[Texas Rangers 03] - The Way of the Coyote (13 page)

Blessing cautioned, "The Oldhams might guess where he went."

Tanner's face twisted ominously. "It'd be their own fault if they did. Was Clyde and Buddy-Boy to go up there, they might not come back. Them Monahans get real serious when they're provoked."

Blessing said, "Rusty would have the benefit of Preacher Webb's doctorin'."

Andy remembered, "It's a long ways. It'll take several days in a wagon."

Rusty said in a weak voice, "I can make it."

Tanner declared, "Sure you can. Damned if we'll let the likes of Clyde and Buddy-Boy do you in."

Rusty reached up to touch Andy's arm. "Len knows the way. He can take me. I wish you and Shanty would stay and watch out for the place."

Andy felt a rush of disappointment at not going. "Whatever you want."

"Fowler Gaskin will carry off everything but the dirt if somebody's not there."

Andy's disappointment was quickly overcome by the realization that he was being trusted with heavy responsibility. "We'll take care of things, me and Shanty." He looked to Shanty for support.

Tanner asked, "You sure Andy's man enough?"

Rusty grunted. "He's almost grown."

Andy thought if he were still with the Comanches he would be taking scalps by now. He would start with the Oldhams'. He decided not to say so because it might be taken for immature blustering.

Mrs. Blessing said, "I'll be fixin' us some breakfast. Andy, there's ham in the smokehouse. Fetch a shoulder in here for Rusty and Len, would you? I'll put some salt and flour and coffee together."

Like most settlers along the river, Tom Blessing let hogs range free. Butchering was done on cold winter days and the meat slow-smoked in a small log structure behind the cabin. It took a minute for Andy's eyes to adjust to the darkness. He found the mixed smells of pork and charred wood pungent but not unpleasant. He chose a cloth-wrapped shoulder and lifted it from its hook.

Returning to the cabin, he found Rusty on his feet but supported by both Tanner and Blessing. Rusty said, "I believe I can sit up if you'll put me on the wagon seat."

Tanner said, "And go to bleedin' again? You'll lay down on them blankets and not give us no argument. I don't aim to dig a grave for you all by myself."

After a hasty breakfast the two men got Rusty safely situated in the wagon bed. Rusty looked with concern at Andy and Shanty. "The Oldhams may talk pretty rough. Shanty, you'll see that Andy keeps a cork on his temper, won't you?"

Shanty said, "We'll do just fine, Mr. Rusty. Don't you worry yourself about us."

Andy said, "I'm sorry, Rusty. I'd give anything not to've brought this trouble on you."

"Don't you be feelin' guilty. With the Oldhams, if it hadn't been this it would've been somethin' else. You just step careful and don't fall into any trouble."

Andy watched the wagon move away in the first pale light of morning, Len's horse tied on behind. He did not want anybody to see him choke up, so he took a broom from the dog run and began to brush out the tracks.

Blessing watched him quizzically. "You aim to sweep all the way to the Monahans'?"

Andy recognized the futility of what he was doing. "I can brush out the trail for a little ways, at least. I don't want anything to be easy for the Oldhams."

Blessing pointed to clouds building in the east. They would hide the sunrise. Andy saw a few faint flashes of lightning, so far away that he did not hear the thunder. Blessing said, "Looks like we may get some rain after a while. If we do, it should take care of the tracks. You-all like a little more coffee before you start home?"

Shanty shook his head. "We need to hurry and get there before the Oldhams do. Me and Andy got to figure out a lie to tell them."

Andy said ruefully, "It was a lie that started all this."

* * *

They had not been home long before Clyde and Buddy Oldham appeared with several men on horseback. Andy recognized none of them except Fowler Gaskin and his nephew, Euclid Summerville. Fowler had long and loudly proclaimed his allegiance to the Confederacy, though he had been quick to take the oath of loyalty to the Union once it was clear the rebel cause was lost and there might be advantages to reconciliation. Now he rode beside the state police, symbol of the occupation. It stood to reason that he would join the search for Rusty, given the long enmity between them.

Only the Oldhams wore badges, but the others all bore a gravely officious look that told Andy they had a high regard for their authority.

Clyde leaned forward in the saddle, his face as stormy as the clouds that rose behind him. "All right, where's he at?"

Andy and Shanty glanced at one another. "Who?"

