Pray for the Dead

by Dusty Richards

  “I know that,” she said. “At times you are too good to me, you know.”

  “No. I want you to share the rest of my life.”

  “I will, I promise.”

  He hugged and kissed her. Those issues were his main ones. And being away from her on this next chase made him feel guilty. Damn, what would he do without her? No way did he want to consider it.

  CHAPTER 6

  The letter from Marshal Jessup arrived, and Tuesday morning in the pre-dawn temperature close to frost, the four loaded packhorses moved about nervously, anxious to be on the road. Chet kissed his wife good-bye. They exchanged a few private words before he gathered the reins and stepped into the stirrup of the big gray horse Diablo, from the ranch by the same name. Raphael’s best horseman had ridden him a lot and agreed this one had lots of bottom.

  Chet swung into the saddle. Ready for any foolishness, he held the gray’s head up, but he still danced on his toes with the short leash, prancing around and making Liz laugh. “He looks ready to ride to Canada.”

  “Or buck all the way,” Cole said with a smile.

  They waved good-bye and rode out under the overhead rail at the front gate. Diablo was still skipping along sideways, but Chet had not given up on the notion he would buck for the entire way to the main north-south road they’d take off the mountain.

  By the time they swung around north, the gray had settled a lot.

  “Can we make the timber mill on the rim today?” Cole asked him.

  “I doubt it. But we do need to stop and see Robert tomorrow. Him, his wife, and that crew make lots of money skidding logs for our operation. I never thought it would make money, but we surely needed the lumber they cut. Robert is a very good manager, and our teams do all the skidding and log delivery to that sawmill.”

  “Yes, and she learned how to make coffee after he married her.” Jesus laughed.

  “She’s a Mormon and still is. But her girlfriends and family members told her not to marry him or she would regret it, him not being one of them.”

  “Pretty lady, too,” Cole said. “I bet she hasn’t regretted one day with him.”

  Chet agreed as they descended the narrow road carved out of the mountainside. “We won’t stop at the Verde Ranch today, but push on to the military road that goes to the rim. We should camp over there at the base tonight.”

  His men agreed and when they reached the bottom, they pushed into Red Rock country.

  Wednesday mid-day they rode up to Robert’s house. A very pregnant Betty came out of the cabin and greeted them. “Robert will be mad that he missed you.”

  “When will he be back?” Chet asked, dismounting. Cole took his reins.

  “Probably be dark.”

  “We’ll spend the rest of the day here with you, then.”

  “Good. How’s your wife? I didn’t feel in top condition to go to your last party.”

  He hugged her. “She’s fine, just busy with the wedding for Rhea and Victor.”

  “Where are you going? Out to Reg’s place?”

  “Maybe we should, but up in the strip country they’ve reported several unsolved murder-robberies and wanted us to go check on the situation.”

  “I am so glad you stopped here. Robert stays so busy keeping the horses sound and solving problems.”

  “We sure appreciate him. How are you making it up here?”

  “Fine. I have church now up here and he takes me. Can I make you and the boys some coffee?”

  “We’d drink some. You don’t sound like you regretted marrying him much.”

  “Those silly friends and relatives were all wrong. He and I have a wonderful life, and as scarce as money is, we don’t have a problem thanks to you. I know several sisters who have real hard trouble making ends meet. No, I will never regret marrying him.”

  He sat down at the table and she hurried to make coffee. Cole and Jesus came to the house with the horses put up and spoke friendly to her.

  “Our Mormon hostess is making coffee for us,” Chet explained.

  She took her seat, with the coffeepot put on her wood range to heat. “You may laugh, but several of my church friends don’t have a range to make coffee on if they wanted to. They use a fireplace to cook in. I’m very proud of this house, the things I have, and his job working for the ranch.”

  “We all are,” Cole said, taking a seat. “The Byrnes family has become our family, and we’re all grateful for things it does for us.”

  “How is Val?” she asked.

  Cole smiled at her question. “Fine, but we aren’t waiting for any additions to our family.”

