[Texas Rangers 06] - Jericho's Road (11 page)

One of these days, he thought, his soft heart was going to get him killed.

Hatton had seen many times how mercurial Jericho’s moods could be. He could laugh one moment and roar in anger the next. His initial rage slowly cooled, and he took on a look of genuine sorrow. “He was a good kid. Didn’t listen to advice worth a damn, but he was my wife’s only nephew. Like a son to her, he was.”

“
I’m sorry. I wish it had been me.” That was an exaggeration. Hatton was glad it had not been him. He wished it might have been Wilkes. If not him, any of the others. He got up hesitantly, afraid he might get hit again.

Jericho said, “Why didn’t you bring him home?”

“
It was too far, and the weather was too warm. But we found a churchyard and buried him in hallowed ground. I just wisht we’d had a preacher to read over him.”

“
What kind of a church was it?”

“
I don’t know. Always thought one church was like another.”

“
They ain’t. I’ll bet you buried him in a Mexican graveyard.”

Hatton could not look into Jericho’s accusing eyes.

Jericho asked, “Can you find that church again? My wife’ll want to go there and see where the boy is restin’. Maybe even bring him home. He don’t belong amongst a bunch of Mexicans, especially seein’ as it was Mexicans that killed him.”

“
Remember the village where that Ranger got killed a year or so back? He’s buried in the same churchyard.”

“
Damned poor company for the boy. We’ll move him.”

Jericho looked toward the house, his visage grave. “I sure dread tellin’ Thelma. This’ll just about kill her.”

His wife was the only person for whom Jericho showed any real affection. He catered to her as if he were deathly afraid she might leave him. Hatton could not understand how such a strong man could allow himself to be so much at the mercy of a woman, any woman. It was the only weakness he had ever seen Jericho display.

Hatton had seen very little of Thelma Jackson. Neither he nor any of the other hands were allowed in the big house except for Jericho’s office, to which there was an outside door. To Hatton she was a shadowy figure, more mystery than reality. Jericho was strict about shielding her from the unpleasant aspects of his business and the men with whom he had to deal.

Jericho’s grieving gave way to a dark and brooding anger that would simmer beneath the surface until some resolution was reached. “Chavez.” He spoke the name as if it were a curse. “He’ll pay if I have to follow him all the way into hell.” His voice dropped so low that Hatton could barely hear it. “Has Chavez got any kids?”

Hatton felt a measure of relief. Maybe things were going to work out. “I never heard nobody say. I know he’s got a woman or two. You know them Meskins … they shell out like rabbits. Stands to reason he’s got kids.”

“
Even if he doesn’t, that stepson of McCawley’s is ridin’ with him, ain’t he?”

“
So I hear.”

“
That boy is Lupe’s nephew. You know what the Book says: an eye for an eye. A nephew for a nephew.”

Hatton wondered where Jericho had learned about the Book. He had never seen him read from it.

Andy’s horse lowered its head to drink from the Rio Grande. The other horses and the little pack mule followed suit. The river was less impressive than Andy had expected. It appeared no wider and certainly less deep than the Colorado or the Brazos. It had passed through a lot of desert country before it reached this point on its long journey to the Gulf.

Len said, “Depends on where you look at it from. Some places it gets wide and shallow. Mexicans can ride a burro across it. Other places it gets narrow and deep enough to drown an elephant. It’s them wide, shallow places where we got to watch for signs of border jumpers. It’s hard to hide tracks where a bunch of cattle or horses have crossed.”

Andy asked, “If we find such a place, what’re we supposed to do?”

“
If they’re headed south into Mexico, ain’t much we can do. It’s too late to help the owners. Their stock is gone unless they want to cross the border and try to take them back. The law don’t allow us to do it for them. If the tracks head north, we may follow. Lieutenant Buckalew does. When Sergeant Donahue is in charge he usually tells us to leave well enough alone. He says Mexicans deserve to get robbed because they’re all thieves anyway.

“
Do we ever catch anybody?”

“
Awful seldom.”

“
What could three of us do against a big bunch of bandits anyway?”

“
Surround them. Give them to understand that we don’t take kindly to their thievin’ ways.”

Ever since Andy had known him, Len had welcomed a vigorous scrap. He always maintained that an occasional good waking-up was healthful for the constitution, that it stirred the blood and loosened the bowels. As for Farley, he had been looking for a fight the first time Andy ever saw him, and he had not changed.

It could get dangerous, riding with two reckless companions.

Andy studied the land on the other side of the river. It looked no different from the north bank, though it was another nation. Over there he would be an alien and an enemy to most people. The thought was disquieting.

He had enjoyed the limestone hills and the fertile valleys of the San Saba River country. He found this region flatter and more desertlike, without the evident amenities he had found to the north. As someone had warned, most of the plants here had thorns, the animals had horns or tusks, and the insects had stingers. He remembered the homesickness that had afflicted him when he first fell back into the white man’s world after his years with the Indians. Some of that emotion came over him now.

He supposed he might get used to it when he had been here awhile, but he was not sure he wanted to stay that long.

He expressed his feelings. Len said, “I felt the same way when they first sent me here, but you can find somethin’ to like just about anyplace if you look for it. Else why would the devil live in hell?”

“
I’ve never had a chance to ask him.”

“
You may run into him down here one of these days. He’s got family by the name of Jericho and Chavez.”

Farley growled, “This looks like the kind of country the devil would pick for his home. Anything you touch or that touches you is apt to bring blood.”

