Brothers in Blood by Dusty Richards

Grand Canyon. It runs east of the Black Canyon stage road down through here to the big valley and then into Mexico.”
    â€œI heard her say that when they got company she suspected some of them were outlaws.”
    â€œI don’t know, but she never did say if these men came up or down the trail.”
    â€œI’m like you, Chet. I thought they came from the south. But all she said was they rode up.” Jesus nodded his head. “Maybe they are on the run from up north.”
    â€œWherever they came from, we need to get to where they’re going. We better trot these horses over this mesa.”
    His men smiled and picked up their pace. An hour before sundown, Chet decided to make camp where they found some water for their horses in potholes in a dry stream. They unsaddled and gathered firewood. Jesus set about boiling some beans for supper, adding fried chunks of bacon to the pot.
    Chet and Cole unloaded the packhorses and hobbled all of them. Jesus made Dutch oven biscuits to go with the beans, and they thanked him as they ate their meal long past sundown. They had enough wood to keep the fire going all night and to cook breakfast in the morning.
    Chet slept more that night, and while it wasn’t toasty getting up, it was a lot warmer than at the Boone Ranch. Jesus worked on the fire and made oatmeal and coffee. When they finished eating, they gathered horses, saddled them, and got the packhorses ready. A peach rose light of dawn came over the mountains in the east. They had another short winter day to run those outlaws down.
    In the saddle again, they headed south on the trail. He wondered what they’d find this day. Jesus had mentioned he saw signs in their horse turds that they were getting closer.
    Chet hoped so, and made his mount trot. Crossing the flat desert floor, the midday sun’s heat made them take off their coats. They couldn’t be over thirty miles from the Hayden’s Ferry. Chet wondered about his own ranch holdings and business. His back muscles ached from sleeping on the ground and the rough mountains they’d rode over. He sure wanted to catch them, and soon.

C HAPTER 9
    Passing through chaparral greasewood brush and into some open grass flats, they smelled smoke. Chet twisted in his saddle trying to see the source of the campfire. He spotted five burros standing around hipshot and he turned his horse in that direction.
    â€œMorning.” He reined up. A whiskered man held a rifle in his arms and looked skeptically at him.
    â€œUS Marshal Byrnes.”
    â€œAdolph Gunner. What do you need?” His stoic German pronunciation told Chet he wasn’t looking for any company. His packsaddles lay scattered around his camp. He must ride one of the burros, too.
    â€œThree men ride through here? One big man on a black horse?”
    â€œDey bought some food from me about noon. I kept my gun on dem. Didn’t trust dem, but they had money and several horses.”
    â€œThey shot a man up north and stole his horses.”
    â€œI didn’t know dem. I was glad whey dey were gone.”
    â€œYou’re lucky they didn’t kill you and take your things.”
    â€œOthers have tried.”
    Chet touched his hat, reined his horse aside and rejoined his men.
    â€œFriendly old sumbitch,” Cole said, glancing back at him.
    â€œAt least now we know they aren’t far ahead of us.”
    â€œThose old hermits like him hate people,” Jesus added.
    Cole agreed. “And maybe for good reason.”
    Jesus was satisfied they were following the outlaws’ horses’ hoofprints. They reached the edge of the irrigated land and rode on. They found a place where the horses had turned east on a farm road.
    â€œReckon they wanted to avoid the ferry?” Cole wondered.
    â€œMaybe being seen. At this time of year, the river will be lower and they can ford it upstream about anywhere.”
    With their jackets tied behind their cantles, they