Ed Scott
P. O. Box 26586
Prescott Valley, Arizona 86312
The book is dedicated to my Grandfather Ed, who has been an inspiration to me throughout my life with his western manners and strong sense of duty to our large family, the Daultons.
Ed Scott
PROLOGUE
April 2, 1865 At twenty minutes after four on a cold April morning, the Union Army took Richmond, Virginia from the Confederacy. Southern General Robert E. Lee fled with Ulysses S. Grant hot on his trail. Most of the men killed as the army retreated, were young boys who had joined to fight against "those wicked Northern soldiers."
President Abraham Lincoln walked through the streets of Richmond with an air of melancholy as he reflected on the horrors of the war that had so torn his country. Many had called him "the Black Man's Savior". As he passed by, black slaves knelt as if to worship him. Abe gently told them, "Don't kneel to me, but only to God."
As Ed Daulton followed behind Lincoln, he dashed tears from his eyes with the back of his hand, lest the men under his command see him crying. After four long years, he could finally return to the West where he belonged. He had seen more killing in these years than he ever wanted to see again. When he had joined the Union Army under Sherman and then was transferred to Grant's command as a Major, he'd seen deplorable conditions that haunted him in his sleep. Many months before when they had met at the White House, President Lincoln had shown him the picture of a Union Soldier who was barely more than skin and bones. He and thousands more had suffered starvation at the hands of the Confederates.
Ed had sworn revenge on the Southerners and ordered his men to "take no prisoners". Perhaps every man has it somewhere within, but Ed had plunged into the depths of raw savagery. One night as he slept in his tent after a bloody day on the battlefield, he awoke with a terrible thought. What if he went to hell for killing simply because of his own anger? He had been a good man before the war changed him. Now he wasn't sure what kind of man he was. He promised he would never kill again without his own life being in danger, and prayed fervently to God for forgiveness. As he prayed, a sound filled his tent not unlike the fluttering of butterflies. He felt a presence that frightened him beyond belief but then he began to feel a sense of peace. Through his closed eyes, he saw the room bathed in light and heard steps walking toward his bed.
As he waited for death to strike, he felt the hand of mercy grasp his. Nothing was said audibly, but still he heard, "Even the soldiers who killed me were forgiven, for they did not know what they had done. It was meant to be. So was this war. It is over. Go west where you will find your reason for being." Unsteadily rising from his knees, Ed felt unnerved a feeling that stayed with him for days as he pondered the unusual episode. The next morning he ordered his men to begin taking prisoners instead. At the end of the war He resigned his commission and headed west.
Years before the war he had ridden with Charles Goodnight and Oliver Loving running cattle north from Texas. Maybe he could now find something to keep his mind busy and rid himself of the dreams of death and despair that he still suffered. A hard day's work herding cattle would keep anyone asleep all night. He dearly needed that sleep.
Chapter 1
Ed awoke to the sound of shots ringing in the distance. Scratching his head, he tried to think. Where was he? Quickly kicking off his blankets, he grabbed his boots and shook them, hoping that no scorpions had found shelter for the night inside. Pulling them on, he slowly stood up and unclasped the thongs holding two Pearl Butted Colt .44 pistols in the holster. Walking a short distance from the campfire, he listened for more shots. The wind was blowing softly through the trees and Ed had to strain to hear over the moving Cottonwood leaves. He heard another shot, followed by a distant scream. It seemed to be coming from the plateau on the eastern slope. He would have to ride around the slope instead of directly toward it or the sun would be in his eyes when he reached the other side.
Ed quickly threw his personal items into his saddlebags, kicked dirt on the fire and hurriedly saddled and mounted his horse. Turning the big gray so the sun was on his right shoulder, he kicked the horse into a ground-eating gallop. Keeping a wary eye out for trouble, he fed cartridges into his .44 Winchester and slid it back down into its scabbard.
The warm sun was just touching the top of the mountains, changing the purple mist to a light orange, and then a brighter yellow. A cactus wren trilled and then hopped about looking for an early breakfast of insects. Ed watched an eagle, circling overhead as it overlooking its vast domain. He heard screams again and spurred the gray into an even faster run. As he rounded a crest in the trail, he pulled up suddenly. There in front of him were three rough looking men holding a struggling woman.Pulling his rifle quickly from the scabbard, he aimed at the man nearest and pulled the trigger. The sound echoed off the mountain and brought the activities a to quick halt. The man he'd hit staggered a couple of feet, looked at him in wonderment and collapsed face down in the dirt.
The woman's blue and white blouse had been torn from her and thrown to the ground. She reached down and snatched what was left of the garment and clutched it to herself for cover as she ran from the other two men. The one yelled and grabbed for his gun, just as the other realized what was happening. As the gun was turned toward the running woman, Ed shot the man between the eyes, killing him instantly.
"Don't even think about it," he told the third. "Real slow like, take that gun out and throw it on the ground before you join the others."
The man dropped the gun and took a step back, slowly raising his hands in the air. "I ain't armed," he said, backing away from the pistol lying in the dirt. He turned around as if ready to run.
"He shot my pa," the woman shrieked, running to pick up the gun from the dust. Holding it in her hands as though it was familiar to her, she turned toward the man, lining up the barrel sight on his face.
"Just hold on, Ma'am," said Ed. "He's not going anywhere Are you, mister?"
"No sir. I'm stayin' right here. Just git the gun away from that woman," he whined nervously.
Ed smoothly dismounted from his horse and walked over to take the gun from the woman's still outstretched hands. "Name's Ed, Ma'am. Why don't you tell me what's goin' on, so I can help?"
"He shot my pa in the back! They came up on us this morning. We thought they were cowhands so Pa invited them in for breakfast. When they got inside, they grabbed Pa and told me to find the deed to the property or they'd kill him.
