[Texas Rangers 05] - Texas Vendetta (4 page)

“I’ll tell him, but he’s had more than his share of trouble. I think now he just wants to be a farmer.”

Scooter was carrying wood and dropping it into a pile near the cook’s fire pit. Andy pitched in to help him. Scooter did not thank him verbally, but his eyes showed he was pleased. He said, “Soon as I get done fetchin’ wood, I’m goin’ fishin’. I never got to do no fishin’ till I come to this camp.”

“You like fishin’, do you?”

“It’s about the most fun thing I ever done.” The boy had never been given much chance for fun, riding with a criminal father and his father’s lawless companions. When he tried to read he followed the lines with his finger, mouthed the words slowly, and often gave up in frustration. What little writing he could do was in block letters, the words so badly misspelled that it was a struggle to decipher their meaning.

Andy said, “I never did any fishin’ either before I went to live with Rusty Shannon. The Comanches leaned to buffalo meat.”

“Somethin’ else I’d like to do someday is hunt buffalo. I’ll bet that’d be fun.”

“I was too young to ride with the hunters. They made me stay with the women and children. We skinned out the meat after the hunters got through. That was the work part, not the fun part.”

“I ever get the chance, I’m goin’ to kill me a buffalo.”

Andy shook his head. “You may never get the chance. They say hunters have scattered all over the Plains, killin’ for nothin’ but the hides. Pretty soon there won’t be any buffalo left.”

“How come the Indians don’t stop them?”

“They’ve tried, but there’s too many hunters. The army has driven most of the Indians to reservations. Tryin’ to teach them to farm and eat beef.” Sadness fell over him. “The ones I knew are too proud to take to the plow. I don’t know what’ll become of them.”

“You ever think about goin’ up yonder to see them?”

Andy dropped an armful of wood and looked northward past the river. “Sometimes. I’ve got lots of friends there. But I’ve got a few enemies, too.”

“Take me with you. I’ll help you fight your enemies.”

“Maybe someday.” Andy dusted himself off. “I’d best go see after my horse.”

Scooter grinned. “I’ll catch a fish for your supper.”

Andy tousled the boy’s unkempt hair. “Just what I’ve been hopin’ for.”

Farley was brushing his horse’s back. He frowned as Andy approached. “You’re wastin’ your time tryin’ to reform that dogie kid. He’s got a taint in his blood. It’s waitin’ for a chance to bust out like a boil on the butt.”

“It doesn’t have to. If we treat him right …”

“I knew some folks who tried to make a pet out of a coyote pup. The wild blood always showed through. They finally had to shoot it.”

“People told Rusty the same thing about me.”

Escorting prisoners carried a degree of risk. The more severe the crime and the probable punishment, the more the risk. Andy had little concern over Bransford, who had shown his fearsome reputation to be all smoke and no fire. However, he had misgivings about Landon. The captain’s information was that Landon and his kin were carrying on a blood feud with a family named Hopper. Family feuds in Texas could be long-lasting, and deadly as a den of snakes. Landon had waited for and shot one Ned Hopper on a lonely country road. Cornered by the Hopper-controlled law, he had wounded a deputy sheriff and made his escape, traveling west to seek help from his brother Dick. He had not considered that the telegraph was faster than the horse.

“You-all watch him,” the captain warned as they prepared to leave early the next morning. “Don’t give him any slack just because he’s Dick Landon’s brother.”

Farley showed no concern. “If he makes a false move, it’ll be his last one.”

“Don’t shoot him unless you absolutely have to. They want him alive back there.”

Farley checked to be sure the two prisoners’ hands were securely cuffed and the cuffs tied to their saddles. “Either of you makes a break, you’re dead,” he warned.

Ranger Dick Landon had watched from the front of the tent in which he slept. He came forward, his eyes full of pain. His face and his halting walk showed the lingering effects of his drinking spree. He said, “Jayce, I’d give all I’ve got if I could’ve kept it from comin’ to this. I came out here to get away from the feud. I wish to hell you’d brought Flora and done the same.”

Jayce Landon turned his head away, not looking at his brother. He stared into the distance. His voice stung. “You went off and left the family. I done what needed doin’.”

“When’s it goin’ to stop?”

“When we’ve filled up the graveyard with Hoppers.”

