[Texas Rangers 05] - Texas Vendetta (27 page)

Rusty warned, “Keep watchin’ over your shoulder. I wouldn’t put it past the Hoppers to grab one of us and try to make a swap for Jayce.”

Andy had not thought of that. He realized he should have. Rusty was usually a step ahead of him. Sometimes he despaired of ever catching up. He said, “If that happened, what would you do?”

Rusty said, “We’re responsible for keepin’ Jayce from harm till he’s had his day in court. If it meant havin’ to sacrifice one of us, that’s what we’re paid for. It’s part of bein’ a Ranger.”

Tom nodded in silent agreement.

Their logic disturbed Andy. Jayce Landon was an admitted murderer. A death sentence was almost certain. To trade the life of a Ranger—any Ranger—to let Jayce live a couple of weeks longer seemed beyond reason. Andy deferred to the judgment of Rusty and Tom but retained his skepticism.

“I’ll be careful,” he promised.

Tom said, “Before you go, would you mind lettin’ that drunk out of his cell? I expect two nights in there have sobered him up good.”

The man had raised a ruckus in a saloon where things were usually so quiet the place could almost be taken for a Sunday school. Not wanting the burden of extra prisoners during this time of potential trouble, Tom had tried to let him off with a warning. At that point the drunk had thrown a chair through a glass window, and Tom no longer had a choice. Property must be respected, whether saloon or church house.

Andy unlocked the cell and beckoned with his thumb. “You’ve had enough free meals. Sheriff says he doesn’t want to see anything but the backside of you leavin’ town.”

The man picked up his hat. He had brought nothing else in with him. He rubbed his chin. “I sure do need a shave.”

“Go get it in some other town.”

Andy followed him out into the sunshine. The former prisoner blinked against the brightness and looked up and down the street. “Where’d you-all put my horse?”

“In a corral at the wagon yard.”

“Hope he got fed better than I did.”

In a minute he was gone.

The weather was still warm, but with each passing day the sun edged a little farther to the south. The smell of fall was in the air for a while in early morning, though summer still ruled later in the day. Andy wondered how winter’s cold would affect Scooter’s healing.

Farley Brackett sat on the jail step, whittling a scrap piece of pine down to a pile of shavings that littered the ground at his feet. The cuts and bruises on his face were healing. “Where you headed, Badger Boy?”

“Just takin’ a look around.”

“What’re you lookin’ for?”

“I don’t know, exactly.”

“If you don’t know what you’re lookin’ for, how you goin’ to know it when you see it?”

Annoyed, Andy said, “Maybe you ought to go with me and help me look.”

“Can’t. I’m guardin’ the front door. If you get yourself into any trouble, Badger Boy, you’ll have to fight your own way out.”

Andy could accept advice, even criticism, from Rusty or Tom, but he drew the line at Farley. “You just watch me.”

“Oh, I’ll be watchin’ you, all right. But don’t expect me to come runnin’. Last time I did that I got myself shot.”

Andy never expected anything pleasant to come from Farley, and he was rarely disappointed. He wanted to think of a good retort, but none came, so he did not try for the last word. He walked through an open gate in the fence that surrounded the courthouse and jail. He stopped a minute to look up and down the dirt street. Before many more days it would be bustling as farmers in mule-drawn wagons began hauling the first of their cotton crop to town for ginning. Farm families with fresh money in their pockets would be crowding in to buy clothes and other necessities for the coming winter.

Right now the street was quiet. It looked about the same as he had known it during the years since his return from Comancheria except that the town had grown. He saw nothing to be concerned about.

He spotted a farmer he knew and walked over to talk with him. The farmer shook Andy’s hand, then looked across toward the jail. He said, “I hear you-all have got a dangerous man locked up, and you’re afraid somebody may come and try to bust him out.”

“Some people would like to. We’re prepared for them.”

“Just the same, I ain’t lettin’ my family come to town till everything is over with. I wouldn’t want them to get in the way of a shootin’ scrape. Or maybe you can guarantee me that there won’t be one.”

