[Texas Rangers 04] - Ranger's Trail (3 page)

Rusty took his time counting out the coins, for he did not have enough that he could afford to spend them needlessly. “We’ll want to bed down here in the wagon yard tonight. We’ve got no money to waste on a hotel.”

“
Hotels are all full, anyway. Spread your blankets anywhere you can find an empty space. And be careful with your matches. You don’t want to buy no burned-up barn.” He dropped Rusty’s coins into his pocket. They clinked against silver already there.

The capitol standoff was good for business.

The liveryman looked behind him as if to be certain he would not be overheard. “Couple of fellers were talkin’ back of the barn. They’re waitin’ for Coke to give the word to make a rush against the capitol and put Davis out on the street. Could be a right interestin’ show.”

Rusty glanced uneasily at Andy. “Tom could get hurt. He’s a shade old to be mixin’ in a bad fight.”

Andy said, “He’s never run away from one yet. That’s why they made him sheriff again.”

“
He ought not to’ve let them put that badge back on him. I’ve got a notion to try and talk him into goin’ home before somethin’ happens. That sick wife of his needs him more than anybody here does.”

Andy had not seen enough of the town. “Gettin’ kind of late in the day. We couldn’t go far before dark.”

“
We could get out of gunshot range.”

Andy resigned himself to disappointment. He patted Long Red’s neck. “You better eat your oats in a hurry.” He followed Rusty out the door.

Rusty told the liveryman, “Don’t turn our horses into the lot just yet. We’re liable to be leavin’.”

The old man shoved his hands into his pockets. The coins jingled like tiny bells. Reluctantly he said, “I guess you’ll want your money back. You still want me to feed them some oats?”

“
I wish you would.” Rusty was more willing to spend on the horses than on himself.

He saw a crowd of nervous-looking men standing around the front of a hotel as if waiting for someone to assert leadership and take them somewhere … anywhere, to do something … anything. A familiar voice called his name, and a man pushed through the cluster. Len Tanner was tall and lanky, in patched trousers that hung loose around a waist thin as a slab of bacon. He always looked as if he had not eaten a square meal in a month. In truth, he could put away an alarming amount of groceries when the opportunity presented itself.

Rusty exclaimed, “Len! Thought you were back in East Texas, visitin’ your kin.”

“
Ain’t much excitement in seein’ kinfolks. Here’s where the fun is at.”

Rusty had ridden with Tanner during his ranger service. Since the war, Tanner had spent much of his time at Rusty’s farm when he lacked something better to do. He was not addicted to steady employment. Tanner said, “There’s a bunch of our old ranger bunkies here ready to run the carpetbaggers out of town on a rail. But Coke keeps holdin’ back, hopin’ Davis will cave in without a fight.”

“
What if he doesn’t?”

“
After fightin’ the damned Comanches, this oughtn’t to make us break a sweat.” Tanner frowned at Andy. “Sorry, button, I didn’t mean nothin’ personal.”

Andy shrugged. “I take it as a compliment to the Comanches.”

“
They’re honest enemies, at least. They come against you face-to-face. Carpetbaggers sneak up behind you and kill you with affidavits.” Tanner’s family had lost their farm to confiscatory reconstruction taxes, though he, like Rusty, had never actively supported the Confederacy. He said, “I know why
Davis wants to keep that office. There’s some of Texas that his cronies ain’t stole yet.” His momentary dark mood fell away. “Speakin’ of old friends, I’ll bet it’s been a spell since you seen Jim and Johnny Morris.”

“
Sure has.” Rusty looked around eagerly. “Are those rascals here?”

The Morris brothers had served in the same ranger company as Rusty and Tanner until they went into the Confederate army late in the war.

Tanner said, “Me and them are plannin’ on a little sortie tonight. Goin’ to aggravate some Yankee soldiers.”

That did not surprise Rusty. Like Tanner, the brothers had always gloried in a fracas. If they could not find a fight already in progress they had occasionally instigated one.

