Lone Star Ranger : A Ranger to Ride With (9781310568404) (14 page)

“Get up, Nate!” Jeb shouted. “Get up, kid.
You can handle him. You’ve just got to believe that.”

“Just like in our horse race, Nate,” Andy
hollered. “You didn’t quit then. Don’t quit now. You’ve got a lot
of fight left in you!”

Nate struggled to his feet. Captain Quincy
kept the two fighters separated for a moment, then let them close
again. Once more, Hoot’s first punch landed smack in the center of
Nate’s belly. Nate’s breathing was ragged now, blood dripping from
his chin and trickling from the corner of his mouth.

“Protect your belly, Nate!” Jed yelled. “He
knows you’re not guardin’ your middle. Protect that belly! Hoot
hits you in the gut one more time and you’re finished!”

Nate nodded at Jed. He closed in on Hoot,
landing a right to his stomach, then a left to the point of his
chin that staggered him. A following punch took Hoot in his left
eye, swelling it shut, then he stumbled into another shot to his
jaw. Nate moved in for the kill, readying a terrific right to
Hoot’s face. He was stopped in his tracks when Hoot ducked the blow
and sank his fist wrist-deep into Nate’s belly. Nate folded into a
right to his chin, which snapped his head back and drove him
halfway across the makeshift ring. He landed on his back, out cold.
Captain Quincy grabbed Hoot’s wrist and lifted his arm high.

“We have a winner! Hoot Harrison, by a
knockout!”

Most of the men cheered, having placed their
money on Hoot to win. Jeb picked up a bucket of water. He, Andy,
and Jim walked up to Nate. Jeb dumped the water over his head. Nate
spluttered.

“Huh? What?”

“Take it easy, Nate. The fight’s over,” Jeb
said.

“I… lost, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, I reckon you did,” Andy said.

“But you put up one heckuva fight,” Jeb
added.

“Don’t matter. I lost.”

“Yeah, but you never quit,” Jeb said.
“That’s what really counts. That’s what we like to see in a Ranger,
a man who never quits.”

“And if you ever learn to keep from gettin’
slugged in the gut you might actually win a fight someday,” Andy
said.

“Reckon… I did… let him get me there… few
times.”

“A few times! You might as well’ve had a
target painted on your belly, Nate,” Jeb said, with a laugh. “Once
you’re feelin’ a bit better I’ll show you how to protect your
middle.”

“All right. I’d appreciate that.”

“You think you can stand up, Nate?” Jim
asked.

“Maybe. With a little help.”

“All right.”

Jim pulled Nate to his feet. Jeb and Andy
draped his arms around their shoulders.

“Take him to my tent, just so I can check
him over. I don’t think he’s hurt bad, but let’s make sure.”

“All right.”

Hoot came over, along with Captain
Quincy.

“Good fight, Nate. You almost had me,” Hoot
said. “Next time I’d put my money on you.”

“Yeah. You did a fine job, Nate,” Quincy
added.

“Thanks, Hoot, Thanks, Cap’n.”

The other men patted Nate on the back as he
was helped toward Jim’s tent, congratulating him on a fight well
fought.

“Couple of years and that kid’ll be someone
to reckon with,” Shorty said.

“You just said a mouthful,” Joe
answered.

Two days after their fight, Nate and Hoot
were stiff and sore from the beating each had taken, but had
suffered no serious injuries. Their faces were battered and
bruised, Nate’s smile was kind of lopsided, but all in all they
were feeling all right. They were sitting on the edge of their
bunks playing cards, a pastime which Nate’s mother had never
allowed. Her belief was that card playing, even just for amusement,
led to gambling, and all gambling was evil. She had come home one
time to find Jonathan and Nate with a deck of cards. She
immediately grabbed the cards, threw them in the stove, and watched
them burn. She confined her sons to their rooms for three days.
However, in his short time with the Rangers, Nate had come to
realize gambling was a part of their way of life. Card playing,
dice, or betting on fights, horse races, or just about anything
else, even something as simple as which of two beetles would cross
a patch of dirt first, provided welcome diversion from the dangers
of a Ranger’s life, or the boredom of hanging around camp, far from
town, for days. And Nate also found he enjoyed playing cards. It
helped him relax and clear his mind. If he wanted to fit in with
the Rangers, he’d have to learn how to gamble as much as use his
gun, fists, and knife.

