[Texas Rangers 02] - Badger Boy (30 page)

She said, "You brought in Pete Dawkins."

"The soldiers brought him in. Preacher and Andy and me, we just came with the soldiers."

"I hope they had to shoot him a little, the way he shot Evan."

"I'm afraid they didn't, but the army'll give him what he's got comin'."

"Rusty, I'd like you to see my baby."

"I was on my way up to the house." He did not really want to see the baby right now. It would remind him too much of old plans and dreams gone irretrievably astray. But he could not refuse her. "Just for a minute." He nodded for Andy to follow him.

Evan Gifford lay on a bed, his legs covered by a blanket. His arm was heavily bandaged. Geneva said, "Look who just came, Evan."

Gifford extended his good hand. "I heard you brought in Pete Dawkins."

Rusty accepted the handshake. "The soldiers did. I had nothin' to do with catchin' him."

"I was lookin' him square in the eye when he did this to me." Gifford lifted the wounded arm an inch. "Another second and I'd've shot him instead of him shootin' me. But at least we gave him a good scrap, and we didn't let him get our horses."

Rusty remembered his earlier favorable judgment of Evan Gifford. Geneva had married a fighter.

Damn it, he thought, why can't I find something to hate about him?

Gifford asked, "Seen our baby yet?"

"Geneva was fixin' to show me."

The baby lay in a small handmade wooden crib. Geneva beamed as she lifted a corner of a blanket to reveal the tiny reddish face. "Ever see a prettier one in your life?"

"I can't say as I've seen that many."

Andy said nothing but observed the baby with curiosity.

Geneva said, "I think he's got Evan's face. Some of the family say he has my eyes. What do you think?"

"I'd have to study him awhile."

The baby's blue eyes were open but did not seem to be focused on anything in particular. Geneva kissed its tiny forehead. "It's about time for feedin'. I'd invite you to stay, Rusty, but it's not exactly a public event."

Rusty's face warmed. "No, I'd expect not." He tried not to allow himself the mental picture, but it came nevertheless.

"Me and Andy will be goin' on."

He paused at the door for one more look at Geneva. She began unbuttoning her dress from the top. He turned quickly away.

Andy said, "Baby has red face. Like Comanche baby."

"I think that's the way they all look at first."

"Pretty woman. Why you don't have a woman?"

Josie stood in front of the new house, waiting. "You saw Geneva and the baby. I can tell by the look on your face."

She did not have to say what she was thinking; he could read it in her eyes. He said, "I never had any claim on her. She's married now, and to a good man. I'm happy about that."

He was not, and he knew Josie knew it.

She said, "You just haven't made up your mind to turn a-loose yet. But you will. And when you do, I'll be here."

"You deserve better than to be a substitute for somebody else."

"I'd settle for that, at first. But I think I could make a man forget he had ever wanted anybody besides me."

"I doubt I'd be that man."

"We'll just have to wait and see, won't we?"

Andy looked from one to the other. It was obvious he had no idea what they were talking about.

The boy was the object of quiet curiosity at the family supper table. It would have been impolite to wear his hat in the house, so the long Comanche-style braids were in plain view. Rusty was not concerned about the Monahans' acceptance, but he was a little worried about Lieutenant Ames. He was haunted by what Jim Pickard had said about the army perhaps forcing the boy to a reservation or into an institution.

Ames put his fears to rest. "I have seen other white children taken from Indian captivity. He is hardly the first. I assume he is some kin of yours, Shannon?"

"By experience, not by blood. The Comanches took me when I was too little to remember much, but I was freed after a few days. Andy spent better than four years amongst them."

"So now you are trying to fit him back into white society."

"No sir. I'm takin' him back to rejoin the Comanches." He watched for what he thought was the inevitable adverse reaction. But Ames pondered in silence, his face devoid of expression that might indicate what was in his mind.

Rusty added, "His blood kin rejected him. The Comanches are all the family he's got. I wish he'd stay with us, but if it can't be of his own accord maybe he'll be better off back where he came from."

"For now, perhaps. But what of the future? The sun is going down on the Indians' free times. They're being crowded off of their hunting grounds. They'll soon be so decimated by war and hunger that they can no longer remain independent. Assuming he is not killed in battle before then, what will become of him?"