Rusty and Andy followed Tanner through the crowd. Two men of roughly Rusty’s age shouted his name and pushed their way to him. They could be taken for twins, though Jim was a year or so the oldest. He declared, “Glad to see you’re still alive.” He gripped Rusty’s outstretched hand with a force that could crush bones. “Me and Johnny figured you’d worked yourself to death on that wore-out farm.”

“
I’ve come awful close.”

Jim turned to Andy, his manner jovial. “You’d be the Comanche button Len’s been tellin’ us about.”

The brothers’ being friends of Tanner’s did not automatically assure Andy’s acceptance. He regarded them with an element of doubt. “Len’s been known to lie a little, once or twice.”

Johnny Morris grinned. “We’ve caught him abusin’ the facts ourselves. But only when he’s awake.” He jerked his head, beckoning Rusty and the others beyond the edge of the crowd. In a low voice he said, “Rusty, you’re just the man to help us do a little job tonight.”

Rusty felt misgivings. As much as he liked Tanner and the Morrises, he remembered times when they had acted first and considered the consequences later, if at all. Events had not always worked to their advantage. “I’d want to hear the particulars before I say anything.” He already leaned toward saying
no
.

“
The army’s brought up a cannon from San Antonio.”

Rusty’s jaw dropped. He had not considered that the dispute would come to this. A cannon could blow a big hole in the capitol building. He thought immediately of Tom Blessing, standing guard somewhere in or around it.

He protested, “Hard to believe the army would fire on the capitol while Davis and some of his people hold the basement floor.”

“
No,” Johnny said, “but they’d fire into the crowd if a bunch was to try and rush the buildin’. We figure they’re just waitin’ for Grant to wire them the orders.”

“
But a cannon … what could you do against a weapon the size of that?”

Jim said, “Me and Johnny and Len are goin’ to spike it.”

Andy demanded, “What do you mean, ‘spike’ it?”

Johnny explained, “You drive an iron spike into the touchhole. They can’t fire ’til they get it out, and that can be hell to do if it’s pounded in there hard enough.”

Rusty said, “Don’t you know they’ll be guardin’ it? You’ll get yourselves shot.”

“
Len’ll distract the guards. Won’t take us but a minute to fix the cannon and be gone. You could help him.”

The idea was much too simple. Rusty could see a dozen holes in it, most of them potentially lethal. “You’re crazy, all three of you.”

Andy said eagerly, “Let’s do it, Rusty. We can run rings around them soldiers.”

“
Four
of you are crazy. You’re too young to be mixin’ into a thing like this.”

“
How old were you the first time you rode with the rangers?”

“
That was a long time ago. Times were different.” It struck Rusty that his foster father, Daddy Mike Shannon, had said the same thing to him once, to no effect.

Johnny Morris turned. “Yonder come some of them brunette Yankees.” A small squad of black troopers marched up the street, led by a white officer on horseback, the same one Rusty had seen earlier. “At least they ain’t brought their cannon with them.”

Jim said, “Washington still ain’t given them permission to mix in. That’s all they’re waitin’ for.”

The presence of black troops had been a thorn in the sides of ex-Confederates during the reconstruction years. Texans were convinced that the victorious Union intended to humiliate them by putting them under the authority of former slaves. The effect had been more of outrage than of humiliation.

Several in the crowd began catcalling, shouting racial and political insults at the soldiers and their officer. One man stepped out past the others and shook his fist, loudly cursing all Yankees and their antecedents from the poorest foot soldier all the way up to President Grant. His slurred speech indicated that he had imbibed a good measure of liquid courage.

The officer unbuttoned his holster and drew a pistol. He pushed his horse up close and brought the barrel down across the heckler’s head. The man went down, his hat rolling in the dirt.

The officer turned in the saddle. “Arrest him. Two of you men take him to the bull pen.”

Len swore under his breath. “That old boy was too drunk to know what he was sayin’.”

