Ambush Valley (32 page)

“I'd need fifteen cents to get them here in good flesh.” Chet glanced over at Marge for her answer. She agreed.

“If—” Carlock tented his fingers. “If I got you word, how long would you require to get, say, six hundred and fifty cattle here?”

“Probably six weeks. I am building a new ranch near Hackberry and it is not stocked with cattle, but it might be where I'd begin the drive. And if I had the notion you needed them I could have that many cattle on hand over there, say in a year. But we can supply you before then from our other large ranch.”

“At what price?”

“Winter or summer?”

“Year round.”

“Fifteen cents, and I would guarantee their condition”

“You're high priced, but I believe you'd deliver them.”

“Except in high snow, in three weeks I could have them here. My problem is there are no telegraph facilities at Hackberry. Preskit has a dependable line. Take three days hard riding to get from Preskit to Hackberry. Then we'd have to gather the cattle.”

“So you'd need a month's notice?”

“However, if I had a contract, I could graze those cattle over in northern Arizona where there's grass.”

“What price?”

“Fifteen cents a pound.”

“I'm only paying eleven now.”

“But obviously they don't get here in time, and are very thin when they do.” Chet could see this man wasn't getting what he needed and so it should be worth more.

He made a frown at Chet. “I could do this on a hardship clause.”

“What is that?”

“A governmental agency, when all else fails, can use their discretion in isolated places to keep the government's promise to complete a contract.”

Chet laughed and shook his head.

“It isn't funny.”

“Yes, it is. Do you realize the costs and work involved to get all this set up for us?”

“Many dollars I imagine.”

“Several. But you're telling me that you need a dependable good supply of beef?”

“That's my main concern. And I believe that the current beef supplier won't deliver this next month's order on time.”

“You mean September's cattle?”

“Yes, that's why they were here this morning.”

Chet shook his head. “I could have those cattle here in October. September is almost here now. I can't make that delivery.”

“I may have to accept that.”

“I'm not here to tell you your business. If my outfit sets in, we will deliver.” Chet sat back in his chair.

“What happens after October first?”

“This contract has eight more deliveries. Is that all right?”

“Yes. That's time enough to know if we can afford to do it.”

“I can reach someone there by telegram. You said Preskit?”

Marge smiled amused. “It is Prescott, Arizona. Folks over there call it Preskit.”

“I understand. But we can correspond?”

“Yes. We also have a dependable mail delivery from here to there.”

“Oh. I am certain you do. Leave your mailing address and your name and how to wire you all with my assistant, Mr. Cooper, and I will send you an emergency contract. What else can I do for you this morning?”

“What will you do about September?”

“Try to buy them locally.”

“Sorry I am not closer, or we'd get some up here.”

“Thanks for the thought. If you have any doubts about October delivery, be certain to warn me.”

“Yes sir.” They shook hands.

“So nice to meet you as well, Mrs. Byrnes.”

“Yes, and thank you.”

“I don't imagine you will be coming back, ma'am.”

“Oh, I might have to. But thanks again.”

“Oh?”

“I can cowboy too,” she said.

The man looked shocked.

Outside, after finishing their business with his assistant, she laughed privately. “Wait until he meets your niece-in-law Lacy. He thinks all women do is keep house or weave rugs like the Navajos do.”

“Hey. He has lots to learn anyway.” He hugged her shoulder. “This was our day. I'd still been writing letters if we hadn't come over here.”

“Means you have lots more to do. Finding cattle every month will be a task.”

“I thought about that. But we can do it. This operation will not only really put us in the ranch business, but make us some good money.”

“I think you're right. I'm glad we rode over here. You'd probably turn a buckboard over going home on the curves.”

He kissed her. “And I guess we better go to church more often, the good Lord's taking care of us out here.”

“I go quite often.”

“Damned if you don't. Put in a good word for me then.”

“You are high.”

“Man couldn't get drunk and be as high as I am. Whew.”

They rode back to the campgrounds on the near dry creek under some cottonwoods where several teamsters were parked. Victor came out to greet them.

“Did you have good day?” he asked.

“A wonderful day. You know all about how we got here?”

“Sure, why?”

“We have a contract to deliver beef to all five sub-agencies.”

“No kidding?”

“No kidding. You may need to be the trail guide.”

“Wow, you did have a day.”

“We honestly did have a good day. We need to head home tomorrow. We have lots to do.”

“How many head?”

“Six-fifty, October one, here.”

Victor whistled.

“And every month thereafter,” Marge said.

The trip home was uneventful. A few showers, but they didn't last long, and Chet had his eye out for a place to locate his cattle station. He stopped and talked to a man who had two windmills. Joseph McQuire was a tall man with a straight black beard and two wives. Chet decided he was a Mormon. The women visited while McQuire talked about his windmills. He made them himself and Chet decided the man might be a better mechanic on windmills than a cowman.

