[Texas Rangers 05] - Texas Vendetta (30 page)

“That was when you were useful. Lately you’ve been like an anvil strapped on my back.”

“So you’ve turned against me too?”

“The stink of this will reach all the way to Austin. The Rangers will be down here like a plague of locusts, and there’s no telling what they may turn up.”

“I could tell them aplenty if I was of a mind to.”

“You won’t if you’ve got a brain cell still working. You’ll turn tail and travel as far as you can get before the Rangers catch up with you, or Jayce does.” A small knot of fear began stirring in Big’un’s stomach. It burned like acid. He considered making himself scarce for a while, maybe taking a vacation in Mexico. But travel could be dangerous. The Landons would be keeping a watch on him. Jayce might catch him somewhere out in the open. Big’un was not sure he could beat him in a fair fight.

He argued, “Travelin’ takes money. I ain’t got any. How about openin’ that safe yonder and gettin’ me some, say a thousand dollars?”

Judd exploded. “A thousand dollars? You’re not worth two bits.” He stood up and pointed toward the door. “Get out of my office before I shoot you myself and save Jayce the trouble.”

Big’un looked at the steel safe standing in the corner. Many times he had seen his uncle open it, yet he had never had reason to watch closely enough to learn the combination. Now he wished he had been more observant.

Anger churned his stomach as he moved toward the door. “You’ll wish you’d done better by me.”

“I wish your mother had drowned you like a sick kitten the day you were born.”

Big’un was not sure what he would do. He was sure about one thing he would not do; he would not leave here dead broke. Uncle Judd owed him, and somehow he was going to pay. But as long as Big’un hung around here in the open, he was in jeopardy. The safest place in town would be the jail. He could bar its door from inside, and nobody would get in unless he allowed it. Unlike Tom Blessing’s, this jail was of brick construction, not easy to burn down. Surely the Rangers would catch Jayce within a few days and remove him as a threat.

But what if a jury failed to convict him? Then Jayce could stalk him at leisure. Someday when Big’un did not expect it a bullet could come from nowhere and cut him down.

He had seen juries do the unthinkable, but surely they would not in this case. Murder was murder. They would see that Jayce was hanged. They had to.

Walking down the hall, he encountered several county employees, none of them kin. He saw or imagined condemnation in their eyes. Stung, he crossed the street to a small dining room where he often took his meals. The place was operated by the widow Jones, whose husband had fallen out of a wagon and broken his neck after emptying too many whiskey bottles. She looked at Big’un as if he were a stray dog bringing in fleas. Everybody in town must know what happened, he thought.

He trusted that she liked money more than she disliked him. He said, “I’d like you to deliver me my meals over at the jail for a day or two.”

She arched an eyebrow. “You figure bein’ in jail will save you from Jayce Landon?”

His temper flared. If a man had said that to him he would have bloodied his knuckles. “You just fetch my meals. I’m not payin’ for your opinion.”

“This is goin’ to cost you extra. And it’ll have to be payment on delivery.”

He understood her implication, that Jayce might find a way to get to him. She did not want him to die owing her money.

He said, “I’ll pay you, but don’t send nobody else. I won’t be openin’ the door to just anybody.”

Stung by the unfriendly receptions, Big’un went into the jail. He locked the door with a heavy key, then put an iron bar in place. Some of the fear left him, but not all.

To himself he said, “Damn you, Jayce Landon. This is all your fault.”

He sat in a chair and leaned back against the jail’s office wall, staring at nothing in particular, trying to come up with an idea. There was no telling how long it might take the Rangers to get Jayce. Being shut up in here for days, even weeks, was too bitter to contemplate. His thoughts kept going back to his uncle’s safe. The old man always kept a substantial amount of money locked in it. It should be enough to keep him a long time in Mexico.

Gradually he came up with a plan. It was so simple he was surprised it had taken him so long.

Rusty lay in a bed in the doctor’s house, his shoulder heavily wrapped. The doctor had drugged him to sleep. Standing over him, Andy thought he had never seen Rusty so pale, so helpless-looking. The doctor said, “He’s one tough rooster. Others have tried to kill him, but they never got it done. He’ll survive this time too.”

“How many more can he take?”

“I hope he never takes any more. Every chance I get, I’m going to tell him to go home and stick to the plow.”

