JL Tate, Texas Ranger

by Lou Bradshaw

  It was an identification card with a familiar emblem on it. I backed up and read the card….it read:

  Robert Lynn…. Field Agent…. Pinkerton Detective Agency

  “You’re a Pink?” I nearly choked, and I almost laughed thinking of the way he had fooled us, but we had fooled him too.

  He just smiled and shrugged. I eased the hammer back down, and pulled my star from my left front pocket and said, “Seems there ain’t nobody that’s what a fella might think they are.”

  “You here for the gold, Clayton, or Blaze?”

  “None of them, but maybe I can earn some points with the home office… No, the only one on my list is Drummond. There’s a Houston banker paying us to find him, jail him, or shoot him. And he doesn’t care which.”

  “If I come out of this walkin’ or even just breatin’, I’ll make sure Pinkerton gets credit for Drummond… but you got to earn it” I told him.

  “I always earn my pay.”

  “All right then.” I said, “When I open the dance, you hustle out there, and get that gal untied. Then head for your horse… mine’s standin’ there next to him. Throw her on it and ride for that big pile of rocks to the south. If you see someone with a bunch of mules, make sure he sees her. Then ride like hell for that rock pile… she’ll know where to go.”

  That’s twice, I hadn’t recognized his horse. I kinda put a horse and a rider together. And every time I’d seen that horse the saddle was empty or carrying a load of sticks… but never with him sitting on it.

  He nodded his understanding and pulled out a hunting knife. I pulled out my Bowie and handed it to him. “That’ll cut through anything they got her tied with.

  Testing the edge, he smiled and nodded. Then he moved to the left about twenty feet to get right close to the western edge of the cliff face. My plan was not much of a plan, actually what it consisted of was to shoot whichever one I had a shot at, when I was ready.

  I stayed where I was. It wasn’t good cover, but it would draw fire away from Emma and Lynn. We were poised and ready. I was hoping to get Blaze in my sights, but all I could see was a little piece of his hat above the rock he was sitting against while he waited for the mules.

  He jumped to his feet and yelled, “Here they come boys!” He swung around and looked at his men. Those who could stand were on their feet cheering and yelling. Then he turned back to the mules that were making their way across the open plain.

  I motioned to Lynn, and he was in a running crouch, heading for Emma. He was light on his feet like very few big men can be. It didn’t take more than a few seconds to have her free. The problem was her feet were numb and totally unusable. I saw Lynn motion over in my direction. She must have asked him who he was…. I smiled and gave her a wave. He just scooped her up and headed for the other end of the cliff. She waved at me over his shoulder.

  They were nearly at the end and would soon be safe among the trees and rocks, when Blaze turned and yelled, “Pasko, git that woman ready… bring her out… she’s our ticket to riches.” And then he turned back to watch the mules get closer.

  The white man with the bloody rag on his leg turned around grinning. It struck me that his grin could well be what Emma had been so mad about. Men have been known to pay undue attention to captive women and take liberties that would get them killed in most western communities. He turned in time to see Bob Lynn disappear into the brush.

  Pasko started to open his mouth and sound the alarm, but I was still contemplating the liberties he might have taken and shot him. I figured if he was innocent, I would apologize next time I saw him. I might have to dig him out of a shallow grave to do it because I was looking right at the center of his chest when I pulled the trigger.

  That little delay between when something happens and when a person reacts, gave me the chance to pull my spare pistol from my waistband and send some rapid fire led in the direction of everyone or nobody… that depended if they were standing where I was shooting. It kept their heads down while I got under cover.

  Bloody rag leg was out of it; even if he was still alive… he wouldn’t be for long. That left four more. I ventured a peek around the boulder I was hiding behind. A chunk of lead hit that rock a little left of my nose, and sang its song up into the higher regions of Sierra Blanco. It came from where the bandito, who had his rifle blow up, had been. I assumed then, he wasn’t blinded after all. That would’ve been good shooting for a blind man.