“You ever think about making them for a living?”

“What would I do with this ranch?”

“Why, sell it. Move to Preskit and have a shop set up to build the windmills. You could sell several I'd bet.”

“You say that like it would be easy.”

“How many cows do you have up here?”

“Eighty-seven plus calves, and four bulls. And sixty-five yearlings. The deed calls for a full section, six hundred forty acres.”

“What would you take for it?”

“Ten buck an acre and throw in the cattle for a cash deal.”

“Mister, you just sold a ranch.”

“I'm talking six thousand dollars.” His eyes narrowed to slits to gaze at Chet.

“I'll buy it.”

“You'll what?”

“I'll have my man up here in four days to learn all about the setup. You can collect the money from my land agent Bo in Preskit. He will have the papers to sign in his office when you get to Preskit and he can pay you.”

“I better tell them sisters we've sold and we're moving to town. And shortly.”

Back in camp, Marge ducked out of the tent with a sly look when she saw him come in. “What did you do here?”

“Bought this place, lock, stock, and barrel. We'll need it for a station to hold cattle on for the next drive.”

“Who will you have run it?”

“Sarge, you've met him before.”

“Yes, I like him.”

“You bought this ranch?” Victor asked.

“Yes. It has grass and water.”

“It sure does. I bet when I am an old man, I will tell my children's children that I was there when he bought two of those ranches.”

Chet laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “You better get busy then.”

“Huh?”

“You don't have any children yet.”

They both laughed. Marge shook her head in disapproval, but she laughed too before it was over.

“I think I have it worked out. We will send two wagons of things up here that Sarge will need, and they can haul McQuire's stuff back to Preskit for him. Victor is going to stay here and learn all about the ranch and cattle for Sarge. We're gong to push to the ranch and get busy on the cattle deal.”

She held the back of her palm to her forehead. “Oh, my heavens, even my father could not have figured this out, and he's a real dealer at buying and selling.”

So they left Victor and the packhorses there and made a long hard ride back to the ranch. Late in the night, both exhausted, they reached the ranch. Susie met them.

“Sorry to have to tell you, but Tom and Hampt had war today with Carl Hartley and his foreman. Tom was slightly wounded and Hampt thinks Hartley is wounded too. But those two got away and Hampt was concerned Tom's wound might have been worse and took him to the doctor in Preskit.

“Where's Hampt now?”

“Sleeping in the bunkhouse. He was caved in when he brought Tom back. Tom's fine, but he's sleeping, too.”

“I need to sleep a few hours. Have someone get me up about five.” Hartley had pulled his last stunt against him. He planned to settle this once and for all with that banty rooster.

“Where is Victor?” Susie asked, looking concerned in the flickering candlelight.

“He's at the new ranch.”

“New ranch?”

“Oh, yes, and we have a large contract to deliver beef to the Navajos.”

“Oh, my heavens, Chet Byrnes, how do you find into all these deals?”

“It ain't easy, either,” Marge said, with a weary shake of her head, ready to go upstairs.

They all three laughed.

“Long story,” he said. “But it could be good business.” Then he and Marge went to bed upstairs. Under the covers, he hugged her tight and they fell asleep.

Hampt, Tom, and Chet all sat at the end of the table in the chow hall under coal oil lamps that Hoot had to illuminate the room. Tom's right arm was bandaged, but he shook his head to dismiss any concerns Chet might have.

“So we have to deliver six hundred fifty head of cattle each month to the Navajos?” Hampt asked, looking doubtful after Chet had explained the contract.

“And you bought a place up on top in the east, for a place to bunch them at?” Tom asked.

“That's right. It has corrals, a house, sheds, and two windmills, plus some other water.”

“Vic is up there learning all about it, huh?” Hampt asked.

“Yes, he's checking it all out for us. Plus eighty some cows, calves, and yearlings are in the deal. It's a nice place. A three-four day drive from the reservation and it has lots of grass. Maybe that far from here if you're driving cattle. The guy who owns it wants to build windmills rather than ranch.”

“Hampt, when he heals, Tom is going to locate and buy cattle for this deal. You run this place when he's gone. I'll send Sarge up there to run that place.”

“Fine, I wasn't worried that you hadn't done lots of thinking about it. But it's going to take a lot to find that many cattle.”

“Oh, yes, but I have a plan, and most important,” Chet nodded, “I count on you guys.”

“It's worked out a damn sight better than I even dreamed,” Hampt said, then he looked around. “Would you be upset if I courted your sister-in-law? That guy from Strawberry Gap ain't worth much and I'd really like to see if we could be happy together.”

Chet swallowed hard. “May's been like a daughter to me. I can't say much else, Hampt. My brother Dale and her got along. Sure. Give it a whirl, she needs a life of her own.”

Tom smiled at Hampt. “I wondered when you'd do that?”