“I can’t even guarantee that the sun will rise and set tomorrow the same as it always has.”

The farmer grunted. “I hope the judge shows up pretty soon and gets this mess over with. My wife is bustin’ to come to town and see what’s new over at the mercantile.”

Andy admitted, “It won’t be a bad idea to hold her at home a little while longer.”

“Maybe you-all better send for some more Rangers.”

“There’s already three of us, and only one jailbreak to worry about. The head office in Austin figures three is probably two Rangers too many.”

“You ought to take up farmin’, Andy. All you got to worry about is drought, flood, hail, grasshoppers, and low prices.”

Andy walked on down the street with no particular mission in mind except to look for something or somebody that seemed out of place. He peered into the mercantile store and saw no one except the storekeeper and a woman customer. He stepped through the door of a saloon and glanced over the half dozen men there. All the faces were familiar except one, and he looked like a drummer peddling his wares. The saloon was more than just a place for drinking. It was a public service of sorts, a social center where men could meet and swap news and views, a trading site for discussing deals and shaking hands on them. More horses and mules and cotton bales had been sold there than at the livery barn or the gin.

The barkeeper said, “Come on in. No use standin’ there blockin’ the door.”

“Just lookin’ for somebody.” Andy went back outside, remembering what Farley had said. He did not know who he was looking for. How would he know him when he saw him?

Down at the livery stable, toward the end of the street, a man sat in a straight chair leaned back against the door. Andy at first took him to be the proprietor but after a closer look realized he did not know the man. Yet the face seemed vaguely familiar.

“Howdy,” Andy said, trying to remember.

The man stared back, his eyes not friendly. He did not speak.

Andy said, “Seems like I ought to know you.” He remembered now. “Your name would be Hopper, wouldn’t it?”

“Might be.”

“A while back me and Farley Brackett were on our way to deliver Jayce Landon to the sheriff at Hopper’s Crossing. You were with a bunch that tried to stop us.”

The man’s tone was insolent. “That might be too.”

“So what’re you doin’ here?”

“I’ve got to be somewhere.”

“Not here unless you’ve got business. What’s your business?”

“I’ve got a wife who bitches at me all the time. I come over here now and then to get drunk without her knowin’ about it. Any law against that?”

He did not look drunk. Andy thought he could guess Hopper’s real reason. He said, “I think you better move on out of town.”

“Look, Ranger, I’m spendin’ good money here, and I come by it honest. If I’ve broke any laws, tell me. If I ain’t, then leave me the hell alone.”

Andy was losing the argument and knew it. He had no grounds for running Hopper out of town. If he did so anyway, he might be subject to legal action. If he did not, and somebody got hurt, he would be blamed for not acting when he had the chance. It was enough to make him wonder why he had chosen to be a Ranger.

For a moment he considered going back to the jail and asking Rusty what he should do. But he had leaned on Rusty far too many times. Sooner or later he had to begin deciding such matters for himself.

He warned, “Watch yourself.”

Hopper replied, “I always do. And them that’s around me.”

Andy returned to the jail. Farley still sat on the step. He had a new piece of wood to whittle on. The earlier one lay scattered in curled shavings on the ground.

Andy said, “I’ll bet you didn’t know we’re bein’ watched.”

“I know. Bim Hopper’s sittin’ over yonder at the stable. He’s spied on us for several days.”

“You knew about him all that time?”

“Spotted him as soon as he showed up. I got to know Bim pretty good when Big’un and his bunch drug me away from my mother’s place. He’s got mean eyes, and fists hard as a pine knot.”

“What are we goin’ to do about him?” Andy instantly regretted asking advice, especially from Farley.

Farley said, “I’m waitin’ for him to make a wrong move so I can shoot his ear off, or maybe his big toe. Somethin’ he’ll remember me by.”

“He says he’s in town to get drunk.”