  There were four men with guns out there. One wasn’t very mobile with that splinted leg, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t handle a rifle. The other three could be a problem to me… a big problem. I could hear movement, but I could see nothing. Then I heard shots from down below on the plain. I assumed that was Spade and Blaze having it out over the gold. Carson wasn’t about to give it up if Emma was safe, and he should know that by this time. That meant only three for me to worry about.

  I had to move. They’d be able to flank me soon, and I’d be fighting on three sides, but I only had cover for one. I had two options, and neither one excited me much; actually they were both a bit too exciting. I could stay where I was and wait for them to start squeezing me. Or I could make a break for it and try to get back among the trees or even up into the gap. But to make a break for it would mean being exposed to possibly two shooters. The fourth shooter had all he could handle with Carson.

  I took off running without actually making a decision… I just didn’t have a choice. Sure enough there was rifle fire lacing the air from two sides. I ran and dove under a good sized juniper or cedar as some call them. The trouble with that kind of tree, was they grew branches a few inches from the ground, which leaves precious little room to dive under. Most of those lower branches are dead, but they’re still there.

  Dust, dirt, and rocks were being kicked up and thrown around without regard for anything by two rifles not forty feet away. The bandito with the fresh powder burned face was standing there ratcheting cartridge after cartridge into someone’s Winchester and pulling the trigger like a man possessed. I would imagine him to be a might angry with me for causing his rifle to explode in his face. I’m sure the señoritas would not like looking at him now.

  He clicked on an empty chamber and the fool stood where he was and started to reload. I wasn’t about to pass that up, so I took the best shot I had which was dead center. As I was squeezing the trigger something hit me in the leg just above the left knee. It was enough to cause me to miss my target and shatter Powder Burn’s right elbow.

  Off to my left, I could see Drummond crouching at the edge of the cliff. He was looking low trying to see under the trees. I was hit, but I had no idea how bad it was except it burned like hell. I didn’t know if that was a good sign or a bad one. All I knew was I didn’t like it much. I didn’t like it at all… for a fact.

  He was looking for movement, and I was trying my best not to make any. With the branches all going every which way, I’d have a deuce of a time getting my rifle into firing position without moving my legs around, and I didn’t even know if they would move. So I eased the rifle down and very slowly managed to get my Colt out. I always said, “if I can see it… I can shoot it” I was beginning to believe that may have been stretching the truth a might.

  I was laying on my belly pointing one way, and Drummond was angled off to my left. My left hand was under a branch holding the rifle. My right hand was on top of the branch trying to shoot a man I could only see through evergreen boughs at an almost impossible angle… It was a circus shot and I wasn’t filled with confidence. The angle I was firing from had my shoulders turned to the left side, and head was perched sideways. I had to close my left eye to keep from having my eyes crossed.

  It was either going to work or it wouldn’t… I heard that voice in my head say, you dummy, you ain’t got a snowflakes chance on a hot griddle of makin’ that shot… Pull the trigger! So I did.

  Drummond’s knee exploded red and he went down thrashing. I squirmed around to where I had a rifle sho
t at him, but I needn’t have bothered, someone was holding a pistol to his head. I believe he’d have asked him to pull the trigger at that moment. The pistol went up and came back down crushing Drummond’s hat and not doing his skull much good either. Drummond fell back with a thump, and Bob Lynn stepped into my field of view. Then he systematically disarmed the man on the ground.

  “Hey, Tater, you hidin’ out in them trees?… You can come out now… We got all the boogermans.”

  “What if I don’t want to? I kinda like it in here…. I got all kinds of things to have fun with… like itchy tree stuff down my shirt… Not to mention a bullet in my leg.”

  “There’s a mighty purtty gal over yonder that said, when she looked up and saw your face when Bob was carryin’ her away, that it was the purtiest thing she ever saw… I swear that gal needs some spectacles…. Haw haw haw.”

  “I’ll come out because she knows real beauty when she sees it, unlike some others I know… Did you get Tom Blaze?”

  “No, after we exchanged a few shots, he took of ridin’ for New Mexico like his horse’s tail was on fire. So we still got it to do, or we can let Ben Blue take care of him up there.”

