[Texas Rangers 04] - Ranger's Trail (20 page)

“
Maybe later. I’m lookin’ for a friend of mine. Maybe he’s sat in on your game. Name of Corey Bascom?”

The gambler’s eyes narrowed. “I know him, but I ain’t seen him in a while. You say he’s a friend of yours?”

“
More like an acquaintance.”

“
Corey ain’t the kind that makes many friends. Nice enough feller, after his fashion, but you got to watch him all the time. He’ll cold deck you if you don’t.”

“
That sounds like him. You’re sure you haven’t seen him lately?”

“
No, and I ain’t lookin’ for him.” Suspicion in the man’s eyes indicated that he took a dim view of anyone who might be a friend of Corey’s. “Even if he’s in town he ain’t likely to come in this place. He wore out his welcome at my table a long time ago.”

Rusty was tempted to ask what Corey had done to earn the gambler’s displeasure, but he had not come here to provoke a row, at least with anyone besides Corey.

The gambler said, “On the off chance that he shows up, do you want me to tell him you’re lookin’ for him?”

“
I’d rather you didn’t.”

The gambler’s attitude changed. He smiled thinly. “It’s like that, hunh? What’s your name, friend?”

“
Shannon. Rusty Shannon.”

“
If I see or hear anything about Corey I’ll try to get word to you. Goin’ to be in town long?”

“
That depends.”

“
Well, good huntin’.”

Rusty returned to the wooden sidewalk and surveyed the street. The buildings were primarily modest one-story frame structures, most of them strangers to paint. A few log houses probably dated back to the town’s earliest days. From where he stood he could not see a church anywhere.

A woman in a flimsy gown leaned out of an open window and smiled at him. She said, “Gettin’ an early start?”

“
Just killin’ time.”

“
Me, too. Goin’ to be lots of cowboys in town tonight. I’m apt to get awful busy. But right now I’ve got lots of time.”

He knew an invitation when he heard it. He said, “Thanks, but you’d better get your rest while you can.”

Walking away, he heard her call after him, “Later on you’ll get to thinkin’ about what you missed, and you’ll hate yourself.”

He passed a uniformed policeman twirling a nightstick. The officer gave him a nod. Then Rusty heard him address the woman by name. He told her, “Them cow outfits’ll be in after a while. You better get ready for a busy night.”

“
I’m always ready. If you find any of them lookin’ for a place to light, steer them my way. It’ll be worth your while.”

“
It always is.”

Rusty grunted disapprovingly to himself. He had heard that many city policemen shared in the proceeds from illegal activities in return for looking the other way or even, as in this case, participating. It was against all the principles he had learned in his years as a ranger. But that was Fort Worth’s misfortune and none of his own.

He walked into a false-fronted building whose sign proclaimed that it offered the finest in spiritous liquors, beer, and hot lunch. It also offered a billiard table. He heard the crack of billiard balls and looked toward the rear of the room where two young men who ought to be at work this time of the day were engaged in a heated game.

A middle-aged man of ample girth and broader smile approached him. “Howdy, friend. If you’re lookin’ for the best drinks in Fort Worth you’ve come to the right place.”

Something about him struck Rusty as being familiar. The man gave Rusty a moment’s intense scrutiny and said, “Seems to me I ought to know you. Sure as hell I do. You’re Rusty Shannon. Used to serve under old Captain Burmeister in the rangers.”

Rusty remembered. “Right. And so did you.” He struggled to remember the name.

“
Simon Newfield.” The man extended his hand and almost broke Rusty’s fingers. “Scouted some with you and old Len Tanner. Reckon he’s still alive?”

“
Still alive and still talkin’.” Rusty grinned, old memories coming back in a rush. He looked around the saloon. It was the fanciest he had seen here, or just about anywhere else he had been. “It’s a cinch you didn’t buy this place from your ranger savin’s.”

“
No, I came into a windfall.” Newfield looked around to see if anyone could hear. “Right at the end of the war I captured me a Yankee army paymaster. Took the money in the name of the Confederacy. But the Confederacy folded, so there wasn’t anybody I could legally give it to that needed it worse than I did.”

