Once a Ranger

by Dusty Richards

  Guthrey carried his Colt .45 on his hip and a .44/40 Winchester in his scabbard. The roan horse was sure-footed and scaled the dim mountain road easily, but still in the heat the horse’s shoulders were shiny with sweat. At a spring, Guthrey stopped and watered himself and the gelding. He hoped he had taken the main route that led into the mountains and his men had not turned off on a lesser way.

  Off a mountaintop he crossed he could see wood smoke, and he dropped into a basin that held a ranch house, sheds, corrals, and some fenced pastures. When he rode up, a woman in a wash-worn dress came out on the porch.

  “Good day, ma’am. I’m Sheriff Guthrey.”

  She nodded. “I am Darrel Thayer’s wife, Nell. They left this morning going east to look for those horses.” She looked like a white woman, but there was something Apache about her speech.

  He searched around still in the saddle. “You two live up here alone?”

  She nodded. “Five years ago, my family was massacred on the east side of the Chiricahuas. An Apache took me for his wife. When my husband was killed by Mexican soldiers, I did not wish to stay down there any longer and walked out. Darrel did not shun me when I met him and he made me his wife. I am very fortunate.”

  Her back straight and ramrod stiff, she dropped her gaze to her apron. Guthrey realized there was still in her some of the Apache woman who once had shared a wickiup with an Apache in the Sierra Madres.

  He looked around at the valley. “I see why you live in these lovely mountains.”

  Her smile was slight but she appeared pleased that he spoke of their homestead. “I have a very good man in him as well.”

  “Nell, I’m a former Texas Ranger. I took this badge to make Crook County a better place to live. My wife, Cally, and I live north of Steward’s Crossing. Dan is her brother. I know you’ve met him.”

  She smiled more widely. “He already told us to come to the dance on Saturday night. Darrel says we will. That means we will one day. I will look forward to doing that. Do you need anything to eat?”

  “No, I have some jerky. Thanks. I will waltz with you if you come to the dance. You’ll like my wife, Cally.”

  She almost smiled at his invitation. “I will hold you to that promise. They were headed east.”

  “Nice to have met you, Nell. I’ll catch up with them.”

  She nodded. “I can see what she saw in you, sheriff.”

  He laughed. “Thanks, she didn’t get much.”

  He short loped the roan and felt pleased to have met a woman whose life had sure been one of turmoil. Thayer must be a powerfully confident man to have accepted her. Three different women in a row he’d met on this trip, living on an outlying ranch like his own wife did, efficient and proud.

  He spooked up three mule deer in the next mile. They bobbed away through the thin timber and he rode on. By late afternoon he could see the playa lakes in the Sulphur Springs Valley. The water was only inches deep, and he thought about people fooled by real estate scoundrels who sold them ranches on those lakeshores. So shallow a killdeer could wade across most of them.

  He watered his horse at a windmill tank and spoke to a Mormon woman who came from a squaw shade to talk to him. Tall and raw-boned with a ruddy complexion, she had hair that looked sun bleached like stiff wheat straw. The small children stayed at a bashful distance. No beauty there, no smile, a suspicious set to her face, and she wore men’s old brogan shoes. On his day of meeting wives, her harsh looks made him grateful for his own.

  His two deputies and Thayer had passed there a few hours earlier and they had told her they planned to go by Fort Bowie, then to Portal on the east side of the Chiricahua range. He thanked her and rode on. He realized next time he should carry hard candy in his saddle bags for the women and their children—this was a political job he held, and it was important he acted friendly to everyone.

  By late in the second day, he caught up with the three men before they reached Apache Pass at the stage station. Two familiar horses were standing hipshot at the hitch rail in front of the building that housed the stage stop. They’d no doubt stopped there for supper.

  “There he is, Dan,” Noble said when Guthrey came through the open door. “A man can’t hide, can he?”

  The three rose and Guthrey shook their hands. The Mexican woman asked if Guthrey wanted to eat. He told her yes in her language and took a seat.