  With some degree of difficulty, I was able to roll, squirm, and crawl out from under the tree. Stiff legged, I was able to stand, sort of. Using my rifle as a cane, I was able to hobble over to where Carson was hog tying Busted Leg. He had Powder Burn’s left arm tightly belted to at the elbow. He could move his hand but couldn’t do anything with it.

  “Where there’s a will…we figger somethin’ out.” Was all he said.

  Carson looked at my face, which had to be streaked with dirt, sweat, grit and packrat dung and said, “That young lady look at that face right now and she shore wouldn’t think it was so purtty…. You all right, boy? You don’t look so good… Why, Boy, you’ve sprung a leak…”

  Chapter 23

  That was the last thing I remembered, until I woke up in the dark. I could tell it was early evening, and I was still at the outlaw camp, but Morgan was there and Burley was there sitting up talking and laughing with Carson at the fire. The horses and the mules were there. And Emma was there holding a big spoon trying to get me to take some broth.

  “Oh thank God, you’re awake. You lost an awful lot of blood. But don’t worry, Mister Lynn went for a doctor… he also took his prisoner into the sheriff….Did you know he was a Pinkerton man?”

  “No.” I said. “I don’t reckon I did.”

  She got busy pouring a gallon on broth in me, one spoonful at a time. I didn’t much care if she had a barrel of it to feed me, as long as she wanted to sit there and do it. Carson saw me taking broth and came over.

  “I declare, Tater, I don’t see how a person could look so comfortable after danged near bein’ bled dry a few hours ago…. It surely wouldn’t have anything to do with havin’ such a purtty nurse, would it?”

  “I’d feel a whole lot better if you’d not interrupt the pretty nurse’s work.”

  “I have to go see about Papa. Please don’t get my patient too worn out with too much talking, Mister Carson… er… Carson.”

  As soon as she was out of hearing range, Carson asked, “Did you know Lynn was a Pink?”

  “Not until just before the shootin’ started… he sure had me fooled.”

  “Me too… I guess that means he’s good at it. We had more wounded over here, so Morgan and me moved the camp over here… looks like Clayton’s goin’ to be all right. That shoulder will be a problem for a while.”

  “He come to me with four gold ingots… two each for us, and told me he was goin’ to turn the rest of it over to the state. He wanted to make sure we were paid off. I told him, we couldn’t take it and flashed him my star. He was some surprised, and started laughin’ about not bein’ able to keep it no how… The little lady don’t know yet.”

  “The Pink will be back in the mornin’ with the doc and the Ranger Captain from El Paso… so, my boy, our job is just about done.”

  I asked him to send the pretty nurse back, when he started to get up. Then he checked my tourniquet and loosened it a little. I spent an uncomfortable night getting woke up every few hours to have the tourniquet loosened and retightened. So it was a relief when Lynn, two Rangers and the doctor showed up just before dawn.

  Bob Lynn led the party, except for the wagon, up the slope and right up to the fire. The first one out of the saddle, was the Captain… Captain John Dugan. Carson got to his feet and the Captain walked toward him with his hand extended.

  “Spade Carson! Well I’ll be thunders… I might a known, when this here Pink told me you fellas been out here stackin’ outlaw bodies like cordwood…. How you doin’, Son?”

  “I’m as well as can be expected, Sir, but my young pro-ta-gee here got a hole in his leg that’s about to run him dry if we don’t keep him bound up tight.”

  “He a Ranger, Spade?”

  “Yes Sir… I recruited and the Colonel swore him in a year ago.”

  Emma’s head came up and her eyes were wide from the shock, and then they turned cold. She got up from her father’s side at the fire and walked off into the early morning gloom. That was what I had feared. And there wasn’t a thing I could do about it. My heart sunk.

  “Where’s that sawbones?” The Captain bellowed. “Doc, you need to have a look at this fine young Ranger before you mess with them others… we probably goin’ to hang ‘em anyways.”

