[Texas Rangers 06] - Jericho's Road (8 page)

And maybe blind me, Andy thought. He declined the offer of Farley’s tobacco.

He felt himself nodding again just before Len gently shook him. “They’re comin’.”

The fire had burned down to flickering coals that yielded little light. Andy could make out shadowy figures moving stealthily into the Rangers’ camp.

He recognized Hatton’s voice, raised in disappointment. “They’re gone.”

Someone else said, “They can’t be gone far. Their camp stuff is here.”

Farley raised up. “Yes, we’re still here, and you sons of bitches ain’t gettin’ our horses.”

Pistols blazed on both sides, and then a rifle. Men shouted and cursed. A youthful voice cried out in mortal pain. Hatton’s men backed away, quickly lost in the darkness. Andy heard Hatton shout, “Pick him up and let’s get out of here.”

The smell of gun smoke was pungent. Andy heard horses moving away from the Hatton camp. His heart pumping with excitement, he said, “We must’ve hit somebody.”

Farley said, “I thought they would just come after our horses. But they was after us too.”

Andy said, “No witnesses, no charges.”

Len said, “No use tryin’ to follow them in the dark. I can’t see that they done us any harm.”

He was mistaken. At the picket line they found Farley’s horse down. Andy knelt to examine it and found it was dead. “Stray bullet must’ve got him.”

His first reaction was relief that his black horse had not been hit. But he realized that this would complicate the completion of their trip.

Farley declared, “Damned if I intend to walk all the way to the river.”

Len said, “We can borrow a horse at the McCawley ranch, a little ways south. Till then we’ll take turns walkin’.”

Farley asked, “Who’s McCawley?”

“
Big Jim McCawley. He married into the Chavez family.”

The name got Andy’s attention. “Chavez?”

“
He married Guadalupe Chavez’s sister, but don’t hold that against him. There was a time when even Lupe Chavez was considered good folks. That was before Jericho and others tried to take everything away from him and his family.”

Farley said, “I don’t know as this is a good idea, havin’ truck with Chavez’s kinfolks.”

Len shrugged off Farley’s objection. “Big Jim’s always been friendly to the Rangers. We’ve brought back stock of his that was run off by thieves.”

“
I’d be friendly too if they recovered my property.”

“You’ll be surprised how many
ain’t
friendly.” A smile spread across Len’s face. “Once you see Big Jim’s daughter Teresa, you’ll be glad we went there.”

Andy said, “You sayin’ she’s pretty?”

“
Wait till you see her eyes. Dark as coffee beans. They melt me plumb down into my boots.”

Farley said, “But she’s Mexican, ain’t she?”

“
One look at her and you won’t even think about that.”

“
Mexican is Mexican.”

CHAPTER FOUR

H
atton and his men had galloped more than a mile when Burt Hatton shouted for a stop and reined his horse around. “Let’s see about that damned kid.”

Jesse Wilkes held the wounded boy to prevent his falling from the saddle. “I’m afraid he ain’t goin’ to make it.”

Hatton listened for sound of pursuit but heard none. He dismounted and raised his arms. “Lift him down to me.” He lowered the groaning youngster to the ground. “I wish to hell you’d stayed home like you was told. Let’s have a look at you.”

He felt the warm stickiness of blood on his hands. He fished a match from his pocket and struck it for light. In the few seconds that it burned, he saw what he had feared. He heard a faint bubbling sound. “Of all the bad luck, they got him in the chest.”

Wilkes said, “I’m afraid he’s goin’ to die.”

Hatton made no comment.

The boy whimpered, “Where’s Aunt Thelma? Take me to Aunt Thelma.”

“
You’ll be all right,” Hatton said, knowing he lied. “We’ll carry you to a doctor.”

“
It hurts. Oh God, it hurts.”

Wilkes was always finding fault. He said, “It was a mistake to let the boy come along. Jericho told us not to.”

Hatton retorted, “We didn’t let him come. He done that on his own.”

The boy was a nephew of Jericho’s wife. Given the responsibility of raising him, she had spoiled him so that he took advice from nobody except her. He had begged to help Hatton and his crew drive the cattle to San Antonio. It should not have been a dangerous trip. It became so only when Hatton took a notion to bushwhack three strangers for their horses and gear. It had looked easy.

Whose damn-fool idea was it in the first place? Hatton asked himself, though he knew it had been his own. He had not intended for Jericho to know about it. Hatton and the others would not have had to split their booty with him.

The boy cried, complaining about the pain until his voice began to fade.

Fearfully Wilkes said, “He’s dyin’, Burt. Do somethin’.”

“
Damn it, shut up.”

In a few minutes the kid shuddered and was gone. Hatton shuddered too, and cursed under his breath. “Just my luck.”

Wilkes said, “Better it had been one of us. It’ll be hell to face Jericho. He’s been known to kill a man for bringin’ him bad news.” He looked at Hatton, making it plain he expected Hatton to be the one to carry the message. “You know how he dotes on that woman of his, and she dotes on this boy.”

Hatton frowned, considering his options. An idea took a little edge from his dark mood. “He don’t have to know how the shootin’ came about. We can tell him we got ambushed, and it wasn’t our fault.”

“
Jericho’ll see right through you. His eyes cut like a knife. Why would anybody pull an ambush on us?”

Hatton’s spirits lifted a bit more. “Jericho hates Lupe Chavez like he was strychnine. He’ll believe it if we tell him we ran into some Chavez bandits. We’ll tell him they didn’t give us a chance.”

“
You
tell him. I wouldn’t lie to him for a hundred dollars. What about the kid? We goin’ to take him all the way home?”

