Arizona Territory
Page 29
“Good. I love the mountains. And your son. But there is not one inside me.” She fled into his arms, and Chet felt her sobs and tears soak into his shirt. Damn, she’d had high hopes. Nothing to do but go on. He squeezed her tight.
CHAPTER 29
Forty miles or so north of Hayden’s Ferry, deep in the canyon under the brow of the towering Bradshaw Mountains, sat Bumble Bee, the horse change station of the Black Canyon Stage Lines. Chet, Liz, Anita, and Jesus sat in the coach, with Cole up top with the driver, Ira Counts, while they rocked their way north in the desert heat. The driver usually took a ten- to fifteen-minute break at Bumble Bee, depending on the time left on his pocket watch to get to Preskitt, and how fast the agent’s, Matt James’s, Mexican boys required to switch horses.
The stop would give Chet a chance to stretch his legs and use the outdoor facilities in back of the stage stop. He wasn’t looking forward, though, to the fearsome bad odor that the warmer weather brought to the outhouses.
Unexpectedly, with a series of “whoas” from Ira, the driver brought the team to a sudden halt in a dust cloud that engulfed them from behind.
“Heads up,” Cole shouted from above the noisy confusion.
“Get on the floor,” Chet told the women. Jesus bailed out the far door.
Half-obscured in the cloud of dust, three men in suits stood braced on the east side of the coach against a backdrop of greasewood brush and eroded hillside.
“Get your hands off those guns,” Cole ordered. Despite the warning, the one on the right went for his weapon and a shotgun blast ripped through him in return.
Six-gun in his hand, Chet threw open the coach door and in the settling cloud of dust made out the other two men going for their guns. The middle man in the light-colored suit grabbed for his pistol and fired his Colt at Chet. The bullet splintered the coach above his head. Chet shot him dead center in the chest. More shots came from the backside of the coach and dropped the man on Chet’s left. He’d acted undecided for a second, then started to draw, giving Jesus time to shoot him. It all happened in less than two minutes, Chet decided.
“You ladies alright?” he asked, turning to see about them.
“Yes,” Liz said, as if put out about the whole business, and getting back up on the seat. “Who were these crazy men? Everyone alright?”
Chet holstered his own weapon and said, “I can see everyone. We’re fine. Anita, you okay?”
“Scared is all.”
Cole had bailed off the top and was standing over the bloody bodies. “Who in the hell are you anyway?”
No one answered.
The stage stop manager, Matt, soon joined them from the building. “I asked them their business and they wouldn’t say what it was. Sorry, I never thought they were out there to gun you all down.”
“They didn’t want you to warn us, Matt. Thanks to Cole, who saw them better than I did and took action.”
“We ever see these guys before?” Cole asked.
“I recall that fat guy in the middle. I saw him in Utah when we were up there.” Jesus knelt down to look closer and then nodded. “He was there when we stopped to talk to the law in that town—”
“You sure?” Cole asked.
Jesus fished a monocle out of the still man’s shirt pocket. “He wore this that day.”
“You recalled him?” Cole shook his head. “Let’s check them for identification.”
“I’ll be right back and help you. Now I have other duties.” He left for the outhouses, catching the two women on the way.
“Did you know them?” Liz asked.
“No, but Jesus said he saw one man in Utah a few years ago when we went up there and rescued Leroy Sipes. I don’t recall him at all.”
“Do you think they are those Angels?” Liz asked.
“They could have been anyone, but why pick a gunfight with us at such an isolated spot? Maybe they planned to just ride off at the end. This far from any law, it would be hard to track such a cold trail when the law finally did arrive. But we can talk later,” he said, approaching the powerful-smelling facilities.
Liz pinched her nose at the odor. “Good idea.”
Anita laughed.
Later, the bodies were covered in some old blankets Matt found while diligent buzzards on the wing floated overhead. Chet’s men went through the few identifying items they found on the bodies.
They found a letter from a lady in Idaho inside one man’s left pocket.
Dear Shirley,
I miss you so much. When will you be back home here? I hope you can hurry, I think the bishop expects me to marry Johnny Moore. Johnny, you know, has three wives now, Lord knows why he would want me. I promised you I would not marry anyone when you left if you were coming back. Please write me or have one of the men riding with you write one for you. I know you are doing the work of the Lord, but be careful and come home soon.
Your dearest Claudia Clements
General Delivery, Rainy Fall, Idaho
“I am sorry, Claudia, but he is not coming home,” Chet said, and shook his head.
“Chet, you know where he came from and what he was doing here?” Cole asked.
“I’m afraid so. They must be part of that bunch JD warned us about—the so-called Angels.”
“From that letter, I’d say they’ve declared war on us. Now, isn’t that a fine kettle of fish.” Cole kicked some dried horse manure away.
“What is the matter?” Liz asked.
“We think these men are those Avenging Angels,” Jesus said.