“
He knew,” Rusty said sternly. “But loud talk is no reason to break a man’s skull.”

A noisy protest arose from the crowd, but no one made a move toward the well-armed soldiers.

Jim Morris said, “Whatever happened to free speech?”

Johnny replied, “It ain’t free anymore. And the price keeps goin’ up.”

Rusty gave way to rising anger as two troopers dragged the half-conscious man away. He looked into the faces of his friends and saw the same reaction.

Andy demanded, “Don’t you think we ought to do somethin’?”

Rusty said, “Like what? The South already lost one war.”

Tanner said, “At least you can look the situation over with us. Help us figure out how we’re goin’ to do it.”

“
I guess I can go that far. But this is a dog fight, and me and Andy have got no dog in it.”

T
he liveryman did not get up from his rawhide-bound chair, but he eyed Rusty with regret. “Fixin’ to go? I done fed your horses some oats, so I can’t give all your money back.”

Rusty said, “We’re not leavin’ town yet.”

Cheered, the liveryman pushed away from the chair. “I’ll show you where they’re at.”

Andy lagged behind, nursing his disappointment. Rusty had told him he had to stay at the wagon yard. He saw no need for Andy to take chances by joining Tanner and the Morrises.

The liveryman led Rusty into the barn to a small pen where his horse, Andy’s, and Tom’s still nuzzled a wooden trough, seeking stray bits of grain stuck in the cracks. Rusty wondered if they had actually been fed as much as he had paid for.

He led his dun out into the fading daylight. As he prepared to mount, Rusty heard a familiar voice. “How’s my young Comanche friend?” It was addressed to Andy.

Andy considered his answer, then said firmly, “I don’t remember that we was ever friends, Farley Brackett.”

Brackett was a large man with a scar from the edge of his eye down to his cheek. War had scarred him even worse on the inside, turning him into an outlaw, at least in the eyes of the state police. As Brackett approached, Andy took half a step back before standing his ground.

Brackett pointed his chin at Long Red. “I see you’ve still got my sorrel horse.”

Andy bristled. “He never was your horse. Your daddy gave him to Rusty, and Rusty gave him to me.”

“
He wasn’t my daddy’s to give. He was mine.”

Andy stiffened. “So you say, but your daddy’s dead. We can’t ask him.”

Rusty intruded. “You’re runnin’ a risk, Farley, showin’ up in public. The state police don’t forget.”

“
They’ve had their fangs pulled, but I haven’t. Any of them tries to mess with me, he’ll get what they gave my old daddy.” State police had mistaken the father for Farley and had killed him.

Rusty said, “Anyway, you leave Andy alone. We’re not here to fight.”

“
Everybody else is.” Brackett looked back at Andy. “I still say he’s my horse. You’ve just got the loan of him. For now.” He walked away, toward the milling crowd that stirred dust along Congress Avenue.

Worriedly Andy asked, “He can’t take Long Red back, can he?” Andy thought more of that horse than of any human. Almost any human, at least.

Rusty said, “He’s got no claim. His daddy gave me that horse to replace one Farley stole when he was on the run.”

“
If he tries to take Long Red, I’ll shoot him.”

Rusty suspected Andy would at least try. But Farley Brackett had shown the reconstruction authorities he was a hard man to kill. “You shouldn’t talk loose about killin’. It can lead to more than just talk.”

“
Just the same, I’m keepin’ a close eye on Long Red. Farley had better not so much as look crossways at him.”

Rusty met Tanner and the brothers where the three had dropped their blankets near the river. Johnny pointed. “The troops made camp down this-away.”

As they rode, Rusty heard a horse loping up from behind. Andy pushed to overtake them.

Rusty turned in anger as Andy pulled in beside him. “I told you to stay behind.”

“
That Farley kept hangin’ around the stable. I decided the best way for me to keep an eye on Long Red was to be ridin’ him.”

Rusty knew that was more an excuse than a reason. “All right, but don’t be gettin’ any foolish notions.”