When Jeb and his men got back to the restaurant, the other Rangers had already returned, and were seated at a back corner table. One of them gestured for Jeb to join them.
“Rangers, over here,” he called. Followed by the others, Jeb crossed the room.
“Glad to see you boys are here,” the leader of the four men at the table said. “I’m Sergeant George Carey. The men with me are Eddy Cole, and Gavin and Caden Kaminski. Yes, those two are brothers.”
Carey was in his middle thirties, towheaded, with medium blue eyes. Eddy Cole and the Kaminski brothers were all in their early to mid-twenties.
Eddy had shaggy brown hair and green eyes. A Colt Navy conversion hung at his right hip. He was so slightly built the weight of the gun threatened to pull it over his hip and down to his ankles at any moment.
Gavin, the older of the Kaminski brothers, had brown hair and eyes. His brother Caden also had brown hair, but of a lighter shade, and blue eyes. Both of them also wore Navy conversions, but on their left hips; however, not set for the cross draw. Apparently, both were left handed.
“Lieutenant Jeb Rollins,” Jeb answered, then proceeded to introduce the rest of his patrol. “We all go by first names in this bunch.”
“So do we. And you’ve got a couple of brothers in your outfit, too,” George remarked.
“There was another pair in the company we just left… twins name of Tom and Tim Tomlinson,” Jeb answered. “Only one’s still with us, though. Tim got killed when a bunch of renegades ambushed our camp, a little more than a year back.”
“That’s a shame,” George said. “Part of the job, though. There were supposed to be two more men with me, Jake Hutton and Brad Carson. They got bushwhacked on their way up from Austin.” He shook his head. “Their killers got clean away, too.”
Eli and Sean dragged two tables next to the one Carey and his men were seated at, then the others got chairs and sat down. Once the waitress took their orders, Jeb and George talked about the task facing them.
“George, the town marshal’s settin’ up a meeting with the railroad detective for this section, at eight o’clock tomorrow mornin’,” Jeb said. “Have you met him yet?”
“Only briefly,” George answered. “He was comin’ in as we were ridin’ out to where the last train got held up. Seems like a smart enough cuss.”
“You find anythin’ out there?”
“Not much. We followed the gang’s horses’ hoof prints. Found a shot open strongbox from the express car, empty of course. The trail petered out about a mile after that. Since we had no idea which way to head, and we knew you fellers were due any day, I decided to come back to town. I figure there’s a better chance of findin’ that bunch now that there’s more of us tryin’ to hunt ’em down.”
“You think it’s just one outfit, or more?”
“Quien sabe?” George shrugged his shoulders. “My gut tells me it’s more’n one. The detective should be able to fill us in when we have our meetin’. You fellers want to have a few drinks after we’re done chowin’ down?”
“Dunno about the rest of my boys, but I’m gonna turn in. It was a long, hot, dusty ride from Bandera. Mebbe tomorrow night.”
Nate, Hoot, and the others also indicated they were ready for a good night’s sleep. The rest of the meal was spent getting to know each other. Like most of the Rangers, except for the sergeant, who had a wife and three kids back home in Austin, the others were all single. Once they were done eating, George and his men also decided to call it a night.
****
Once Hoot and Nate were in their room, Nate unbuckled his gunbelt, then hung it from the bedpost, along with his hat. He sat on the edge of the bed to pull off his boots.
“Nate, I’ve gotta ask you somethin’,” Hoot said. “You’ve been awful quiet, ever since we left Cap’n Quincy behind. Would you have preferred to stay with Cap’n Dave?”
“Uh-uh.” Nate shook his head. “I wish the company hadn’t been broken up, but it has, and there’s nothin’ to be done for it. Long as it has been, I’d rather stick with Jeb.”
“What about me? I didn’t hear my name.”
“You? Oh, yeah. You too.”
“You don’t sound like you mean that, Nate. Is my bein’ made a corporal really eatin’ at you that much?”
“Yeah. I mean, no. I mean, I dunno,” Nate said. “I don’t think it’s that. Not you’re bein’ a corporal, anyhow. You’ve earned that, and I’m happy for you. It’s just that, well, I guess I’m afraid we’ll be busted up, that’s all. I’m not ready for that yet.”