“Oh, Chet, what will we do now?” Liz asked.
“All I know is, he better call off his dogs. He wants to play tough hand, we can, too. We’ve done no more than enforce the laws of the United States. That’s our job. We haven’t done anything threatening or bad to innocent people, nor to members of his church, except those involved in criminal actions.”
“But they say he has an entire army.” Liz looked very upset.
“Part of them won’t carry his banner any longer. And if any more try, they’ll find the same end awaits them.”
“What are your plans?”
“Liz, I know there are several people here. I’ll ask them to keep this a secret. The sheriff can do what he thinks is necessary. I would only say these men tried to rob us and the stage, and they were shot in the act. Matt, is that fine with you?”
“Yes. I will keep it a secret.”
“Ira, how about you?”
“Stage robbers is my answer, Mr. Byrnes.”
“Thank you. Call me Chet. You want to store their bodies in a shed until the law comes for them?” he asked Matt.
“My boys and I can move them.”
“Here, pay them for me.” He gave Matt some silver coins and Matt thanked him.
“Let’s load up, folks. We’ll be late getting to Preskitt.”
“No problem,” Chet said. “We’re unharmed and going home. Thanks to my sharp men.” At his side, he hugged his wife and kissed her. He had a lot to be thankful for. Adam, we’re coming home.
CHAPTER 30
In his Morris chair, Chet read the Daily Miner’s report on the stage robbery at Bumble Bee.
U. S. Marshals Stop Stage Robbery in Its Tracks
Three armed men waited at the Black Canyon Stage Stop at Bumble Bee last Wednesday for the arrival of the northbound afternoon run. They stood around dressed in suits and were mere passing-by strangers to the station agent, Matt James, who had talked to the three before the afternoon stage arrived for a change of horses. Mr. James said he had talked to them earlier and they told him they were on their way to do some business at Hayden’s Ferry and some other places south and only wanted to rest their horses a while. Dressed in suits, he decided they must be salesmen or businessmen and disregarded them, though something bothered him about the three.
Just as the stage arrived, the three strangers drew their guns. Riding in the coach was area rancher and U.S. Marshal, Chet Byrnes, and his deputy, Jesus Morales,
plus on top with the stage driver, Ira Counts, rode another deputy, Cole Emerson. Emerson sounded the alarm about the robbers and used the stage line’s shotgun to stop one of the would-be thieves. In thirty seconds, the robbery was over and all three outlaws were dead.
Neither Mrs. Elizabeth Byrnes nor her lady, also in the coach, was injured in any way and the crime was stopped. Let this be a good warning to all you bad men out there, don’t try to hold up a stage with U.S. Marshals on board. The results are fatal.
Only one of the robbers was identified so far by officials, a Shirley Algood of Medicine Fork, Utah. All three were interred in the pauper’s portion of the city cemetery. Anyone having any information to identify them, please contact the county sheriff’s office.
“Time for lunch, dear,” Liz said. “Are those men coming this afternoon to talk with you?”
“Yes.” He scooped Adam up from Rhea and laughed, making a face at his boy, who laughed back at him. “Bishop Fleming and Bishop Wallace.”
“You are talking to them—”
“Yes, they’re good people. They sounded very concerned and anxious to settle the issue. I think they’re at the bottom of things up there. They support none of the robbers or the men we met south of here.”
“Is it over then?”
He swung his son in a circle. “I certainly hope so. So does Adam. Don’t you, big boy?”
Adam only laughed at him. What a happy baby. Set down on his bare feet, the little guy ran for the kitchen in a stilted gait, like he needed to be there with granny Monica.
His arm over his wife’s shoulder, and along with Rhea, they headed for their lunch. In a few hours, he hoped to learn what the Mormon bishops knew about the rumors and the situation he and his men had faced during the incident at Bumble Bee, and if that matter was settled with the higher-ups in Salt Lake. The two men were coming later that day to meet with him.
Both men, and many of their ward members, sold cattle to Tom. They knew how important Chet’s cattle-buying operations had become to local people and to their welfare. Chet felt that had probably been a settling point for them in the matter. Anyway, he hoped so.
To my fans and readers of my books,
Thanks a lot for all the mail. I’m on the straight and narrow for a lot more of the Chet Byrnes Series. I do get complaints from time to time and anyone is entitled to them. I try to answer their concerns, but most of my mail is simply sorting out things. No problem.
I love to hear from all of you, and try to answer each e-mail. With life being so busy, my responses might slow down a bit, so please be patient. My e-mail is dustyrichards@cox.net.
My webmaster has many things going at dustyrichards.com, so please check it out.
The success of my books relies on you, the readers, and I appreciate all of you. If you read one of my books and like it, then stick up a good review on Amazon or one of the other book review sites, so others will read it.
May God bless you, your family, and the rest of the world.
Your cowboy friend,
Dusty Richards
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