Ranger Landon turned toward Andy and Farley. “I know he’s wanted for murder, but he’s still my brother. Don’t mistreat him.”

Farley said, “If anything happens to him it’ll be of his own doin’.” He jerked his head as a signal to start. Bransford led off. Farley followed closely behind the prisoners. Andy brought up the rear, leading a little pack mule.

Looking back, he saw Ranger Landon hunched in an attitude of misery. Andy told Farley, “I feel real bad about Dick.”

“I’ve got my own worries. I ain’t takin’ on none of his. Dick had best watch out for himself and let the rest of his family go to hell.”

“That’s a cold way of lookin’ at it.”

Farley turned on him. “Don’t be botherin’ me with other people’s troubles. Or yours either. Else I’m liable to leave you afoot and take the prisoners by myself.”

Anger warmed Andy’s face. “Looks like we understand one another.”

“The important thing is that you understand me.”

People who had known Farley as a boy said he had been a kindly youngster who enjoyed hunting and fishing and had sung in church. The war and the angry years that followed seemed to have burned all kindness out of him.

Once clear of camp, Andy turned the mule loose. It followed without having to be led. The morning sun was in their faces. The captain had suggested that they push hard to reach Friedrichsburg before dark so they could lodge the prisoners in a secure jail. That way both Rangers could get a good night’s sleep without having to stand guard.

The day passed without notable incident, though Andy sensed that Landon was on edge, watching, wishing for a chance to escape. No such chance presented itself. Farley was always close by, a dark and brooding presence. They occasionally met travelers on the trail. Farley scrutinized them suspiciously and kept his hand on the butt of his pistol while they were within range.

“Landon was mixed up in a feud,” he told Andy, “so we’ve got to watch out for both sides. His own people will look for a chance to free him and the other bunch will be lookin’ to kill him. Both sides see me and you as enemies. Us bein’ Rangers won’t make a particle of difference.”

Andy began to fear that night would catch them before they reached Friedrichsburg. Darkness would increase the danger in traveling with prisoners. He was relieved when they came into a wide valley and saw the German settlement. Though the town was relatively young, as were most along the western fringes of the state, its broad dirt streets were already lined with sturdy stone and brick structures built in a style brought from the Old World. They were a sign that its citizens were not transient. They had established deep roots and intended to stay.

A deputy received the Rangers at the jail. His English was heavily accented, his manner efficiently professional. He locked the prisoners in separate cells and suggested that the Rangers would be comfortable in the Nimitz Hotel.

Farley demurred. “I’m never comfortable spendin’ my money foolishly. I’ll sleep in the wagon yard.”

Andy suspected the captain would have chosen the hotel, but the captain was better paid. Privates rode for thirty dollars a month. At least nowadays they actually received it. Rusty had told him that in earlier times they often went unpaid for long stretches while the state struggled with a thin and leaky treasury.

Andy followed Farley from the jail to the wagon yard, each carrying his rolled blankets. Farley turned on him and pointed up the street. “You don’t have to copy after me. Go to the hotel if you’re of a mind to.”

“They don’t pay me any more than they pay you.” He knew it would look awkward if he, the junior of the two, took better accommodations. Farley was sure to let the other Rangers know. Some would take it as a sign that Andy was being uppity. Among proud Texans, that was a cardinal sin.

Andy let Farley stay a few steps ahead, befitting Farley’s seniority. Anyway, he could do without Farley’s company.

He thought about how pleasant it would be to order supper in the hotel, where they served meals on a white tablecloth. Maybe someday, when he had more money in his pocket. A working cowboy earned as much as a Ranger and seldom if ever had to face somebody with a gun and criminal intentions.

He bought a loaf of freshly baked bread and a spicy sausage to share with Farley. Farley bought a bottle but did not offer to share it. Nor did he bother to thank Andy for the supper. The man and his contradictions intrigued Andy as much as they offended him.

The darkness was compromised only slightly by a lighted lantern at the open front doors of the stable. Andy sat on a wooden bench, watching Farley tip the bottle. He broke a long silence. “I heard you say some people oughtn’t to ever drink.”

“I don’t drink enough to let it get in my way.”

Andy watched a match flare after Farley rolled a cigarette. He said, “Not that I give a damn, but I wonder what makes you itch so bad. You’ve never liked me from the time we first met.”