  “How long have you been coming?” Noble asked.

  He shook his head. “Awhile. I met your fine wife, Nell,” he said to Thayer.

  “She feed you?”

  “No, I was trying to catch up with you all.”

  “She don’t get much company at my place. She usually tries to stall folks to hear what’s happening outside her small world.”

  “She did tell me her story. She’s a fine lady. I was impressed.”

  Thayer shook his head. “Her father must have been a fool. He tried to come across the Cherrycows in a covered wagon with his wife and two teenage girls. Of course, her father was killed and her mother too in the raid. Nell said her younger sister was more abused than she was, and the girl died in Mexico. I don’t know all her story. No one will ever know all the hell that she went through down there. But I think the man she married considered her his and may have protected her from the others’ abuse and wanted her for himself. She said she was happy as his wife every day and never considered leaving him. He provided food and must have been tender with her.

  “But when he was killed fighting some Mexican soldiers, she had no one to turn to. So one day she put some dried fruit in a cloth and filled an army canteen with water. Then she set out with that and a blanket to find her own people. She was on the way, walking, she thought, for over a month. Someone brought her from the Peralta Springs to Tombstone. I was down there in all the celebration and hell-raising that her return caused. Those people just like to party. But there were lots of suitors wanted her that day—she was nice-looking even when she got there.

  “I never felt I’d have a chance to impress her. The Dixie Mine superintendent’s wife, Emma Neal, took her in and she did the housework for her board. I was back in Tombstone a month later and asked about her. They told me she was still up there. I asked was anyone courting her and they shook their heads—who wanted something the Apaches had had?”

  Thayer picked up his coffee cup in both hands. “She was too pretty a woman. Too nice and polite speaking a woman for my money to not want to know her, at least.

  “So I took her a box of candy. Mrs. Neal called her to meet me. She came to the door, accepted the box, thanked me, and bowed out. Mrs. Neal told me she wasn’t ready to be courted. I felt lower than a snake’s belly. But I guess when I got on my horse she peeked at me from behind a curtain.”

  Guthrey looked across at him sipping his coffee. “Did that help you?”

  “It sure did. So I kept coming by and taking her candy every week or ten days. Then I started bringing an extra horse to hitch there with mine outside the white picket fence.”

  “She came out one day and blushed. ‘You must quit bringing me candy. People are teasing me. I can’t eat all of it you have brought so much.’

  “But I was not going to give up. ‘Could I take you to supper tonight?’ I asked her.

  “Her face turned white. ‘What would people say about you? I have been an Apache’s squaw.’

  “‘No, you are a nice-looking woman who’s been through a ton of hell.’

  “She straightened her spine. ‘What time will you come for me?’

  “‘Six o’clock,’ I said.

  “Still uncertain, she shook her head. ‘I fear for your future. No one will ever trust you for doing this.’

  “I told her, ‘Nell, I am a rancher. I have a pretty place in the Dragoons. I have a house and cattle and horses. My house has a cooking range. Well, it might need a dusting. It is peaceful and quiet
up there and cooler than down here as well.’

  “She nodded that she’d heard me. I had all day to rent a buckboard to take her out, buy a new starched white shirt, silk scarf, and vest. I drove over and walked up to the door, knocked, and the missus told me to come inside. Standing there was the prettiest girl I’d ever seen. The missus had Nell’s hair fixed and had bought her a new dress. We went to supper at Nellie Cashman’s famous restaurant, and I figure I was one leg up on convincing her I was damn serious.”

  “Tell him about the wedding,” Dan said, grinning at Noble, who agreed. They’d heard the story already.

  “I had been bringing the extra horse along for her to ride if she’d go back with me after we were married, of course.”

  Guthrey smiled. “You were ready.”

  “Damn right. And in six weeks she agreed for us to be married. I asked her if I needed a buckboard to take her home after we were married. She scoffed at the notion. Said she could ride a horse. She had so few things of her own that we didn’t need a wagon.”

