[Texas Rangers 06] - Jericho's Road (27 page)

The tall man in the saddle said, “Sounds like who we been lookin’ for. Goin’ to be hard to get there with a lame horse, though. I don’t suppose you’d like to swap?”

“
I don’t suppose I would.”

“
You said we might need some boot. How’s this?” So swiftly that Andy hardly saw the movement, the rider had a pistol in his hand. “Now, about that swap … we’d like it to be friendly.”

His face no longer appeared genial.

Andy gauged his chances of successful resistance and knew they were next to none. Rusty had always told him there were times to fight and times to pull away. This was clearly no time to push his luck, not while he looked down the muzzle of a .44.

The man with the pistol said, “Before you get off, let’s see you drop that six-shooter. Be real careful, or you could get a couple of holes in you that the good Lord didn’t put there.”

Andy considered warning them that he was a Ranger but thought better of it. The two might decide to take no chances with him if they knew. It would be easy to murder him and drag his body into the brush, where it might not be found for months, if at all. He eased the pistol from its holster and let it fall. The rifle was still in its scabbard, but he knew he had no chance to draw it. He dismounted and stepped away from the horse but held on to the reins. “It’s not a good trade unless both parties are willin’.”

“
Me and Devlin are willin’. I reckon two out of three ought to be enough.”

The limping man named Devlin removed the saddles from both horses and put his on Andy’s mount. He took Andy’s rifle and scabbard. “I wouldn’t want you to back out on the deal and shoot us with this Winchester. Me and Barstow will cut cards later and see who gets it.”

Barstow grinned. The genial look returned but seemed tainted now. “No hard feelin’s, I hope. At least we’re leavin’ you your saddle and a horse to put it on. I hope you won’t abuse him. He’s gettin’ some age on him, but that ankle will heal if you give it time.”

The two men were laughing as they rode off to the north. Angry words welled up in Andy’s throat and stayed there. He saw no use in saying them aloud when nobody could hear. He turned to examine the brown horse. He saw nothing special in its conformation to mark it as anything except a working ranch horse. The lameness was in the right leg. He lifted it, hoping the cause might be nothing more than a stone caught in the shoe. There was no stone. There was no shoe. The ankle appeared swollen.

“
Looks like I’m not goin’ to ride you anywhere,” he said. He led the horse to the edge of the river to see if it would drink. It took several swallows, then raised its head, water dripping from chin and steel bits.

He was a couple of miles from his campsite. He had left the pack mule there, staked on a long rope to allow it to graze. He considered the mule, but it was not broken to ride. It would probably balk and refuse to move if he tried to get on it. Or else it would throw him off and kick him hard enough to break his ribs.

Perhaps when Andy did not meet Len at their usual rendezvous site he would come looking. Then again, he might decide Andy was simply late and get tired of waiting. Andy guessed that the sun was only a couple of hours short of setting. Chances were that the two horse thieves would stop and camp at dark, figuring they were safe. They might not appreciate how fast a determined man could walk.

They had not stripped his saddle of anything except the rifle, so he had his canteen and a chunk of bacon he had roasted but not finished at noon. He set off following the tracks. The thieves had taken the northeasterly direction he suggested. He was soon sweating. A southerly breeze found its way through his shirt and cooled him. At intervals he came across grazing cattle. Some shied away. Others, not used to seeing a man afoot, approached out of curiosity. A few even trotted alongside for short distances before they lost interest or he scared them off with a shout and a wave of his hat.

A coyote loped off a hundred yards, then turned to watch him. He had heard it said that coyotes could tell whether a man carried a firearm or not. He did not believe that, but he respected the Indian view of the coyote as trickster, a mischievous spirit always ready to foil the designs of men.

He stopped for short periods of rest, but impatience soon prodded him back to his feet. He wanted to go as far as possible before darkness. Though he intended to keep traveling after nightfall, following the tracks would be more difficult, perhaps impossible. Then he would have to depend upon his sense of direction. The two seemed to be traveling as straight a line as the uneven terrain allowed.

