[Texas Rangers 03] - The Way of the Coyote (24 page)

Tanner commented, "You're lookin' a little peaked."

"It's your eyes. I'm doin' just fine."

"Well, I'm tired if you're not. I say its time to make camp. Got to think of the horses."

The ride had not been long enough to tax the horses unduly. Rusty appreciated that Tanner was watching out for his welfare without making an issue of it.

They stopped at a small seep he remembered from scouting trips long ago. The seep fed a narrow creek, its water trailing for a couple of hundred yards before disappearing into the sand. Along the creek's short course a thin band of green grass offered grazing for the horses. Rusty and Tanner staked their mounts with long rawhide reatas that gave the animals considerable freedom to move around.

Tanner watched them. "Just like old times. The horses are gettin' fed better than we are. I can imagine the good supper Clemmie Monahan is servin' tonight."

Rusty chewed hard on a salty strip of dried jerky. "Andy may not have even this much to eat."

"He can get by on lizards and rattlesnakes if he has to. He's that much Comanche."

Rusty shuddered at the thought. "If I had any notion where he's at, any notion at all—"

"You'd go there and lose that red hair before it has a chance to start gettin' gray."

The only horse tracks he and Tanner had seen all day had been remnants of old ones, headed north. They found no sign of recent Indian incursion. Years ago, under the old loose frontier-ranger organization, the men had scouted along established north-south lines a little beyond the settlements, riding until they met scouts coming from counterpart camps. At that point they turned back and re-rode the same line. The system had worked well so long as the frontier companies had manpower enough. Some Indian raids were broken up before they were well started. The system had become less and less effective as the war drew men away from the frontier and the ranger companies.

Rusty knew Captain Burmeister lacked men enough to make the routine work as well as it once had. Intercepting Indians would be as much a matter of luck—of being at the right place at the right time—as of organization.

Tanner said, "This ought to be the job of the United States Army, but them generals don't see Indians as a serious problem."

"They're mostly stayin' back in the settled parts of the state where Indians
aren't
a problem. They spend most of their time lookin' for Confederate conspiracies."

"Well, I've learned one thing for damned sure."

"What's that?"

"Don't ever lose a war. It don't pay."

* * *

They were within sight of the camp when one of the scouts rode out to intercept them. His expression indicated that he was not the bearer of good news. He said, "Captain Burmeister wanted me to let you know you've got company waitin' for you."

Rusty asked, "Who is it?"

"Couple of brothers. I don't recall the name. The younger one has just got one arm."

Rusty frowned at Tanner. "The Oldhams. I've wondered how long it would take them to figure out where I'm at." He looked back at the messenger. "Did the captain say what he wants me to do?"

"No, just said he didn't want you ridin' in unawares."

Tanner said, "You take Clyde. I'll take Buddy-Boy. We can put an end to them once and for all."

Rusty realized Tanner was serious. "I don't want us to kill anybody. Remember, they're state police."

"Damned poor recommendation."

The scout said, "There's a third man with them. Deputy of some kind, I think."

The Oldham brothers and the deputy waited outside Burmeister's tent, their stance stiff and expectant. Burmeister and two of his men stood nearby, watching them. Tanner's rifle lay across the pommel of his saddle, ready.

Rusty dismounted, keeping his horse between himself and the Oldhams. He said, "I expected you a lot sooner, Clyde."

"It ain't that we didn't try. You're a hard man to locate."

"Now that you've found me, what do you figure on doin'?"

"We've come to arrest you."

Rusty said, "If you plan on shootin' me in the back again, you've come a long ways on a fool's errand. I'm not goin' with you."

Clyde started to reach into his pocket but stopped abruptly when Tanner swung his rifle around. He swallowed hard. "I'm just goin' after my warrant."

Tanner said, "See that that's all you go after."

Buddy Oldham dropped his hand to the butt of a pistol on his hip but made no effort to draw the weapon. He stared into the muzzle of Tanner's rifle.

Tanner said, "Better raise that hand, Buddy, or this time you're liable to lose more than your arm."

Buddy lifted his hand clear, his eyes flashing anger.

Clyde demanded, "Where's that Indian kid of yours, Shannon?"