  “Guess you were about like I was last June—a little anxious.” Guthrey shook his head, recalling those days.

  “Yes, sir. But the preacher married us and we came out and I was going to boost her on her horse.

  “Now, she had on a pretty wedding dress that Mrs. Neal and her husband had bought for her. She grasped the horn and flipped into the saddle. Perfect deal, but I guess the horse saw this flying white thing land on his back and he went to bucking. My heart stopped, and she flew off. We rushed down there to help her up and she was laughing.

  “‘What’s so funny?’ I asked.

  “‘I have never been thrown off a horse in my entire life. You go catch him.’

  “And she did ride him that next time. I blamed the dress for not being the proper attire. But she sure got mad about being bucked off. We both laugh about it today.”

  “I can tell she’s a great lady. You’re a lucky man to have her.”

  Thayer agreed.

  “Why are we going to Portal?”

  “An Apache buck that Thayer knows, who we met on the trail, told him that the horses we were after had been over there. Thayer knows all them Apaches,” Noble said.

  Thayer agreed. “They all know Nell. They stop by for food and she feeds them. They have never taken a thing and I think I live in a safe place up there with them being around there like the wind. They come and go.”

  Guthrey smiled at him. “I don’t know if anyone told you, Thayer, but you’re one of the good guys.”

  “Aw, hell, I never figured I’d ever have a real wife. Nell is a wonderful woman and she fits in my life. You know what I mean.”

  “Yes, I do. I have one of my own at home.”

  Dan smiled and said, “Thayer, she about ran him off the day of my gun-fighting experience I told you about.”

  They all laughed and drank more coffee. Finally Guthrey paid for their meal and they found a place in the dry wash to spread out their blankets, and they hitched their horses, which had been grained and watered. There was no feed in the brush-choked canyon, so they tied the horses up. Then they slept till before sunup. Maria, the lady at the stage stop, had breakfast ready for them before they rode on.

  When they headed east on Wednesday, they took off their badges and pocketed them, now being simply citizens looking for stolen horses. Everyone agreed. Activity at Fort Bowie was minimal and they hardly stopped except to water their horses at the fort’s spring. By midday they were close to their goal. The Apache didn’t know the names of the property owners near Portal, but he did make a map in the dirt that Dan copied. There were many small places in that country and they rode right up to the adobe house and corrals where the Apache had seen the horses. Dogs barked. A man came out, putting up his suspenders and unarmed.

  “What’cha need?”

  “Four stolen horses,” Guthrey said. “Mind if we look?”

  “They ain’t here.”

  “Where did they go? They were here two days ago.”

  “Listen, I ain’t no damn horse thief.”

  “Did I say that? We’ve rode several days and an eyewitness told us they were here.”

  “Who told you that?” The man scowled, looking them over.

  “A reliable witness. Now where are they?”

  “I ain’t—”

  Guthrey spurred the roan up against the man and he staggered back.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  “I want an answer. Those horses were here. Who moved them?”

  “You ain’t the damn law. I don’t have to tell you nothing.”

  “Do you like your teeth?”

  “Sure, why?”

  “How would you like them in your hand?”

  “All right. All right. There were some horses—here earlier this week. How would I know they were stolen?”

  “Who brought them here?”

  “Two guys.”

  “What were their names?” Guthrey forced the roan with his reins to confront the man.

  “Wyllis Saddler and Guy Quinn.”

  “Where did they go?”

  “New Mexico, I reckon.”

  “Where over there?”

  “Lordsburg, hell, I don’t know.”

  Guthrey reined the roan away from him. “You put up any more stolen horses and you will find yourself busting rocks in Yuma. You hear me?”

  “Yeah.” The man swallowed hard. “Who in the hell are you anyway?”

  “My name’s Phillip Guthrey. What’s yours?”

  “Norm Logan.”

