“Marge won’t mind. She’s married to a cowboy.”
Happens cleaned his mouth of tobacco with a finger. Then he rinsed his mouth at the pump and spat it aside. He wiped his whiskered mouth on his old rag of a handkerchief. “I’ll try to show my manners.”
Chet laughed and clapped him on his jacket. “Don’t worry. Women here are used to cowboys.”
Chet hung his coat and hat in the back hall and Happens’s too. They went inside and he introduced Monica and his wife to him.
“We have coffee ready,” Marge said. “Do you drink coffee?”
“Oh sure, ma’am. I’d love some.”
“Cream and sugar?”
“No, just coffee. You sure have a beautiful home here.”
“Chet, Cole is back, but doesn’t have Mr. Rose with him, Monica said, looking out the kitchen window.
“What happened to him, do you reckon?”
“He’s coming to the house. He’s got mail, too.”
“Where’s Mr. Rose?” Chet asked, taking the stack of letters from his man.
“The dentist made him stay overnight. He was bleeding a lot and wants to treat him. Said the ride might shake him up. I can go get him in the morning. He’ll live, Doc said.” He dropped his voice. “There’s a letter in there from your nephew.”
Chet’s heart stopped. “Thanks. Plan on going back in the morning and get him. Rose and I have lots of trading to do.”
“He really thanked you.”
“Good.”
Happens rose. “Ask him to wait. I need to see where to bunk down while he’s going. Thanks ma’am. That’s the best coffee I ever had in my whole life. Sure appreciate your hospitality.”
“Come again.” She crossed the room, pale faced and holding a small envelope in her hands. “Look at the address. Look—Socorro County Prison, Socorro, New Mexico.”
“Let me open it.” Chet used his jackknife to slit open the envelope and pulled out two thin sheets of paper. He unfolded them. It was JD’s script.
He went to the table and sat down to read it aloud to the women.
Dear Chet,
This is my third letter to you. I hope it gets there. I bought three branded horses in the mountains from two guys I figured were honest. They gave me a bill of sale and their bill of sale, as well. I didn’t know the brand, but figured I could sell them for a profit. When I came out of the mountains, I headed northeast on the road that goes to New Mexico. I wanted to see the country where we unloaded the wagons and look it over again.
Three deputies entered my camp at dawn with guns drawn. Told me I was under arrest for stealing horses. I said I have papers and I guess the head man could not read and stuffed them in his pocket. I told him it was proof that I needed to show that I was innocent. He scoffed it off and handcuffed me. I was taken to Socorro and thrown in jail for five days. I asked to telegram you. They said the lines were down. I knew better.
I was hauled before a judge and they all spoke in Spanish. I savvied most of it. They told the judge they caught me red-handed and I had stolen the horses. They never let me talk nor would they give me back those papers that showed I owned them. The judge asked if I was guilty. I said not guilty.
A young man Josh Raines was sent to me as my lawyer. I told him you would pay him. He was so jumpy it is a wonder he didn’t shed his skin in my cell. He kept saying, “Plead Guilty. You will be out in ten months.” I said, “Hell no. I didn’t steal those horses. I bought them. Make the deputies produce those papers they took from me.”
He said, “No. No. Plead guilty. You don’t know how powerful they are.” I told him they couldn’t shoot me. I had not stolen those horses.
The trial was a farce. The judge, not a jury found me guilty and since I did not plead guilty I was sentenced to three years in the county jail. New Mexico has no state prison. As I said, this is the third letter I have written to you. I had them smuggled out to be mailed. I think they must have stopped the other two, but this one was to be posted in Belen.
I pray a lot, Chet, for strength. Do what you can when you can. I hope to God you can get this straight.
Your nephew JD.
Chet turned over the envelope. It was stamped Belen, New Mexico Territory
The three women were white-faced.
Susie was the first to speak. “What can we do?”
“The lawyer in Prescott?” Chet asked.
“His name is Sam Egan,” Marge said.
“Yes, I recall him now. One of you copy this letter and we’ll take it to Egan. He can contact the New Mexico attorney general tomorrow and I’ll need a good lawyer to meet me in Socorro in four or five days. We will have Christmas here tomorrow afternoon and night.”