Len said, “But there’s pretty places too. I’ve been plumb out to where the Rio Grande pours into the Gulf. They got palm trees out there, just like in the Bible. I kept thinkin’ I ought to see a camel someplace, but I didn’t.”

They came upon a small field irrigated by a ditch extending from the river. Up the slope stood a small picket house. A few spotted goats nibbled at brush and watched the Rangers approach. When the horsemen came close they clattered away, then turned to look again.

Len said, “These folks keep chickens. Sometimes when I come by here I buy a few eggs. Sure makes fat bacon taste better. Even beef jerky.”

Andy saw a family working in a garden. At the Rangers’ approach the woman shouted at two girls. All three retreated into the house. Andy heard a wooden bar dropped into place to secure the door. Len said, “They’ve had experience with gringos before.”

The man stood at the brush fence, waiting to meet the riders alone. He bowed slightly and said a few Spanish words that Andy took to be a greeting, though his dark eyes conveyed a different message. He could not hide his dislike and his dread.

Len said, “Most of these people can tell a Ranger as far as they can see him. They don’t like us and they don’t trust us, but they’ll accept our money.” He spoke to the man.“
Huevos.”

“
Tiene dinero?”

Len said, “He wants to see the money first.”

Andy dug into his pocket and came up with two bits. “Reckon that’s enough?”

“
Two bits’ll buy you the hen.”

The man went into the house, returning shortly with several eggs in a small, crude basket woven of green willow stems. Len asked him something Andy did not understand. The man shook his head and replied with a shrug of his shoulders.

Len thanked him. “Says he ain’t seen anybody cross the river in either direction except people who live close by. No bandits.”

Farley said, “He wouldn’t tell us anyway.”

“
If it’s gringo bandits they’ll tell you. If it’s Mexicans they won’t. Ask most white people along the river and they’ll do the same except the opposite.”

Riding away, Andy looked back. He saw the woman hastily hanging clothing on a line.

Len observed, “Them clothes ain’t wet. That’s a signal that Rangers are about. Anybody waitin’ on the other side knows he’d best keep his feet dry.”

Farley said, “I’ll go back and yank them clothes down.”

“
No, folks behave better when they know we’re around. The lieutenant had rather keep them out of mischief in the first place than to chase them afterwards.”

At sunset they stopped to make camp. Andy removed the pack from the mule while Len scooped out a shallow hole in the dirt and filled it with dry leaves and small sticks. He lighted it with a match, blowing into the first weak, flickering flames to make them lick into the dry wood. He said, “We’ll fix our supper, then we’ll build this fire up to where they can see it. There won’t be no cattle run across here tonight.”

Andy pondered. “What’s to stop them from goin’ up the river to the next shallow place?”

“
Us. This fire’ll be here, but we’ll be there. With another fire.”

Farley argued, “Three of us can’t be everywhere up and down the whole Rio Grande.”

“
No, but we can keep them wonderin’ where we’ll turn up next. It’ll be as aggravatin’ as a tick in the ear.”

Farley dragged up more dry brush to keep the fire going. “I’d rather aggravate them with a bullet in the gut.”

The fire went out during the night. Next morning after their meager breakfast Andy heard cattle bawling and determined that the sound came from the other side. Farley said, “Looks like somebody is fixin’ to cross over.”

Len agreed. “Let’s ride to the bank of the river and show ourselves. It’ll give them somethin’ to fret about.”

Len took a position at the edge of the water. Andy and Farley followed his lead. Andy asked, “How’ll they know we’re Rangers?”

“
They won’t know for sure, but they’ll have to think hard about takin’ the chance.”

“
Looks like they’ve got us considerable outnumbered.”

“
But they know they’d be easy targets in the water. Most of them would never make it all the way across if we set our minds to stoppin’ them.”

Andy could see the men milling about, several gathering as if in conference.

After a while he heard distant shots.

Len grinned. “Looks like they’ve got theirselves in a fix. Somebody’s caught up with them.”

The gunfire increased. Andy watched several riders plunge into the shallow water, making for the north bank. “They’re leavin’ the cattle behind.”

“
Wouldn’t you?” Len slapped his leg and laughed. “Look at them run. If they could fly, they’d do it.”

Andy saw a man fall from the saddle just as his horse entered the river. Another made it partway across before he slid into the water and began floundering. A companion grabbed him and pulled him against his horse’s shoulder.

Farley drew his pistol. “They’ll blame us for this.”

Len drew his rifle from its scabbard and laid it across his lap. “Ain’t it a shame.” He appeared to welcome the prospect of a confrontation.

Andy cautioned, “Have you forgotten how to count?”

“
They’ll be stringin’ out of the river one and two at a time. They’re tired and pretty well boogered. Us three can take them all on.”

Andy had his doubts but decided to put his faith in Len’s prior experience and Farley’s fighting nature. The Rangers met the riders as they straggled onto the bank, their horses dripping. Len pointed his rifle in their direction and ordered each in turn to shuck his weapons. Two seemed prepared to argue, but Farley cut them short: “Don’t make us finish what them Mexicans started.”

Andy had thought some of these might be men who had attacked him and Len and Farley several nights ago, but he recognized none of them.

Len said, “Well, looks like you boys bit off a bigger chunk than you could chew.”

One growled, “All we done was buy a herd of cattle across the river. Bunch of Mexican bandits jumped us and took them over. You seen it yourselves, didn’t you?”

Farley was openly skeptical. “How about showin’ us a bill of sale?”

“
Mexicans don’t put much store in such as that. Most of them can’t read or write.”

“
I’ll bet they can read brands.”

The raider complained, “We lost a man over on the other side, and we’ve got another with a slug in him.”