"I've laid awake at night worryin' about that."

"But you are still taking him back?"

"I can't chain him up. If I don't take him he'll run away. If he's goin' anyhow, it's best I travel along and be sure he makes it."

"You may not get back. What assurance have you that the Indians will not kill you?"

Rusty glanced at the minister. "Preacher Webb has friends in high places."

"He's riding with you?"

"No. This is as far as he goes."

Webb said, "But my prayers will go with him."

James Monahan had held quiet through the meal, listening, hiding his thoughts behind half-closed eyes. "Prayers are all right, but sometimes an extra gun carries more weight. I'll go with you if you like, Rusty."

"If it comes to usin' guns, a dozen of us wouldn't be enough. No, it's best it be just me and Andy. When I've taken him far enough that I'm sure he can finish the trip alone, I'll turn back."

Josie raised a hand to her mouth. "But you'll be all alone out in Indian country."

"When I was a ranger I spent a lot of time in Indian country."

"At least you had a badge then."

"I never did. There weren't enough to go around. The best I ever had was a piece of paper. Badge or paper, neither one meant a thing to the Comanches. It still wouldn't."

Josie arose and quickly left the room, holding a handkerchief to her eyes as she stepped out onto the dog run. Clemmie pushed away from the table, intending to follow. Preacher Webb touched her hand, stopping her. "Clemmie, I think someone else should go and talk to her." He looked at Rusty.

Rusty remained seated for a moment, trying to decide what he could say. He still did not know as he walked out where she stood. "Josie ..."

She looked away from him. "I didn't go to act like a baby. It usually takes a lot to make me cry."

"I know, but you're borrowin' trouble that may not ever happen. Chances are I'll never see an Indian. I'll take Andy across the river. From there he ought to have no trouble finishin' the trip alone. I should be back in three or four days."

"When do you plan to leave?"

"Andy's worn out. That leg is troublin' him. He needs a few days' rest before we start."

"A few days." She squeezed the handkerchief. "That's better than no days at-all."

"Josie, I don't want you takin' too much for granted. I like you, but anything past that ..."

"Past that ... who knows? After all, we do have a few days."

Clemmie and Preacher Webb walked out. Clemmie raised a lighted lantern to give her daughter a moment's anxious study. "Is everything all right out here?"

"It's all right, Mama. I didn't mean to break up everybody's supper."

"Most people eat more than is good for them anyway." Clemmie swung the lantern. "Come on, Warren, I want you to take a look at that new colt."

Rusty and Josie watched them walk past the shed and out to the barn. The lantern light disappeared.

Josie asked, "When a preacher gets married, can he just do the marryin' himself, or has he got to find him another preacher?"

"I don't know. Guess I never thought about it."

"Been a Methodist minister by here a couple of times lately. I have a feelin' Mama and Preacher Webb will be needin' him. I reckon a sprinklin' preacher can tie the knot as tight as a deep-water preacher, don't you?"

"I suppose it's mainly up to the couple how strong the knot is."

"When I get married, that knot'll be so strong that wild horses couldn't pull it apart."

* * *

Rusty bedded down in the barn, along with Andy, Preacher Webb, and Lieutenant Ames. He was awakened in the night by Andy shaking his shoulder. Andy whispered, "Something wrong."

Rusty pushed up onto his elbow, peering into the darkness and seeing nothing. "What?"

"Don't know. Spirits, maybe."

"Spirits! More likely you heard an owl hoot."

He had noticed that owls made Andy nervous. Comanches were wary of them.

He heard horses running. The sound came from beyond the corrals. He flung his blanket aside and pushed to his feet. His first thought was an Indian raid.

Ames awakened. "What's the matter?"

Rusty hurried to the barn door to look outside. He saw nothing amiss, but he was fully alarmed.

He saw a dark figure lurch from the shed and fall to his knees, moaning. Rusty ran to him. Sergeant Bailey rasped, "Tell Lieutenant Ames. Them prisoners have got away!"

