Valley of Bones

by Dusty Richards

  “Thank you, Marshal. Sir, we intend to prosecute the entire lot of them after we see the entire evidence. The sheriff asked we not consider bond for them since they could be security risks.”

  “I agree, but you understand you must charge them in my court and they can plead if they want to.”

  “How soon?”

  “No later than two days from now.”

  “Marshal.”

  “We have enough witnesses. I am having the two underage girls they had doped being brought here.”

  “They will not have to testify in court, will they?” Burton asked.

  “No. Their testimony can be taken and read in the court and hearings.”

  “Good.”

  “Let’s set up prisoner interviews to begin this afternoon,” Chet said.

  The pair agreed to meet Chet and Miguel at one-thirty at the jail.

  Chet thanked them and excused himself and his man.

  “What did you think about our prosecutors?” Miguel asked.

  “They are damn sure not as tough acting as my last team in a similar situation, but this is who we drew. I hope they will surprise me.”

  * * *

  The first prisoner they interviewed was Thrasher.

  Chet led the interview. Thrasher demanded his lawyer be there.

  “We want to know what you would like to tell us about why you were at the CYR Ranch on the evening you were arrested.”

  “I have nothing to say.”

  “I have evidence that you participated in several cases of white slavery.”

  “You have no such evidence.”

  “A U.S. Marshal will shortly be at the residence of a man in California. He paid you for a female slave last March.”

  “You—”

  Chet got in his face. “These charges are only a sliver of what we have on you unless you confess and testify against the rest. This could be your last chance. The rest of them will testify against you to save their butts. I don’t intend to waste my time. You ready to confess or not?”

  “I want my lawyer.”

  “You need to tell me and these men what you know or I am going to ensure you spend the full twenty years in prison. We have more names of buyers. You don’t believe they won’t testify who they bought them from? You won’t get out of prison until the full term is satisfied. Or we can try you one case at a time, add it all together, and you will never get out of jail.”

  “I want my lawyer.”

  “Prosecution can lock you up for your life and you will never breathe outside air again in your lifetime. What is your choice?”

  He put his head down and cried.

  “You made your bed, now sleep in it. I am going to send you back to your cell and you will not get another chance to testify after you refuse my offer. I guarantee you if you won’t testify you will have a cell in federal prison working at hard labor until the day you die.”

  “I won’t do that—”

  Chet opened the door and told the deputy to put him back in his single cell.

  The next one was his partner Benfield. He was trembling when he was seated. “Where are my lawyers?”

  “We only want to make an offer to you. If you will testify against everyone, we will ask the judge for some easing of the sentence you face as a white slaver. The full term for just one crime is twenty years of hard labor. We can sentence you for several, and it will end up being life”

  “I want my lawyer.”

  “You are not listening to me. If your cohorts accept my offer to testify, then you will rot in prison.”

  “What in the hell do I have to tell you to get out of here?”

  “Not get out of here but receive a lesser sentence.”

  “How do I know you are telling me the truth?”

  “These two men will tell you how it will go if you plead guilty and put yourself on the mercy of the court.”

  “No. No. They’d kill me.”

  “No. They’re going to prison.”

  Benfield shook his head in defeat. “They tell me my wife and children are gone. I have no reason to live.”

  “If you testify you will shorten your time in prison.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “If the others testify you will get the maximum sentence. This is your chance to save prison time.”

  “Shoot me.”

  “There is no easy way out.” Chet called for the deputy to take him back.

  “Were those our best bets to get a confession from?” Murray asked.

  Chet shook his head.

  They brought Fulbright in. He took on an arrogant attitude and asked what the hell they wanted to know.

  “Will New Mexico prosecute you for murder?”

  “Huh?”

  “I have a wanted sheet for you from there.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You might plead guilty to the white slavery charges, testify against the others, and spend ten years in a federal prison?”

  “What are you saying?”

  “That by telling us all you know, you might beat facing a murder charge in New Mexico.”

  Fulbright blinked. “How do I know that would work?”

  “Take the chance.”

  “No deal. Two-year sentence and go home free is what I want.”

  “There are others that will take my offer and you will serve the full term of twenty years, Fulbright.”

  He shook his head.

  “Last chance?”

  “No.”

  The ranch hands were unresponsive to any offer to plead guilty.

  * * *

  Late in the afternoon Richard Murray and Carl Burton sent word to the judge they would charge all the men in his court at ten a.m. the next morning. Murray spoke to the press about the charges. The girls arrived under the security Virgil set up. The mother of one of them accompanied the girls.

  Chet and Liz met them and assured them all they had to do was testify to a clerk and they would not be named or have to appear in court.

  Jane Olson was the mother of Glena Olson, a blond fifteen-year-old, and she was very protective of both girls. Mary Rupert was also fifteen, a brunette and a friend of Glena. Her mother was bedfast at home and Jane said she promised to protect her.

