Forty-Four Caliber Justice

by Donald L. Robertson

  Clay turned, untied the horses, and led them past the general store to the livery stable. He stopped at the trough outside the stable and let the horses drink. An elderly man sat in a chair, leaning back against the front of the stable, his hat pulled down over his eyes. With his left index finger and thumb, the man grasped the corner of his hat brim and slid it to the back of his head. “They look a mite thirsty,” he said.

  “Been a while since they had a drink. I’d like to stable ’em for a few days and make sure they’re fed good, including oats.”

  “I can do that. The oats’ll cost you a little more. You the feller what brought in Pinder and Reese?”

  “How much you charge?”

  “You got two horses. Stable, water, feed, oats—you want ’em let out into the corral for a while every day?”

  “Yep, that sounds good.”

  “I figger that’ll run you forty cents a day. I’ll take good care of ’em.”

  Clay thought for a second. That was a really good deal the old man was giving him. Pa always said if you paid a man a little more than he asked, you could usually count on good service. “Tell you what I’ll do, I could be needing either one or both anytime, could be late at night. Make it fifty cents a day and you’ve got a deal.”

  The old man pushed up out of the chair, walked over to Clay, and took the horses’ reins. He favored his right leg. “You drive a hard bargain, young feller, but I reckon I can handle that. When your horses stop drinking, They’ll get a good rubdown and I’ll toss ’em some feed and a few oats.”

  “Mister, I usually rub down my own horses.”

  “Son, you just leave it to me. They’ll like me faster if I’m the one doing the rubbing. If you want, I’ll put yore gear in the office, and you can pick up what you need later.”

  “Thanks,” Clay said. “Reckon I could use some food.”

  “Well, go on. People call me Rud. If you don’t see me, just give a yell, and I’ll come hoppin’.”

  “I’m Clay. Thanks again.” Clay turned and headed back up the street to the eatery. He surveyed San Felipe as he walked. There wasn’t much going on here. It made Brackett look like a thriving city, although someone had put in a bank. Other than the bank, there was the Mexican cantina, the stables, and the general store next to the stables. The bank, saloon, and eatery were across the street from the store. Just on the other side of the general store was the marshal’s office and a ladies’ clothing store. Houses were located north of the commercial buildings.

  He reached the eatery and walked in. Major Jones and Jake were seated facing the door, drinking coffee. “Come on over and sit,” Jake said. “You’ve had a busy day. Major, we better get some food out here. I could hear Clay’s stomach from down at the stables.”

  Clay grinned and took a seat at the table and ordered lunch.

  “So how’s your neck feeling?” Jake said.

  “How’d you hear about that?”

  “Word gets around.”

  “Fine. It gets better every day.”

  The food came out. Clay had a big plate of fried chicken with pinto beans and fresh sliced tomatoes. When he was walking up, he had seen the big garden at the side of the restaurant.

  Silence surrounded the men as they ate. Clay finished and leaned back in his chair. This felt good. A good meal and good men. These were men with the bark on. They held the door for women and took no guff off other men.

  “I’ll tell you, Jake,” Clay said, “I know now what you meant when you said I needed to get some experience under my belt. I searched Hayes, and missed that knife. I never even thought of the possibility of there being one down his back.”

  “Many a man woulda missed it,” Jake said. He pulled out his plug and took a bite off it, offering it to the major, who turned him down. “But I’ll just bet anyone around, you won’t make that mistake again.”

  “No, I don’t reckon I will.”

  “Clay, what are your plans?” the major asked.

  “Well, sir, I’ve still got four more killers to catch up with. I aim to do it. I don’t care how long it takes.”

  The major persisted, “I understand. But after you catch these men, what are your plans?”

  “Major, I don’t rightly know. I still have Pa’s ranch. I’ve met a really nice girl in Brackett. I’m contemplating settling down and ranching the land I grew up on.” Clay turned the question back on Major Jones. “Why do you ask?”

  “You ever thought of joining the Rangers?”

  Clay looked at Jake for a moment, then gazed out the window at the dusty San Felipe street. He turned back to Major Jones. “No, sir, I really haven’t. First place, there are no Rangers to join. Second, I don’t see myself as Ranger material. I’m still mighty young, for something like that.”