None of your damned business, Rusty thought. But he said, "He's not here."

"Probably runnin' with his Comanche friends." Clyde scowled. "When he left down yonder, we followed him. Second or third day out, a bunch of Comanches come swarmin' down on us. I'd swear on a stack of Bibles that boy was with them. He was after our scalps."

Rusty wondered. Andy hadn't told him about that, if it was true.

Tanner said, "Damned shame he didn't get them."

Captain Burmeister reached out for the warrant. "I will read that, if you please."

Clyde hesitated. "I come to serve it on Shannon."

"I am commanding officer here. I will read it first."

Grudgingly Clyde handed it over. Burmeister glanced at the paper. "This judge, his name is not known to me. How am I to know this document is real?"

"It's got the court seal on it."

"Perhaps it is real. Perhaps it is not. You will tell me about the charges against Private Shannon."

Clyde's eyes widened. "
Private
Shannon?"

"He is a member of my company. Therefore he is an officer of the state, as you claim to be. My authority as captain is superior to yours. He will go or not go, as I choose."

Buddy Oldham's face colored. "Authority! You sound like some kind of a Dutchman. Me and my brother don't have to take orders from no immigrant."

Burmeister's mustache twitched in growing anger. "I fought for this country already before you were born. Private Shannon tells me you spent the last war hiding in the brush. You fought for nobody."

Clyde said, "It wasn't our war. We had no stake in either side."

"But now you wear a badge that is too big for you and swear out charges against those from whom you would steal."

"We ain't stole nothin'—"

"You have taken Private Shannon's land, have you not?"

"He owed back taxes. I paid them fair and legal."

Rusty held his tongue. He wanted to refute what Oldham said, but the captain seemed to be doing a good job of it without his interference.

Burmeister said, "Once before you have arrested him, and you shot him in the back."

"He tried to escape."

"So you claim. It is an excuse as old as Pharaoh."

Tanner put in, "If you let them take Rusty, he'll never get halfway home. They'll kill him."

Burmeister nodded. "So we will put the boot on another foot. Mr. Oldham, if it is your will to take him I do not prevent you. But I will send Private Tanner and some of my other men as escort. If you make any move to kill him, any move whatever ..." He did not finish. He did not have to.

Buddy Oldham's face went crimson. "Don't let them scare you, Clyde."

Clyde looked at Tanner with dread. He said, "They do scare me. It's us who wouldn't live to get back. They'd kill us sure as hell."

Burmeister agreed. "Possibly so. But is that not what you planned for Private Shannon?"

Clyde Oldham had the trapped look of an animal hemmed into a corner.

Buddy was too outraged to understand his brother's fear. "Ain't we goin' to take him?" He raised the stump of an arm. "Look what he done. He left me half a man. You swore to me, Clyde. You swore we'd kill him for that."

"Shut up, Buddy. You don't see what we're up against."

"I see you're givin' up after we've rode all this way, after we been chased by Indians and everything. You're fixin' to turn around and leave him."

"Sometimes you get dealt a bad hand. You fold and wait for a better deal." Clyde cut his gaze back to Rusty. "So this time the pot is yours. But the game ain't over."

"It's no game to me, Clyde." Rusty looked regretfully at Buddy. "I never wanted to shoot your brother. He forced it on me."

Clyde did not acknowledge that he had heard. "Thanks for the farm, Shannon. It's a good one."

"Don't be likin' it too much. One way or another I'll get it back."

"Come visit any time. We'll be lookin' for you." Clyde jerked his head at his brother and the deputy. They went to their horses.

Watching them mount, Rusty said, "I didn't expect them to give up that easy."

Tanner said, "They ain't given up. You'll be seem' them again."

Rusty did not want to think about that. "This horse is tired and sweaty. I'm goin' to water him and brush him down." He led the horse to a makeshift corral and pulled the saddle off. He dropped the blanket and bent down to pick it up.

A fence post exploded just above his head. A split second later he heard the loud, flat sound of a rifle.

Tanner shouted, "Get down, Rusty." Tanner steadied his rifle across a fence rail and fired at the retreating Clyde.