“I didn't want to offend anyone. You two have sure been good to me. I just wanted to be sure it wouldn't make anyone mad.”

“Tom, you aren't opposed to being a cattle buyer?” Chet asked.

“Not as long as I don't have to move my wife.”

“No way. Anyone heard from the Hackberry newlyweds?”

Both of his men shook their heads.

Tom said, “I guess all is well on the mountain.”

Chet agreed. They had about half of the first bunch of cattle to come from their own, but they'd needed maybe three hundred more head. They should be able to buy them for six or seven cents a pound and make from fifty to fifty-five per head. Buying cattle at seven cents and selling at fourteen should make about fifty-five bucks. That should make over three thousand dollars a drive, before expenses. That ought to work and make some real money over time.

“When do we need these cattle?” Tom asked. “I'll get some handmade signs up at the livery and mercantile about what we need. I suspect there will be plenty of cattle at our first cattle buying day.”

“Then we can spread out. We need to buy at least three months' worth of cattle to start with,” Chet told them. “So we have a backlog.”

Tom agreed.

“Well, I need to take Marge home today. Where did you two run into that pair?”

“We went to see Gus Hamblin about buying his cows,” Tom said. “He's got some good shorthorn cross cows. We were on the road to Mayer and they saw us and began shooting. We never said a word.”

“I don't know what they were thinking,” Hampt said. “I got my rifle out and they turned and ran, before I got a good shot at them. I saw Tom was hit or I'd've chased them down.”

“Stray lead fragments hit my arm is what the doctor told me,” Tom said. “He got them out. He thought the bullet might have struck a rock and the pieces of that hit me. I'll be fine.”

Chet scowled over the matter. “I have had it with those Hartleys.”

“We set a pattern. Others drove cattle back to them. Their range can't stand that many hungry cows.”

Chet agreed. “Then they better sell them. Greed got them into that fix, not the rest of us.”

“Be careful,” Hampt said, with a serious look of concern. “This place needs you.”

He thanked them, had a team hitched, and went back to the house. Marge was ready and they headed for the buckboard.

“What do they think?” she asked as he set the team in a jog for the road.

“They don't know why they drew fire. They ran away. Oh, yes, and I think May is going to get a new man of interest for her to check out.”

“Who is that?”

“Hampt Tate. And he sounds damn serious.”

“She's a very sweet person. And I like him as well, plus I know you do.”

He nodded. “I am going into Preskit this afternoon and check on Bo and put him on clearing this new purchase with McQuire.”

“You still have him under guard?”

“Of course. There is a woman in his life and I am hoping he marries her and acts like a sober person from there on.”

“Will you release him then?”

“I will have to, but she could be a good steering person in his life.”

“Is that why you married me?”

“Oh, yes.”

She punched him lightly in the stomach. “Liar.”

“What was I supposed to say?”

“Oh, boy, the guy who buys ranches with flair asks me that?”

“But he loves you.”

She kissed him on the cheek. “That's why I stay with him.” They both laughed.

“I don't know what I'd do without you.” He clucked to the team to keep up their pace.

With a nod she squeezed his arm. “Me too. And I enjoy our honeymoons as well. But you have to be careful. That Hartley bunch is crazy.”

“Obvious that he never left from what the men told me this morning. I will try to be back for supper.”

“My poor cook must no doubt be upset by our wild lifestyle, but Monica will be all right.”

“She's a good person.” He reined up the team at the top of the grade over the Verde Valley. “We can take a few minutes to relax here and let these horses catch their breath.”

“Good, excuse me. I'll be right back.” She swung down and, her dress in hand, she went behind some junipers and soon returned.

They were at her house by noon and Monica came out, hands on her hips. “About time you two came back.”

“Hey, we've been working,” he said.

“I bet.”

“No, Monica, don't pick on him,” she said. “He really has been busy.”

“All right, I'll let you off.”

“Whew, I will catch something in town.”

“I have lots to do yet today.” He set Marge's two bags on the porch, kissed her, and hurried off, waving at them.

Later, in town, he found Bo working at his desk. He looked up as his guardian lowered the newspaper to nod to him.

“I bought a ranch. His name is McQuire and he'll be along to see you. He needs a place to build windmills and a big house. He has two wives. You can sell him something if you have a location like that.”

“Two wives?”

“Yes, he has two. It would take that many to keep you straight,” Chet said, and laughed.

“She said she'd marry me.”

“Good, when?”

“When I am ready.”

“You ready?”

“I think so.”

“You get drunk she'll divorce you.”

“This new ranch is?”

“He says a section of land and several cows, calves, and yearlings. It's on the cutoff from the Marcy Road going west.”

“There's lots of territory.”

“That is your business and why I keep you.”

“If I marry her can I do it without these two?”

“We will have to see. I have more business to see about.”