  While the doctor worked on my leg, I listened to the conversation to take my mind off the pain caused by what he was doing, and to keep from thinking about the look on Emma’s face.

  I heard the Colonel ask Burley, “How’d you come by this here gold, Mister Clayton?”

  “I was runnin’ from a troop of Rurales… they’d just as soon shoot an American for no other reason than they could. I found an abandoned mine shaft with the entrance all collapsed, so I got my horse in there and we hid out…. The next mornin’ I saw where they had missed my trail by a hundred yards. I spent the day there thinkin’ they may come back… they didn’t.”

  “But while I was pokin’ around in there I found this wagon with busted wheels and all broken up. I looked inside and found all that gold. The wagon was branded with C.S.A. for Confederate States of America. I was plannin’ to get a rig and an outfit together and go back for it, but they claimed I’d robbed a bank and sent me to jail.”

  “Since Texas was part of the C.S.A., then that was probably Texas gold at one time, and Texas would put a claim in on it… To keep from draggin’ it through the courts, where the only ones who would come wind up without holes in their socks would be those slick Austin lawyers… I figured to turn it over for a finder’s fee.”

  “And you didn’t steal that gold in the first place?”

  “No sir… and there ain’t a man alive who could swear I had any part of it. I was still pickin’ my daddy’s cotton up near Odessa when that gold was took.”

  “Just how much gold do you have?” The Captain asked.

  “I figure nine hundred and sixty pounds, Sir.”

  “And what’s the price of gold now?”

  “The day I got out of prison, it was twenty dollars and sixty seven cents an ounce, Sir.”

  The Captain looked up and said, “You been kinda studying on this, ain’t you?”

  “I need to give my little girl a runnin’ start in life, Sir.”

  The Captain called the other Ranger over and had him tally up a rough number. The Ranger stuck his tongue out to the side and did a bunch of scribbling in a note pad. He scratched his head a few times and finally said, “Cap’n that comes out to three hundred and forty five thousand dollars… rounded off.”

  The Captain nearly choked on his chaw but managed to ask, “What’s the standard finder’s fee?”

  “Ten percent, Cap’n.”

  The Captain threw his chaw in the fire and said, “Nearly thirty five thousand dollars… Well that should get her off and runnin’, well ahead of the pack… What’s
a fella have to do to get a cup a coffee round here?”

  I was loaded into the buckboard with Clayton and the two wounded banditos for the trip into El Paso. The mules followed with Carson bringing up the rear. The trip was only about fifteen miles, but our pace was rather slow for the sake of those in the buckboard.

  Emma rode her horse alongside the buckboard, the side her father was on. She spent time talking to him and fussing over him, but she wouldn’t look at me. I had lost so much blood to where I was weaker than a two day old calf. So I slept most of the way into town, but when I was awake, her nearness only made the distance between us that much farther. It wasn’t a happy trip.

  Once into El Paso, I was taken to the doc’s clinic as was Clayton. His shoulder needed a great deal of repair, and the doc felt he could do some stitching on the torn muscles in my leg so I could lead a normal life. We were both there together for several days. When Emma would visit, it was like she didn’t even know me.

  He was in a bed next to mine, and she would sit in a chair between the beds facing away from me, when she visited. He asked her what the first thing she did once she got to the hotel and she said, “I ordered a bath.” And they laughed. I turned to the wall.

  Clayton and I talked often, when no one else was there. He held no grudge for deceiving him; in fact he must have thanked me a hundred times. Spade stopped by on his way out of town. A range war was brewing up on the Staked Plains, and he was going to try nipping it in the bud. He told me to check with Captain Dugan when the doc said I could get back to work for my next assignment… I was ready for it. I was ready to get as far away from El Paso and Emma Clayton as I could.

  The doc released me on the third day, with instructions to eat anything and everything that wasn’t still moving. He said to stay away from hard liquor, but I needed plenty of liquids. The knee wasn’t torn up too bad, but the bullet nicked what he call an artery or a pumping vein, and I would have bled out fast without the tourniquet.