  Liz visited with Jane and the two girls, who were very subdued. They were farm girls and probably Mormons, as such church members formed that community. They had a guarded house to stay in, and Liz asked if they needed anything. Jane thanked them and asked Chet privately if the two men named as their original kidnappers were being sought. He promised her they would be arrested and punished. She thanked him.

  “What’s next?” Liz asked leaving the courthouse.

  “Lawyers and more,” he said disappointed that there were no confessions.

  “Will it be a long one?”

  “Depends,” he said as they walked toward the restaurant.

  “On what?”

  “How the judge wants to handle it. It may be one at a time. Lawyers would like that, choosing a new jury for each defendant and hoping to find a sympathetic one out of the lot.”

  “That could take months”

  “Did you get off letters to the U.S. Marshals across the country on those customers he sold to?”

  “We can do that tomorrow.”

  “Nothing else at Thrasher’s house?”

  “Nothing we could find. The ledger is the best thing we have. It was almost like he wanted to brag about it.”

  “He was so overbearing in D.C. I could have killed him there for threatening to take away the Navajo beef contract. I am satisfied he was just blowing off hot air.”

  “I think you will get them put away.”

  “There are so many things to get done.”

  “You are just one man.”

  “That is it. One man.” He reached over hugged her shoulders and kissed her cheek, then they went inside to join the crew at the table reserved for them.

  “Ten a.m. tomorrow?” Je
sus asked him.

  “Yes.”

  “We won’t be called to testify?”

  “No. They will be asked how they plead to our charges.”

  “Lawyers will want bond set. The judge will refuse them on grounds they are all at risk to run.”

  “We have the names of those two men who originally kidnapped the girls?”

  “Jasper Whiles and Conroy Taylor. Small ranchers living close to Thatcher.”

  “When we get the trial dates set, I want us to go find them.”

  “I think they have been Kilton’s source, getting him girls to feed to Thrasher and his bunch.”

  “These girls had to have come from a rural area. Where else have they taken them from?”

  “Teenage girls run off a lot with boys who turn them over to guy like Kilton. People look for them a while and give up, thinking they ran off and married some guy.”

  “Really, Fred?” Liz asked.

  “I bet they got a half dozen teen girls like that in Prescott while I was on my own those two years.”

  “Didn’t anyone look for them?” Liz asked.

  “Lots of girls get discarded like I did and have to survive on their own. These guys take them away.”

  “Were those two girls they took to Thatcher like that?”

  “I don’t think so. But one girl’s mother was bedridden. I bet that Mary was on her own or close to it and she looked like just the kind to kidnap.”

  “You must have had pure hell in those years you were on your own.”

  “Liz, I lived minute to minute. Surviving came first, food next. There are lots of threats to get you to subjugate and serve another homeless stronger than you. Girls hung onto guys for that reason, and they simply sold them to slavers for what they could get when they got tired of them.”

  “Imagine an underground of them in Tucson or Tombstone?” Chet said shaking his head. He’d never realized such societies existed.

  “Fred, and now? It must be nice to be a marshal?” Liz said to him

  He showed his chest and badge. “Liz, it’s wonderful.”

  They all congratulated him.

  After the meal the bunch went back to their rooms and to bed. Liz ordered a bath for Chet while he shaved.

  Later he studied the dark ceiling and wondered how the rest of his business was doing. This whole thing needed to be over, but he saw no soon end to it. Finally he fell into a restless sleep.

  Chapter 7

  The judge, after their arraignment, asked if any one of the defendants wanted to plead his guilt or innocence. No one offered a plea. He said the accused had two weeks to get prepared for trial. There would be no bond in their cases. Then he refused several objections to that ruling, telling them that the matter was settled, and closed the hearing.

  Chet checked with the two prosecutors. He wanted to find those first kidnappers of the girls. His estimation of the time needed was that it would require a week unless they had problems. Both lawyers agreed they should be found, arrested, and brought to the trial. They told him they’d handle things on that end.

  They drew straws. Jesus was to take Liz back to Prescott. Chet hated parting with Liz, but she wanted to go check on things, do some banking, and make sure the ranches were still there. Miguel, Spencer, and Fred would ride with Chet and look for the pair. Jesus would then come back. They’d leave him directions where they went. But if he couldn’t find them he was to wait in town for them to return.

  With two packhorses, they left in the early morning for the Thrasher area. They made good time, and checked in with local law, who told him the pair left headed north.

  Miguel talked to a man who said they probably went up into the White Mountains. Conroy Taylor had an Apache woman who he lived with part of the time. They might find him around Fort Apache.

  They rode for three days before reaching the high country.

  “She lives on the Black Fork,” an Apache man from the fort told them. These were the good Apaches. Geronimo and the bad ones were hiding down in the Sierra Madres.

  He scratched a map in the dirt and pointed eastward into the towering pine-clad mountains, showing Miguel how to find her. Fred held the horses and Chet bought a sack of hard candy in the store. Spencer was repairing a girth. Ready to ride, sucking on a lemon candy, Chet looked hard at the vast mountains. Such a scene would have challenged him five years earlier. In the cool mountain breeze he was grateful for all the lower temperatures and hoped they found Strawberry Sami, the reported love in Conroy’s life.