"I told them I didn't know what they were talkin' about, but the one you shot first whipped his gun out and knocked Pa down. "She sobbed, and quit talking momentarily to catch her breath. "One of them held me while the other two they tore apart our home looking for the deed to the ranch. Pa never did much trust things, so he kept all his papers in the bank. I tried to tell them this, but they wouldn't listen!"
Her narrative was suddenly interrupted, by the sound of a war-whoop coming from the field behind them. Whirling around, Ed just barely managed to avoid the arrow that sliced the air just inches from his chest.
"Grab on," he yelled, as he hoisted her onto the his horse and dove on behind her. He held onto the woman and the saddle horn as the big horse gathered himself and jumped beneath him, racing off with Indians in hot pursuit.
Pointing with her outstretched arm toward her home, Amy twisted in the saddle in front of him and yelled, "That way!" They were not far from her home with its thick adobe walls and rifles inside. As the wild yelling sounds became mixed with the heavy breathing of the horse, and his own gasping for breath, Ed knew this was a death run. It only remained to be seen whose death it would be.
Upon rounding a corner in the road, the house sat directly in front of them. The door stood open, as it had been left when the woman had run from the house earlier with the intruders chasing her. With hooves pounding the ground to dust beneath them, the big horse safely carried the two to the front door. Leaping off and diving through the doorway, they slammed the door just as a tomahawk thudded against it, splintering the solid pine. They collapsed into each other's arms against the closed door. They were suddenly fearful of the danger they faced.
Embarrassed, but not having time to think about it, Ed released the woman and looked around the room. There was no sign of the girl's father but he didn't have time to worry about that now. He spotted several rifles lying near the kitchen cabinet and grabbed two, along with ammunition, and handed one to the woman. As she loaded the rifle she looked at him and said, "My name is Amy, Amy Baggen. There's another rifle in Pa's room with a case of ammo under his bed if we need it."
Ed just nodded. He was thinking to himself, 'How the heck did I get into this mess? Got up without a care in the world, and now I've got a bunch of Indians wantin' my scalp and two men dead by my hand lying on the trail' His thoughts were interrupted as the blood-curdling scream of a man in pain came from outside.
Peering out the window through wooden slats, Ed did a quick survey of the yard in front of the house. There appeared to be 8 to 10 Mescalero Apache braves on ponies. Both the Indians and their mounts wore paint and feathers that meant they were not a hunting party. No, these Apaches meant trouble! He saw the man they had left alive being brought into the clearing in front of the home. With his hands tied behind his back the man sank to his knees. There was blood pouring from a deep cut across the left side of his face.
A tall, dark skinned warrior stepped up and grabbed the man by his hair. Pulling back viciously, the Indian slid a long thin knife from the scabbard fastened to his side by a strip of rawhide. He placed the edge of the knife against the man's throat and looking toward the house, slowly slid it across. Screaming out in fright and pain, the man tried to get to his feet but was slammed roughly face down in the dust, causing him to gasp for breath as dirt was forced into his open mouth. Blood from his cut leaked into the dirt and mingled with his spit, creating clods of mud that further threatened to choke him. Turning his head toward the house, he pleaded with a guttural croak, "For God's sake, shoot me! Don't let them kill me like this!"
Amy turned to Ed, her face white and lips pale and trembling. "What do we do?" she whispered. "We can't let them do that."
With a shake of his head, Ed shrugged and said, "The best thing we can do is wait and see what they want. They could be bluffing to get our reaction. If we give in, it will be taken as a sign of weakness and we'll die, too. If they kill him, they were going to, anyway. Either way, we're in a heap of trouble."
Turning back to the window, Amy looked at the man on the ground and back again to Ed.
"So, do we just sit by and let them kill him? We shouldn't have to watch this."
"The only other thing we could do is kill him ourselves," Ed said. "It might be the best way to end it. If they see we don't care what they do, they may leave us alone."
Lining up his rifle on the head of the captive, Ed looked at Amy. She nodded with grim determination and quickly turned her face away from the window. With a slight squeeze of the trigger, the rifle jumped in his hands and the man jerked soundlessly and was still.
Screaming in rage at the loss of their prisoner, the Indians showered the building with a flurry of arrows. One Indian brave ran to the door and attacked it with fury, trying to break it down with his tomahawk.
As the door shuddered beneath his savage onslaught, there was a sudden sound of hoof beats. From the trailhead in front of the house, a group of horsemen started firing at the Indians and the pounding at the door stopped. Retreating to their ponies, the braves rode away with the rescuers in pursuit. One of the men rode up to the porch and called out.
"Hello, the house," he said as he holstered his pistol.
Amy ran to the door and flung it open. "Thank God you showed up when you did," she exclaimed. "We had a good position, but they were here to plunder and I doubt they would have left until they got what they came for."
The rider turned in his saddle and looked at the body of the man lying in the dust.
Following his gaze, Ed remarked, "They were torturing him. We thought it best to help him out. It was only a matter of time before they killed him. We just took the fun out of it for them."
Nodding, the man looked back at Ed. "I know Amy here but don't believe I've had the pleasure of meeting you," he said. " My name's Tom Leary and I'm what some people consider the law around these parts."
Ed approached Tom and held out his hand. "Ed Daulton. I was just riding through and heard the lady screaming. Swung by and seen she was fighting off three rogue cowboys. Just when I was gettin' things under control, those warriors hit us."
Tom noticed the way Ed carried his guns. They had nicely polished handles and were tied down, but most gunfighters didn't even bother with that. He had. Here was one who had lived with danger all his life and somehow managed to stay alive.
Ed's hat was an old dark Stetson, a rattlesnake skin surrounding the crown and holes in the front brim to hang strings through when he was driving cattle. The strings helped keep flies away from his face, and Lord knew there were more than enough flies to go around on a cattle drive.
His boots were high tops, with run down heels that had seen better days. The toes were scuffed and the left boot had been repaired. He looked like he could use a new outfit, but either didn't have the money or time to get one.
