[Texas Rangers 04] - Ranger's Trail (31 page)

Rusty had tried to ease Andy’s distress. “Been many a boy even younger killed for no fault of his own. He brought this on himself.”

The wagon boss gave Andy a minute’s brief sympathy for his wound before turning to other matters. He told the captain, “The least I can do is make you the loan of a wagon so you can carry your wounded back to camp. And we’ll whup you-all up some dinner so nobody goes away from here hungry. I hope you like beans.”

The captain said, “When men are hungry, a pot of red beans is like ambrosia.”

The thought of food made Andy nauseous. He knew he was running some fever.

Farley had given Andy little attention since the skirmish. Now he walked up to the blanket where Andy lay and stared down at him with accusing eyes. He said, “We’re even now. You ran off the Comanche that wanted my scalp. I toted you out of there before some other heathen could snuff you out. We don’t owe one another nothin’, do we?”

His tone of voice rubbed Andy like coarse sand. He muttered, “Not a damned thing.”

“
Good, because the captain needs to know what happened out there.”

Rusty butted in. “And what
did
happen?”

“
This boy had a clean shot at that first Comanche. Wasn’t no way he could’ve missed unless he wanted to. I’m thinkin’ he wanted to. If that Indian hadn’t got scared off he’d have killed me deader than hell.”

“
But he shot the next one.”

“
It was
his
life on the line that time. If he hadn’t fired, that arrow might’ve gone into his heart.”

“
You’re makin’ a serious charge. You’d better think about it twice before you talk to the captain.”

“
I’m tellin’ it the way I saw it.”

“
You saw it the way you wanted to see it. You’ve carried a grudge against Andy for a long time. Now, if you’re lookin’ for a fight, …”

Andy raised his good hand. “Rusty, don’t. There’s no use you and him bloodyin’ one another. The truth is, he’s right.”

Rusty did not show as much surprise as Andy would have expected. He had probably sensed it all along but was willing to fight for Andy’s sake.

Andy said, “I recognized the one that was after Farley. He used to teach me how to track game. I hoped I could scare him off without killin’ him.”

Farley said, “So you left him alive to raid again.”

Rusty retorted, “Killin’ or not killin’ one Indian ain’t goin’ to make much difference. There’s still aplenty more.”

Farley said, “The point is that when it came to makin’ a choice, he chose the Comanches over his friends.”

Rusty argued, “You never was his friend. A friend wouldn’t carry a story like this to the captain.”

Their voices were becoming strident. Andy tried to shout to get their attention, but he could not muster the strength. He waved his hand. “You-all back off. I’ll tell the captain myself.”

Farley continued to glare at Rusty. “All right, but I want to be there to see that you tell it straight.”

Rusty said, “Andy doesn’t lie.”

The captain came around when one of the cowboys brought up a wagon. “Pickard, you and Private Mitchell will ride in this the rest of the way back to camp. It should be more comfortable than that makeshift stretcher.”

Andy said, “Captain, you may want to leave me behind after you hear what I have to say.”

“
That you hesitated about shooting an Indian?”

Andy had not anticipated that the captain might already know. “Somebody told you?”

“
No, I guessed. I halfway expected it, under the circumstances.”

“
And you still let me come along?”

“
I doubted it would make a life-or-death difference.”

“
It almost did. Maybe I’d have made the second shot good if Farley’s life had depended on it. Maybe not. I can’t be sure.”

The captain frowned. “You’re hurting, and you look feverish. This discussion can wait until we get back to camp and you are better fixed to know your mind.” He motioned for a couple of rangers to lift Andy into the waiting wagon. They stretched him out on a folded blanket.

Rusty leaned worriedly over the sideboard. “If the ride gets too rough, be sure to holler. The point of that arrowhead may start workin’ around in your shoulder.”

Andy felt it would be fitting if a little of the arrow was still imbedded. It would afford a punishment of sorts for his having killed one of those he had considered his own people. It would be his penance.