“Nate, you’re worryin’ about somethin’ that probably won’t ever happen,” Hoot tried to reassure him. “The odds are, if anythin’ busts us up, it’ll be an outlaw’s bullet or Indian’s arrow. And I ain’t gonna let that happen, if I can help it. We’re like Tim and Tom were, or Austin and Colin and those two boys we met tonight, Gavin and Caden…brothers. Mebbe not by blood, but by friendship. So quit thinkin’ like an idjit, ya idjit.”
“All right, Hoot.” Nate managed a wan smile. “Y’know, it is kinda funny to me, how many sets of brothers seem to be Rangers.”
“It ain’t all that funny,” Hoot answered. “Don’t forget, the War made a lot of orphans, and for a long time there wasn’t much work, not even cowboyin’. Joinin’ the Rangers was, and still is, a way for a man to get steady pay, even if it ain’t much, and three meals a day, even if they ain’t much either. So, a lot of men who are kin signed on with the outfit. Now, if you’re through askin’ questions, I’d kinda like to get some sleep.”
“All right,” Nate said. He finished undressing and slid under the sheets. Hoot did likewise, after turning down the lamp. Twenty minutes later, they were both sound asleep.
6
At seven the next morning, the Rangers were in the Ebony House’s restaurant for breakfast. As Colin Frahm, Carl Swan, and Eddy Cole piled their plates high with biscuits, the others watched in amazement.
“You boys ain’t really gonna eat all that, are you?” George asked. “Eddy, that’s a whole mess of biscuits, even for you.”
“I can’t say as to your boy, George,” Jeb said, “but mine can put away all those and then some.”
“That sounds like a challenge. Like you want to make a small wager on who can eat the most,” George said.
“Y’know, I hadn’t really thought of that, but now that you mention it, it’s a right fine idea,” Jeb answered. “What do the rest of you say?”
“I agree with you, Jeb,” Hoot answered. “We haven’t had a good bet on anythin’ since Dan Morton got killed. He’s the one who always organized our wagerin’ contests. I say let’s do it. My money’s on Colin.”
“You ain’t bettin’ on the husky feller?” Gavin asked, looking at Carl. “Seems to me he’s got the most room in his gut, for a whole bunch of biscuits. I’m puttin’ my money on him.”
“You’re on,” Hoot said. “Jeb, you’d better call the waitress over. We’re gonna need more biscuits.”
Jeb signaled to the waitress, who hurried over.
“You needed something, sir?” she asked.
“We do, Dinah,” he answered. “We’re goin’ to have a biscuit eatin’ contest, so we’ll need more. Just bring another platter over, and we’ll pass ’em around.”
“Of course,” Dinah answered, with a trace of doubt in her voice. After all, there were already enough biscuits on the Rangers’ table to feed an entire platoon of cavalry soldiers.
While they waited for Dinah to return with the extra biscuits, the Rangers engaged in a lively wagering session. The bets were fairly evenly split between Colin, Carl, and Eddy. Once the extra biscuits arrived, they were divided into three piles, and stacked in front of the trio.
“Are y’all ready?” Jeb asked. The three men nodded. “Then go!”
Colin, Eddy, and Carl began shoving biscuits in their mouths and swallowing them as fast as they could. Soon, they resembled chipmunks with their cheeks stuffed with acorns, chewin
g just long enough to moisten the biscuits so they could slide down their gullets. To almost everyone’s surprise, and the chagrin of the men who had bet on him, Carl was the first to drop out, shoving back from the table with a groan, having downed two dozen biscuits. Colin and Eddy kept on going, grabbing biscuits and downing them, one after another. Finally, after thirty-seven, Eddy gave up, and pushed away from his platter. Colin ate three more, for a total of forty, then raised his hands in victory.
“I warned you boys not to bet against my little brother,” Austin said. “He ain’t got a stomach…just a hole with no bottom.”
“I didn’t think anyone could ever eat that much,” Caden said, as he passed his losings to Austin. “My belly would’ve exploded if I ate that many biscuits.”
“Now that the contest’s over, the rest of us had better get at our breakfasts, so we can finish in time to meet that railroad detective at the marshal’s office,” Jeb said.
