Free Arizona Territory by Dusty Richards

Cole’s wife, Valerie, a wire, too, that he would be there.
    The night air was cool after the coach left the ferry and, huddled underneath the blanket in the seat, he knew it would be a lot colder up in the mountains.
    â€œI thought all the time up there he’d want to see that deathbed confession, didn’t you?” Cole asked.
    â€œWell, that was my bluff. He figured I had one and they hold up good. I could have read one to the cattlemen’s jury up at Rye, but I didn’t have to.”
    â€œWould you have had to do that?”
    â€œNo. I hoped not. My reputation in Rye isn’t the best anyway. You knew that story?”
    â€œThose two that killed your last wife’s foreman, another ranch hand, raped a rancher’s wife, and you caught them?”
    He nodded.
    â€œThe person that wrote that letter to the Globe paper about you hanging those two made you famous.”
    â€œThat story never had my name in it.”
    â€œWord spread fast. I told a buddy that I wanted to get on with your Verde Ranch crew. He said I’d better watch that guy that owns it, that he hung two outlaws by himself at Rye.”
    Cole went on, “Boy, I have never regretted getting this job. That first cattle drive trip we made to New Mexico and those damn Apaches attacked us. I thought I was in for worlds of hell. That buck you caught and left me with drew a knife, and I had to shoot him. Things were tough in those early days. The Force ain’t been a picnic, but with those rewards we’ve split, Valerie and I have a start. I can recall back when you put her on the stage to come up here and help Jenn. Hell, I shook my head that night that there was no way I’d ever catch her. And now she’s my wife—and we rode clear down here, killed a deer, stocked up that woman’s larder, and the next day you had the rustlers confess to a crime the local law let them off on. Damn, Chet Byrnes. I love riding with you.”
    Chet nodded his head. “That Easter was who I was proud of—she blossomed.”
    â€œYeah, she sure did.”
    â€œI have a good team in you two, as well.”
    â€œThis has been one of your nicer operations. Hell, I am proud of all the folks we help and save. She did clean up like a new penny. You must be happy we’re going home again. Oh, man, you have a real great wife, like I do. Them get-back-home reunions are damn sure great.”
    â€œCole Emerson, I’d say you’re a real happy man. You’ve talked more today than you have in a year.”
    â€œWell, I told Valerie how lucky we are. She’s kind of upset the others are having babies and she isn’t. I said one would come for us and it will. If God wants us to have kids, he’ll send us some. You know Bonnie told Valerie she thought she might be with a baby.”
    â€œHey, I have a son. Marge and I never thought that would happen.”
    â€œLiz never had a child with her last man?” Cole asked.
    â€œNo, and she warned me. But Marge did, too, before we got married.”
    Cole laughed. “Here came that fancy coach and out came this silver earring–flashing lovely woman, and before supper she was yours.”
    â€œYou missed the greatest day. The day that Jesus took Anita to town, we went to the Verde Ranch to see the big horse and played with six of his sons and daughters. Liz really got excited. That was why she stopped at Tubac in the first place. She had seen those horses we sent to Mexico for Bonnie, and she wanted to buy some.”
    â€œThey are great colts, but you found another princess in her. What is the story about washing her feet? I only heard part of that.”
    â€œWe were riding around like a pair of lost geese in a tall hay meadow. She wanted to stop and wade in the river. Hell, anything was fine with me. So she sat down and I took off her boots and socks. Then she went wading in the golden sunlight, with beams coming through the