“That’s an inside straight,” Hoot said as he
laid down his cards. He was teaching Nate the finer points of
poker. “I win again. But at least you gave me more of a run this
time, Nate.”

Whatever Nate started to reply was cut off
by the clamor of George beating the spoon on that iron pot.

“What’s that all about?” Nate asked. “We
already had dinner, and it’s too early for supper.”

“Somethin’s up, and it’s gotta be trouble,”
Hoot answered. “Only reason for George to be soundin’ the alarm
this time of day is if somethin’s wrong. We’d better find out what.
Let’s go.”

He and Nate hurried to the area in front of
Captain Quincy’s tent, where the other Rangers were gathering.
Captain Quincy was there, waiting until all the men were assembled.
Alongside him was a man wearing a deputy sheriff’s badge. He had a
bloody bandage wrapped around his head and held the reins of an
exhausted horse. Once everyone was gathered, Quincy signaled for
quiet.

“Men,” he said, “This is Deputy Sheriff
Morgan Fredericks of McCulloch County. He’s just ridden thirty
miles to inform us a large gang has raided three ranches in his
county. We’ll be saddling up and riding after them immediately. All
of us will ride except a few men left behind to guard this camp,
and also be available if anyone else should happen to ride in
looking for Ranger assistance. George, you’ll stay behind of
course, since you’re supposed to be retired from active
service.”

George snorted.

“Try’n tell the outlaws that, Cap’n.”

“I will when I see ’em. Shorty, you stay
here too, since you’re the most senior man. You’ll be in
charge.”

“Right, Cap’n.”

“Andy, Hoot, Tim, you stay.”

Tim started to object.

“Before you say anythin’, Tim, I’m leavin’
you behind and takin’ Tom for a reason. If we should happen to get
ambushed and wiped out, at least one of you’ll still be alive to go
home to your ma. You
sabe
?”

“
Sabe
, Cap’n.”

“Good. Nate, you’ll remain in camp also. I
don’t think I need to remind any of you to stay alert. Shorty,
you’ll be stretched thin, but make sure you keep one man on watch
at all times.”

“Understood, Cap’n.”

“Good. Deputy Fredericks will remain here
until he feels well enough to return home. George, feed him and
take care of his horse. The rest of you men, get your horses. We
move out in ten minutes.”

With years of experience in moving quickly,
none of the Rangers wasted any time in roping out their mounts,
saddling and bridling them, and mounting up. Eight minutes after
they’d assembled, a column of men rode out of the camp.

“C’mon, Deputy, I’ll show you where to get
some grain for your horse,” George said. “Then, I’ll fill your
belly. Gonna be plenty of food tonight, since I made enough for the
whole company. No sense lettin’ it go to waste.”

“I’m obliged,” Fredericks answered. He
picked up his reins and followed George to the supply wagon. Shorty
stared after them. He thumbed back his Stetson and scratched his
head.

“Somethin’ don’t seem right about that
deputy, boys.”

“Why? You think he’s up to something’? Mebbe
in cahoots with the outlaws who’ve been plaguin’ these parts?” Tim
asked.

“I dunno. Just a gut feelin’ I got. A hunch.
Well, mebbe it’s nothin’. Let’s keep an eye on him, just to be
certain.”

“Couldn’t hurt,” Andy said.

“I’ll take first watch,” Shorty said. “Andy,
you’ll take second. Nate, I know you’re not supposed to be on full
duty yet, but seein’ as we’re short-handed, you’ll take third. All
right with you?”

“That’s fine, Shorty.”

“Good. Hoot, you’ll take fourth, Tim the
watch after him, and I’ll tell George to take last, since he’ll be
gettin’ up to start breakfast anyway.”

“Even with most of the men gone?” Nate
asked.

“You still wanna eat, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I reckon.”

“Then George’ll be up to make breakfast for
us. I could put two men on each watch, but I figure doin’ six turns
rather’n four will cut back the time each man has to stay alert, so
we’ll all get more sleep. Well, nothin’ to do now but take it easy,
once the horses are fed. Soon’s the sun’s down we’ll start the
watches.”

***

Andy shook Nate’s shoulders at the end of
his watch.

“Nate? Nate, time to get up.”

“All right, Andy. Any sign of trouble out
there?”

“None at all. It’s quiet as a tomb.”

“Dunno if that’s a good choice of words,
pardner.”