The Rangers took his advice, digging into platters of ham, eggs, bacon, and biscuits, washed down with plenty of hot black coffee. Even the three biscuit eaters managed to down a bit more food. Once their meal was finished and the bill paid, they left for Marshal Cavendish’s office.
***
When they arrived at the marshal’s office, Harry Smith, the railroad detective, was already waiting for them. Smith was a big, burly man, dressed in an ill-fitting black suit. He had dark brown hair and eyes, and a thick, drooping walrus mustache of the same hue covered his upper lip, and the corners of his mouth. A bulge under his left arm indicated he carried a revolver in a shoulder holster.
Introductions were made. Once everyone had cups of coffee and were seated, Smith and Jeb took charge of the meeting.
“Gentlemen,” Smith began. “I know I don’t have to tell you why we’ve asked for Ranger help. Train robbers have been hitting our railroad, all up and down the line. If they’re not stopped, they could bankrupt the Fort Worth, Abilene, and Denver.”
“Which could be the real reason behind these holdups,” Jeb noted. “Just mebbe these men are bein’ paid by someone who wants to see the FW A & D go under, so they can take over the line. If you’re really plannin’ on buildin’ through to Denver, there’s a lot of money at stake.”
“We’ve considered that possibility, especially since the Texas and Pacific’s been organized,” Smith answered. “However, from what we’ve been able to determine, there’s no motive, other than robbery.”
“Is it just one gang, or do you think there’s more than one outfit involved?” George asked.
“It seems to be more than one,” Smith answered. “Their methods are different. Sometimes they’ll hit a train where it’s strugglin’ up a grade. Other times, they’ll hit at a water stop. And sometimes, the thieves are actually ridin’ the train. They’ll force the engineer to stop, rob the passengers and express car. They’ll have partners waitin’ with horses, and as soon as they’re done stealin’ they get on those horses and flee. It’s even hard to predict which train they’ll hit. The attacks seem to come completely at random.”
“But it still could be just one gang,” Jeb said.
“It could,” Smith conceded.
“Has anyone gotten a good look at these outlaws?” Jeb asked.
“Only the ones who were ridin’ the trains,” Smith answered. “The rest were all masked. And the descriptions we do have aren’t much help. Tall, short, light haired, dark haired, blue eyed, brown eyed. Not a distinguishin’ mark in the bunch. They could be anybody. Heck, it’d be hard to pick out your Rangers from ’em.”
“So, what exactly are you expectin’ us to do?” Jeb asked.
“The FW A & D is requesting you put several Rangers on each train,” Smith answered. “We’d like some of them to pose as passengers, others as trainmen. With luck, when the robbers strike, at least some of you would be on the right train, and be able to stop ’em.”
“That sounds reasonable,” Jeb said. “With two caveats. Once, we’ll need a boxcar or cattle car attached to the trains for our horses, in case we need to chase those renegades.”
“That’s not a problem. Done,” Smith answered. “What else?”
“I don’t think any of my men have any experience at railroad work,” Jeb said. “How about yours, George?”
“Nope.” George shook his head. “Mine sure don’t.”
“That’s not a big problem either,” Smith answered. “You’ll mainly just have to look like railroaders. If anyone questions you, your answer will be you’re apprentices, just learnin’ the job. I did forget to mention, I’d like a Ranger in the locomotive. Whoever gets that job will be able to take on the fireman’s place. Stokin’ the firebox isn’t all that hard to learn. It’s just a lot of hard, hot, back-breakin’ work. So, what do you say, Lieutenant?”
“It’s as good a plan as any,” Jeb answered. “When’s the next train due?”
“Not for two days,” Smith answered.
“Good. That’ll give us some time to get our plans organized, and figure out who’s gonna do what,” Jeb answered. “Unless you’ve got anythin’ else to add, Harry, or you, Trey, I’d like to get started on that right now.”
“That’ll be fine,” Smith answered. “Me’n the marshal will just sit in on the rest of this meetin’, to answer any questions you might have, or offer any suggestions we think might help.”
“Good.”
For the next two hours, Jeb and George, with the others occasionally offering suggestions, began to put together a plan that would, hopefully, halt the outlaws attacking and robbing the Fort Worth, Abilene, and Denver Railroad. From what Smith had said, the train robbers were becoming more brazen with each holdup. It was only a matter of time before someone was killed.