  “Stop and think, Clay,” Major Jones said. “You captured Hayes when he was trying to escape from the army.”

  Clay started to respond, and Major Jones held up his hand.

  “I know he got away, but anyone could have made that mistake. You survived a knife in the neck. Darn few men could have done that. You spotted an ambush. Most any other man would be lying out on the prairie with a bullet through him. You didn’t try to slip away, but you attacked. You captured both men.”

  Major Jones took a sip of his coffee and continued. “Son, that’s Ranger material. You may be young, but you’re already seasoned, and you’ll continue to learn. You’re still after the rest of Pinder’s gang. You might get killed, but that’s not stopping you. Also, we heard about what happened in Brackett, with those three toughs jumping you and then the marshal’s son bracing you the next day. We also heard how that turned out. I dare say, you could’ve killed him, but you didn’t. That’s what I want as a Ranger, a man who thinks.

  “Now, as far as there not being any Rangers right now, you’re right. But I’m on a recruiting circuit. I found Jake and I need his help. Fortunately, there was another scout, a good man, here in San Felipe who could take over Jake’s job. So Jake will be riding with me as we recruit men to fill the Frontier Battalion of the Texas Rangers.

  “This is an important election year. Richard Coke is going to be elected, and that will be the end of this miserable, carpet-bagging government we’ve had for the past ten years. One of the first things that Governor Coke will do is reinstate the Rangers. Our state has suffered much from the Indians since the war began and since we’ve had the miserable state police. We will now put down the Indian problem for good and deal, as need be, with the bandit problem that exists in Texas.”

  Major Jones took another sip of his coffee. “I’ve said a lot here, Clay, so that you understand the important role the Rangers will play in cleaning up our state. I’d like you to be a part of it.” With that, Major Jones leaned back in his chair and finished off his coffee.

  Clay thought for a moment before he responded. This is a real honor. But what about Lynn? How would she feel about this? I’d be gone a lot.

  “Major Jones, joining the Rangers is a big commitment. I’m only seventeen. I still have the Pinder Gang to catch. I’ve got a girl to think about. I’m sorry, but right now, I can’t accept your offer. I thank you for it. But, I can’t accept.”

  Major Jones nodded. “I understand. You’ve got a mighty full plate. But I want you to know that this offer will stand. I don’t know exactly what the date will be that the Rangers will be commissioned, but it will happen. If you decide to join us, come see me.”

  The three men were about to leave when the door opened and in walked the marshal.

  Major Jones nodded to him and said, “Afternoon, Marshal Taylor, do you have something for Mr. Barlow?”

  “Afternoon, Major, matter of fact, I do. I spoke with the mayor and he authorized me to pay Mr. Barlow for the two horses and gear belonging to Pinder and Reese. You’ve got to understand that we’re a small town, and we don’t have the finances of Uvalde, San Antonio, or Austin.”

  The major nodded.

  “Reckon, count
ing the horses, tack, and weapons, the mayor said we can pay Mr. Barlow one hundred and fifty dollars.”

  The major shook his head in disgust. “Why, man, one good horse is worth that, and those outlaws had excellent horse flesh.” He turned to Clay. “Are you satisfied with that paltry amount?”

  Clay hadn’t expected anything. He was pleased with the windfall, but he didn’t show it. “I guess that’ll have to do, Major.”

  The marshal handed the envelope to Clay, tipped his hat, and started to leave.

  “Marshal,” Major Jones called, “how much is the reward on Reese?”

  The marshal had reached the door. “The reward’s one hundred dollars, Major. We should have it tomorrow.”

  “Then I expect that you’ll get it to Mr. Barlow as soon as you receive authorization. Am I correct?”

  “Reckon I will.”

  “Good. Marshal, we’ll be leaving today. But I would consider it a favor if you would see that Mr. Barlow is given every assistance possible in the apprehension of the Pinder Gang.”

  “It’ll be my pleasure, Major.”

  But it was clear the idea of helping Clay was anything but a pleasure for Marshal Taylor.

  “Thank you for that. Have a good day.”