The stars indicated that it was somewhere around midnight when he spotted the faint glow of a dying campfire a little west of his line of travel. He indulged a moment in self-congratulation for managing to stay so close to the trail after darkness made him give up looking for it.

He hoped to catch the two asleep. He did not want to confront them in daylight with no weapon better than a mesquite club.

He moved carefully toward the glow, listening for any sound that might indicate someone was still awake. He heard nothing but distant night birds and the humming of nocturnal insects seeking to mate. He almost stumbled into the two horses. One snorted and pulled against the stake rope that held it. Andy sank to his knees and waited for a reaction from the sleeping men. He heard nothing.

He found the saddles. One of the thieves had buckled Andy’s scabbard to his own rig. He quietly slid the rifle free. He tried not to look into the remnant of the fire because it compromised his vision in the darkness. He located the two men, both wrapped in their blankets asleep. He saw a gun belt rolled up and lying by one man’s head. Gingerly he drew the pistol from it and stuck it in his own holster, which the thieves had not bothered to take. He moved to the side of the other man. He too had a pistol in a belt, and a second lying beside his head. Andy assumed that was his own. He retrieved both and retreated to the smoldering fire.

To one side of it he found a can in which the men had boiled coffee. Some of it remained, but it was cold. He set the can on the coals to reheat it.

He could have awakened the men then but preferred not to take a chance with them in the dark. He sat on the ground, sipping the bitterly strong coffee and waiting for daylight.

They might have been trail hands, but if so they had given up the drover’s habit of rising before dawn. The sun was breaking free before Barstow yawned and laid his blanket aside. He blinked and stretched his arms, then became aware of Andy sitting there watching him. He froze.

Andy said, “Sleepin’ kind of late, aren’t you? I heard a rooster crow somewhere an hour ago.”

Devlin flung his blanket aside and grabbed for his six-shooter. He came up with an empty holster. Andy waved a pistol at him. “It’s over here.”

Both men stared at him in shock. Barstow slowly raised his hands. Devlin followed, his jaw sagging.

Barstow turned angrily on his partner. “Told you we ought to’ve taken turns standin’ watch last night.”

Devlin’s tone was accusatory. “Mister, I didn’t believe you’d be so mean as to follow us on a lame horse.”

“
I didn’t. I walked.”

“
Walked?” The two looked as if such a foreign idea had never entered their heads.

Andy said, “I get the notion you two ain’t been at this outlaw business long. You’re not very good at it.”

Barstow said, “We got awful tired of herdin’ cattle for beans and bacon. We thought there must be an easier way to make a livin’. We heard Jericho Jackson was lookin’ for men who can handle theirselves and that he pays good.”

“
Whoever told you that should’ve also told you life can be short over at Jericho’s. He’s bad about gettin’ men killed.”

“
Couldn’t be any more dangerous than swimmin’ cattle over a river when it’s runnin’ high.”

“
With Jericho you’re liable to be crossin’ stolen cattle over the Rio Grande with a bunch of mad Mexicans grabbin’ at your shirttails. But I’m savin’ you from that. I’m puttin’ you under arrest.”

“
Arrest?” Barstow demanded.

“
I forgot to tell you. I’m a Ranger.”

Barstow turned on Devlin. “Damned if you ain’t fooled around and got us in trouble again. It’s easy, you said. Just swap horses, you said. If you hadn’t been careless you never would’ve got yours lame in the first place.”

“
I couldn’t help it. I didn’t know he was so clumsy. He looked pretty good in the dark.”

Andy surmised that Devlin had stolen that horse just as he had taken Andy’s. He said, “I’m takin’ mine back. You-all can switch around, one walkin’ and one ridin’.”

Devlin complained, “But I got blisters on my feet.”

