,” went up the cheer.

“Now let's move these cattle.”

Five men with rifles led the procession, and it was mid-morning when they rode through Humbolt. A dozen more ranchers joined them there. Despite all of his miles, the roan horse was on his toes. He felt the excitement and danced through the small smelter town and on the road eastward.

They were about to the sign that marked Mayer's west side when a man on a fancy sorrel horse rode out to meet them.

“That's Carl Hartley,” Hampt warned him.

Chet stood in his stirrups to direct him. “Carl, better turn your horse around and go east with us. No way to stop these cattle, except circle them. We aren't doing that.”

“You sons a bitches ain't going to do this to me.”

“These cattle will be on your ranch in three hours. You have no deeded land near where these cows were wandering into. They have been grazing on my private land, using my bulls to breed them, so they're going to your place today.”

“You're new around here. This ain't Texas and you can't force me off the open range.”

“Turn that horse around or get off the road. We're coming though.”

Hartley stood in the stirrups to look for something. “Where are my men I sent to stop you?”

“They're walking home barefooted.”

Hampt cocked his rifle and aimed it at him. “Turn that horse around, chuck that pistol in the road, or I'm going to blow daylight through you.”

“You ain't—” He must have decided or knew Hampt well enough to know he meant it. He dropped the pistol in the road and turned his horse.

“When I get through with all of you, you'll all beg for mercy.”

“Shut up or I'll shut you up.” Chet said. “Your ranch is east of here, they say five miles. You can ride ahead and tell everyone there to get into cover. We will stampede these cattle downhill to your place. Some may even cross the river. From now on keep them on your own range.”

“You must be Byrnes,” Hartley said, like he had just recognized him. “You've got a helluva lot to learn about this territory and how it works, mister.”

“Your rustling charges won't stick. I have too many witnesses and a good lawyer. And if they come back, I'll return them.”

“This is free range out here.”

“Not on my deeded land, it ain't. You feed them.”

“You owe me for a new pistol too.”

“Go warn them we're coming hard,” Chet said, tired of listening to him.

“You ain't heard the last of this.”

Hartley raced off on his horse and soon disappeared. The cattle were coming and when they reached the spot pointed out as the way to their ranch, the cattle were hurried off the road and pistol shots sent them racing home. Tails over their back, those longhorns could run, and they did in a cloud of dust as the crew gathered to watch and laugh.

They pushed the herd through Mayer with few problems and were soon moving again at a good pace on the open road. They had to jog their horses to keep in front of them.

Hard as they were running, they'd flatten any corral or yard fence they ran into. Chet would have liked to have been down there to see it. He nodded and said, “Let's go. I'm buying the beer in Mayer.”

The crew shouted and fired their pistols in the air. It was wild. When they reached Mayer they went into Louie's Cactus Saloon.

“Start pouring beer,” Chet told the main bartender. “These cattle drivers are dry.”

“You the bunch brought those damn cattle through here in a wild charge?”

“You know whose cattle those are?”

“No.”

“The Hartley brothers. They owned those cattle and they were all on our range. Those boys think they own all the land in the county.”

“Free range.”

“No, we're changing that. Cattle belong around your property. And damn sure not on my deeded property.”

“Those boys got some tough hands work for them.”

“Tonight when they walk in here barefoot, I'll buy them each a beer and then they can tell you how tough they are.”

“I never heard of that.” The bartender shook his head.

“They're walking back from Preskit Valley—barefooted. How tough are they? I hope real tough. Set up another round, these boys been working hard.”

“You sure?”

“I saw Hartley's men running like sheep over a mountain.”

“I'll be damned. What's your name?”

“Chet Byrnes. I own the Quarter Circle Z at Camp Verde.”

“Good to meet you. I've heard about you. You got them horse rustlers.”

Chet nodded.

“Crew,” he said to his men. “Down those beers, we need to get back. Victor and the girls got a big supper planned.”

He paid the small bill and they waved good-bye to Mayer.

They reached Victor's camp and the big hunks of beef were browned on the spits and the iron lids clanged off the Dutch ovens for baked potatoes to lather with sweet butter, big biscuits, and lots of snapped beans cooked with smoky bacon. Hoot in a fresh white apron sliced off the beef in generous slices and the girls fixed their plates. Victor poured them coffee and kept things moving.

“Ladies, we ran those longhorns to the boys' front porch and on. And we made it back with all our toes.”

Everyone clapped.

That night, in bed with his wife, she said, “I think you fixed them. Are you planning to go to Hackberry and check on Reg?”

“I better.”

“Susie can tell you. Act surprised when she does. She spoke to JD last night when he came over from the Palace Saloon, pretty liquored up, to see what was wrong. He told her he'd made the wrong turn and would have to live with it.”

“Nobody has to live with anybody if it don't work.”

“Talk to her before you run off and do something.”