"You know damned well who I mean. Rusty Shannon."

Andy said, "Couldn't you find him with all this bunch to help you?"

"Buddy hit him last night. He couldn't have got far without help."

"We ain't seen him." Andy found that the lie spilled out easily. In the Comanche culture the coyote was regarded as a trickster, always trying to lead humans astray. The People looked upon it with a mixture of dismay and admiration. Playing the role of the coyote gave Andy a wicked satisfaction.

Clyde said, "I figure you're hidin' him. We're goin' to look around."

Andy shifted his gaze to Gaskin. "Just don't carry away anything that don't belong to you."

Clyde gestured. "Search the place, men. Don't overlook nothin'."

Some went into the cabin. Andy was glad he had thought to burn the bloody pieces of cloth that would have been a giveaway. Others went to the barn and shed. Gaskin and Summerville headed straight to the smokehouse. Gaskin came out carrying a ham.

Andy said, "Just because you're runnin' with the scalawag state police don't mean you got a right to steal."

Buddy Oldham said, "Keep it, Gaskin. When we get through with Shannon, he ain't goin' to care about one little old ham. He ain't goin' to care about
nothin'
."

Emboldened, Summerville went into the smokehouse and fetched another.

Shortly the men gathered in front of the cabin, empty-handed except for Gaskin's hams. Clyde's temper had not cooled. "Seems to me like I saw a wagon under that shed yesterday. I don't see it there now."

"You don't?" Trying to appear innocent, Andy looked again at Fowler Laskin. "There's thieves everywhere."

One of the riders pointed out, "I see fresh wagon tracks leadin' off yonderway."

Buddy's voice crackled. "I wounded him. He couldn't have rode far on his horse. One of you—maybe both of you—hauled him someplace. Tell us where you took him."

Neither Andy nor Shanty spoke. Buddy lifted a quirt from his saddlehorn. He rode forward, lashing Shanty first. Andy saw the next strike was coming at him and tried to shield his face. The quirt stung like fire across his cheek and down his shoulder. He looked up, burning with anger but determined to take the next strike like a warrior, without flinching.

Summerfield shouted, "Hit him again. And that nigger, too."

One of the policemen rebuked Buddy. "Headquarters ain't goin' to take it kindly, you quirtin' a darkey. You'll have the Freedmen's Bureau down on us."

"Mind your own business. I'm tryin' to make them talk."

"They ain't goin' to. Look at the fire in that kid's eyes. Right now he's purdee Comanche. He'd cut your gizzard out and feed it to you."

Clyde Oldham said reluctantly, "Back off, Buddy."

The policeman said, "Oldham, looks to me like we ought to be huntin' Farley Brackett instead of wastin' so much time on Shannon. The worst he did was let Brackett have a horse to get away on."

Andy declared, "He didn't even do that, and Oldham knows it. He's tryin' to get even for somethin' that happened back in the war."

Buddy raised the quirt as if to strike Andy again.

The policeman caught Buddy's arm. "Been enough whippin' done. We're fixin' to get caught in a frog-stranglin' rain. I'm for goin' back to town."

The others seemed to agree. Clyde trembled with rage. "You-all quittin' on us? Then me and Buddy'll keep lookin' by ourselves."

"If you keep on lookin', it'll be by yourselves."

Clyde cursed them to no avail. All turned and started riding away except Fowler Gaskin and his nephew. Gaskin advised Clyde, "Between Rusty Shannon and the Comanches, they've plumb ruined that boy. You ought to take that quirt and make a Christian out of him."

Andy said sarcastically, "You're a great one for usin' a whip on people. And burnin' cabins, too."

Gaskin said, "We ought to burn this one. Teach them all a lesson."

Summerfield offered, "I'll do it, Uncle Fowler."

Clyde said, "Forget it. I got plans for this place. I'll need that house."

The four were so intent on Andy that they did not notice Shanty ease into the cabin. He came out with a rifle and a look of determination. "You-all are about done here, ain't you?"

Gaskin's voice went shrill. "Aim that thing somewheres else. Damned fool nigger, you're liable to touch it off and kill somebody."

Shanty agreed. "Sure might."

Gaskin began backing his horse away. Shanty swung the muzzle toward Clyde and Buddy.

