[Texas Rangers 04] - Ranger's Trail (30 page)

Poor kid never had much chance. He let Ma run his life, and obeying her had caused his death. Corey felt more resentment toward his mother than toward the man who had shot little Anse.

He asked Newley, “Are you’ set for a few more days’ ride? I figure on goin’ to the Monahan farm.”

“
Why not? All I’ve done lately is travel.”

Corey and Newley sat on their horses in the edge of the timber and studied the Monahan farm three hundred yards away. It looked no different than the last time Corey had seen it. He knew things had changed drastically within the family, however. He could only imagine what a shock Josie’s death must have been, coming on top of Clemmie’s illness. He had developed a grudging liking for the Monahan family, though he knew his elopement with Alice had created a hostility he would never be able to overcome. It would be useless to ride in boldly and assert his claim to his wife, even if he argued that it was the only way to save her. James Monahan would probably shoot him on sight. If he didn’t, and Clemmie had recovered enough to hold a gun, she would probably do it.

No, the only way would be to slip in there in the dark hours of early morning and rush her away before the family could react. That would be no easy matter. If it were, Lacey would already have sneaked in and killed her. Lacey had a streak of cowardice that limited the risk he was willing to take. Corey told himself he had no such shortcoming. Being brave did not have to include being foolish, however. He would study the situation and plan his move carefully.

The time he had worked for the Monahans had made Corey familiar with the layout of the farm, where its buildings stood in relation to one another, where he could hide horses as near as possible and the route he could take to get into the main house. He remembered the configuration of the rooms and where Alice would be sleeping. This was knowledge Lacey did not have.

It was almost certain that someone would stand watch at night. Corey was confident he could find and take care of the guard. He felt he could get into the house and into Alice’s room. The real trick would be getting her out and to the horses, especially if she resisted and put up a holler. The quickest way would be out the window. The Monahans probably would not risk shooting at him for fear of hitting her in the dark.

Newley asked, “What if she ain’t there? What if they’ve snuck her away like Ma said? You might get in the house, but you’re liable to have hell gettin’ out.”

That question had nagged Corey, too. “I wish there was some way to be sure she’s there before I go dancin’ around a bear trap.”

“
It’s a cinch you can’t just ride in there and ask them.”

A horse left the barn and moved in their general direction. A small boy sat on its back.

Corey motioned for Newley to pull a little farther into the trees. “Yonder may be the answer. That’s Clemmie’s grandson Billy. I used to saddle his pony for him so he could ride. Him and me got along real good.”

“
Things may be different with him now. He’s old enough to know that they don’t speak your name anymore without addin’ a cussword to it. And if he tells his folks he saw you, they’ll figure out what you’ve got in mind.”

“
We’ll keep him with us a while. When he doesn’t come in for supper the menfolks’ll start out huntin’ for him. That’ll make it easier for me to grab Alice and go.”

Newley shrugged. “We’ve been charged with everything else. Kidnappin’ a kid will be somethin’ new.”

“
Not kidnappin’. Just borrowin’ for a little while.”

He waited until the boy had skirted around the edge of the timber and was out of sight should anybody be looking in his direction from the houses or barn. “You stay back,” he told Newley. “He doesn’t know you. You might scare him.”

Corey rode out to intercept the youngster. Billy reined up, surprised.

“
Howdy, Billy. How’s my boy?”

Billy said nothing. He lifted the reins as if he were about to turn and run away.

Corey said, “Don’t be scared. I’m not fixin’ to hurt you. Just want to talk. What’re you doin’ out here by yourself?”

Billy swallowed hard. “Lookin’ for a milk cow. She ain’t come in for a couple of days. Daddy says she’s probably had her calf and she’s hidin’ it out.”

“
Cows do that.”

“
Everybody’s mad at you. They wouldn’t want me talkin’ to you.”

“
I know. They think I killed your Aunt Josie, but I didn’t. I wasn’t even here.”

Billy seemed to want to believe. “You wasn’t?”

“
No. If I’d known it was goin’ to happen I’d have stopped it. How’s your Aunt Alice?”

“
I don’t know.”

“
But she’s livin’ right there in your grandmother’s house. How come you don’t know?”

“
Because she’s not there. Rusty Shannon took her away, him and Andy.”

Somehow Corey was not especially surprised. They had smuggled Alice out under his brother Lacey’s nose. He even began to see a little humor in it. “Where did they take her, Billy?”

“
Down to Rusty’s farm, I guess.”

“
Where is his farm?”

“
I’ve never been there. They say it’s a long ways. I’ve heard them talk about the Colorado River.”

That did not tell him much. The Colorado River cut across most of Texas, starting somewhere up in Comanche country and flowing generally southeastward all the way down to the Gulf of Mexico. During the time Corey had worked for the Monahans he had heard them mention Shannon’s farm a few times. He reasoned that it must be somewhere downriver, probably around Austin or farther east, where the settlements were no longer new.

He asked, “Are you sure they haven’t mentioned the name of a town?”

Billy thought a moment. “Alice has written Granny a couple of letters. Postmark had the name of a place called Columbus.”

Corey knew in a general way where Columbus was. He also knew that the letter had probably been posted miles from where Alice was staying. That was a logical precaution in case the wrong people saw it.

But Columbus was a starting place. It narrowed the search.

“
Billy, it might be a good idea if you don’t tell your folks you talked to me. I wouldn’t want you to get a spankin’ on my account.”

“
I wouldn’t want one, either.”

