Free Blood on the Verde River by Dusty Richards Page A

store and the man there mailed it for me. Told her I hoped she and our unborn were all right.”
    â€œFirst one?”
    â€œYes. She’s never carried one full term. We have our fingers crossed.”
    â€œKids are wonderful. Ira and I lost our two children to disease after we came here.”
    â€œThey tell you what it was?”
    â€œThey guessed, I suppose. It didn’t help.”
    He agreed. “I better go and try to get some more sleep. Tomorrow may be a big day.”
    She rose and nodded. “I will sleep knowing you are here.”
    â€œThat isn’t much.” He chuckled and they parted.
    Back in his bedroll, he drifted in and out of sleep. At Bee’s triangle ringing in the first pink of dawn, he got up and nodded to Jesus who was in the shadows, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “We’ll get some home-cooked food this morning.”
    â€œThat would be good.”
    They ate a generous breakfast at the house and thanked her. When they went to saddle their horses, he noticed the two grave markers on the rise north of the house. Poor woman. He thought about Marge. Lord let that child join us.
    They rode into Tombstone and JD was at the livery waiting for them. In the street, they dismounted and Chet asked him what he knew.
    â€œWhittle committed suicide last night.”
    â€œDamn. That cuts off us from contacting Ramaras through him, right?”
    â€œI guess. She said we drove him to it,” JD said.
    â€œNo, he committed suicide because he was caught red-handed and expected to go to prison. Of course, we had no final evidence to prove it, but he didn’t know that. We’re going to ride to the Baca Hacienda and make Ramaras an offer for Bonnie’s return.”
    â€œHe’ll want lots of money, I bet,” JD said, looking troubled.
    Chet shook his head. “We have one chance. I think I have a key to open the door down there.”
    â€œWhat is that?” JD asked.
    â€œSome of the Barbarossa blood stock we have.”
    JD looked aghast. “Wow. He might exchange her for some of them.”
    â€œHe can’t buy any of those blood lines anywhere. I have the only stallion and his colt that is outside that hacienda.”
    â€œIt damn sure might just work.”
    â€œThat is the golden stud I saw at the Verde Ranch?” Jesus asked. “Oh, he is a fleet one.”
    â€œIf Baca won’t do it, I doubt we can storm his place and survive to get her out.”
    â€œWhat do we do right now?” JD asked.
    â€œWe send him a letter and ask if he would trade her for a Barbarous stud colt and maybe a filly or two. There is no sense in us storming a castle.”
    â€œHow in the hell will we find out his address?”
    â€œI think that could be done. Jesus, you will have to dictate the letter in Spanish.”
    â€œTell me what you want me to tell him and I will simply go down there and tell him for you.”
    Chet shook his head. “No, I need to do that in a letter first and then go down there.”
    â€œAnd by damn, we need to go with you,” JD said. “Surely to God, he won’t kill us if we have something he really wants every bit as bad as he wants her.”
    â€œTomorrow we will head south—” Chet saw Marshal White coming toward the livery. “Morning, Marshal.”
    â€œI guess you know it. Whittle committed suicide last night.”
    â€œHe don’t have any cactus needles under his nail from us.”
    â€œHis wife says you three caused it. You can’t prosecute anyone for causing a suicide. But she’s got folks up in arms.”
    â€œHe admitted to us yesterday that he lured Bonnie Allen to Ramaras, who sold her in Mexico.”
    â€œThere will be lots of folks at his funeral.”
    â€œThat no-good son of a bitch was not a nice little man. Bonnie wasn’t Whittle’s first one, either. He threatened another girl who quit the trade. He was a white