Brothers in Blood by Dusty Richards Page B

not for me to worry. He said get Chet Byrnes and he’ll get them boogers stole our horses.”
    â€œYou tell the sheriff?”
    â€œNaw. Paw said come here and if’n you weren’t home to send the word for you to come at once.”
    â€œWhere do you live?”
    â€œBelow the Rankin place. My paw knows you.”
    Cole and Jesus materialized out of the darkness, probably after hearing the ruckus.
    â€œYou heard of a Boone down there?” Chet asked Cole.
    â€œYeah, but I don’t know him.”
    â€œOkay, Raft. We’ll saddle up and ride back with you. Should we get a doctor for your paw?”
    â€œHe just said get you.”
    â€œCome in and eat something. Is your horse done in?”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    â€œWe’ll saddle another for you.” He turned to Marge.
    â€œAre the panniers packed and ready?”
    â€œYes,” she said. “I make sure they’re ready anytime you need them. We usually don’t get too much warning.” She smiled at him.
    â€œJesus, bring a packhorse. We may have to go after them from down there.”
    â€œI’ll get our bedrolls, too,” Jesus said, and left at a run.
    â€œI better help him,” Cole said, and hurried after his partner.
    â€œShall we notify the sheriff?” Marge asked.
    Chet nodded. “Someone can do that.”
    â€œOr should we send the news to Roamer, instead?”
    â€œThat would be better,” Chet said.
    â€œI’ll send the news to him in the morning. You know it’s cold out there,” she reminded him.
    â€œI know it’s January and the coldest month of the year.”
    He looked up to see Monica come in from the kitchen where she’d fixed the boy a plate. “What’s happened now?” she asked.
    â€œSome rustlers shot a rancher and stole his horses. We’re going to see what we can do for them.”
    â€œDoes this sheriff do anything?” Monica made a pained face.
    â€œSo far, we’re waiting,” Marge said to her.
    In a short while, Chet and his crew headed out behind the boy. Chet was proud of how his men worked as a team. Jesus handled the packhorse unless they needed to track someone. He had tracker duties and cooked. Cole led the pack string. No one was a glory hog, and they were all sensible enough when in a tight spot, like the stagecoach robbery in New Mexico. After that shootout, they all wore the new .44 center fire cartridge Colt pistols. Chet felt they were much more dependable and powerful than the older cap and ball.
    The stars were out in the sky’s ceiling when they rode past the Rankin place road. With no time to spare, they rode on and it was well past midnight when Chet saw lights of a ranch house flickering in the distance. He’d never been there before, but the boy confirmed they’d arrived.
    â€œThat’s our place,” he said. He’d been quiet most of the way, no doubt concerned about his wounded father. When he reached the yard fence, he bailed off his borrowed horse and headed for the tall woman in the doorway.
    â€œHow’s paw?”
    â€œNot good, son. You bring Mr. Byrnes?”
    â€œThat’s him, maw.”
    â€œHow’s your man?” Chet asked, taking in the rawboned woman dressed in a wash-worn dress covered with a shawl for warmth. Red faced, her nose looked redder, perhaps from crying, and her graying hair hung to her stooped shoulders. Her lips were chapped and cracked.
    â€œHe’s not good.” She dabbed at her nose with a frayed handkerchief. “I’m Irma Boone.”
    â€œMy name is Chet; Jesus and Cole are with me.”
    â€œI sure hate to impose on you, sir. I don’t consider my man’s doing very good.”
    â€œShould we get a doctor?” Chet asked, concerned.
    â€œHe don’t believe in ’em. They cut off his brother’s leg in the war, and he says he would of lived if they’d left him