Give me one good reason.â
âWe ainât talking.â
âI can call for a cattlemenâs trial today in Rye. If I read his letter in the middle of town, the three of you wonât stand a chance of being acquitted. Or you can sign a confession that you shot him and stole his calf. That might get you five years on a plea deal in court in Globe.â
âIâm getting a lawyer.â
âYou wonât need a lawyer in Rye.â
Chet looked up and saw Cole coming out of the house. âThey have four hides with other brands on them in there. One has his brand.â
âWell, Burris? That will be the convicting evidence in the court at Rye.â
The man didnât answer him.
âWith four stolen cattle, one of them Mr. Talburtâs, and his statement, your necks will be stretched under a cottonwood tree west of town.â
âFive years?â
âIâll tell the judge that was my agreement. You donât protest and if you admit doing it in open court, that will be the sentence. You, however, donât want to go to open court, for the prosecutor will demand you three be hung. Hides and his deathbed confession will get you hung in Globe.â
He looked at the others. âHeâs got us by the balls, guys. I donât want no trial in Rye or Globe. I say sign it.â
They nodded and the huddle of women began to cry. The kids cried, too. Jesus went for paper from his saddlebags, and ink and pen.
âCole, get them dressed.â
âAfter that, take the youngest, and have him saddle three horses. You women, feed those children and donât try anything. One is already dead. Weâll kill the rest of you.â
He wrote out the charges they confessed to and that he was a U.S. Marshal, and they had agreed to a five-year prison sentence with no pardon or parole privileges for the crime. Harold Burris signed his name first, with James Burris signing second. Then Robert Lee Burris signed under them. Chet signed and dated it.
The youngest of the boys might have been sixteen. The dead one was nineteen years old, the women told him, and agreed to bury him. He let the wives feed the prisoners, then they set out for Easterâs place.
He dismounted below her squaw shade and she came down the hill. âYou arrested them?â she asked, out of breath and looking warily at the ones seated on their horses in irons. She hugged him.
âThey confessed to manslaughter and rustling. Theyâre going to prison for five years.â
She nodded.
âBest I could do. The fourth one is dead.â
âYou did miracles, after that deputy said there was no case.â
âThey say they know nothing about your horses. Iâll send a bill of sale back up here for their three horses, along with someone to bring them back for you to use. Their horses go to the arresting officers. Donât wait till youâre flat busted. Come to Preskitt, and weâll find something for you to do.â
âMy neighbor came by this morning. The man who tried to save my husbandâs life. He asked me to stay and marry him.â
âGood, Easter. Keep your head up. You looked very nice this morning.â
She blushed. âWhat is your wife-to-beâs name?â
âElizabeth. Call her Liz Byrnes.â
âI am writing her a letter and thanking her for letting you and those two nice men come do this. God bless both of you.â
The trip to Globe took the rest of the day and a half day more to get there. Court proceedings took up another. The sheriff grumbled about Chet interfering in his job. The judge and prosecutor, however, agreed to his plan, plus thanked him and his crew.
Chet and his posse left for Mesa on horseback, and a day later they rode onto Haydenâs Ferry for the stage. From there, he telegraphed Liz that they would be there at midnight and that Jesus was bringing the horses and would be home two days later. They sent
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