Andy felt guilt. “I’m the one who talked him into goin’ back to the Rangers after that hailstorm hit him. I wish I’d kept my mouth shut.”

Farley sat in a chair across the room. His trousers leg had been cut away, and his wound wrapped almost as heavily as Rusty’s. He said, “You never talked Rusty into anything he didn’t want to do. He quit followin’ advice a long time ago.”

And you never started, Andy thought.

The doctor said, “Maybe when he’s stronger you can take Rusty back to his farm.”

“That’s where he belongs.”

“And maybe you can find a wife for him. He needs one.”

“I’ve got one in mind,” Andy said, thinking of Alice Monahan. “But Rusty will have to come around to it on his own.” He straightened. “When he wakes up, tell him I’ll be back soon as I can.”

Farley said, “You’re not very good at listenin’ to advice either, but let me give you a little. Wire Austin to send you some help before you go pokin’ around over in Hopper country.”

“Can’t lose the time. I expect Big’un has gone back over there, and Jayce is probably not far behind. May even be ahead of him.”

“Wait awhile and you won’t have to bring back but one. Or if you’re really lucky they’ll kill each other and you won’t have to mess with either of them.”

“That wouldn’t be Rusty’s way.”

“It’d save the expense of one trial, maybe two. And it might keep us from havin’ to bury an Indian kid who’s got more nerve than good sense. Gravestones come high these days.” Farley saw that his argument fell on deaf ears. “Wait a couple of days and I’ll go with you.”

The doctor said, “Forget it, Brackett. You couldn’t straddle a horse if they gave you a thousand dollars.”

Andy said, “I appreciate you makin’ the offer. I’ll swing around and let your mother and your sister know what’s happened to you.”

Farley protested, “They’ll just fret over me for no reason. I’ve had a horse hurt me worse than this, steppin’ on my foot.”

“They deserve to know.”

Andy did not allow Farley time for more argument. He walked out into the cool of the early morning. The smell of smoke was still heavy in the air, stinging his nostrils.

He met Flora Landon walking up the street from the direction of the boardinghouse where she stayed. She said, “I was on my way to see about Rusty and Farley. How do they look this mornin’?”

“They won’t be runnin’ footraces for a while, but they’ll live.”

“I want to tell them how much I appreciate what they did. They could’ve left Jayce to burn. Instead they gave him a gun.”

Andy started to tell her Jayce got the pistol for himself, but she was in a grateful mood. He saw nothing to be gained by disillusioning her. He asked, “Is Scooter takin’ to the boardin’house all right?”

“He’s still hurtin’ over his daddy goin’ away without him, but otherwise he’s all right. Been on his best behavior. If me and Jayce had ever had a boy I’d want him to be like Scooter.”

“I appreciate you lookin’ after him. When we’ve put this trouble behind us I’ll take him to some folks who will make a good home for him.”

“I’d take him in myself except they burned my house down, and my husband is on the dodge. I suppose you’ll be goin’ after him?”

“I have to, but I’m goin’ for Big’un first. I hope I can get to him before Jayce does.”

“Why don’t you let Jayce take care of the job for you?”

“Then he’d have two murder charges on him.”

“They can’t hang him but once.”

“With the right judge and jury he might not hang at all for one killin’. But two of them …” Andy shook his head.

She said, “Be careful, then. Remember that those Hoppers aren’t lookin’ to make new friends.”

“They won’t catch me asleep.”

“You’ve got a good reason to take care of yourself. You may not realize it, but that Bethel girl is stuck on you. She’d take it hard if somethin’ bad was to happen.”

Andy tried to laugh away her concern. “So would I.”

His courage almost left him as he approached the Brackett farm. For the tenth time since he had left town, he asked himself whether he should ride in or skirt around and proceed to Hopper’s Crossing. His sense of duty prevailed. He owed it to Bethel and her mother to tell them what had happened to Farley.

It seemed that he never brought anything but bad news to this place. The women had good cause to dread seeing him. He squared his shoulders and rode straight to the house. A shrieking peacock announced his approach.

Bethel appeared on the front porch, one hand shading her eyes. She anxiously searched Andy’s face for a clue and asked, “Is it about Farley again?”

