Free Brothers in Blood by Dusty Richards Page B

your land?”
    â€œProbably. I think they fished a lot and ate them.”
    Marge looked shaken by the Indians’ problem. “My, how many people like that could starve and no one know it.”
    They made plans to get up in a few hours and go back with packhorses to track the breeds down. Roamer thanked Marge for her offer to put him up at the house, but said he’d stay at the bunkhouse.
    Chet and his wife got ready for bed, but both still thought about the Indians’ situation.
    â€œI think the Methodist Church will help them. I’ll ask this Sunday,” Marge said.
    â€œThey won’t take much. But they’re so pitiful, I was shaken. No one cared, but then, no one had any way to know their plight, either.”
    â€œI’ll get some folks working on it.”
    â€œGood. I figured you would.” He hugged her to him and kissed her. It was great to have her by his side.

    Blue cold at peach dawn, they set out on dancing fresh horses with pack animals following. The steamy breath of men and horses almost made a cloud. They left in a long trot for Hampt’s place. When they arrived, he joined them with two of his men who said they knew where there was a crippled bull the breeds could eat.
    They rode off to drive the bull down there, and the posse crossed the river to meet with Rump. Soon, blankets were handed out, along with a hundred pound sack of frijoles, canned milk, and some ground corn meal. Chet told Rump that his men had brought the bull for them to slaughter.
    The chief stood wrapped in a newer blanket and tears ran down his wrinkled cheeks. “How we pay you?”
    â€œBe well. We must go.”
    When they joined Jesus, he’d found the breeds’ tracks, so they rode south. The day warmed under the sun and they trailed them close to the river. Jesus was confident the breeds’ horses weren’t very strong and they’d catch them by dark. Everyone stayed on alert. Even old worn-out guns could kill. These men probably had no food, either, and that would make them desperate.
    As they rode south, Chet smelled a fire. He made a sign for the others to spread out and they scattered.
    Cole took out up the mountainside with a rifle in his hands. His horse cat-hopped up the steep side of the slope, from where he could oversee the valley. Jesus went right, six-gun in his fist. Roamer and Chet rode straight into the opening.
    The three breeds stood and raised their arms. Pitiful looking in their ragged dirty clothes, they appeared haggard and hungry. Long stringy hair hung shoulder length and on their faces—not whiskers, like their white fathers—but lanky hair.
    Jesus gathered their guns, while Cole found their hobbled horses. Roamer handcuffed them and sat them down. Chet put an iron grill over their small fire and the others gathered axes to find better fuel. They soon had flames blazing, and Jesus cooked some food and made coffee.
    â€œWe’re kinda overdone for capturing these three.” Roamer chuckled and shook his head.
    â€œNaw, we’ll feed the breeds. That may solve their stealing to survive. Those people’s living conditions still bother me.”
    â€œOh, no. You’ve been generous to them. I agree those poor people back there need it. But it’s pretty well a waste of time taking these three back. The county will have to clothe them, feed them, defend them, and then imprison them.”
    â€œThat’s the way it works. It’s called the American way.”
    Roamer looked him hard in the eyes. “I still wasn’t opposed to the answer you gave those killers over on Rye Wash.”
    â€œThese breeds ain’t worth the cost of a rope. Besides, they didn’t rape an innocent woman and murder two good men in cold blood, plus steal a bunch of horses.”
    â€œI agree those men were real worthless. And rotting in prison wouldn’t have helped them or their ambitions in the future.”
    â€œUnder