Andy chuckled.

“I reckon you’re right.”

Nate quickly dressed, buckled his gunbelt
around his waist and picked up his Winchester, then headed for the
spot where Shorty had been standing guard when he and Jeb rode into
camp. That sentry point offered the best view of the camp and
surrounding territory. Nate scanned all around, then sat down, his
back against a low boulder.

Had it really been only a few days since
his arrival here?
he thought.
Really such a short time since
his parents and brother had been murdered and his life turned
upside down. Those days seemed so far away now. Already there were
times when his memories of his mother, father, and Jonathan seemed
hazy, like in a dream. Well, no matter what, he’d never forget
them. He wouldn’t allow that to happen.

Nate had been afraid he would fall asleep
during his turn as sentry. However, all his nerves were on edge.
Every shadow seemed to be hiding a man, every tree seemed an outlaw
waiting to sneak up on him, every rustle in the brush an Indian
crawling toward him, ready to take his life. The hooting of an owl
set the back of his neck prickling, the hairs standing on end. When
a distant coyote howled at the setting moon, he nearly jumped out
of his skin.

“Sure hope no one is out there,” he
whispered to himself. “I still ain’t practiced with this rifle all
that much. Dunno if I could hit someone usin’ it or not, and I sure
don’t want to let ’em get close enough for my six-gun.”

What seemed a short while later Nate whipped
around when someone called his name. He leveled his rifle in the
direction from which the voice had come.

“Who’s there?”

“It’s only me, Nate. Hoot. Watch where
you’re pointin’ that thing, will ya? I’d hate to get shot by one of
my own pards.”

“Sorry, Hoot. I’m a bit jumpy.”

“I’ll say.”

“What’re you doin’ here already?”

“What d’ya mean, already? I’m here to take
over for you. Your time’s up. Go back and get some sleep.”

“So soon? My watch hardly started.”

Hoot laughed softly.

“Trust me, Nate, your watch is over. Go get
that sleep. Any sign of trouble out here?”

“Just you, Hoot. Just you.”

***

Nate went back to his bunk, but didn’t
really ever fall back to sleep. He dozed fitfully, but finally gave
it up as a bad effort. He got up, pulled his boots back on, jammed
his black Stetson on his head, buckled his gunbelt around his waist
and picked up his Winchester. He left the tent, figuring he’d keep
whoever was still on watch some company. An extra pair of eyes
couldn’t hurt. He glanced at the sky. The gray light of the false
dawn was just glimmering in the eastern sky. That meant Tim was
probably still on watch, but George would be taking over soon.

Nate started up the slope to the sentry
post. He was almost there when he stopped short. Something was
moving furtively, about a hundred yards ahead of him. No, it must
be his imagination. He blinked his eyes and ran a hand across them
to clear his vision. No, there was no one there.
Get hold of
yourself, Nate.
He gazed at the spot again. Nothing. Wait.
There was something moving silently through the brush. Not
something,
someone
. Nate started to follow. The figure
disappeared, then reappeared. Something flashed in the dim
starlight, followed by a thud and a groan. A lantern flashed to
life.

“Ambush!” The words escaped Nate’s lips. He
pointed the rifle into the air and fired three times, then lowered
it and aimed at the lantern. He levered the chamber and pulled the
trigger. His bullet struck the lantern. It shattered, splashing hot
coal oil over the man holding it. He let loose a string of curses.
Nate recognized the voice.

“The deputy! Shorty was right. Tim!”

There was no response.

“Tim!” Nate called again. Once again, no
response. Then Nate had no time for further thought, for a group of
masked horsemen thundered down the rise.

“Ambush!” Nate shouted at the top of his
lungs. “Rangers! Ambush!”

He fired several shots, slowing the raiders’
advance, then scrambled back to the camp, reaching it just before
they regrouped.

Shorty grabbed him as he ran past Captain
Quincy’s tent. George, Andy, and Hoot were with him, rifles at the
ready.

“Nate. What in the blue blazes is goin’
on?”

“It’s an ambush. Nate gasped for breath.
“Couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d keep Tim company. Saw someone
slinkin’ through the scrub. It was that deputy from McCulloch
County. I think he killed Tim. He lit a lantern. I shot at it, and
hit it, and he cussed a blue streak. I recognized his voice. Then a
whole bunch of horsemen busted out of the brush. I think I slowed
’em down some.”