[Texas Rangers 02] - Badger Boy (17 page)

"Nothin' is as good as home."

"Too much happened there, too many bad things. Everything here has been good, 'til now." She turned toward him, her eyes sad. At this moment she looked more than ever like Geneva. "You don't want us to leave, do you, Rusty?"

"I've got used to havin' you-all on the place. It'll be lonesome when everybody is gone. But I guess it had to happen sometime."

"I'd rather stay here. You'll need somebody to cook for you and sew and keep the garden."

Rusty smiled indulgently. "I'm afraid Clemmie would never stand still for such as that. You a young woman, me a man ... it'd give folks an awful lot to gossip about."

"It wouldn't be anybody's business."

"That's when people
really
talk, when it's none of their business."

Presently James and his grandfather returned to the dog run. The rain seemed to be slacking off. That suited Rusty. He had rather not have so much that it drowned out part of the field.

James said, "First thing come mornin', me and Grandpa will start gatherin' up our horses."

When the Monahan women and Vince Purdy had moved to Rusty's place to wait out the war, they had brought their band of mares with them. Unattended at the deserted Monahan home place, the whole hunch would have disappeared in short order. As it was, their numbers had increased.

Purdy said, "Young'un, you got no idea how much trouble we had holdin' on to them. Army horse buyers kept sniffin' around, worse than the Indians. They'd offer Confederate scrip that everybody knowed wasn't worth a bucket of cold spit. At least the Comanches never bothered tryin' to lie to us. They just taken what they could find and went on their way."

Purdy tamped tobacco into his pipe. "Me and Clemmie let the buyers take a few snides now and again, but we managed to keep the best of the bunch hid out to the west of here. We'd go to talkin' about Indians, and no government people ever got the nerve to venture that far."

Rusty said, "I've seen where most of the mares are runnin'. I'll help you round them up."

James nodded. "You've got work of your own to do. But we'd be obliged."

Rusty said, "And I'll help you move your folks back home. I'll go along with you."

"We couldn't impose on you that far."

Rusty said, "I'm thinkin' of the risk. Don't you think it was kind of dangerous, you comin' down here all by yourself?"

"Durin' the war I traveled by myself a-plenty of times to visit the folks, and I had conscript officers and sheriffs lookin' to catch me. Now I don't have to fret about them no more."

"There's always a chance of runnin' into Indians."

"Done that, too. I always had a faster horse than they did."

"This time you came in a wagon. What if you-all ran across Indians on your way home? You couldn't outrun them. How long would you last in a fight, just two men and three women?"

"Long enough to do them some damage." But Rusty could tell by James's expression that he was struggling with new doubts.

James said, "One more man
would
help the odds. If you think this farm can get along without you, we'd be tickled to have you come with us."

"The fields are goin' to be too wet to work anyway."

The younger of the girls rode with her mother on the wagon James had brought. Josie rode on horseback alongside Rusty and her brother James, driving the mares, colts, and a bay stallion. Vince Purdy drove a second wagon piled high with family belongings. It was one the Monahans had brought with them when they fled Caleb Dawkins.

Rusty had not heard of any Indian incursions in a while, but the possibility could never be dismissed. Another potential problem was the defeated ex-soldiers straggling across the country. Most were harmless, but some were hungry, frustrated, and desperate enough to do almost anything. Tom Blessing had told Rusty about a couple of murders supposedly committed in the course of robbery.

He would deny it even to himself, but one reason he had volunteered to join the Monahans on this trip was that he burned to see Geneva. He realized that seeing her might hurt worse than
not
seeing her. Still, the compulsion was too strong to put down. He could rationalize that the family needed the extra protection his presence would afford, but in some secret corner of his mind he knew that was not his primary reason for going.

He caught James studying him critically, and he suspected Geneva's brother saw into that secret corner.

The first day passed without incident. The mares and colts had to be held back, limited by the lumbering pace of the wagons. They would move well ahead, then the riders would stop and loose-herd them to graze until the wagons caught up.

Josie rode a sidesaddle belonging to her mother. Rusty told her, "You sit real good on that thing."