“
They’re probably still lookin’ for it.”

“
I figured it like a loan. I’ll pay it back to them someday when I feel like I’ve got rich enough. Ain’t there yet. What brings you to Fort Worth? I never seen you here before.”

Rusty lost his grin. “Lookin’ for a man.”

“
Are you a ranger again? Maybe I oughtn’t to’ve told you about that paymaster.”

“
No, I’m not a ranger. This is a personal matter. Do you know Corey Bascom?”

Newfield sobered. “Lots of people around here know Corey. Some to their profit and some to their regret. I take it that in your case it’s regret.”

“
He killed the woman I was about to marry.”

“
That’s tough. It doesn’t sound much like Corey. Robbery and cheatin’ at cards are more his style. But I suppose anything is possible when a man has been listenin’ to the owls hoot long enough.”

“
Seen him lately?”

“
He was in here two, maybe three, weeks ago. Never saw him lookin’ so sour. Got in a game with a man that was better at cards than he was, and better with a gun, too. Seemed like a stupid thing to do, but Corey tried to egg him into a gunfight. The other feller wasn’t lookin’ to bloody himself, though. He hit Corey across the head with the barrel of his six-shooter and laid him out cold. Said there wasn’t
any profit in killin’ fools and drunks. Corey left town the next day with a knot so big he couldn’t put his hat on. I ain’t seen him since.”

“
Any idea where he went?”

“
None at all. Never saw Corey act like that before. It was almost like he was tryin’ to get himself killed. Doesn’t make any sense.”

“
It doesn’t make sense that he’d come here in the open like that. He’s bound to know he’s been posted for murder.”

“
That wouldn’t make any difference in the Acre. Jesse James himself could come here and not be bothered. The police keep their hands off of this district. It’s a sanctuary, sort of, like church.”

“
Not like any church I ever saw.”

“
Poor choice of words. The point is, even if you’re not the law anymore, it wouldn’t be a good idea to let everybody know you’re lookin’ for Corey. There’s some that would kill you on general principles whether they like Corey or not.”

“
I’ll try not to make a show of it.”

“
Good. Now let’s have that drink. We’ll toast old times, and better ones.”

While he waited for nightfall Rusty killed time talking with Newfield about long-ago days. Though he did not feel hungry, he partook of the lunch on one end of the bar, boiled eggs, loaf bread, and sliced ham. He washed it down with a beer that would not leave him impaired in the way that whiskey might.

With dusk the crowds began milling. A dozen or so cowboys lined up at the bar. Some moved to the billiard table. Rusty watched them a while, listening to their laughter and loud talk. Most were young, not of an age to be in a place like this. He envied them their youth but wished they were spending it and their money more wisely.

He told Newfield, “I’d better get started if I’m goin’ to find Corey.”

“
Chances are he’s not in town. If he was I might’ve heard. But you won’t know ’til you look.”

Rusty visited every saloon he could locate, down to a couple of dark dives that made the hair bristle on the back of his neck. Now and then he saw someone who at first glance in dim light looked like Corey but proved not to be. His hopes rose, then fell. Each time they fell they sank lower than before.

He finally returned to Newfield’s. The ex-ranger did not have to ask. Rusty knew his face betrayed his disappointment.

Newfield said, “You could hunt every night for two or three months and never find him. You got that much time?”

“
No. I ought to be home tendin’ the farm. But I’ve got to look.”

“
There’s no guarantee that he ever will come back here. Gettin’ his hair combed with a gun barrel may have turned him away from Fort Worth forever. He could’ve gone down to San Antonio or maybe over to Fort Smith, even up the trail to Kansas, wherever he might find a card game. If there’s paper out on him for murder he might even have sailed to South America like some of them die-hard old Confederates did. You’d just as well try and chase a cloud.”

Rusty sighed. “I’ll give it another day or two. If I don’t find any sign of him, I’ll go home.”

“
I don’t like to mess in other people’s business, but I’ll keep my ear to the ground. If I hear anything I’ll let you know.”

“
I’d be obliged.”

