Free Blood on the Verde River by Dusty Richards

in a dry wash at Rye.”
    Virgil frowned, then he nodded. “Yes, at the time my brother Morgan and I were up in Globe and we wondered about that deal in the paper.”
    â€œIt cured a problem. They’d stolen horses, murdered two good men, raped a woman, and beat up a man in front of his young children. They aren’t here anymore to do it again.”
    â€œYou answered your own question. These lawbreakers only understand one thing—”
    â€œWhat do you know about this slaver, Ramaras, down in Sonora?” Chet interrupted, anxious to get the information he needed.
    â€œHe’s tough. They say he’s protected by a private army.”
    That was what Chet needed to know. He emptied his glass and set it on the bar. “Nice talking to you. I appreciate your information.” He shook Virgil’s hand and left the saloon.
    No message had come from JD at the livery so Chet rode out to the Hampton ranch. When he was unsaddling, Ira came out from the house and spoke to him.
    â€œYou doing any good on your quest?”
    â€œSome, Ira. We’ve found some good leads.”
    â€œThat’s a miracle.”
    â€œI know, and there is a chance she’s alive, but getting her back could be a tough deal.”
    â€œYou have a hard job.”
    â€œI have been running the family ranch for near two decades. Comanche kidnapped my siblings. Three of them. My father invested his life to find them and came home broken down mentally and physically. My mother lost her mind over that very thing. I have been running down loose ends since I was sixteen or so.”
    â€œThen you came to Arizona?” Ira looked amused at him.
    â€œNo, a family feud drove me here. They murdered my brother in Kansas while he was driving a herd to the stockyards. I had to move out. I couldn’t cover every one of us.”
    â€œWell, I hope you find her.”
    Chet nodded. He did too. In the shed, he dropped into his bedroll. It was not a good sleep but a troubled one. In his dreams, they had found her, but she disappeared from them into the fog. He woke in the hot night, his hair wet with sweat—he couldn’t let that happen. Wouldn’t let that happen. He shook his head and tried to sleep some more, but found himself awake and got up. He went behind the shed, took a cold shower, dried and put on his pants and came back around the shed.
    â€œYou can’t sleep?” The voice came from the shadows when he walked back to the bedrolls.
    â€œBee?”
    â€œOh, when I can’t sleep, I get up, study the stars, and listen to the crickets.” Wrapped in a belted robe, she stepped off the porch and motioned to one of the buggy seats on the ground for him to take a seat next to her. “Folks who can’t sleep must share some of the same haints.”
    â€œI was dreaming. Shocked me awake.” He buttoned his shirt, then sat down and rubbed his face in his hands. He still needed to shave when it got to be daylight.
    â€œTell me about your wife. I figure she’s a special person.”
    â€œShe is. Marge’s first husband was killed in the war. He must have been Union. An officer. She was very young. Her family moved to Arizona from Kansas and she met her number two. He was off riding by himself, got thrown and broke his neck. Then she met me. I had a woman in Texas at the time. Not my wife, but we were close. In the end, she had to remain in Texas and care for her parents. I had to come here.”
    â€œSad?”
    â€œYes, but there was no way I could stay in Texas. I had committed all of us to come to Arizona.”
    â€œSo you married this women.”
    â€œMarge. Yes, a great lady who puts up with me.”
    â€œYou wouldn’t be hard to put up with. She married a white knight. When challenged, you rise to the occasion. She knew you well enough to expect that from you.”
    He nodded his agreement. “I sent her a note today at the stationary