E
xploring with his fingers, Rusty found the point of a nail protruding through the post to which Pete Dawkins had been tied. Webb's lighted lantern revealed frayed fragments of rope indicating that Pete had rubbed his bonds against the nail until he had worried his way through them and freed his hands.

Sergeant Bailey's head was bloody. He told the lieutenant, "Private Cotter was on guard. Must be he went to sleep, or maybe Dawkins was just too sneaky for him. Busted him over the head with that shovel yonder. Then he busted me before I could get my rifle."

Ames gave vent to strong Yankee profanity. "I ought to've stood guard on them myself. Damned little sleep this shoulder has let me get anyway."

Bailey lamented, "Him and his partner, they got off with our guns."

Private Cotter would never stand court-martial for losing his prisoners. He was dead.

"Probably never knew what hit him," Rusty said.

Bailey rubbed his forehead and looked at the blood on his hand. "Thought he'd killed me too, like as not. He didn't know how hard my head is."

The lieutenant clenched a fist. "That's two of my soldiers he owes the army for."

The commotion had aroused James Monahan. He had hurried down from the new house, buttoning his britches. He found that the fugitives had run the extra horses out of the corral, but the animals had gone only a few yards and stopped. James easily drove them back into the pen.

He declared, "Pete owes this family too, more than he could pay in a hundred years. I'll get him, Lieutenant." He looked at Rusty. "You goin' with me or not?"

"I'll be ready in two minutes."

"It'll take me five. Preacher, how about you saddlin' my dun horse for me while I run back to the house and get my gun?"

The lieutenant protested, "It's a long time until daylight. You can't see the tracks."

"I know the first place he'll head for. If me and Rusty don't find him there, at least we'll have that much advantage when the sun comes up."

The lieutenant argued, "He's the army's prisoner. It's my place to recapture him."

Rusty said, "With all due respect, you're not strong enough to travel ten miles. We'll bring him back for you, either in the saddle or across it."

"I can't give you any legal authority ..."

Rusty said, "I never officially got mustered out of the rangers. I've got papers that say I am one whether there's still a ranger force or not."

"You'd be laughed out of a civilian court, but a military court might accept it if I testify that I approved." He glanced at James. "How about you? Any history with the rangers?"

"No, I was hidin' from them most of the time."

While Rusty caught Alamo, Webb saddled James's horse. Sergeant Bailey saddled and mounted his own leggy black.

Rusty told him, "Pete fetched you a bad lick with that shovel. You've got no business ridin'."

"I don't ride on my head. You say you know where he's goin'. Let's be gettin' started."

Andy stood watching. "I go, too?"

Rusty wondered about the instinct that had awakened the boy. Perhaps he had heard something but did not realize it. Or perhaps his time with the Comanches
had
given him some sort of sixth sense. "No, you stay here. Keep off of that leg as much as you can, and don't go anyplace 'til I come back."

Rusty and James did not have to compare notes. Both guessed Pete's first destination would he his father's farm. Even granted that the old man had disowned him and thrown him off the place, Pete would probably go there for fresh horses and, likely as not, to take any money his father might have. In times of trouble he had always run to Colonel Dawkins.

They put their horses into an easy lope for a while, then slowed to a trot. Sergeant Bailey was impatient to keep up the faster pace. "I ain't so bad hurt."

Rusty said, "We've got to think about the horses. We're liable to have to chase Pete a lot farther than his daddy's place."

James added, "He's bound to figure somebody is grabbin' at his shirttails. He'll be makin' all the tracks he can."

As they rode, James asked Rusty how things were at his farm down on the Colorado. Rusty told him they had managed a good harvest, but what they produced would be mainly for their own consumption. Barter trade was limited. There was no cash market at all.

James said, "Me and Evan spent a lot of the summer catchin' and brandin' wild cattle. Nobody paid much attention to them through the war, so they've multiplied. They're there for the takin'."

Rusty replied, "But they're not worth a continental. About all you can sell is hide and tallow. Even to do that, you have to be on the coast where the boats can load it up."

"That's now. By next year it'll he different. There's a cash market for cattle in Missouri, live and on the hoof. They'll pay in Yankee silver. Soon as the grass rises in the spring, I'll gather everything I can rustle up and drive them to Missouri."