It was unlikely she had already heard. He wished he did not have to be the bearer of the news. “He’s been shot.”

She swallowed. “How bad?”

“Not as bad as it could’ve been. He was strong enough to give me a cussin’ when I told him I was comin’ here.”

“He’ll be cussin’ when he draws his last breath.” She made an effort at a smile, but it was stillborn.

Bethel’s mother stepped through the door and joined her daughter. “What is it? Farley again?”

Andy tried to ease her mind as quickly as he could. “He’ll be all right, Mrs. Brackett.” He dismounted and moved closer to the porch.

Bethel said, “He’s been shot again, Mama. I swear, he draws trouble like a magnet.”

Andy told them, “Wasn’t none of it his fault. It happened in the line of duty.” He explained about the burning of the jail and its occupants’ escape under fire. “Farley took a bullet in his leg. He’ll be limpin’ around for a while. But Rusty’s the one to worry about. He got hit pretty hard.”

“Where is Farley now?” Mrs. Brackett asked.

“At the doctor’s house. Doc was sayin’ he’d probably let him go to a boardin’house by tomorrow or next day.”

Mrs. Brackett said, “He doesn’t need to go to a boardinghouse. Bethel and I will take a wagon and fetch him home.”

“He didn’t even want me to come and let you know what happened. Didn’t want you frettin’. Said he’d ride over here and tell you himself as soon as he could get on a horse.”

Bethel said, “I wouldn’t bet two bits on that. As soon as he felt like he could travel, he’d leave without lettin’ us know. He’s taken a fool notion that nobody cares about him.”

Andy doubted that anybody other than immediate family cared much for Farley. Even they found him a trial. He went out of his way to ruffle those who might try to get close to him. He seemed to distrust friendship as if he knew it would not last. During the war it had not. He had lost too many friends, too much family.

Bethel said, “We appreciate you coming out to tell us.”

Andy said, “It wasn’t much out of my way. I’m goin’ to Hopper’s Crossing.”

“You’re after Jayce Landon, I suppose.”

“Him and Big’un Hopper both. I figure where I find one I’ll likely find the other.”

Her eyes widened. “You’re goin’ by yourself?”

“There ain’t but two of them.”

Bethel grimaced. “That’s about what Farley would say.”

“There probably won’t be but one if I don’t find them myself before they find one another.”

“If they shot each other it would stop a lot of misery for both families.”

“That’s just what Farley said.”

“But you’re goin’ anyway.”

“It’s my job.”

She blinked away a tear. “Someday they’ll be haulin’ you here like Farley, wounded or worse. Is your job worth that?”

“The only thing I know for sure is that I have to do it. Else I couldn’t look Rusty and the rest of them in the face.”

“If you get killed, do you think they’ll cry over you?”

“I won’t know about it one way or the other.”

This time she let the tear roll down her cheek, unchecked. “I’d cry for you, Andy.”

He waited until dark before riding in to Hopper’s Crossing. From across the street he surveyed the jail, remembering the night he and Farley had taken it upon themselves to guard it against a mob, needlessly, as it turned out. Through a barred window he saw a faint glow as if a lamp’s wick was turned down low. Looking around to see if anyone was watching, he dismounted and walked over for a closer look. He found that cotton cloth had been tacked up on the inside. It was thin enough to allow lamplight to show but heavy enough that Andy could not see through it.

He stood awhile, watching and wondering until someone cautiously lifted a corner of the cloth. Andy saw little more than one eye, but he was almost certain: Big’un was behind that crude curtain.

He did not know what to make of it. It seemed unlikely that Big’un had come back and resumed his sheriff’s duties as if nothing had happened. Yet there he was. Andy flirted for a moment with the idea of trying the door, but Big’un would be careful enough to have locked and barred it. He remembered that it was too strong for one man to break it down.

Hearing voices, he stepped into the darkness and flattened himself against the jail wall. Boots trod heavily upon the wooden sidewalk, stopping at the jail door. Someone demanded, “Big’un, open this door.”

From inside came a familiar voice. “Who’s out there?”

“Your uncle Judd. I want to talk to you.”

“You already done more talkin’ than I want to listen to. Unless you’ve brought me some money, that door stays shut.”

“The jail is county property. As county judge I’m orderin’ you to open up.”