  Marshal Taylor turned and retreated as quickly as possible.

  After the marshal was gone, Jake laughed. “Major, you sure lit a fire under that hombre’s blanket. I figger he planned on selling those horses and gear, and also collecting the reward on Reese, if he didn’t plan on letting him go.”

  “I’m sure you’re right, Jake.

  “Clay, I’d like to stay, but Jake and I have a lot of miles to cover over these next few months. You’re going to be on your own here, so be careful. Think before you act, but then act swiftly and decisively. I have faith in you, and I look forward to seeing you next year.”

  Once outside, the three men turned right past the saloon and headed for the stables.

  “Clay,” Jake said, “I wish I could stay and help you. But we’ve got a lot of riding to do. You watch yourself. Gideon Pinder’s the leader, but Quint is a sneaky son of a gun. You wanna keep yore eye on him. I don’t need to tell you about Birch Hayes. He’s slick, and he’s as fast with a gun as he is with a knife. You’re after a dangerous bunch. You just keep a keen eye peeled.”

  They had just about reached the stables. The old man was back in his chair in front of the building.

  Jake nodded at the man in the chair. “You can trust that old man. His name is Rud Campbell. Before he got that leg shot up, he and I did some Rangerin’ together. Not many people around here know that. But he is one tough old codger, and he can shoot the eyes out of a gnat at fifty paces. You need help, you ask him.”

  The old man slid his hat back and appraised the three men. “Howdy, Jake, Major. I reckon you’ll be wanting your horses and gear. Looks like you’ve got some ridin’ in mind.”

  Jake worked up a spit and hit the lizard sitting next to the stable door. The lizard shook his head and dashed back inside the barn.

  “Don’t ya torment my lizard, Jake,” the old man said. “He’s about the only thing I can trust in this town.”

  “Rud,” Jake said, “I want ya to take good care of Clay. He’s a friend.”

  Rud perked up. “Well, I reckon any friend of yours and Major Jones is a friend of mine. Let me git yore gear.”

  The men saddled their horses and slung their gear to the saddles. They led the horses outside and mounted up. Everything having been said, they turned the horses north and rode out of town.

  “Son, reckon you’ll be looking for a place to stay. If you want to sleep in the hay in the back of the barn, you’re welcome. There’s a hotel up past the saloon. But it’s noisy, and I don’t trust the owner. If you don’t mind eating Mex food, which I happen to like, there’s Maria’s boarding house, down past the cantina.”

  “I like Mexican food.”

  “Good, then Maria’s is the place for you. Maria Lopez owns it. She’s got clean, safe rooms. You can leave your things in your room, and they’ll be there when you get back. That’s more than I can say for the hotel, and the food is great. You’ll get plenty of tortillas, but ain’t nothing wrong with that.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Campbell.”

  “Ain’t no Mr. Campbell around here. Just call me Rud. Now, if you want, you can leave whatever things you want here, and I’ll lock ’em up in the office. They’ll be safe there. I sleep in the back of the office with a loaded shotgun.”

  “Reckon I’ll just take my Roper and saddlebags. That’s all I’ll need for now. See you later.”

  The sun was drawing low in the west when Clay walked out of the barn toward Maria’s boarding house. Jake had left. Alone again. His thoughts turned to Lynn, back in Brackett.

  I wonder if she’s even thinking of me? I like the idea of being a Ranger, but how will she feel? How would any woman feel about her man being gone so much? Will I be successful with the Pinder Gang? I wonder if they’ve heard about Harly?

  Clay’s mind ran on as he walked across the dusty street of San Felipe, his long shadow copying each step he made. Tonight, a good rest. Tomorrow, I’ll continue my search for the Pinders.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The small room was still dark when Clay opened his eyes. He lay still. His senses, keen for the new area, went to work. He could hear pans rattling in the kitchen. He was in bed at Maria’s.

  He swung his long legs out of the bed and slid the Smith & Wesson back into its holster. He had slept well. Maybe too well, his pa might say. Would I have awakened if someone had tried to slip into the room? There are no horses to warn me. Caution. That’s how I stay alive.