****
After the meeting was over, Jeb, who was now in charge of the entire company, gave the men the rest of the day off, while he, George, and Smith continued discussing strategy, hoping to come up with the fastest way to stop the train robbers.
“What d’ya want to do now, Nate?” Hoot asked, as they stood in front of the marshal’s office. He rolled and lit a quirly.
“I figure on goin’ over to the general store, and pickin’ out some new clothes,” Nate answered. “I’ve kinda outgrown the ones I’m wearin’. They’re pretty worn out, too.”
Nate had undergone a growth spurt over the past three weeks. He was now over two inches taller, pushing 5 feet, 10 inches tall. His voice had also reached maturity. It had stopped cracking, and deepened.
“Yeah, you have been lookin’ a bit like a scarecrow, with your arms and legs stickin’ outta your duds like that,” Hoot said, laughing. “If you were a female, the marshal probably would’ve ordered you to cover your legs, or run you off the street. Let’s go get you that outfit before he does. Besides, you’ve got downright ugly ankles, pard. Even if they are covered by your boots.”
They crossed the street to the Abilene Mercantile. A pretty young blonde, blue-eyed woman was behind the counter. She smiled when they came in.
“Good mornin’, boys,” she said. “My name is Nancy. How may I help you?”
“I only need some Bull Durham and cigarette papers, but my pardner, here, needs some new pants and shirts,” Hoot answered.
“I can certainly help you with that,” Nancy answered. “The denims and men’s shirts are on the counter along the left wall. There’s a room behind that curtain where you can try on whatever you pick out. While you do that, I’ll get your friend his tobacco.”
“All right, and thank you,” Nate answered. He wandered over to the counter, where he chose two pairs of denims, a red checked shirt, and a solid blue one. He took those into the fitting room. A few minutes later, he emerged, wearing one of the new pairs of pants and the red checked shirt. Now, talking with Hoot, along with Nancy, was a man about three years older than she.
“How do these look?” he asked.
“They look fine,” Nancy said. “They fit much better, too.”
&n
bsp; “They’ll make you look as good as anythin’ can, ya ugly galoot,” Hoot added.
“Then I’ll take them,” Nate answered. “I’ll wear these, and take the others along. Do you have anyplace I can toss out my old ones?”
“Just give ’em to me. I’ll get rid of ’em for you,” the man offered.
“Much obliged.” Nate handed his old shirt and denims to the man, who put them in a trash can behind the counter.
“Do you want the others wrapped?” Nancy asked.
“No, I’ll just carry them,” Nate answered.
“All right, then. For two shirts and two pairs of pants, your total is $7.22,” Nancy said.
“Boy howdy, things just keep gettin’ more’n more expensive,” Nate said. He dug in his pocket, and came up with the exact change.
“Thank you,” Nancy said, as she took the cash. “If you need anything else while you’re in Abilene, make sure and stop back.”
“We will,” Nate assured her. “Good-bye for now.”
“Good-bye.”
Nate and Hoot stopped on the sidewalk in front of the store, where Hoot rolled another cigarette.
“I’ve gotta say, you sure surprised me, Hoot,” Nate said.
“How’s that?” Hoot said.
“I thought for certain, while I was tryin’ on my new duds, you’d have talked that pretty girl into goin’ out for supper with you, or somethin’.”
“I was gonna do just that, until that hombre with her came out from the stock room. Turns out he’s her husband. They own the store.”
“Really? Well, that’s too bad. I could see where that might be a problem.”
“You just said a mouthful, pard. Speakin’ of mouthfuls, my belly’s rumblin’. It’s gettin’ nigh onto noon. What say we try’n round up some of the other fellers, and head back to the hotel for dinner?”
“Now you’re talkin’, Hoot. Let’s go.”
***
Harry Smith made the mistake of letting Jeb and the Rangers know that the westbound train coming in from Fort Worth would have quite a number of passengers who were emigrating to Texas from back East, to start farms or ranches in the Texas Panhandle. Once they heard that news, Hoot gave Nate a glance, wink, and a slightly evil grin. Nate just gave him a puzzled look in return. As soon as they got outside, Hoot pulled Nate into an alley.
A Ranger Redeemed (Lone Star Ranger Book 7) Page 6