"I rode with Grandpa Vince a lot, lookin' after the mares. 'Til Evan came, I was Grandpa's main outside help except when Preacher Webb stopped by, or James slipped past the law to spend a day or two with us."

Her face was deeply tanned, for she had spent a lot of time in the sun and wind. Rusty had seen her ride horseback and maneuver a plow, though he had noted that she knew her way around the kitchen, too. A Texas farm woman—or girl—was expected to be able to work like a man without forgetting she wasn't one.

He said, "Looks to me like you can do whatever you set your mind to."

She grinned. "I was hopin' you'd see that."

Rusty saw cattle bearing the Monahan brand. He told James, "If cattle were worth cash money, you'd be in good shape."

James nodded. "I managed to slip back here now and again when nobody was lookin'. Gave me a chance to see after the cattle my family had to leave behind when they refugeed down to your farm."

"Looks like they increased."

"Cows didn't know there was a war on. Kept havin' calves every year. There's cattle runnin' wild over this country, no brands or earmarks, just waitin' for somebody to put a claim on them."

"They're not worth runnin' after."

"But one day they
will
be worth somethin'. I'm figurin' to burn a brand on as many as I can catch."

The procession was nearing the Monahan home place when Rusty saw two horsemen a few hundred yards ahead. The pair quickly moved into the cover of nearby brush.

Rusty turned. "James ..."

"I saw them." Frowning, James rode quickly to his sister. "Josie, you get back with the wagons. Tell Mama and Grandpa to keep their eyes open. Be ready to run for that ravine yonder."

She nodded soberly. "Indians, you reckon?"

"We'll find out pretty soon. We'll hold the mares here 'til the wagons catch up."

Rusty and James brought the mares and colts to a stop but did not let them spread out to graze. Rusty drew his rifle from its scabbard and placed it in front of him. He watched the brush for movement.

It came, finally. As the wagons drew up even with the herded mares, the two riders emerged into the open. James squinted. "At least it ain't Indians."

Watching the horsemen's approach, Rusty relaxed his tight hold on the rifle. He did not place the weapon back into the scabbard.

Clemmie and Vince Purdy asked no questions, but Purdy had brought a rifle up from beneath his wagon seat. Clemmie held a big Colt Dragoon in her lap. It looked as if it might weigh a quarter as much as she did. She said, "Probably just a couple of soldiers lookin' for a meal. That's all right, as long as they ain't after anything else." She jerked her head toward Josie. "You stay close by me and your sister."

James had ridden out a little ways to intercept the two riders before they reached the wagons. Rusty eased forward to join him.

James muttered a low oath. "Damn! Do you see who's comin' yonder?"

Rusty was unable to recognize either rider at the distance. James growled, "It's Caleb Dawkins's son."

"Pete? Last I knew of him, the old man sent him off to the army."

"Too bad some Yankee didn't get a clean shot at him."

"I expect Pete was careful not to offer them much of a target."

Pete Dawkins reined up short, giving Rusty and James a disapproving scrutiny before he spoke. "Thought at first you-all might be Indians with stolen horses, wantin' to add ours to the bunch. Then we saw the wagons and knowed different. Now that I see who you are, I almost wish you
had
been Indians."

Rusty waited for James to speak, but James held silent, his eyes smoldering with an old hatred. Rusty said grittily, "We're glad to see you, too."

Rusty recognized the second rider as Scully, who had been with Pete when the rangers caught them stealing horses. Pete hungrily studied the Monahan mares. The thought behind his eyes was easy to read.

He said, "People been tellin' me the country is near stripped of horses. That's a likely lookin' hunch of mares and colts you got."

James declared, "We've got them, and we're keepin' them."

"Ain't you afraid some slick-fingered Comanches might run off with them?"

Rusty said, "All the slick fingers don't belong to Comanches. I remember the day we caught you two with some horses you forgot to pay for."

Pete's eyes flashed resentment while his mouth curved into a forced smile. "An honest mistake. We misread the brands."

James said, "These all carry the Monahan brand, big enough for a blind man to see."