Burmeister and his scouts quickly covered Buddy and the deputy with their firearms. Rusty felt points of fire in his face. Clyde's shot had driven splinters into his skin. He reached up and felt the warm stickiness of blood on his fingers.

Bent low in the saddle, Clyde was spurring away, his boots flailing at his horse's ribs, his shirttail standing out behind him. His hat blew off, but he did not slow down.

Tanner watched Clyde's desperate flight with disgust. "Had my sights on him right between the shoulder blades. Gettin' to where I can't shoot worth a damn anymore."

Rusty pulled at a splinter that had pierced his cheek. It burned as if it had been set afire.

Burmeister walked up to Buddy Oldham, his eyes smoldering. "That is some brother you have. He tried to do murder here."

Stubbornly Buddy said, "We got a warrant."

"Take your warrant and go before I get mad. You don't want to see a German get mad. It is a terrible thing, all thunder and lightning."

Buddy glared at the captain, then turned to Rusty, hatred burning in his eyes. He said, "You come south any time you're ready. We'll give you back your farm ... six feet of it."

Buddy and the deputy left. Watching the deputy dismount to pick up Clyde's lost hat, Tanner said, "Losin' his arm made Buddy mean as poison."

"He's not as dangerous as Clyde."

"Clyde's a coward."

"That's why he's dangerous. He'll get you when you're not lookin'." He reached up and felt his burning cheek.

Burmeister gave Rusty an anxious study. "You bleed. He hit you?"

"Just splinters. They'll come out." Rusty turned to Tanner. "Thanks, Len. If he'd had time for a second shot he'd've killed me sure."

Tanner shrugged, his gaze on Clyde and the deputy, riding away. "That's what I'm paid so high for."

T
he horse tracks were easy for Andy to follow. This far up in their plains stronghold, the raiders had no reason to try to cover them. Their direction gave him a strong clue about the destination. He remembered a place where his band had camped several times, a location that offered water enough and trees for shade and shelter from the wind.

To look less like a white man he had shed his hat, shirt, and long underwear, keeping only his trousers and the moccasins. The rest he tied behind the cantle. He remembered the time soon after he fell back into Texan hands that his uncle, Jim Pickard, had come to have a look at him. The uncle had rejected him because he considered him a savage beyond redemption.

He ought to get a look at me now, Andy thought.

The camp was where he expected it to be. As before, he approached the horse herd first, looking for Billy's pony or Vince Purdy's mount. And again he was disappointed.

He rode into camp with all the boldness he could muster, trying not to show any sign of his nagging concern that some of Tonkawa Killer's friends might be here. He saw a few faces he remembered, though they stared at him without recognition. He had grown, and his features had matured since he had been with the T

He spoke in the Comanche tongue, and their suspicions began to fade. To a man he remembered having ridden with Steals the Ponies he said, "Do you not remember me? Steals the Ponies is my brother. I was known as Badger Boy."

With recognition came a warm welcome. "Come. Come and eat. There is plenty."

Andy was glad to accept. He had eaten little besides a bit of tough jerky since leaving Martínez. His host plied him with questions about his years among the Texans, about the Texans' strange life-ways. Andy tailored his answers to what he thought the man would want to hear. "They are a strange people," he conceded. "But not all their ways are bad."

When the questions began to lag, he offered his own. "Do you know where I might find Steals the Ponies?"

The Comanche said, "He left here yesterday and went north with his family. They joined some others who came back from a raid against the Texans."

Andy's senses sharpened. "A raid?"

"Yes. I went myself. We took many horses."

Andy thought of Vince Purdy. "And scalps?"

"Only one. An old man we found."

"No one else?"

"We took a small boy. Fights with Bears was the leader. He claimed the boy and the horses. I took second coup on the old man, but I got only this." He lifted a watch that hung around his neck on a leather thong along with his medicine bag. Its case looked like silver.

Vince Purdy's! Andy thought.

He reached out. "May I see it?"

His host lifted the thong from around his neck. "It is of little use. It is but a pretty trinket."

Andy clasped the watch with reverence, as if somehow it contained the spirit of Vince Purdy. In his mind's eye he visualized the kind old gentleman, and his throat tightened. This keepsake would mean much to the Monahans if he lived to return it to them.