The observation caught Farley off guard. “I never thought much about it. Didn’t seem important. But now that you mention it, I don’t like you. You stole a horse from me once.”

“He never was yours in the first place.” On the run from the state police, Farley had abandoned a worn-out horse and had taken one from Rusty. Farley’s father gave Rusty a sorrel in return. Rusty turned the animal over to Andy, who named him Long Red.

Farley said, “I’d told my daddy I wanted that horse. Figured I’d earned him for all the work I did for nothin’ on that man-killin’ old farm.”

“Guess he didn’t see it like you did.”

“Lots of things he didn’t see like I did. Got to where I couldn’t stay around him anymore. But those damned state police had no call to kill him.” Farley’s voice was bitter.

“You gave the carpetbaggers a lot of trouble. Don’t you think you came out about even?”

“I tried to give them back as good as what they gave me.”

“Why, then, did you wind up joinin’ the Rangers?”

“The state police was mostly scallywags. The Rangers are us, the old-timey Texans. You think after all I went through in the war and with the carpetbaggers that I could ever settle down on the farm again? You think you could, after livin’ with the Comanches?”

“If I set my mind to it. I just got a little restless, so I joined the Rangers. Wanted to see if I could ever be as good as Rusty Shannon.”

On that question he was still undecided. He knew he was not yet. He wondered if he ever would be.

Farley asked, “What do you think of the service, now that you’ve been in it awhile?”

“I didn’t look for it to be fun. Mostly it’s been long days in camp standin’ horse guard or out followin’ long trails that fade away before we find anybody. I can see why men like Dick Landon slip off and get drunk.”

“Excitement is considerable overrated. Now you’d better go to sleep. We’ll try and make Austin by tomorrow night if the horses hold up.”

Farley had put his finger on one problem Andy saw with the Rangers. Not much consideration was given to how well the men held up. They were expected to perform regardless of circumstances. But allowances had to be made for the horses. A horse couldn’t tell an outlaw from a Baptist preacher.

On reflection, Andy realized that he couldn’t either.

They got an early start on what was going to be a long day’s ride. Bransford griped about being rousted out before sunup. Landon said nothing, but his eyes were constantly at work, searching for a chance to get away. The same deputy who had checked the prisoners in checked them out and had Farley sign a release absolving Gillespie County of any blame should either prisoner make a break after leaving the jail.

“You watch that man,” he warned, pointing at Landon. “All night his eyes are open. Look away from him this long”—he snapped his fingers—“and he will be gone from you.”

As a precaution the deputy had put a set of leg irons on Landon. Fumbling with the key, Andy bent to unlock them so Landon could mount his horse. Landon brought his handcuffs and his fists down on the back of Andy’s head, knocking him to his knees. Landon grabbed at the pistol on Andy’s hip. Andy twisted away, falling on his side so Landon could not reach the weapon.

Farley shouted a curse and slammed the butt of his rifle against Landon’s head. Landon staggered. Farley grabbed the back of the prisoner’s collar and shoved him up against his fidgeting horse. “I’ve made allowances for you because you’re a Ranger’s brother. Next time I’ll bust your head like a watermelon.”

Andy pushed to his feet, his head aching.

Farley said, “See what comes of bein’ reckless? Didn’t the Comanches teach you to watch out for yourself?”

“My hat took the worst of it.”

The deputy had observed the incident but had not been close enough to help. He told Farley, “Like I said, better you watch that man. The devil looks from his eyes out.”

“I’ve got three men to watch after, and one of them is a careless kid who’s supposed to be helpin’ me. You want a Ranger job?”

The man smiled thinly. “I am better paid being a deputy only.”

They rode out of town, the prisoners securely handcuffed to their saddles. Bransford glared at Farley. “You could’ve broke that man’s head like an egg.”

“He had it comin’, and so will you if you keep exercisin’ that jaw.”

Andy’s head drummed with pain. That was Landon’s fault, but he could not condemn the prisoner for it. In Landon’s position, standing in the shadow of the gallows, he thought he too would probably grab at any straw, no matter how flimsy.

By pushing hard they reached Austin at sundown. Andy worried about the horses’ ability to stand the pace. Farley assured him, “They’ll make it. The tireder we keep the prisoners, the less trouble they’re apt to give us.”