  Clay slipped his trousers and socks on. His boots were next, and then his gunbelt. He double-checked that the hammer thong was removed from the hammer, and drew three times. I’ve got to find time to practice with that left-handed holster.

  He poured water from the pitcher into the wash basin, then paused and checked the window, making sure the curtain was closed. Clay fished a match from his vest hanging over the chair back and lit the kerosene lamp. He pulled a straight razor from his saddlebags and stropped it a few times on his crossdraw holster. He needed a shave. It had been a couple of days, and the black stubble irritated him. Pa was always clean-shaven. He aimed to be like his pa.

  When he was finished, he put the razor back in his bags and pulled out a clean shirt. It was red-and-black checkered. He’d gotten it, with a few other clothes, at the Brackett General Store. His thoughts turned back to the tinkling bell and Lynn. Wonder what she’s doing now? Still asleep? Maybe she’s up, getting ready for the day.

  He pushed her from his mind, put his vest on over the shirt, wet his hair from the basin, and combed it back with his fingers. He picked up his hat, brushed it off, curled the brim, and positioned it on his head.

  Enticing smells came from the kitchen. He headed to the dining room. Maria’s boarding house was a rambling adobe. She had at least five bedrooms, kitchen, and a combination dining and sitting room. A huge table was covered with food. A veranda ran the front of the house, with several rocking chairs inviting her guests.

  Maria walked in from the kitchen as Clay came into the dining room. “Buenos Dias, Señor. I trust you bring a big hunger with you this morning.”

  “Yes, ma’am. You’ll never find me without that.”

  Maria looked him up and down. “Si. I think it would take much food to fill that handsome body.”

  Clay blushed. He’d never had a woman be so frank with him. He didn’t know what to say, so he grinned at her, pulled out a chair, and sat down.

  “Señor, if I was twenty years younger, I would make sure you would be looking at me and not the food.” She laughed. “But I am old now, and the young hombres no longer look at me. Although, they do love my food. Now, you eat.”

  Clay picked up the egg platter and shoved five eggs onto his plate, grabbed some tortillas, and then some beans. He picked up t
he big bowl of salsa fresca and ladled the salsa over his beans and eggs.

  Maria came back into the room as two Mexicans entered. They talked for a moment, and the two men sat across from Clay. “Coffee, Señor?” Maria asked.

  “No, thanks, Maria. If you’ve got some water back there, I’d go for that.”

  “Ahh, no coffee? The señor doesn’t want to stunt his growth.” She followed the statement with a big belly laugh at her own joke and poured coffee for the two other men.

  Clay grinned and stuffed more egg in his mouth. The two Mexicans chuckled and watched appreciatively as Maria’s ample body swished back into the kitchen.

  “You’re not from around here, Señor,” the bigger of the two men said.

  “No,” Clay said. “You?”

  “Close,” the man said. “We work for a ranchero a few miles on the other side of the Rio Bravo. Some days, when we are off, we come to San Felipe to enjoy Maria’s cooking, and perhaps to have a leetle fun in the cantina. We go back today.”

  The smaller man looked up from his breakfast and said in a sharp tone, “How is it that you are staying at Maria’s and not at the gringo hotel?”

  Clay took a closer look at the two men. They both carried big, black, round sombreros that they hung from the back of their chairs. The bigger man was clean-shaven. He had the typical build of the range rider, narrow hips and wide shoulders. He was almost as tall as Clay, but heavier in the shoulders and arms, especially the forearms and wrists. The smaller man was completely different. His movements were quick. His mustache was thick above his lips. At each end it turned and grew down almost to his chin. He was a wiry man, and pushy.

  “It was recommended to me,” Clay said, ignoring the gringo comment. He continued to eat, not continuing the conversation. He had eaten a few more bites of the delicious eggs and tortillas when the smaller man spoke up again.

  The man pointed his fork at Clay to emphasize his words. “You didn’t answer the second part of my question, Gringo.”

  Maria came into the dining room as the smaller man finished his statement. “Juan, do not be rude to my guests!” Then they proceeded to argue in Spanish, words flying back and forth like daggers. “Señor, please forgive my rude friend. He did not learn well from his parents.”