Perhaps he'd eaten one too few meals on the trail, for a few extra pounds would help his lanky frame. His eyes had the look of a cowhand who had ridden through the night babysitting longhorns, and then having a hard time sleeping during the day with all the dust and noise made by riders pushing a herd.
He'd probably spent too much time in line-camps or on a ranch, and needed to settle down. Too much driving the range would wear any normal man out.
His horse, a big steel gray, appeared to be able to handle any canyon or arroyo, no matter the height or depth. The saddle was beaten up and old, but care had been given to it. The leather was polished with oil and the seams where re-stitched by someone who knew what they were doing. His ropes had been well used, but were in good shape.
Tom climbed down from his horse and threw a couple of hitches around the tie post next to the porch. Pushing his hat back on his head, he peered out at the yard.
"Lets take a walk!" he said, as he glanced back at Ed.
Scouting the dusty yard where the Indians had been, Ed and Tom noticed among the unshod tracks of the Indian ponies, a set of boot prints. "It looks like a large man with small feet, 'cause the impressions in the ground are deep and those of a shod horse are quite large," Tom said.
The two men went back to the area where Ed had rescued Amy. They searched until they found the hobble marks of the horses, showing where the white men had tied up and waited for daybreak to approach the home.
"Kinda wonderin' what they came for," said Ed. "It just don't make sense they were lookin' for the deed to the house this early."
Tom turned to Ed. Knowing he could locate the person the rogue cowboys were working for by the brands on their horses he asked, "Did you catch the brand on the horses they were riding?"
"I never saw 'em. Might ask the lady," replied Ed.
"I have a feeling them boys was cinch-ring branding, Tom," Ed remarked, as he looked around the yard.
Cinch ringing was isolated to areas where the cowhands who could not afford their own stock would steal from the herds of local ranchers who were unlikely to miss a few head here and there. After using some of the cattle for breeding purposes, many a cowhand started out on the straight and narrow path, establishing a ranch and a family from ill begotten earnings. In many areas of the country, it was a hanging if you were caught.
Cinch ring branding was fairly easy to do. The thief would take the cinch-ring from his own saddle and heat it until the metal glowed red hot. Then by holding it with something to keep from burning themselves, they would apply it like a branding iron to the rump of the animal. It wasn't hard for a handy rustler to hide the existing brand. A few deft strokes and the Double Diamond would be an Eighty-eight.
Ed and Tom walked back toward the house. As they neared it, one of the riders who had come with Tom told him the old man was dead.
"She's taking it pretty hard. Me and the boys are gonna take him out and bury him, if you would like to do the honors and say a few words over his grave."
Ed looked at Tom. He wondered how he had happened to so far from town this early in the morning. As if reading his thoughts, Tom turned to Ed.
"Had a bank robbery this morning," he said. "This group is part of a posse we threw together. We followed their tracks to a little valley about one mile west of here. We heard the shots and figured the rest of the posse that had headed north had cornered them. Not that you asked -- but it looked like you was fixin' to."
Ed chuckled. He had been relieved to see the men ride into the yard and now this man seemed able to read his mind, and his gut told him this was a man to be trusted. Ed usually listened to his gut, since it had gotten him out of trouble most times when he stopped long enough to trust his instincts.
Ed entered the house and saw Amy through the bedroom door, washing her father's face with a wet cloth. She was crying, and her hair was hanging across her face. Watching the tears run down her cheeks, Ed swore he would find out what happened. Nobody should have to lose a family member like this.
Amy raised her head, embarrassed when she saw him. Wiping her own eyes with the cloth, she said, "I'm sorry, I just don't understand why. What did we do?"
"Ma'am, I don't think you did anything that brought this on. You said earlier they were asking about the deed to your land. Might you have any idea what they wanted it for?"
"No," she said shaking her head.
Ed realized she had a fine quality about her; one that held both a fire and hardness of steel that belied the soft femininity. She had long blonde hair with piercing blue eyes. Her high cheekbones hinted at the Indian blood running through her veins. Her skin was tanned from the Arizona sun but still looked soft and supple. While his eyes measured her, she surprised him with her next words.
"Would you like to look at my teeth, now that you've examined me? Maybe you'll find flaws if you keep looking me over like that."
Turning red, Ed swallowed hard. "I'm sorry, Amy, I was just trying to understand what you're doing out here with an old man and nobody else to help run your spread. Where are all the hands needed to keep the ranch going?"
'The only things we had left after Leo Grant ran our help off was a couple of horses and small stock of steers."
Seeing the questions in his eyes, she continued, "Grant owns the land all around us and for years has tried to run us off ours. He offered to pay us at first, but what he was offering wasn't enough to move on, even if we wanted to which we don't! After awhile, he just stopped trying to buy the land and started making threats."
"One night, we got back from town after sundown and found our home ransacked and the fence out back torn down. All of our horses were gone, except for Pa's old mare. My bay found his way back a couple of days later."
Amy sank into a chair by the stove and ran her hands through her hair. She took a wisp of lace from around her throat to tie it up and away from her face.
Looking at her, Ed felt the stirrings of desire and felt ashamed of himself for the thought. On the prairie, a man could get awful lonesome. Chances of companionship were limited to an occasional local dance. Sometimes, some lucky cowhand would wind up with the hand of a rancher's daughter, but that was more dreams than reality, and it had never come close to happening to him. He always seemed to be on the outside when the girls were on the inside.
Amy tried not to stare at this handsome stranger. He was a big man; tall, muscular, and broad in the shoulders but she could tell even beneath the faded denim shirt that there was not an ounce of fat on him. Despite the lean hardness of his body, and the firm set of his jaw, that look in his eyes that said he had seen enough trouble to last a normal man a lifetime --- there was a kindness deep in his soft brown eyes that he could not disguise. She was startled by the feelings she had in the midst of all that had just happened. Her father was dead, her heart broken, but somewhere deep inside a flicker of hope ignited and burned.