  Betty about blushed. “Well to tell you the truth I’ll be glad when this first one gets here.”

  “I bet so.”

  She told them about things happening at the mill and how busy it was sawing lumber for people. Before long, Robert must have gotten the word and rode over to greet them.

  “How are things going?” Chet asked after they shook hands.

  “Oh, busy is about all I can say. We keep the mill in logs and they seldom complain, but it takes some real effort. Tom sent me six new teams of draft horses. They’re big and stout. Personally, I like the horses, but good big mules are so hard to find. Besides being obstinate, they’re tougher than horses. I myself like driving horses, but I have a few mule skinners that get a lot done in a day.”

  “Tom and I talked about that. The big mules have to come from Missouri. Those folks raise them back there, but we’re at such a distance, they can sell them short of here.”

  Cole laughed. “Wait for the railroad. Then we’ll get them.”

  “If it ever can come here,” Jesus said. “All my time in Arizona they’ve said it was coming. But I’ve never heard a train whistle up here yet.”

  “You’re right,” Chet said. “And when it finally comes, we’ll have more troubles.”

  “What is that?” Betty asked, up to pour the coffee.

  “The riffraff that comes with the new settlers will mean more crime.”

  “I bet that’s true.”

  They rode out the next day after a fun evening with Robert and his wife and an overnight in a real bed. Chet was glad he’d found Robert. The man had been young when he took the job, but his sincerity showed right off. The logging operation had funded many of the ranch projects, and Robert handled the problems that came up all the time very well. Chet knew that he’d never know all the things his man simply settled and never asked for any help with. At times he worried he was overlooking Robert because he was such a good manager.

  The men rode past the already snow-capped San Francisco Peaks, and around into the sagebrush desert country of the Navajos. The trading post provided a ferry over the Little Colorado and was a gathering point for many less desirable characters. Cole noticed a one-eared man in the population and quietly told Chet that he’d seen a reward poster for such a man.

  “What’d he do?”

  “Oh, it wasn’t a high crime.”

  “We don’t have time to fool with him. Closest jail is at Preskitt and we don’t have time to take him back there.”

  Both of his men smiled and agreed while they ate in the only place in the settlement that wasn’t a joint.

  “That’s kind of tough.” Cole made his point with his fork. “You find a felon and have no way to arrest him.”

  “Things will get tougher ahead,” Jesus promised him. “I’ll never forget when we went after the men who held Leroy for ransom and came back with those murderers. It was so damn cold, it froze your breath coming out your mouth.”

  Chet laughed. “That’s as cold as Jesus ever had it.”

  “I sure hope we get back home before it does it again.”

  They spent the night in the country beyond the trading post since no one was too interested in staying there. Chet bought grain to supplement the horses’ diet since the forage was short along the road for them, and they fed it in nosebags. The pungent smell of the sage filled the air. Off to the left was the
deep chasm of the Grand Canyon, red bluffs rising parallel to their wagon track road. They met a few teamsters coming from the north for lumber plus several newlyweds from Utah going to settle land down near St. David.

  They rode north. Cole commented about an attractive blond bride who, with her shorter husband, had stopped to ask them about the road ahead.

  “That girl was sure pretty, but I swear she’d married the dumbest boy in Utah.”

  “He wasn’t so dumb,” Jesus said as they rode on.

  “Why, he couldn’t do anything I could figure out. She had to drive the horses. She said he was inept at that, even.”

  “What does inept mean?” Jesus asked.

  “Can’t do it.” Cole shook his head.

  Jesus laughed. “He must’ve done something right, he got her.”

  Cole and Chet shook their heads and they rode on. But Jesus was right, Chet laughed to himself. The tall, attractive blonde with her braids piled on her head would have made any red-blooded man stop and consider her. He wasn’t interested, of course. He had Liz. He watched some buzzards drift by on the updraft, checking on any available meal. How was his wife doing? he wondered. But he would have to wait until he returned home to find out. Somewhere north of there were some unnamed killers he needed to find and stop.