Scully had not spoken. He seemed content to let Pete do the talking. Rusty judged him to be a follower. He would follow Pete all the way to hell if that was the direction Pete chose to go. It probably would be, sooner or later.

Pete turned his attention to Rusty. "You still a ranger?"

"There are no rangers, as far as I know. The outfit broke up."

"Ain't that a shame!" Pete's smile turned genuine. "Won't be no laws around to beat up on us hardworkin' farmboys."

James patted the palm of his hand against the rifle across his lap. Malice was in his voice. "There's still guns, and there's still rope. You remember about rope, don't you, Pete?"

Pete's smile died as quickly as it had come.

James added, "Since we won't have any regular law, it'll be up to all of us to administer justice accordin' to our own lights. I remember the way the Dawkinses did it."

"You threatenin' me, Monahan?"

"Just lettin' you know I've got a long memory. Now, if you're through visitin', we've still got a ways to go."

Pete pulled aside, and Scully trailed after him like a pup. Rusty and James set the mares to moving. Rusty turned in the saddle, making certain Pete and Scully did not follow. "I didn't like the way Pete was lookin' at your horses."

"I liked it. First time he makes a try for them, he's liable to disappear off the face of the earth, and everybody'll wonder what went with him."

"Everybody but you?"

"Everybody but me."

"Maybe it's just as well I'm not a ranger anymore. I'd hate to be the one sent to take you in."

"I'd hate it, too. I wouldn't like havin' you on my conscience."

T
he Monahans' new house was simple, constructed of logs and built in the traditional double-cabin fashion with an open dog run between the sections, much like Rusty's own. Clemmie's reaction could not have been more enthusiastic if it had been the governor's mansion. She leaned forward on the wagon seat, straining to see better.

"We're home, children," she exclaimed to her daughters.

Josie sat on her horse beside Rusty's Alamo. She had contrived to ride near him most of the trip. She said, "We're not children. At least I'm not."

She was not, though Rusty thought she would probably always seem that way to her mother. She was blossoming into a handsome young woman.

Some of the older mares had seemed to perk up during the last miles of the trip. They held their heads higher and quickened the pace.

James said, "They remember. They're glad to get back."

Vince Purdy had told Rusty a few mares had caused problems in the first weeks after the original move down to Rusty's farm. They kept trying to return north to what had been their home. They became accustomed to their new range after a time but evidently never forgot where they came from. One problem now, for a time at least, would he to keep younger mares from trying to return south to the Colorado River. Horses had been known to travel hundreds of miles, following their instincts to go back where they came from. Occasionally a horse stolen by Indians would escape and turn up at the home corral weeks or even months later.

Rusty looked hopefully toward the open dog run, thinking Geneva might walk out to greet her mother and sisters. He burned to see her. But the only person he saw was a man he realized must be her husband. Evan Gifford opened a corral gate to receive the mares, then strode toward the wagons with a hand raised in welcome.

Josie said, "You'll like Evan."

Rusty doubted it.

"You-all light and hitch," Gifford shouted. He raised his arms to help his mother-in-law, and then Alice, down from the wagon. Rusty studied him, hoping to find something to dislike but seeing nothing beyond the fact that he had won Geneva while Rusty was busy elsewhere. Gifford appeared to be about Rusty's own age. The effects of war showed in his face, in the seriousness of his eyes. A narrow scar across his right cheekbone could have resulted from a saber slash or a bullet.

If a bullet, Rusty thought, why could it not have been an inch farther in? He immediately felt guilty. Such a thought was unworthy of him. He wished no one dead, least of all a soldier who fought for his country.

Clemmie looked around worriedly. "Where's Geneva? There's nothin' wrong with her, is there?"

Gifford tried to reassure her, shaking his head. "She's in the cabin, takin' her rest. Been havin' some low days. Preacher Webb says it's normal, what with her condition."

Clemmie brightened. "Preacher's here?"

"In yonder with Geneva."

Clemmie turned toward the older structure in which Geneva and her husband had made their home. It had been the Monahan family's first dwelling years ago, replaced eventually by a larger house.