For the first time in her life, Amy thought this might be a man she could share her life with, if only things weren't so complicated. He was someone she hardly knew; yet something intrigued her. Without knowing why, she felt drawn to him. Long ago, she had known what kind a man she wanted. He had no definite features, nothing she could ever put her finger on, not even something she could name, but somehow she knew when she found him, she'd know it and suddenly, here he was.
Chapter 2
The dam was being built to keep the drought-plagued land from dying. High temperatures and years of little water brought the Federal Government to the barren land in western Arizona. The dam wasn't the answer to all the prayers of the settlers moving into the desert country, but it would provide hope and a stopgap measure for periods of severe drought. The people in the Arizona Territory readily accepted the offer of help.
With fresh water supplies dwindling, and torrents of uncontrolled water pouring into valleys and wiping out all in its path during the monsoons, building the dam and channels would lessen the impact of damage to people down-river.
The year was 1869. The Civil War had ended not long before and many people were reaching for the vastness of the west, and the space it allowed them to spread out and move around.
New friendships were formed. Others were repaired, such as those broken by the war, pitting brother against brother, father against son, and nephew against uncle; when choosing sides split families, causing considerable strife.
On a rocky outcropping about 100 miles southeast of Prescott, the county seat, lay a narrow stream of water that was turned into a major canal in 1868 by a local prospector named John Swilling.
Swilling took water from the Salt River and using technology taken from the Hohokam Indians over a thousand years earlier, began irrigating the dry earth in the Arizona Territory. In the process of digging the channels he uncovered gold in the mountains. Then in the midst of gold fever, copper was discovered in such abundant supply that Arizona soon became known as the Copper State.
After years of trying to get money from financial companies back east without success, Swilling received backing from the government to build a dam. The easterners did not think it wise to invest money in a project so far from the nearest town, and saw nothing in the building of the dam that would provide a means of revenue for them.
The Verde River Watershed covered more than 13,000 square miles and using this water for his dam, Swilling created Arizona's first permanent source of water.
* * * * * * *
Leo Grant brought out his pipe and filled it with tobacco while looking over his land. He ran cattle on the land and would have a major source of water within a few years when the dam was finished. The trick was keeping the water he had now until then.
His rider brought him bad news that morning while he sat in front of the stove nursing a cup of coffee. Old man Baggen was dead but so were the three men he'd hired to find the deed to the Baggen ranch. That they had died mattered little to him, but the manner in which they'd died troubled him.
The talk in Prescott was of a stranger who had helped Amy Baggen during the failed attack. The local sheriff had taken kindly to the man and was helping him track down the reasons behind the attack.
They knew the men were looking for the deed to the ranch, but for now they had no idea who else was involved. He cursed his luck. Nobody was supposed to be left alive, but now all hell would break loose if they traced the men back to him.
He thought about his meetings with the man who'd hired the three rogues for him and relaxed a bit. He had ridden to Tucson and met him in the Golden Palace Bar. So many came and went there that he doubted he would be remembered. After agreeing on a price, he'd paid the man half in gold with the promise of the rest when the task was completed. There was nothing on paper promising payment that could lead back to him. But the problem remained, what should he do now?
Leo walked outside and stepped down from the porch, feeling the dry grass crunching underfoot. 'We need some rain', he thought as he walked to the corral that held his black, Arabian stallion. Approaching the horse, he whistled softly. The horse walked over and reached into his hand for the cube of sugar he always brought.
He thought, 'feeding animals -- horses and humans were not so different. Give something or somebody what they want for the moment, and they pretty much do what you want them to.' It was the folks who held off on an immediate reward and took a long, hard look at the overall picture that worried him.
Hearing the pounding of hooves in the distance, Leo walked back toward the house, rolling over in his mind what he had to worry about.
As he walked into the front yard, the dust trail drew nearer. He settled down in his chair to wait, causing it to groan under his weight. Dust flew as he blew the arms clean.
"That's the only problem with living in this hot dry country", he said out loud.
"Always dusty, no matter how many times it is cleaned."
Looking up, his gaze followed a rider who came into the yard on a horse lathered in sweat. Leo recognized the man as Joe, one of his hands from the North Forty. "What's he doing here?" he wondered.
The rider dismounted and hurried over. "Sorry to bother you, sir, but we got a problem over yonder."
"Spit it out, boy," Leo, already impatient, responded tersely.
"We found a few dozen head gone this morning and tracked them to a mud hole in the bottom of the valley. Most were stuck fast, and the rest seemed to be overcome by something down there."
"What area of the valley you talking about?" asked Leo, his thoughts quickly running ahead.
The cowhand took off his hat and ran his fingers through his matted hair. "It's at the bottom of the mesa, where the dry creek bed runs through the steep cliffs. Don't know how they got down there, but they're all covered with weird lookin' mud and stink to high heaven. Slim told me to come get you right quick".
Leo knew Slim was a man to be reckoned with. He was a hard worker and knew his place. That's why he was foreman for the North Forty. Under his breath, he silently cursed his luck. They had found it!
Slowly getting to his feet, Leo half-heartedly told the cowhand he would be along shortly and waved him away, telling him to hustle back to the cabin. "I'll meet you all there first thing tomorrow morning," he said, knowing he had no plans whatsoever of going there.
As he pushed the front door open, it squeaked under his touch. "Dang nab it all", he thought. He would lose two or more good hands from this accidental discovery.
Leo drew a chair up to the table and began writing a letter to Sam Conney. As he wrote, he thought heard a noise outside and paused to listen for a moment. Hearing nothing else he continued to write. A moment later he heard the noise again. He sat back and stared out the window. Was something out there, or was he just getting jumpy?
He walked to the window and listened. The only sounds he heard were the wind blowing through the pine trees and horses chomping at the short grass. He turned back to his writing, dismissing it as nerves.
Leo called for his Polish servant and he instructed him to deliver the letter and to wait for an answer. After saddling a sorrel, his servant, Henry Cherkowski, rode out to find Sam. Henry was indebted to Leo as an indentured person paying off his steam ship passage from Europe.