  The pungent flavor of turpentine filled his nose. He decided he was going to buy this good horse from John Slaughter. No, not just this one, all of them. They’d wear them to the nub during this wild chase through the reservation. Not fair to give them back to Slaughter in that condition.

  The clear water in the stream beside him looked so inviting swelling over the rocks, hiding fat Gila trout, the Apache giving directions had said. He would eat one in camp that evening if they had a way to catch them. He booted his horse across the stream and splashed out onto the other side. He twisted in the saddle and asked Miguel what he’d said to him.

  “I said a few trout would be good to eat but he told me to be on our toes. We’re almost to her place.”

  “I vote for trout after we catch him.”

  “I vote for them if he ain’t here.”

  “Fred,” Spencer said. “We’re having trout for supper.”

  Back down the line with the packhorses, Fred said, “Hurrah. No jerky and beans.”

  Miguel drew up beside Chet. “See the painted horses grazing down in the bottom meadow? This must be Strawberry’s hangout.”

  “I smelled the smoke when we crossed the creek,” Chet said.

  “You expect trouble?”

  “They may recognize Fred if they are here.”

  “You don’t expect them to be here?”

  Chet turned his palms up in the expression of not knowing.

  A small Apache woman wrapped in a blanket came out of a wickiup and asked them what they wanted

  Chet stepped down. “Strawberry, is Conroy and his friend here?”

  She shook her head.

  “Have they been here?”

  She nodded. “Just Conroy.”

  “Where did he go?”

  She shrugged.

  “Can we catch some trout?”

  She shrugged.

  Miguel said, “You find out where he went and we’ll catch the trout. Fred knows how.”

  She showed him a place to sit on a worn red Navajo blanket spread on the ground. “I knew this morning you were coming to see me.”

  She took a place a distance from him and sat cross-legged facing him.

  “Is that good or bad?”

  “Good.”

  “What good could I do for you here?” he asked.

  “I am stealing your strength.” A small smile formed in the edges of her dark lips.

  “I can’t feel it.”

  She nodded satisfied. “You have a strong woman. She lives on a mountain.”

  “Yes. I love her. Is she okay?”

  She nodded. “Two-three days you will find him.” Her head toss was eastward.

  “Thanks.”

  “Strawberry, if I can ever help you, contact me.” He got up and thanked her again.

  The fish were breaded and sizzling in two skillets by the time he walked over to their camp setup.

  Fred was smiling as he knelt over them. “What did she say?”

  “She said that in two or three days we’d find him.”

  Fred frowned. “She a fortune-teller?”

  “A bruja is what they’d call her. I never felt one before. No, that is not right. I felt one before and dried her feet.”

  “Huh?” Fred asked.

  Chet smiled and shrugged. He had one of his own and never realized it. He drew in a large breath of mountain air. I’ll be home soon. “Him and his buddy will be down by Socorro.”

  The fish tasted wonde
rful. He left Sami some Arbuckle coffee, and they rode off as the sun peeked over New Mexico. Their trip was steep off the east side. They only had trails to use. By the third day they rode into juniper country and entered the edge of Socorro.

  They put the horses up and had them grained to recover some of the weight they’d lost going over the mountains. Miguel took off to talk to locals and returned shortly to the café where the others were relaxing.

  “Both our wanted men are staying with a woman in the barrio.”

  “I knew you could get this information,” Chet said.

  “We going to go arrest them?” Miguel asked, looking a little impatiently at them.

  Chet stood up. “Come on, guys. Miguel wants to go home.”

  “Damn right.” Miguel nodded his head.

  They laughed.

  Neither of the men put up any resistance. Chet had them temporarily housed in the county jail. He recalled it from the days they held JD there on some drummed-up charges. None of those lawmen were there, and the new ones were very respectful to the U.S. Marshals.

  The next day, Chet checked with several of his cattle sellers. They told him there would be lots of beef cows for sale in the fall. Satisfied, he told them he’d be back and buy some. Miguel and Fred were set to take the horses back to Tucson. He and Spencer would transport their prisoners on the new railroad tracks to El Paso and then by train to Lordsburg and a stage to Tucson. It looked like a three-day trip while the riders would be over a week getting back.

  With their prisoners in cuffs they met the passenger train and rode the shiny tracks to El Paso. They put the prisoners in the city jail overnight, took baths, and slept through the desert night in a hot hotel room. Next, they were on a westbound train that took twenty hours to Lordsburg, then another dusty, long, rocking stage ride to Tucson. The city baked in the midsummer heat with no way to escape it. He had three letters from Liz to open. All was good.

  * * *

  Jesus met them the next morning. “All is well at the jail, though no one has taken your offer.”

  “Glad you didn’t try to find us. We went all over hell to find an Indian woman called Strawberry. Those White Mountains are some pretty places.”

  “Cool?” Jesus asked laughing.

  “Damn right.” Spencer said.