  A teenage boy and Mrs. Emma Lee, the ferry owner’s wife, came across and greeted them. Obviously from England, her accent amused Chet and his men.

  “Me husband John is gone at this time, or perhaps he could help answer your questions about crimes committed on the trail. For my part, I don’t know a thing. A marshal came down here a few weeks ago and asked him lots of questions. But we run the ferry and don’t know of any outlaws in the area.”

  “Thanks,” Chet told her. She didn’t want more than four horses on the ferry at any crossing, so it required two trips. She remembered them from the time they had all the outlaws to take back.

  “There was a lady with you then?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Cole said. “She’s married now to a man in Preskitt who has a store and is expecting another child soon.”

  “May I fix you and your men supper?”

  “Indeed you may. We’re tired of our own cooking,” Chet told her with a laugh.

  They were mounted and on their way again by dawn. They were still two days’ ride across House Rock Valley to Joseph Lake on the Kaibab Mountains west of there. Then they’d need to push farther on into the vast, dry country of Utah if they could learn little at that settlement. Their job ahead had lots of problems to solve, and a needle in a haystack might be easier to find.

  That evening, two men on horseback with a pack mule stopped at their camp. Both wore business suits, and looked like just the kind of travelers stopped by the outlaws they were seeking.

  “Evening,” the man with the snowy mustache said, tipping his hat. He was big and bluff, and sat astride his bay horse with the slouch of an expert rider. “Pardon us. We smelled your smoke. Kind of a lonesome country.”

  Chet rose from his rock and agreed. “Come on and join us. We’re from Preskitt.”

  “We’re from Montana. I’m Jack Hopkins, and this is my brother-in-law, Wayne Dotson.”

  Chet gestured to his partners. “This is Cole Emerson and Jesus Martinez. I’m Chet Byrnes.”

  “You fellows look like ranchers to me.”

  “Quarter Circle Z brand.”

  “That sounds familiar,” Hopkins said. “I’m looking for a copper mine.”

  “I wouldn’t know anything about that. You been on this road long?”

  “We came down from Salt Lake City. Why?”

  “We were warned there were highwaymen working this road,” Chet said.

  The older man shook his head. “We’ve not seen any.”

  “That would be all we’d need,” Dotson pitched in. “My horse coliced and died two days ago and we had to buy this horse from some cowboy or walk.”

  “That’s interesting. Did he say where your horse came from?”

  “No. Why’s that?”

  He shrugged. “He’s a well-bred horse.”

  “We thought so, too,” Hopkins agreed. “He asked us a hundred dollars for him.”

  Dotson shook his head. “And wouldn’t take a dime less.”

  “Chet,” Cole said quietly. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

  “Yep. Most cowboys ride mustangs. Especially up here.”

  Chet and Cole walked around the horse, making a visual inspection.

  “He’s not branded, either,” Chet noted. He turned back to Dotson. “Tell us about this cowboy.”

  “I have the sale papers on him. He was in his late twenties, called himself Lars Olsen. Sandy-colored hair, blue eyes. Rode a dun horse that day. Said he lived in Salt Canyon.”

  “He give you a brand?”

  “I take it you’re lawmen?” Hopkins asked.

  Chet held up his badge. “Deputy U.S. Marshals. Several people have disappeared on this road. Highwaymen robbed, then killed them.”

  “What makes you suspect this horse?”

  “What Cole said. He’s a well-bred horse. He wasn’t caught running around up here.”

  “We never saw any bandits,” Hopkins explained. “We were wondering what to do when Wayne’s horse died. Then he rode up and talked to us. Said he had a good horse at his place he’d sell us.”

  “You don’t think he was trailing you?”

  “Could have been, I guess. He simply showed up, then went back for the horse when we agreed to pay him a hundred dollars—if it was as good a horse as he said it was. And it was, so he wrote us a bill of sale. We were so glad to have met him, we never suspected any foul play.”

  “There may be nothing to this, but we have to be suspicious of anything we can find . . . He have any scars you noticed?”