Henry knew Sam would be hanging around the saloons in Prescott and he wanted to get to him before he had the chance to get rip-roaring drunk, which he was known to do 'most every night.
Prescott was a good few hours away and he had some hard country to ride through. By the time he got there, the afternoon sun was setting over the Bradshaw Mountains. A purple haze was clothing the valley in a slow, gathering gloom. Shadows lined the face of the eastern slopes and the wind, which had been blowing hard all day, died down.
Stillness fell upon the city as the sounds of families preparing for dinner drifted out into the streets. A pump could be heard rhythmically moving up and down as water gushed into a tin pail. A dog barked at a shadow, and mothers were calling in their youngsters.
Henry turned his horse onto Gurley Street and tied up in front of Michael's Bar and Diner next to the St. Michael's Hotel. Entering the dark room, he paused, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness. After growing accustomed to the interior, he searched for Sam and spotted him in the corner. He swiftly stepped over and threw the letter down on the worn table, scarred by cigarette burns.
Sam looked up through eyes blurred from whiskey and recognized Henry. He grinned. "What you doin' here, ol buddy?" he drawled. His eyes were bloodshot and his speech difficult to understand.
"We need to talk, and you need to read this letter right away, Sam. It's from Leo and he's waiting for your reply. You know better than to keep him waiting."
At the mention of Leo's name, Sam seemed to sober instantly. He reached for the letter and held it close to his eyes. Unable to see anything, he rose unsteadily and staggered out to the lit area of the bar. Still squinting, he tried to read the letter.
"Can't see it, Henry!"
"Smoke gettin' in your eyes?" Henry asked sarcastically.
"Yup"
"Give it here!" Henry impatiently grabbed the letter from his shaking hand. He really did not want to know what was in this letter. He knew his boss well enough by now to know that he wanted no part in what he was doing. The problem was he was in America on a slave amnesty. Henry had one more year to work off his passage, then he'd leave this outfit and get a real job. In the meantime, he was stuck.
Henry read the letter aloud,
"Sam, Slim and Joe Small found oil. Need you back immediately to handle this. Sheriff's been sniffing around with a new man and I don't like the feeling I'm getting. Come as soon as you can. Leo"
Quietly reading through the letter again, Henry felt a shiver run along his spine. "I don't like this," he thought. "I'm the messenger that's gonna get some good boys killed."
Sam snapped out of his drunken stupor after hearing the contents of the letter. "Dang it, Henry. Did Leo say how they found it 'fore you left?"
"I have no idea what you're talkin' about," Henry replied coolly. "My job's to bring you back, or at least get a reply from you and Leo wants it before morning. I have a long ride ahead and I'll thank you kindly to let me get going."
"Give me a minute to throw water on my face and I'll write you a note to take back. Okay?"
"Fine".
Henry sat down and brought out a piece of paper. While he waited, it wouldn't hurt to do a little letter writing of his own. You never know what might happen, he thought grimly.
Ten minutes later, he finished his letter and got up. Checking on Sam, he saw he was still composing his reply. "Be back in a little bit," he said.
Sam grunted and continued writing.
Henry looked for the nearest Pony Express box and dropped the letter through the slot with a two-bit piece stuck to the outside and instructions on delivery.
Upon returning to the saloon, Henry found Sam waiting outside for him. As he stepped up on the boardwalk, Sam handed him the letter.
"Trust you'll get this to him right quick. I'll be along as soon as I take care of a couple of things and get some boys rounded up. Tell Leo I have a few men in mind that were made for the kind of job he wants."
With a nod, Henry mounted his horse and set out. He was getting hungry. He hadn't eaten all day and had a long ride ahead of him. The sky was dark and silver specks of stars appeared as he rode the sorrel toward the ranch. The moon sliced a sliver of light across the dark desert landscape.
Nighttime always brought a chill to desert country. He was surprised when he had first found out how cold it got during a summer night in the desert. With the heat of the day, many a traveler nearly froze in the desert by being unaware of how chilly an Arizona night could get, even during the hottest months of the summer. Henry pulled his buckskin jacket out of his pack roll and slid it on. It protected him enough to keep him comfortable.
Warily, he watched for coyotes. They were out and about at this time of night, running in packs. He had seen many a longhorn that had been torn apart by a pack. Those steers were something nobody in their right mind would mess with, but when it came down to a steer versus a pack of coyotes, his money was always on the coyotes. In the distance, he heard a coyote howl, and the answer from its mate somewhere out yonder.
Henry loosened his rifle in the scabbard just to keep it handy.
* * * * * * *
Leo paced the floor waiting for news. He'd told Joe he would be out in the morning to meet with them. He did not relish a face-to-face meeting. His job was to run things, not get his hands dirty. If he were lucky, he wouldn't need to worry about it too long.
Dang it! Where was Henry? Walking to his rifle cabinet, he pulled out his colt-revolving shotgun and loaded it with buckshot. Checking the status of his ammunition, he made a mental note to stop at Sutter's General Store and stock up. It would be a long haul, he thought bitterly.
The oil he'd found had turned his life upside down. All men have some wickedness in them. Most keep it under control. He had managed to do so, too, until he discovered black gold then all common sense had left him. With the amount of money that the oil brought him, he could retire as one of the wealthiest men in the country. He could have it all! Nobody would dare look down on him anymore.
Women would respect him. He had a hankering for that Amy gal. Since the first day he had laid eyes on her, he had been smitten. Thinking back to that day brought a cruel smile to his lips. He remembered riding up to the Baggen ranch in search of a few lost head of cattle. Amy walked out on the porch of the ranch house and he'd felt his heart beat faster. He knew he could never have a woman like that. He wasn't the type of man a woman looked at. Short and rather heavyset, he had a thick jowl that flapped when he talked. His swagger irritated people and he had a smug look that people distrusted.