“Good. You are not going to wait?” Marge said, sounding relieved.
“I’ll wait till Christmas Day to catch the stage. I don’t want him in there any longer, but the family needs me here. The young ones expect it. We will have Christmas Eve here.”
“Oh Chet, how could they do that to him?” Susie was on the verge of crying.
“They haven’t seen my wrath and fury yet. Everyone is entitled to a jury of their peers. I hear that every time there is a crime. This is not Mexico. I bet those sale bills he had for those horses are now conveniently gone.”
“How can we find them?” she asked.
“Beats the hell out of me.”
“What should we tell his mother?” Marge asked. “She will not be here tomorrow.”
“Send her a letter and do the same for Reg and Lucy. I need to go tell my two men what we need to do on Christmas Day.”
“Yes, you need to do that. You will sure need them along as mad as you are.”
“I will calm down when I have things working.”
Marge went over and hugged him. Susie joined them.
Chet stepped back. “Tom can come up and buy those horses from Rose when the poor man gets well. I’m going to see this Sam Egan this evening.”
“Take it easy today,” Marge said. “Susie and I can go see him the day after Christmas. We will have him get a good lawyer to meet you in Socorro. We can run things pretty good here.”
Chet agreed. He put on his coat and hat to go to the bunkhouse and talk to his two men. Once outside, he noticed a snowflake or two in the air. The sky looked like a fluffed goose’s belly. All he needed was a big snow. It would be a long trip there and back. Lots of things to tie in. Lawyers, the New Mexico law enforcement, and the territory’s attorney general . . . at a place he’d never been.
His fingers closed on the U.S. deputy marshal badge in his coat pocket. That might come in handy, too. The sun was already setting. One of the shortest days in the year, he hunched under his heavy jacket against the cold.
Boy, he could get in some real fixes and if he didn’t, his family members did.
Dear fans and readers,
I sure appreciate all the folks that have been following the Byrnes Family Saga. It’s been fun to write and to research things going on in the South-west in that era.
The Sharlot Hall Museum in Prescott houses the old Daily Miner newspapers. The people were very generous to Pat and I several years ago when we were doing research. Whenever you are in Preskitt (Prescott) Arizona stop by and look through their exhibits. Have a meal at the Palace Saloon and study that great bar. Cowboys saved that bar about the turn of the century when a fire raged through Whiskey Row and they literally, by hand, hauled it out to the street.
Several famous people have been there or lived there. Tom Horn rodeoed there. So did Tom Mix, who became a great western movie star. Junior Bonner, the movie starring Steve McQueen, was filmed there. The Earp brothers were raising hogs in Prescott before they went to Tombstone. There is a great statue of another Arizona hero, “Bucky O’Neal,” who was a past sheriff and mayor and who died in action as a Rough Rider in Cuba with Teddy Roosevelt.
With one of the oldest professional rodeos in the U.S., it is a busy time in Prescott around the Fourth of July. In
August, there is a cowboy gathering and poet deal—check it out. We had a great time at those sessions. Another attraction is an early in the century movie theatre that has been restored to hold concerts.
Today, Prescott it is a modern city with a nice mix of weather and not too rough winters. Folks from Phoenix flood that country in the summer to escape the heat. There are still dude ranches in the region.
I am beating the computer to death pounding on the keys to get the Byrnes stories out. Thanks for buying them. I have a website, www.dustyrichards.com. I answer e-mail which takes more time than I have, but no problem. Send questions or comments to [email protected]. Sorry, I don’t do Twitter and Facebook.
Thanks for all your support. We have one thing in common—we like to read westerns. God bless you and yours.
Dusty Richards
P.S. Don’t miss Book Five in the Byrnes Family Saga. We’re working on it right now.
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Copyright © 2013 Dusty Richards
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”
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ISBN: 978-0-7860-3193-1
First electronic edition: August 2013
ISBN-13: 978-0-7860-3194-1
ISBN-10: 0-7860-3194-8
Blood on the Verde River Page 32