Andy caught the welcome smell of wood smoke and knew the trip was almost over. By any standard the ranger camp was Spartan, but the line of tents looked like home. Reaching it meant an end to the wagon’s jolting and jerking. The black cook came out to meet the arriving rangers. Andy saw him pointing with his forefinger, silently counting them one by one, smiling when he saw that none were missing. He turned his attention to Andy and Private Mitchell, the only two other than the wagon driver who did not come in on horseback. Mitchell had taken a bullet in his thigh, but it had passed through without striking a bone.

Bo clucked in sympathy. “Looks like you-all found the Indians you was lookin’ for.”

Tanner rode up and said, “We whupped up on them pretty good.” He described the fight in more detail than the cook probably wanted to hear. Andy cringed, especially at the account of his killing an Indian.

Rusty noticed his discomfort. He said, “Len, I think I heard the captain call your name.”

Tanner left. He was back in a while. “All that shootin’ must’ve done somethin’ to your hearin’, Rusty. Captain wasn’t lookin’ for me, after all.”

By then the cook was busy in the mess tent, preparing supper. Tanner went in to finish his story, but Andy did not have to listen to it.

The captain came around to check on his wounded.

Andy said, “Captain …”

The captain waved him off. “Get some rest, Pickard. We’ll talk about it tomorrow. Or maybe the next day.”

Rusty waited until the captain was out of earshot. He said, “Leave well enough alone. The captain isn’t blamin’ you for anything, and you shouldn’t be blamin’ yourself.”

“
I can’t help it. I didn’t do right by the rangers when I pulled my aim off of that first warrior. And I didn’t do right by the People when I shot the other one.”

“
You did right by yourself. If you hadn’t you’d be dead and I wouldn’t be standin’ here tryin’ to pound some sense into you.”

“
When do you figure on goin’ home, Rusty?”

“
I haven’t decided. I was kind of enjoyin’ the camp. Took me back to the old days. For a little while it even made me think maybe I’d like to join up. But that skirmish took me back to a part I never did like. The farm gets to lookin’ pretty good.”

“
Will you take me with you when you go?”

“
Thought you was tired of the farm.”

“
Like you said, that fight has made the farm look pretty good.”

“
You ain’t been a ranger long enough to draw your first pay, hardly.”

“
It’d be blood money if I did.”

“
That’s the fever talkin’. Wait a couple of days before you jump off into a ditch you might not be able to climb out of.”

The next day Andy felt like leaving the blanket and walking around the camp a little. The cook waylaid him at the mess tent. “What you need for healin’ is lots of meat, wild meat. Ain’t nothin’ better for you than venison. Come, let me fry you up a piece of backstrap.”

“
You gave me more at breakfast than I could eat.”

“
That was a while ago. This’ll put strength in your legs, let you run like a deer.”

“
I don’t care about runnin’. I just want to get to where I can ride so I can go home.”

“
What’s this about goin’ home? Mr. Tanner been tellin’ me what you done out there. You’re too good a ranger to be quittin’ on us now.”

“
Don’t take what Len tells you as gospel. If hell has a place for liars, he’s due a good scorchin’.”

“
Just don’t be in no hurry. My old master was bad to make fast judgments. Most generally they was wrong, like the time he seen somethin’ in the brush, movin’ toward his hog pen. Figured it was a mongrel dog. He went chargin’ in there throwin’ rocks. Turned out it was a bear. You never seen a fat old man run so fast.”

The next day Andy asked Rusty to saddle Long Red for him. He rode him around the outside of the camp. His shoulder ached a bit but not as much as he expected. Rusty waited for him at the corral, silently asking with his eyes.

Andy said, “It’s not so bad.”

“
You just made a little circle. It’s several days’ ride back to the farm.”

“
Give me a couple more days. I can do it.”

“
That Indian still weighs heavy on your mind. Do you think a couple hundred miles will make him go away?”

“
It’ll put me where I’ll never have to do that again.”

By the third day Andy was convinced he was ready. Rusty followed him to the captain’s tent but remained outside. Andy asked, “You got time to talk to me, Captain?”

The captain studied him, then shrugged in resignation. “Your face betrays your decision. You are not a good poker player.”