Leo knew he was no prize, but would it be different if he were rich? No woman would dare refuse him! In fact, he almost would rather a woman hated him. That way he always knew where they both stood. Problem was if a man loved a woman, she could hurt him like nobody else. He had seen big, rough, grown men break down and bawl like a baby from what a woman had done to them. He wanted no part of that.
Wiping his hand across his face as if to clear his thoughts, he was brought back to the present. He needed to get a good night's sleep. Lots of changes were coming in the morning and he would need all his wits about him.
Chapter 3
Doug Rawlen rode up on the house a little before the evening sun was setting and Amy and Ed came out to meet him.
"Lookin' for the Bar Seven outfit," called Doug.
"This here's the Double Diamond," Amy replied. "The Bar Seven's down the road apiece. If you look for the tall Cottonwood tree off the trail just 'fore you get to the waterhole, you'll see a road that'll take you there".
"Much obliged, Ma'am".
As he turned to go, Ed stopped him. "Why are you looking for the Bar Seven?" he inquired. "I've heard that's a rough outfit, and you look like you could use a good job".
"I've been hired on as a cowhand by Slim, the foreman. Name's Doug Rawlen. I'd just come up from Tucson when I heard there was an opening for a ranch hand. Figured I'd give it a go for awhile and see how it works out".
Amy looked at Ed and back at Doug. "If it doesn't work out, I could always use a good hand around here," she said.
"'Preciate that Ma'am. But once I sign up for the job, I ride for the brand". Doug nodded, turned his horse and rode off in the direction that Amy had pointed.
Amy turned to Ed with fear in her eyes. "What ever does Leo need more hands for? He's got some of the best herders around as it is!"
Ed answered, " Did you see the way he wore his guns? That's no cowhand, he's a gunslinger." Back inside the house, he grabbed a rag and lifted the hot coffeepot out of the glowing ashes of the fire. Pouring himself a cup, he looked over to see Amy's clinched face.
"Looks like you'll be needin' some help around here for awhile. I could stay on and help out."
Amy whirled around and ran out of the room, covering her face with her hands.
"Now what'd I say?" sighed Ed. Women were so hard to figure out. Just when he thought everything was going well, off she'd gone crying. "For what?" he asked out loud.
Ed turned to the stove, stirred the ashes to life and added more wood to the fire. He thought about his offer. Amy was alone now and he had ridden in to help. By taking the hero's way, he was committing to a battle that wasn't his one he did not have any stake in. If he was going to stay and help out, he ought to have a reason to do so.
A few minutes later, Amy came back into the room, her eyes red, and her hair unkempt.
"I'm sorry, Ed. You deserve to know what's going on. I am just overcome with all that's happened today and I've treated you badly". She smiled. "Forgive me?"
Ed couldn't help but grin back. He suddenly realized he had a reason. Was it true? He'd already fallen for her and he didn't even know her. "Sure, I understand. Might you feel like talking about it? I've gotten myself into a jam today and I'm a person who likes to stay and see the outcome. If you don't mind, I'd like to hire myself on until this mess is cleared up. That okay with you?"
"Let me tell you the story before you make up your mind," she said, sitting down at the table, "Then if you still have a mind to stay, we'll work out a partnership, since I can't pay you."
Ed poured a hot cup of coffee and placed it in front of her. He refilled his own cup and pulled up a chair. The chair had seen better days. It was old, made of pine and sanded down with care.
Amy noticed him looking at the chair and remarked, "Pa built those with his own hands. He loved wood and could make most anything."
As Amy started to tear up again, Ed reached over and gently covered her free hand with one of his own. Amy noticed how warm and strong his hand was. She could feel the calluses, which proved he was a working man, yet there was something so gentle in his manner. With a sigh, she began her story.
"We came to Arizona Territory about twenty years ago. Pa loaded us all up after Ma died and brought us out from back east. We had a nice piece of land in the Ohio River Valley, but Pa couldn't make a decent living. After too many years of not having enough to go around, he got fed up with that life.
"I remember Pa waking me up many a morning to go huntin' so we'd have something for dinner that night. There were more times than not that we went to bed hungry.
"After Ma came down with scarlet fever, Pa mortgaged everything he had for doctors, but she didn't last long. She died after about three months and poor Pa lost all will to live.
"I was only eight years old and had to care for my younger sisters, Becky and April. Pa was in no shape to care for 'em, so I took over, being the oldest and all.
"Finally, Pa couldn't handle the memories and sold everything we owned, loaded us up, and brought us out here. He won this place in a poker game when we first arrived in Prescott. He won the pot, which included the deed to this house. Of course the owner wasn't too happy, but the law of the West prevailed.
"Pa always treated people a sight better than most others, so he offered to buy the land for a bargain price. Since legally it was his, anyway, the owner jumped at the offer and happily sold it for five hundred dollars cash. Pa had over a thousand from the sale of our land back home, so we got a good deal and the man went away happy.
"After setting up stock here a few years, we got into farming and running some longhorns with the help of five cowhands. That's when we started our Double Diamond brand. The ranch did well for several years, until Leo moved in.
"Oh, he started out as a right friendly neighbor, but over time he started demanding that we sell him the deed of trust to the land. Pa told him where to go and he made life hell for us since then". She stopped, contemplating her life before today.
Ed seeing the sadness coming over her again, grabbed her coffee cup and his, refilled them, added more wood to the fire, and sat down again. Amy continued, "Pa met a widow and soon got married again. The widow lady had moved into Prescott because she was without a man in her life and wanted the closeness of town for protection. Pa heard about her and one evening went over to her house.
"She told us how Pa "wooed" her. He showed up one night and said since he was single with three girls and she was single with two boys, they should just get together and create a family. He said he would provide for her, protect her, and raise the boys to be men, cause every boy needed a man in his life.
"Also, it wouldn't hurt his daughters to have a woman in their lives since he didn't know anything about raising girls. She laughed at him and said that was the strangest proposal she ever had, but promptly packed her bags and came out here the next day."
"We all loved her like our own ma. She was kind to us, and her two boys, Stephen and Nathaniel, who were older than we were, treated us right.