Fear leaped into Clyde's eyes before he could check it. He said, "We ain't goin' to get nothin' out of these two. Let's see if we can follow them wagon tracks."

Shortly after they turned away, the rain began. It started with large drops, widely scattered, then became a drenching downpour. Andy and Shanty stood in the dog run, beneath the roof. Wind carried a cool spray into their faces. It eased the burning where Buddy's quirt had stung Andy's cheek.

Shanty looked closely at Andy's face. "That quirt marked you pretty good."

"It'll pass."

Shanty said, "With this rain, they ain't goin' to follow no tracks for long."

"Maybe they'll all drown."

Rusty and Tanner were probably caught in the same heavy rain, Andy thought. At least they had slickers and a tarp. The Oldhams, Gaskin, and Summerville didn't. Maybe they
would
drown.

He grinned. His cheek no longer burned so badly.

But Shanty spoiled his good feeling. He said, "It ain't done yet. Looks like them Oldhams ain't goin' to rest 'til they ruin Mr. Rusty, or kill him."

A
ndy was chopping a seasoned live-oak limb for firewood while Shanty took the shade on the dog run after a day's work in the field. Andy said, "That feller hidin' down by the river is gettin' careless. I've seen him twice."

Someone had been camped in the timber for the last three days, watching the cabin. Andy knew it was probably an Oldham or some other state policeman assigned to the duty. He said, "Maybe I ought to go and invite him up for supper."

Shanty smiled but dismissed the idea. "That'd just make the Oldhams madder than they already are. They don't think we know anybody's down there."

"They're liable to take root and grow if they're waitin' for Rusty to show up."

Andy returned to his wood cutting. It struck him that in a Comanche camp, gathering wood was woman's work. But there was no woman here, and he had seen little sign that Rusty was looking for one. He remembered that the Monahan daughter named Josie had taken a shine to him. Maybe she would have time and opportunity to work on him now while he was hurt and helpless.

He had not gotten a good look at Jeremiah Brackett the night a group of riders visited Shanty's place, so he did not recognize him when the man came riding up on a long-legged sorrel horse. A wagon followed. Andy was intrigued to see that a girl was driving it.

At least they were not state police. He walked out to meet them, the dog Rough trotting ahead of him, barking. Shanty remained beneath the dog run, mending harness.

"Howdy," Andy said to the rider. "Light and hitch." It was a greeting he had often heard Rusty address to visitors.

He judged the horseman to be well into his late fifties, maybe even his sixties, roughly the same as Tom Blessing. Except for a stiff military bearing he had the look of a hardworking farmer, not a man from town.

The visitor said, "I'm Jeremiah Brackett." He gave Andy's braids a moment's quiet attention. "You'd be the young man my son told me about."

"Andy Pickard. I suppose your son is Farley Brackett."

"He is. It seems the Brackett family owes you-all a horse. We always pay our debts. I brought this one in exchange for the one Farley took from you.

Andy walked around the sorrel, giving it a close inspection. "He's a sight better-lookin' than the roan your son took. You're gettin' the short end of the trade."

"Farley said that horse almost got him caught by the state police. He would have shot him, but that would have left him afoot."

The wagon stopped. Brackett unsaddled the sorrel and threw his saddle behind the seat. He said, "This young lady is my daughter Bethel."

Andy stared at the girl, trying to remember the rules of behavior Rusty and Shanty had lectured him about. He removed his hat. He struggled for the proper words. "Damned pleased to meet you, ma'am." His face warmed. He knew he had made a mess of it.

He had not seen a lot of girls to compare her by. He thought she might be the prettiest he had ever looked upon, though his notion of what constituted
pretty
tended to change with each new one he saw. He tried to remember if he might have encountered her in town. It seemed to him that if he had, he wouldn't have forgotten.

She said, "Your name would be Andy, I suppose. I've heard about you."

He wondered what she had heard. Probably not good if she had heard it in town. He said, "Don't believe them. There's an awful lot of liars in this country."

"It wasn't
all
bad. We appreciate what you did for my brother."

Shanty came out from the dog run. Andy nodded in his direction. "It was Shanty's doin' as much as mine."

Brackett grunted. "I'll pay him for it. I don't want to stay beholden to a darkey." He reached in his pocket and withdrew a silver coin. He handed it to Shanty. "Here. This is yours."