“
I’ve decided to resign. I’m goin’ home with Rusty.”

“
I believe you have it in you to become an exceptional ranger. Perhaps even an officer someday. May I suggest an alternative course?”

“
Won’t hurt to listen to it.”

“
In view of your wound and the healing time it will require, you are due a leave of absence. Without pay, of course. At the end of that time, if you are still of the same mind, I will accept your resignation with regret.”

Andy considered. This was a way of leaving the door ajar without firmly committing himself. “Sounds fair to me, sir. I’ll write you if I decide not to come back.”

The captain extended his hand. “Don’t push yourself too hard. You may be hurt more than you realize.”

More than
you
realize, Andy thought. The pain was not all physical.

Andy hesitated at the front opening. He turned back. “If you ever find out just what happened to Scooter, …” Someone, sometime, might come across the boy’s body.

“
It’s not likely we’ll ever know.”

Rusty frowned. “Looks to me like you’re carryin’ a double load, that boy and that Indian. You couldn’t help either one of them.”

Like you couldn’t help Josie, Andy thought. Me and you are both saddled with ghosts.

They prepared to leave the ranger camp after breakfast. Rusty made one last attempt to postpone the trip. “A couple more days would make you stronger.”

“
In a couple of days we’ll be closer to home.”

Rusty took the pack mule’s lead rope. After a mile or so he could turn the mule loose and trust it to follow the horses. “If that shoulder really gets to hurtin’, let me know. We’ll stop and rest.”

“
I’ll holler.” Andy had no thought of doing so unless the hurting became more than he could handle. He had made strong talk and intended to back it up. By mid-afternoon he was gritting his teeth in an effort not to give in to the pain. Rusty must have sensed it. He dismounted beside a narrow creek.

“
We’ve come twenty-five miles or so. My bay is commencin’ to slow down.”

Andy was grateful but felt obliged to put up a good front. “Me and Long Red are doin’ fine.”

“
We’ve got to consider the stock.” Rusty unsaddled and caught the mule. He lifted the pack of provisions from its back. “Bo gave us enough vittles to get us to Friedrichsburg or maybe Austin. We can swing around and miss the troubles in Mason town.”

“
You know about them?”

“
I didn’t get a very warm welcome there. It’s a local feud. No point in us gettin’ mixed up in it.”

“
The rangers
are
mixed up in it, a little. The captain’s been sendin’ men over to try and hold the lid down.”

“
It’s a good thing Texas has rangers again.”

“
It is. But there’s no law says I have to be one of them.”

They reached Friedrichsburg on the third day of a slow trip. Rusty said, “Bo was right good for a camp cook, but you’re fixin’ to get one of the best meals this side of Clemmie Monahan’s table.” He took Andy into the Nimitz Hotel for supper. Andy felt out of place with the white tablecloths and fine tableware.

Rusty said, “I could get spoiled in a hurry with fixin’s like this.”

Andy realized Rusty was trying to lift his spirits, to relieve for even a while the darkness that had come over him since the fight. He made up his mind to smile and enjoy it whether he wanted to or not.

At the easy pace Rusty set, they were more than a week in getting back to the farm. At a glance Andy knew someone had been taking care of the place in Rusty’s absence. Tom Blessing and his sons, he guessed, and perhaps old Shanty. The corn was near shoulder-high. In the garden, cut and shriveled weeds showed the mark of a hoe.

Rusty said, “Maybe your shoulder will be a lot better by the time the garden needs much work again.”

“
It feels better this mornin’ just by us gettin’ here. I don’t aim to lay around doin’ nothin’.”

“
I don’t want you takin’ on very much for a while. You might ruin that shoulder. I’d have a cripple on my hands from now on.”

“
The place won’t be the same without Len Tanner comin’ around every so often.”

“
Ranger or not, he’ll find a way. You go in and get a fire started so we can fix dinner. I’ll unsaddle the horses and unpack the mule.”

Tom Blessing came by in the early afternoon. He shouted, “Hello the house” before riding all the way in. Rusty and Andy walked out on the dog run to meet him. Tom dismounted and led his horse up to the hitching post.