"They took over the hunting and herding, so we girls could have a normal life like women are supposed to. We all became inseparable and had a good life for many years.
"My younger sister April got married first and moved away, followed not long after by Becky. They both moved to Kansas where their husbands run a few head of cattle and raise horses for the Army. A couple years later, Stephen married and moved to Kansas and became a Deputy working for Sheriff Richards. Nathan eventually found a nice gal and they live up near Monument Valley. He learned to speak fluent Navajo and became a quartermaster in charge of the Reservation for the Army. Ma, my stepmother I mean, died last year and it's been Pa and me ever since. And now here I am, without Pa either."
Ed shook his head. "Man," he thought, "this lady's been through a lifetime within a few short years!" He figured if she was eight years old when they moved out here, and they'd been here for twenty years, that made her twenty-eight years old. There's more than one way to get a lady's age without asking her, he thought, trying not to smile.
"How did it come to what happened today?" he asked, prodding for more information.
"Leo approached Pa 'bout six-months ago and told him he wanted to buy him out. He'd give him four thousand dollars for the land and the house. Pa asked him why he wanted to purchase our 500 acres and an old house. Leo said he was just trying to expand his ranch and needed the land.
"Now, Pa wasn't stupid. We owned the Big Bug River rights, which ran right through our property and ended at the watering hole. There are a couple of other watering holes around here, like the one over near Lynx Creek, but during the drought it dried up and we found Leo's cattle watering at our hole.
"Pa was never one to turn away an animal from God given water, so he didn't say anything at first. But after we saw the water was being consumed quicker than it was replaced by rain, Pa talked with Leo. He came back that night all beat up could hardly get out of bed for a week. He wouldn't tell me what happened, but I had an idea.
"I wrote to April's husband, to Nathan, Stephen, and Becky's in-laws, but never did hear back. Don't know if the letters ever made it. You see, Leo pretty much has all the people 'round these parts scared and they won't do anything less he gives the okay. I'm afraid the letters never got past the rider.
"Until you came along, it was just Pa and me, trying to make a living while not getting killed. Tom, the Sheriff, has been good to us, but I don't think he realizes all Leo's done. Pa said Tom was a good man and that "he'd do to ride the river with."
"I didn't say anything about my suspicions to him today 'cause I still don't know where he stands. I'm a little spooked about everyone. I don't know who to trust."
Breaking down, she started crying. "Now that Pa's dead, I've got nobody and I don't know what to do". She struggled to keep her composure. There was more to this story than what she had told him so far, but how much could she trust him?
Looking into his deep, brown eyes, she saw such kindness and something else too that made her heart skip a beat. Ed watched her slender figure as she stood up and walked over to the old desk. She pulled open a drawer and withdrew a map. Unaware of Ed's eyes watching her, she turned around to face him.
"What I'm going to show you, nobody else knows about but our family. I have to trust somebody right now. My instincts tell me you're that person, so don't make a liar out of me."
Ed sat back in his chair, rather surprised at her comments. She had a right to be wary. She didn't know him but she was looking for a friend to confide in and God knew she had few enough of those around. Swearing in his heart he would someday marry this girl, he felt giddy for the first time in his life.
Watching her unfold the paper, he realized it was a map, but also noticed her hands were shaking. Looking at map, then back at him, she asked, "Have you ever heard the story of the Lost Dutchman's Mine?"
Ed nodded but remained silent.
"Well, there's some truth to it," she said. "Pa and the boys went down that way when they heard the story, after we first came here."
"Pa met a man related to the Peralta clan. The Peraltas were the Mexican family who discovered the mine in the Superstition Mountains southeast of Prescott, about 120 miles from here, give or take a few miles. They were in the mining business, though at that time it was considered part of Mexico, not yet the Arizona Territory.
"After the Mexican War ended in 1846, the border moved farther south, so the Peraltas decided to dig out as much ore as they could before the U.S. Government took over the area. While they were making their last trip, they were loaded down with gold ore when the Apaches attacked, killing most of them. But the Apaches accidentally left one person alive.
"The survivor hid until he recovered enough to hide the rest of the gold ore in the numerous caves around that area, then slipped out, and made it back to Mexico. But it wasn't until years later that he revealed the secret to a friend, Jacob Waltz.
"Of course, Waltz, being a Dutchman, searched for the ore many years and brought in outside help to locate it. And that's how it got its name. They never found the cache. Another miner located over eighteen thousand dollars worth of gold ore in the exact place where the massacre took place several years before.
"That started a gold rush into the area. For years, people have searched for the Mother Lode. Pa and the boys spent a couple of weeks there after we first arrived and came back with this map and several hundred dollars worth of raw ore.
"They never did admit to locating the stash, but they obviously found something that made the trip worthwhile and plans were made to return. With all that happened over the next few years, it was forgotten and the map lay in Pa's desk, collecting dust.
"Pa and I thought at first that Leo was after the gold, but Pa dismissed that after realizing only our family knew about it and we hadn't talked. Pa said the quickest way to meet God was to open your mouth about gold."
Amy paused, realizing she had been talking for over an hour without hearing much in return. Embarrassed, she understood it was from stress and the relief of having a friendly ear to listen to her.
"I'm bringing this out now because we could try to locate some of this gold and hire hands to help out around here. Seeing that rider come in today made me think we should be protecting ourselves. How do we know what Leo's got in mind? I'd rather be over prepared than under."
Ed nodded his head in agreement. He enjoyed listening to her talk. She was smart, good looking, and more expressive than any woman he had ever met. She trusted him enough to tell him about her life and he would honor that.
"First thing we need to do is get hold of Tom and tell him all you've told me. Then, we need to send a letter to your brothers and get them here right quick. There's gonna be a trouble and we need to be prepared. Thing that's bothering me is, what is it about this land that Leo wants it so bad he'd bring in hired guns. Have you been over this place and noticed anything unusual or different?"