He spoke to Mr. Tanner at the bank about his cattle business. The man was interested in the project and felt a place for local folks to sell cattle might be just what the ranchers needed. They talked about his money needs that might arise in buying all those cattle. Tanner felt that the bank could help him. Chet left the bank feeling good about his conversation, and went to Jenny's for a meal.

“There's the man!” she said, and pointed him out when he came in the door. “My favorite rancher.”

He waved down the faces who turned to see him as he entered the café. She came and hugged him. “You look wonderful. Where is your lovely wife?”

“Resting. We've been on a long journey.”

“You here to eat?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

She pointed out an empty table. “I'll get you a plate of food.”

“Sounds good.” He took the seat and she returned with his coffee. “All going well?”

“Yes. Lots going on.”

“I heard Tom was shot?”

“He says he's fine. Tom, Hampt, and I had breakfast this morning on the ranch.”

After his chicken-fried steak, mashed potatoes, green beans, and sourdough bread, he ate a piece of apple pie, and she joined him for some small talk. The ranchers had come back empty-handed, but he figured that when Hartley shot at his two men. Then he excused himself to head for Marge's house.

He left the town and was jogging the team eastward when three riders came charging out of junipers. With the lines he sent the team into a run for it. He jerked the rifle out of the scabbard on the dash. The shots from the three masked men were loud. With a glance back, he saw them gaining. As it was impossible for him to do more than guide the team, he looked for some cover, but aside from a few dusty junipers beside the road, he saw nothing that offered him any sanctuary.

Those riders kept closing in. He knew he needed to do something, and fast. He decided when he drew close to the next large clump of junipers that he'd need to try to make a break for it to the left. At the last minute he steered the team aside. The front wheels of the rig of the buckboard hit a bump and propelled him through the air. On the fly, holding the rifle, he hoped the land was sandy enough to cushion his fall.

Spitting grit, and still on the roll, he levered a shell in the chamber and came up on his knees to blast the rider on the right. The bullet caught the horse in the chest and he went nose down and did a cartwheel. The other riders veered off the far side of the road into some more junipers. Despite the pain from hitting the ground and the hard roll, Chet moved quickly, bent over into the junipers, knowing this was his break, too. Under the boughs he found his Colt was still in his holster, and that made him feel a lot more secure.

One masked man came running around a bush. Through the boughs he could see him and fired. He must have hit him with his shot. He went down and disappeared back out of sight. There were thirty minutes left before sundown, by his figuring. His count was three assassins trying to kill him. That evened things up better than three to one odds. His team and rig had circled back on the road and wouldn't stop until they reached Marge's place, and that should draw him more help.

Then someone was trying to mount a circling horse. He ended that so they didn't ride away—he shot the horse. When the horse crumbled, the shock-faced looking person dove for cover. The other ambusher fired four rounds in the juniper boughs around him, and Chet was three spaces over by then. He backed out and then chose another juniper to hide under to try to see where his enemies were hiding. Another shot and the gun smoke left him a target. He used the rifle and put two bullets close by and thought he heard someone call out in pain as he moved on to the right in the sticky needles under the tree.

He heard some profane language. Next their shots crashed over his head into the boughs. Two more riders arrived, and someone across the road shouted for them to get over there. Damn, his odds of survival went down. His not-so-easy light crash with the ground hurt his shoulder. But so far he was unscathed other than that, and it wasn't broken as far as he could tell.

Next thing he knew, he heard them ride off double, but they didn't come around where he could see or clearly shoot at them. He rose on his elbows, the thick smell of evergreen and rosin boughs in his face. He was covered in dirt and sticky patches of the juniper needles.

There were riders coming from the east. Those should be Marge's men—Raphael and his men. He rose and crawled out to see their sombreros. It was her man all right, and three other rifle-armed men with him. He rose, sore from his jump, and staggered out toward the road.

“Don't shoot, that is
Señor
Byrnes,” Raphael shouted as they reined in their horses.

“You all right,
señor
?”

“They rode off double. Some of you carefully check over there, they may be wounded. I need a horse.”

“Chocko, give him your horse,” Raphael said. “The rest of you check carefully for them. I will go with the
señor
. If there is someone there, go get the sheriff to come and take him.”

“
Sí
,” Chocko said, handing the reins to Chet. “Boy, you really got dirty,
señor
.” Then they laughed. Chet did too.

“But they didn't kill me,” he said in Spanish, and they cheered.

In the saddle with his rifle in hand, he and Raphael tore out on their horses. He caught sight of their dust down the valley. Riding double, they wouldn't get far. Besides, the horses they rode were much fresher than the outlaws'.

“Who are they?” Raphael asked as they pounded down the wide swale.

“I think they may be Hartley and his foreman Loftin.”

“Where will they go?”

Chet shook his head. “Maybe to a hideout those ranchers didn't find looking for them.”