  “No, sandy headed when he took his hat off. Handsome guy.”

  “Thanks, fellows. Be careful and keep your guns close. We don’t know who or if there is any truth to the robberies. Just be careful.”

  “You think he was stolen?” Hopkins asked.

  “I have no way to know. You may never hear about it again.”

  “I certainly hope so. Thanks for the warning. We won’t be so openly friendly,” Dotson said.

  In the morning, Chet and his crew had the Kaibab Mountains ahead of them. They took the steep mountain road that wound its way skyward and into the pines, arriving in the small settlement at Joseph Lake close to sundown. Since his last trip, there was a new man who owned the store, a sprawl of buildings, and corrals. In his white apron, he met Chet and shook his hand.

  “Deputy U.S. Marshal Chet Byrnes.”

  “Arthur Sherwin. You were the man arrested all those outlaws up here I heard about.”

  “Yes, sir. My men and I had quite a roundup that time.”

  “Come back for more?”

  Chet shook his head. “We heard about some highwaymen working the road.”

  Sherwin looked around to be certain they were alone. “Some travelers have disappeared.”

  “Any idea who they were?”

  “I can think of four parties. One or two people who never showed up at Lee’s Ferry after they left here. There aren’t many places to get off that road without coming back here or jumping off in the canyon, huh?”

  “Right. How do you know that?”

  “I spoke to Emma Lee from the ferry when she came up here for supplies. She never saw any of them. Two of the families of the missing parties hired a private detective to come down here and ask about them. They searched the road to the ferry and found nothing.”

  “You know these detectives?”

  “I have a card from one of them.”

  “I may send him a letter and see what he found out.”

  “He said he found nothing,” Sherwin said again.

  Chet nodded. “We talked to two businessmen earlier today from Montana. Hopkins and Dotson on the road. One of their horses coliced and died.”
/>   “Oh, how sad. They stayed here one night.”

  “A cowboy who called himself Lars Olsen came by and offered to sell them a big, stout bay horse. This was no common range pony. They bought him and started back on the road when we met them.”

  “I never heard that name before.”

  “Sandy-headed man in his twenties, rode a dun horse.”

  “Sounds to me like Curt Malone. He works for the Cassidy brothers. Don’t mention my name, though. I have to live and do business here.”

  “Where are they at?”

  “Buckskin Mountains. There’s a road about two miles east of here, goes north back up in the Buckskins. It is on the left side. Their place is about five miles up. Bar CB is their ranch brand.”

  “Thank you kindly. We need to put our horses up and board our packhorses while we ride the country.”

  “My wife Norm will feed you supper at the house and you can sleep in the bunkhouse.”

  “We may sleep outside. The weather isn’t cold yet.”

  “I understand. My man Aaron will help you unsaddle, feed your animals, and show you where to store your panniers. I am so glad that you came to look into this. This is a lonely country, and things like this upset all the God-fearing people here.”

  “I know.”

  “I’ll warn you, though. Those Cassidy brothers are tough bullies. I made them leave my store at the point of a shotgun when two of ’em came in drunk and spoke obscenities to my wife. Harold, the oldest, came back and apologized, but only because he needs my store here or has to ride fifty miles one way for supplies. He wasn’t sorry, he simply wanted to use the store.”

  Chet shook his head. “Well, I sure thank you for the information. And don’t worry, your name won’t be mentioned. I better go help my boys. We’ll wash up and be back for supper. Thank you, sir. And we will pay you for all this.”

  “No rush. I’ll go tell her you three are coming.”

  Washed up, Chet and his men filed into the well-kept house and Sherwin showed them seats and introduced his wife. She was a charming woman in her early twenties who said she was glad they were there.

  “Our pleasure, ma’am,” Chet said, silently wondering at the match with the forty-some-year-old husband.

  When she went in the kitchen, Sherwin said, “Norm and I have been married a short time. I lost my first wife, Scarlet, last year. Norm was chosen by her elders in Utah to be my bride. She’s a very good cook and an excellent wife.”