“He ain’t been drunk since he came here. He’s watchin’ for us to let our guard down so him and his cousins can storm the jail and drag Jayce out.”

Andy did not admit it, but his thinking ran the same as Farley’s.

Farley said, “I hope they try. It’ll be the best fight I’ve been in since I shot hell out of the state police.”

Andy was disgusted. “This ain’t some kind of entertainment show. There could be dead men layin’ out in the street.”

“The world could get along just fine without some of them Hoppers. They’re a nest of vipers.”

“They might not be the only ones killed.”

“Have you taken a good look at that old jail? It ain’t pretty, but it’s bull stout. A whole regiment couldn’t bust in without they had a cannon.”

Andy was not pacified, but arguing with Farley was like trying to converse with a fence post. He went on up and entered the jail.

Rusty asked, “See anything?”

“There’s a man watchin’ us from over at the stable.”

“Yeah, a cousin to Big’un Hopper. We’ve been keepin’ an eye on him.”

“How come you didn’t tell me about it?”

Rusty smiled. “We thought we’d see how long it took you to spot him yourself.”

Testing me, Andy thought, irritated. Like I was a new recruit.

After consideration he realized the description fit. He stood small against experienced lawmen like Rusty and Tom, even Farley. But he said, “Hadn’t we ought to run him off?”

“It’s better we leave him where we can watch what he’s up to. The time to worry is when we can’t see him.”

Andy went to the window and looked up and down the street again. In a minute he said, “There’s one thing you didn’t know.”

“What?” Rusty asked.

“That drunk we just let out of jail. He’s over yonder talkin’ to Bim Hopper.”

Rusty and Tom both moved quickly to the window. Tom swore, “Well, I’ll be damned. Looks like we’ve had a spy in our midst.”

Rusty nodded. “Looks like.”

Big’un Hopper looked back to be sure nobody had deserted him. He had twisted arms to the breaking point to get the six men who accompanied him on this punitive expedition. It would not take much of a scare to send most of them scurrying back to Hopper’s Crossing. The only ones he felt he could depend upon were cousins Harp and Bim. Even those would bear some watching.

The wagon jolted along behind with several cans of coal oil he had brought. He could not afford to buy it locally because he would be remembered and the finger of blame would be pointed straight at him.

At dusk they were within half a mile of town. “Let’s pull over into them trees yonder,” he said. “We’ll wait till the dark of the moon.”

Cousin Wilbur pulled his horse in beside Big’un’s. “The closer we get, the less I like this whole notion. I’m in favor of us gettin’ Jayce, but there’s other people in that jailhouse too. We could be charged with murderin’ them all.”

“Not unless we get caught. They can suspicion all they want, but suspicion don’t hold no water in court. Anyway, I told all of you what we were goin’ to do. I ain’t lettin’ you back out now.”

“Accordin’ to Bim there’s a kid in that jail. What about him?”

“Remember, he’s an outlaw’s boy, and he was in on the killin’ of Oscar Truscott. He’s probably got the mark of a noose around his neck anyway.”

“I still don’t like it.”

Big’un grabbed his cousin’s shirt just below the throat and shook the man harshly. “Any more of that talk and I’ll see that you walk all the way home.”

He was much larger and stronger than his kinsmen. They might grumble, but when the voices quieted down Big’un was confident he would still prevail. He softened his tone. “Uncle Judd gave us a warrant for Jayce’s arrest.”

Harp asked, “Does Uncle Judd’s jurisdiction reach over into another county’s jailhouse?”

“He’s a judge, ain’t he?” Big’un trusted that none of them understood the limitations of Judd Hopper’s jurisdiction. They knew all there was to know about mules and horses, cows and plows, but the intricacies of law were a mystery to them.

Wilbur frowned, considering the matter. “If Uncle Judd approves, I reckon it’s all right.”

Actually, Big’un had told his uncle only that they were going after Jayce. The judge had not let him explain. He had said, “I do not want to know anything about this. Then I can truthfully swear that I do not know what was done or who was responsible.”