“
The wages of sin. You-all get busy and fix us some breakfast. No use in startin’ out on an empty stomach.”

The meager meal consisted of coffee, bacon, and some dried-out bread the two had brought from somewhere. Done but hardly satisfied, Andy said, “Roll up your blankets and let’s be movin’.”

Devlin’s stirrups were set a little short, but it would take time to unlace the leathers and retie them for Andy’s longer legs. It was too far to go back for his own saddle. He hoped nobody would make off with it before he could get back to reclaim it.

Devlin complained constantly about his sore feet until Andy made Barstow change places with him. Then Devlin complained that Barstow’s horse had a rough gait that shook his innards all the way up to his teeth. He reminded Andy a little of Farley Brackett.

Barstow trudged along, starting to sweat though the morning was only moderately warm. He argued, “Ranger, we ain’t really done anybody harm. You got your horse back. We ain’t robbed no bank or nothin’. Can’t you see your way clear to just turn us loose? We’ll take up our old jobs drivin’ cattle and go to church every chance we get.”

Andy said, “I know an old preacher man named Webb. He says that the church house is half empty as long as everything goes along smooth. But when there’s trouble, people start comin’ to meetin’. You two were all set to join Jericho’s bunch of renegades. Now you’re ready to sing in the choir.”

“
We’d been drinkin’. We’re sober now, and things look different.”

“
Yeah. This time
I’m
holdin’ the gun.”

“
I hear tell that the penitentiary is already overcrowded. I’d hate for us to make it worse.”

Andy wondered how long the conversion would last when nobody was pointing a gun at the pair of would-be bad men. “It’ll be up to a judge and jury to decide about that.”

“
Think how much a trial will cost the taxpayers.”

Andy thought back on the prisoner he had seen shot in the Ranger camp. “Be glad it was me that caught you. Some Rangers wouldn’t bother with a trial. Bullets come cheaper than lawyers.”

Barstow shut up for a while, but Devlin kept whining.

Andy saw three horsemen approaching in a slow lope. He could not tell immediately whether they were Texan or Mexican, but instinct told him they were trouble. He drew his pistol and laid it across his lap.

Barstow said, “I hope them ain’t some of your quick-trigger Rangers.”

Devlin quit whining. His eyes were apprehensive. “We’re your prisoners. You got to protect us.”

Andy said, “They’re not Rangers, at least none that I know. I’ll bet they’re Jericho hands.”

The three reined up so close that Andy could have reached out and touched the one who by his manner appeared to be in charge. The leader demanded, “Who are you people? Don’t you know you’re on Jericho’s road?”

It was not much of a road. It was more like a cow trail. Andy sized up the three and quickly decided they were not the kind he would lend money to. Like Andy, the leader held a pistol in his lap. The other two gripped rifles.

Andy said, “I’m Andy Pickard. I’m a Ranger. These men are my prisoners.”

“
I’m Orville Mapes, and your name don’t mean a thing to me.” He studied Barstow and Devlin. “These men ain’t part of Jericho’s outfit. What did they do?”

“
They stole a horse. Mine.”

Barstow spoke up with hope. “We was on our way to see Mr. Jericho Jackson about a job.”

Mapes mused, “And you stole a Ranger’s horse? Jericho ain’t goin’ to figure you’re real smart.”

“
We didn’t know he was a Ranger.”

Devlin said, “If we had, we’d have shot him right off.”

Mapes looked again at Andy. “Ranger or not, you’ve got no authority on Jericho’s land without he gives you permission.”

“
Rangers don’t have to ask for anybody’s permission. They can go anywhere they decide to.”

“
Not on Jericho’s property. I think you’d better hand me that six-shooter.”

Andy knew he could not shoot his way out with three men at close range. He would be dead before the echo faded. He gave up the pistol and his rifle. They also confiscated the weapons he had taken from Barstow and Devlin.

Barstow asked, “What about us? You’re goin’ to turn us loose, ain’t you?”