“
Just don’t kill him in here if you can help it, or get killed in here yourself. It’s hell to get the blood cleaned up after it’s soaked into the wood floor.”

Rusty went to the wagon yard and rolled out his blanket on the ground. As the young hostler had said, the place became noisy as cowboys began showing up, full of fun and Fort Worth whiskey. By the time the last of them dropped off to sleep, Rusty had lost the urge. He sat up staring into the darkness and thinking of Josie.

He made up the next day by napping much of the morning after the cowboys departed. At dark he began repeating the rounds he had made the night before. By midnight he had visited every potential place twice. He did not find Corey. He had a strong feeling that Newfield was right. Corey might never come back here.

He decided to give it one more night.

In the late afternoon he returned to Newfield’s place. The former ranger came out from behind the bar to meet him, wiping a glass with a white cloth. “Did my boy find you?”

“
I haven’t seen any boy.”

“
I sent him out huntin’ for you. I got word that somebody named Bascom is in town. Don’t know if it’s Corey or not.”

Rusty’s heart jumped. “Where’s he at?

“
One of the girls from Fat Beulah’s house was in here to buy a case of whiskey. She said a man named Bascom is bedded down with a girl over there. Corey used to take a fancy to the women. He knew every sportin’ house in town.”

“
Thanks, Simon. I’ll remember you in my will.”

“
You better write one before you tangle with Corey. He’s tricky.”

Rusty was out the door and a couple of houses down the street before he realized he did not know where Fat Beulah’s was. He stopped a cowboy and asked. The cowboy pointed. “It’s that house yonder. But they got a prettier class of girls over at Miss Flo’s place.”

Rusty examined his pistol before walking up to the house. The low porch was ornate, with freshly painted gingerbread trim. Three lanterns hung from the edge, but they had not yet been lighted for the evening. He peered through the oval glass in the front door before he entered.

A very large woman sat in an oversized rocking chair, darning a black stocking large enough for two normal legs. Flame in a kerosene lamp gave her light to see her work. She looked up at Rusty but did not stand. “Come in. Come in. It’s a little early, but what the hell? Never too early for pleasure or business.”

“
I’m lookin’ for somebody.”

“
We’ve got lots of somebodys here. Dark, light, one for any preference. What’s yours?”

“
It’s a man I’m lookin’ for, name of Bascom.”

Her expression quickly changed from welcome to near hostility. “Don’t know no Bascom. Most of our customers go by the name of Smith. Now, as long as you’re not interested in my girls I want you to get out of here. If you got troubles, take them someplace else.”

“
Not ’til I find Bascom.”

“
All I got to do is blow this whistle and half a dozen policemen will come runnin’.” She showed him a whistle on a string, half hidden by the pearls around her thick neck.

He grabbed the whistle and pulled. The string broke, but not before biting into her neck a little. He drew his pistol.

She looked at it fearfully but summoned courage to say, “You wouldn’t shoot a lady.”

“
No, but I’d shoot that lamp on the table beside you. Probably start the damndest fire you ever saw.” He thumbed back the hammer.

She slumped deeper into her chair. “All right. The man you’re lookin’ for is upstairs with Cindy Lou, second door on your right. Only don’t kill him here, please. It’ll give this place a bad reputation.”

Rusty hurried up the stairs, knowing it would not take long for Fat Beulah to work up nerve to fetch the police. The pistol still in his hand, he paused at the door, then kicked it open.

A woman screamed. A man sat up in bed, flinging a blanket aside and reaching for a gunbelt hanging across a high-backed chair. Rusty grabbed it first and flung it out the broken door. “Now, Corey …”

His finger tightened on the trigger.

He saw then that this was not Corey Bascom. A strong resemblance was there, but the face was not Corey’s. He could not stop his finger from tightening, but he tipped the muzzle up in time. The pistol cracked, and a bullet smashed into the ceiling. The woman screamed again and covered her face with the blanket.

Newley Bascom blanched, his body shaking. “My God, Shannon, don’t kill me.”

Rusty recognized him as Corey’s brother, the one who along with younger brother Anse had tried to ambush him. He found himself trembling a little, too. “I came awful close. I thought you were Corey.”