“
It’s too far, and the weather is too warm. Come daylight we’ll find a place to bury him. Jericho is goin’ to ask a lot of questions. Everybody remember: Chavez’s outfit ambushed us.”

Wilkes grumbled, “I still say he won’t believe it.”

Hatton’s voice was deep and dangerous. “You tell him different and I’ll kill you.”

Big Jim McCawley’s place was not fancy, but it was large. A long Mexican-style rock house dominated a gentle knoll. It was surrounded by smaller, flat-topped buildings, mostly adobe, some of pickets, scattered haphazardly down the slope. Off to one side lay corrals with fences of stacked stones or upright tree branches bound tightly together with rawhide thongs dried to the hardness of steel. Everything appeared to have been built from raw materials close at hand.

Andy and Len walked their horses so Farley could keep pace afoot. He chose to lag behind a little so he did not have to listen to Len’s long-running commentary on everything from the weather to the crowned heads of Europe, and now and then a detailed description of Teresa McCawley. Andy carried Farley’s saddle and roll. Len carried his bridle and blanket.

Len said, “He ought to be gettin’ in a little better humor now that he can see the ranch.”

Though Farley had ridden for long stretches while Andy and Len took turns walking, Farley had been grouchy as an old badger awakened from sleep. He seemed somehow to blame Andy and Len for the loss of his horse, though Andy knew that was illogical.

Once while Len was taking his turn at walking they came upon a long-horned cow with her calf. Not accustomed to seeing a man afoot, she took Len for a threat to her offspring, lowered her head, and charged. Len’s long legs carried her in a wide circle until she gave up and trotted away with her calf, wringing her tail in agitation.

Farley almost smiled.

Andy asked Len, “You sure McCawley will lend Farley a horse?”

“
Better than that, I’ll bet he’ll give him one. He’d take the shirt off of his back for somebody in need. He was a Ranger himself once, long before the war.”

Andy saw dust rising from behind a corral fence. As the breeze swung around from that direction he could hear men yelling encouragement. He saw a figure bobbing up and down, riding a pitching horse. He said, “Maybe Farley can have that one.”

Len said, “It’d give him somethin’ to cuss at besides us.” His grin showed that the thought pleased him. He pointed his thumb toward a corner of the corral. “I see Big Jim over yonder.”

A large man stood outside, watching the show from between the upright tree branches that constituted the fence. In size and stature he reminded Andy of Sheriff Tom Blessing. The rancher turned his head as the two riders approached. His big hand dropped quickly to a pistol on his hip, then eased away as he decided the visitors presented no threat.

Len raised his hand. “You know me, Mr. McCawley. Name’s Len Tanner. I’m a Ranger.”

McCawley’s eyes lighted up. A pleasant grin spread across a face ruddy and deeply lined, seasoned by many years of sunshine and hard weather. Gray hair in need of a trimming curled over his ears. “Sure, I remember you.” He shook Len’s hand, then shifted his attention to Andy.

Len said, “This is Andy Pickard. The tired-lookin’ bird draggin’ his feet back yonder, that’s Farley Brackett. Him and Andy are Rangers too.”

McCawley looked at Farley’s saddle, which Andy held in front of him. “A saddle by itself ain’t worth much. How come your man ain’t got a horse to go with it?”

Andy was content to let Len do the talking. Len explained that they had been set upon by outlaws. “There was one that called hisself Hatton. I’m pretty sure he was with a bunch of horse thieves that our scoutin’ party jumped a while back on the river.”

McCawley’s eyes went grim. “Hatton. Yes, I know him. He runs with Jericho Jackson’s coyote pack. I had him in my sights once, but my horse scotched and I missed.”

“
I heard somebody holler like he was hit, but I don’t know if it was Hatton.”

Andy rode up to the fence and looked over. The bronc had stopped pitching. It was circling the inside of the corral in a lope, its bay hide shining with sweat. A grinning Mexican cowboy held a hackamore rein high and tight. Three other cowboys stood inside the fence, watching, hollering for him to spur the bronc in the flanks. One was Mexican, two were white. Having heard so much about racial strife in the borderland, Andy was a little surprised at the camaraderie.

McCawley said, “That’s Pedro Esquivel in the saddle. He’s
puro jiñete,
a natural bronc rider.” He turned and saw Farley at last approaching the corral. “I suppose your man is hopin’ for a horse?”

Andy said, “Yes, sir, but not that one.”

McCawley smiled. “I’ve got several he can pick from. Nothin’s too good for a Ranger.”

Len said, “We’ll see that Farley either pays you or brings your horse back.”

“
No need. It’s a small thing against the debt I owe the Rangers. If the horse stayed here some thief would probably take it anyhow. We get hit by all kinds, Mexican and white.”

Andy knew instinctively that he was going to like this man. The more he looked at him, the more he was reminded of Tom Blessing, solid as an oak, comfortable as a well-worn pair of handmade boots.

Farley trudged up to the corral, shoulders drooped in weariness. Sweat rolled down his face. Len introduced him to the rancher and said, “Mr. McCawley’s goin’ to fix it so you don’t leave here afoot.”

Farley always seemed to have trouble expressing gratitude. “I’ll pay you when I can.”

“
I already told your friends that it’s a gift.”

Farley shook his head. “I’ll pay you. I don’t like leavin’ debts behind me.”

McCawley shrugged. “Whatever suits you.” He looked at the western sky. “It’ll be sundown directly. How about you-all comin’ up to the big house with me? We’ll have supper pretty soon.”