Amy shook her head and said, "It must be the water rights, though I can't see why. That dam's coming in and will supply enough water for everyone in a couple of years. It doesn't make any sense."
"I'll sleep out in the bunkhouse tonight and tomorrow we'll ride into town, talk to the sheriff, and see about hiring some help."
"I haven't got any money to pay for help," protested Amy. "How am I going to hire anyone?"
"Leave that to me. I have some ideas." Suddenly, he stopped, as a thought struck him. Years before, he heard a rumor that his aunt had married a widower from the Arizona Territory. She'd had two sons and was widowed after Uncle Roger had gone to fight in the Civil War.
"These step-brothers of yours. What was their mom's maiden name?"
"Daulton, I believe. Why?"
Grinning, Ed could only shake his head as he controlled his laughter. It was a small world. "Those stepbrothers of yours are my cousins", he replied. "My father was a Daulton and he had a lot of brothers and sisters, some of whom I've yet to meet. Leo has stepped in a pile of cow dung and he don't know it yet. But he will. O Lord, will he ever."
Grinning like a small child, he looked at Amy. "Our family is huge. We all take care of each other. Why, my other cousins will come a runnin' once they get word. Rest easy tonight, Darlin', your troubles will be over soon."
Keeping his thoughts to himself, he wondered how he would get hold of his family, since he had no idea where to start. 'Cross that bridge when I get there,' he thought.
* * * * * * *
Early the next morning Ed hitched up the wagon and Amy drove into town while he followed on the gray. They tied up in front of the Sheriff's Office and hearing them the sheriff came out to greet them. Amy quickly walked over and asked if he had a few minutes to speak to them. Looking at Ed standing soberly nearby, he turned and held the door open.
The wind followed them into the office and made "WANTED" posters hanging on the wall near the sheriff's desk flutter like nervous geese. Pieces of paper lying on the desk rose as by an unseen hand and floated across the surface, resettling in other areas. Tom shut the door quickly. "Wind might be blowing in some rain finally," he said as dusted the seat of a chair for Amy. When she was seated, he walked over and sat down behind the desk.
Tom slouched in the chair and waited for Amy to speak. As she began, Ed remarked he would be back in a bit. There were some people he needed to talk to. Amy smiled at him as he walked out the door. Turning back to Tom, she began to tell the same story she had told Ed the previous day.
Ed walked over to the saloon; his heels kicking up puffs of dust. The morning was bright. 'Perhaps, as Tom had said the fair wind would blow in a storm,' he thought. 'Now'd be the ideal time to drive a herd of cattle in before winter set in.' Holding onto this thought, he did not notice the stranger's eyes watching him under the old black hat as he passed him on the boardwalk.
As Ed stepped into the bar, the man disappeared around the corner. Hurrying to Ma Scott's Hotel, he ran to room number ten and pounded on the door. "Open up, it's me", he whispered loudly.
The door opened slowly, and he found himself staring into the barrel of a .36 caliber Walch Navy pistol. The eyes behind it were as cold as the gunmetal itself. They belonged to Paul Boto, a man wanted in several territories. Black as agate, deep as hell, the eyes could turn a steer away with their gaze. He glared at Ruiz.
"Señor, the man that rode in this morning. I think I know him."
"Well?" growled Paul. He was in no mood this morning for bad news. He had drunk a lot last night and his head hurt like a bull had kicked him. All he wanted was to lie down and nurse a drink or two to relieve his headache.
"It's the Daulton clan. That Hombre is a cousin to Jim, the sheriff down in Tucson. His other cousins are workin' in one way or another as rangers. I just seen the oldest, Ed, walking into the cantina."
Paul, willing his head to calm down, went slowly back to the bed and sat down. He wasn't happy with this news. Leo had brought him into this land grab with a promise of easy pickings, some head to start him out, and a little land for a ranch -- the one the Baggens were living on now. Grimacing, he stuck the Navy pistol back in the holster. Turning back to Ruiz, he told him he'd need to get to the telegraph office and send a message to Fort Laramie in Wyoming as well as to the drop box for mail in Salt Lake City, Utah, in care of Earl Miller. Taking a piece of month-old newspaper, he wrote a quick message and sent him on his way. He lay back on the bed, holding a wet bandanna against his head, and thought back to the day he had met Leo.
During the Civil War, he'd been riding out Texas way looking for a few head of Longhorns to rustle, throw his brand on, and use to start his own herd. After fighting for the South a while, he discovered there was no sense of why they were fighting. Most men were joining up just because their cousins or family had gone.
Not one of them he spoke with could recall why the fight was even going on in the first place. After hanging around for a couple of months, he got fed up with the lack of discipline and order. Saddling his mouse colored dun, he rode away one night without a thought to getting caught.
When he arrived in Kansas City, he overheard a list of names being read that caught his attention. His name was one of them. Turning to the man next to him at the bar, he asked what the list was for. "Why, them's yellow bellied cowards, that's what," the man almost spat the replied. "They run off from the army and they's bein' hunted down now. Good thing. They'll hang them for sure as an example to the others for desertion."
Fearing the specter of the gallows looming over him, Paul turned and rode out of town that night. After entering Arizona Territory several days later, he happened to meet Leo and a man named Sam outside Tucson. Being broke, he jumped at the chance to make some money. Leo and Sam proposed that he along with two other drifters, get rid of some homesteaders from his land near Prescott and recover a forged Deed.
After receiving some gold doubloons, he thought about the task ahead. Not liking the unknown, he hired a stranger to take his place by paying him cash money. Of course, it was only a fraction of the amount he'd received from Leo. The other two men didn't care who rode with them to carry out the task as long as they got the rest of the money after they'd cleared the land of the homesteaders.
Hearing no word from them for several days, he'd gone into hiding in Prescott until he figured out what to do. Then the word had come yesterday about the three men being killed by a stranger and Apaches. Now Ruiz told him Ed Daulton was here, in this place. Coincidence? He doubted it.