  “Just remember, Norm Logan, where you’ll be if you hide outlaws and stolen property.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Let’s ride,” Guthrey said to the others.

  When they were headed back east, Dan rode in close to him, being certain they were out of the man’s hearing. “We going to Lordsburg?”

  Guthrey shook his head. “Too far and by now they ain’t there either.” He twisted in the saddle. “I’m sorry, Thayer, we tried.”

  “I understand. You’ve done all you could do. I sure appreciate you two as well.”

  “No.” Guthrey shook his head disappointed. “But it will have to do.”

  They headed back toward home. Late the next day they parted with Thayer, rode the stagecoach road to Steward’s Crossing, and got home past midnight.

  Sleepy eyed and swinging a candle lantern, Cally welcomed them and said she had food if they wanted some. They gratefully accepted her offer. Guthrey hugged and kissed her as they went inside.

  “I’d drop dead right here,” he told her.

  “I know you three must have gone to the ends of the earth. Did you get them?”

  “No, they were gone to New Mexico.”

  The men ate cold brown beans and leftover corn bread, then Dan and Noble staggered off to the bunkhouse. Guthrey took a towel and soap to the shower. The water and air was cool by then and his shower was brief, but afterward he felt clean enough to share the bed with his lovely wife.

  In their bed, he hugged and kissed her and then fell asleep.

  She let him sleep in the next morning while she did her chores. About ten she made breakfast and rang the triangle. Dan and the old man stumbled in from the bunkhouse and Guthrey put on fresh clothes to join them.

  “What next?” Dan asked.

  “You two better check stock. I’m headed for the office and will try to be back here tonight.”

  With her slender butt against the dry sink, Cally went to pouring coffee. “You boys have some good meals on the road?”

  “No,” Dan said and they laughed.

  Dan shook his head. “We never had time for anything but to ride and search. We invited people we met to come to the dance and so did your husband.”

  “We invited a
ll of them to come up for the dance,” Guthrey said. “Thayer’s wife, Nell, was kidnapped in an Apache raid, married one, and when he got killed, she left them and walked back up here from way down in Mexico. He has a dandy story about courting her.”

  “You’d like her,” Dan said. “I bet they come to the dance one Saturday night.”

  Guthrey and Noble agreed.

  “That sounds neat,” Cally said.

  Guthrey said, “She’s some gal. He said she got bucked off a horse in her wedding dress and was mad because she’d never been thrown before.” He turned to Noble. “Do you know Mark Peters’s wife?”

  “Naw, I never knew her. They haven’t been married for long. Why?”

  “Well, she looks like someone I once met or knew. I can’t recall the meeting except she looked real familiar. Some people have mirror images. Maybe she does.”

  “He met her in Tucson, didn’t he?” Cally said. “I’d heard of her.”

  “Yes, she said she was a widow. I never heard anyone say where she came from.”

  Noble shook his head. “I hadn’t either.”

  “She may come to the dance too, you said,” Dan put in.

  “They all said they might. Now you have all the gossip we learned,” Guthrey teased her and smiled.

  “Will we go to the dance this week?” she asked.

  “Certainly. I am going to check on things at Soda Springs and come right back.”

  “Good.” She hugged his shoulder. “Nice to have you all back. I’ll get busy and bake some pies.”

  “Whew, we sure saw lots of country not to have gotten them horses back. Those two that stole them went over into New Mexico and we quit. I don’t like it one bit.”

  She nodded, understanding his concern. “Maybe they won’t be back.”

  Guthrey stopped. “No. They got by with it once. I’d say they’ll do it again.”

  After breakfast, he saddled a big bay ranch horse called Jim Green. He’d chuckled several times at what cowboys named horses in their remuda. Many times he’d picked a different name for the one he rode, but to the rest this horse would still be Jim Green. As Shorty Harris told him one time when he was Rangering down in the Waco area, “The damn horse won’t come when you call them by it anyway.”