“
And believe me, I didn’t kill your aunt.” He had developed a soft spot for the boy while he had lived here. Billy’s approval meant something to him.

Billy said, “You were always nice to me. I never wanted to think you done what they said.”

“
You’re a good boy. You’ll be a good man someday. Now, you go find your cow. And remember, don’t tell anybody about me.”

The boy went on. Corey watched him a while, glad there was no reason to hold him, after all.

Newley rode closer. “You just lettin’ him ride off?”

“
There’s no point in keepin’ him. Alice is gone.”

“
I heard some of what he said. Where is this Columbus town?”

“
Down on the Colorado River.”

“
What’ll I tell Ma?”

“
Don’t tell her a damned thing. I’m goin’ down there and hunt ’til I find Alice.”

“
And then what?”

“
I’ll cross that river when I get there.”

B
essie Bascom was churning butter when she heard the dog start to bark. She muttered under her breath, for she hated to be interrupted in her work. She picked up her shotgun and checked to be sure shells were in the chambers, then she stepped outside. She could not remember the last time a stranger had brought good tidings to her door. Her tensed-up shoulders relaxed when she saw that the incoming rider was her son Newley. He was alone.

“
Where’s your brother Corey?” she demanded as soon as Newley came within hearing distance.

“
Gone.”

Drawing a reluctant answer out of her sons could be almost as difficult as pulling their teeth. It always irritated her. When the boys became evasive it was a sign things were not going just right. In trying to avoid touching off her volatile temper they often carried her to the brink of violence and sometimes pushed her over. Every one of them bore marks left by her quirt, testimony to past outbursts.

“
I ain’t blind,” she replied, “but where did he go?”

“
Off huntin’ for Alice. She’s not at the Monahan place.”

She had suspected that. “Has he got any notion where she’s gone to?”

Her son’s hangdog manner told her he was holding back. Dismounting, he did not look directly into her eyes. “Didn’t tell me nothin’. Just rode off.” “Whichaway?”

“
South.”

“
He must’ve had some notion, then. You sure you’re tellin’ me all of it?”

“
As much as I can.”

Now she was certain he knew more than he was admitting. She heard footsteps and saw her son Lacey walking up from the barn. She said, “Lacey, you’ve always had a knack for keepin’ your younger brothers in line.” He was half a head taller and thirty pounds heavier than Newley. “Corey has gone off after that Monahan wench. I think Newley knows where, but he ain’t tellin’. See if you can persuade him.”

Newley backed away. “I’ve done told you all that Corey told me. Ain’t no use in us fightin’.”

There was not much fight to it. Lacey got an arm under Newley’s and around the back of his neck. He applied pressure until Newley cried out, “Enough.”

Ma asked, “How’s your memory now?”

She thought for a moment Newley was going to cry. Damned poor conduct for a grown man, in her opinion. He took after his old pa in some ways she could not abide. Ansel Bascom had always had more mouth than guts despite the glowing image of him she held up to her sons. She had wanted to make them better than their father had been, but she was often disappointed.

Newley regained his composure, to a degree. “He’s just tryin’ to save Alice. He knows you and Lacey want to kill her.”

“
Damned right we do. She’s bad medicine for all of us, you included, if you had the sense to see it. Now, where’s he gone?”

“
He didn’t tell me hisself, but I heard that little boy of the Monahans’s say somethin’ about a town called Columbus. It’s way down on the Colorado River, the other side of Austin. Seems like that ranger Shannon has got a farm down there someplace.”

“
The one that killed little Anse?”

“
That’s him.”

“
So Corey figures if he can find Shannon he can find Alice.”

Newley’s voice took on a pleading tone. “He still loves her, Ma. Says if he finds her he’ll take her a long ways off. She won’t be talkin’ to no court, nor testifyin’ to nothin’.”

“
She sure won’t if we can find her. And if Corey can, we can, too. You boys catch us some fresh horses to ride. And a pack horse. I’ll go rustle up grub for the trip.”

Newley protested, “I don’t want no part of this.”

“
You’ll go if I have to whip you like a chicken-stealin’ hound. I swear I don’t know what it’ll take to put some manhood into you.”

Lacey grabbed Newley by the collar and pushed him toward his horse. “Get goin’. I expect Corey has got a good start on us. We have a lot of country to cover.”

Rusty and Tanner lifted Andy from the improvised stretcher and placed him upon a blanket on the ground. Fully conscious, Andy was aware that they had reached the cow camp. His shoulder burned all the way through. He imagined he could still feel the searing of the cauterizing blade.

Rusty asked, “You feelin’ all right?”

Damn fool question, Andy thought, but he chose not to be sarcastic. He lied, “I’m makin’ it fine.”

The wagon boss was exuberant over recovery of the cattle. He counted the horses and accepted the losses with good grace. “You got back more than half of them,” he said. “I’d already said good-bye to the whole bunch.”

Though Andy knew the feeling was disloyal, he was glad the Comanches had held onto some of the horses. They had paid a considerable price. At least they would not have to return to their encampment empty-handed.

He was gratified to have Long Red again, but he grieved over the cost. He could only guess what had happened. He did not want to think about it, but the image refused to leave him. The kid probably had but one thought, to get away, and had ridden blindly into the Indian raiding party. Had he been only five or six years old they might have kept him as they had once kept Andy. But he was old enough that they would regard him as a man, a potential warrior against them. They would have made short and bloody work of him.

Perhaps everybody had been right, that Scooter was fated to a violent end, if not this way, some other. But Andy thought he had deserved at least one more chance to compensate for suffering through a life of abuse and deprivation.