Outlaw Ranger

by James Reasoner

  That news was so shocking it made Braddock dizzy. He put a hand on the back of the chair in front of the desk to steady himself as he said, "That's loco, Captain. Why would Texas get rid of the Rangers?"

  With his mouth twisting as if he had just bitten into a rotten apple, Hughes said, "It's not really the state's doing, either. It's all because of the lawyers."

  Braddock shook his head and wished he hadn't, because the motion just made him dizzier. "I don't understand."

  "Some lawyer found something in the legislation that created the Rangers, back in 1874, that says only officers have the power to make legal arrests."

  "I'm an officer," Braddock insisted. "An officer of the law."

  "You're a private in the Texas Rangers. According to the letter of the law, you don't have the legal authority to do much of anything."

  "I just brought in Tull Coleman and Jeff Hawley!"

  Hughes sighed, shook his head, and said, "They'll probably have to be released. All the prisoners the Rangers have brought in who haven't already been tried and convicted are being let go. There are a dozen motions in the court to have those prior convictions vacated as well, but all that is still up in the air. For now all that really matters is that the Rangers are finished."

  "No!" Braddock had to lean heavier on the chair to hold himself up. "No. My pa devoted his whole life to the Rangers. He raised me to be a Ranger. They can't be done away with because of some...some piss-ant lawyer!"

  "I'm sorry, Braddock. It's out of my hands." Hughes paused. "Braddock? Are you all right? You look a little—Braddock!"

  The captain's startled voice was the last thing Braddock heard. His head was spinning so bad it seemed like it was about to fly off his shoulders. He tried to brace himself on the chair but his fingers slid off. The floor jumped up and slammed him in the face.

  That was the last thing Braddock knew for what seemed like a very long time.

  * * *

  "What the hell are you doin', cryin' over a damn dog?"

  "He was my friend," George said as he patted down the dirt mounded on the grave he had dug himself. He tried not to sniffle. He knew his father hated crying, especially in men. Of course, at eight years old, he wasn't exactly a man, but Pa wouldn't care about that. He'd still fetch George a clout on the head if he got annoyed enough.

  "He was a dumb animal. Couldn't be a friend to you nor nobody else. Jus' a dumb animal."

  George didn't say anything. Arguing with his father really was pointless.

  Pa kicked at the grave. "Get up and get on about your chores. The comp'ny's ridin' out tomorrow to hunt down some Mex bandidos. You'll have to keep the place goin' while I'm gone, same as usual. You know your ma's too sickly to do much." Under his breath he added, "And you ain't much better, boy."

  George pretended not to hear. He got to his feet and turned to head for the barn. His father was right. There were chores to be done. He had to be dependable. Rangers were dependable, and he was going to grow up to be a Ranger. That was just the way of things.

  But he couldn't stop himself from glancing back at the spot where he had laid his dog to rest. He started to mouth a farewell, and that was when he sensed his father's big hand coming at his head. George ducked the slap and broke into a stumbling run toward the barn.

  "Get along with you!" the sergeant called after him. "Get along, you worthless little piss-ant! Good Lord, how'm I ever gonna make a Ranger out of a sorry specimen like you?"

  Chapter 3

  It was like being trapped in a mudhole, with the thick, slimy stuff trying to drag him under and clog his mouth and nose and drown him. Braddock fought desperately, clawing at the muck as it threatened to overwhelm him, and when he finally broke through the surface and gasped, he realized he wasn't drowning at all.

  Instead he was lying in an airy room with big windows and cream-colored walls. The sheets underneath him were wet and uncomfortable. He lifted a trembling hand to his face and found that he was covered with beads of oily sweat.

  Something moved to his right. From the corner of his eye, he saw a ghostly, white-clad figure drift into view. A middle-aged woman with a severe face leaned over him and said, "You're awake."

  That seemed painfully obvious to Braddock. He opened his mouth and tried to speak, but his lips and tongue were too thick and clumsy to form words.

  "I'll fetch Dr. Sullivan," the woman said as she retreated from the bedside.

  That told Braddock where he was, anyway, and the knowledge was a bit of a relief. He closed his eyes and concentrated on his breathing, which was a little erratic. As it settled into a steadier rhythm, he fought to stay awake. He didn't want to slip back into the hellish world where he had been.

  The world of his own past.

  A footstep made Braddock open his eyes again. A man with a close-cropped, salt-and-pepper beard had come into the room. Braddock recognized him. Dr. Alfred Sullivan said, "The nurse told me you were awake, Ranger Braddock."

  Since he still couldn't talk, Braddock just shook his head.

  Sullivan frowned in apparent confusion for a second, then understanding appeared on his face. "Now I know what you mean," he said. "That ridiculous business about the Rangers being disbanded." He reached for something on the bedside table. "Let's get you a drink."

  He held a glass to Braddock's lips. Braddock had trouble swallowing, but he managed to get some of the water down his throat. He spilled some, too, but that didn't really matter since he was already soaking wet.

  He was able to get a few words out after the drink. "Wha...what happened...to me?"

  "Blood poisoning from that knife wound in your back, I'd say," Sullivan replied. "You're lucky to be alive. You ran a very high fever for several days. But it's broken now. That's why you're sweating so much. I think you're going to be all right. You'll have to take it easy for a while because you're so weak, but with rest and good food you'll recover."

  Braddock sighed and let his head sag back against the damp pillow. What was the point of getting better if he couldn't be a Ranger anymore?

  From idle curiosity more than anything else, he asked, "How long...was I out?"

  "It's been five days since you collapsed in Captain Hughes' office."

  Five days, Braddock thought. Almost a week. Lord knew what had happened in that time.

  Sullivan gave him another drink, then said, "I'll get Nurse Williams in here to clean you up and change the sheets on the bed, and then we need to see if you can take a little broth. You need to start getting your strength back as soon as possible."

  Braddock didn't argue, but he didn't see why that mattered.

  If he couldn't be a Ranger anymore, then nothing mattered.

  * * *

  Captain Hughes came to see Braddock the next day. In a hearty voice, he said, "I thought you'd up and died on me when you collapsed in my office that day, G.W."

  Might have been better if he had, Braddock thought. He felt better and was stronger already as his iron constitution asserted itself, but he was in no mood for small talk. He said, "What happened to Coleman and Hawley?"

  "They're still in custody. I arrested them myself before they could be released."

  Braddock was glad to hear that.

  Hughes paused, then went on, "I'm not sure how long we'll be able to hold them, though. A lawyer showed up and filed a motion saying they should be released since their original arrest was illegal."

  Braddock was sitting up in bed, the wound on his back heavily padded with bandages. Anger stiffened him as he said, "Where in blazes are all these lawyers coming from? They're like cockroaches coming out of a hole!"

  "You're not far wrong there," Hughes agreed. He pulled a ladderback chair closer to the bed and sat down. "The Rangers have made a lot of political enemies over the years, and some of them have plenty of money to hire lawyers to make things as difficult for us as possible. That's what's going on now. The governor's fighting back, though. I hear that instead of disbanding the Rangers, he's going to
issue an order reorganizing the force. The Rangers will still exist, but our numbers will be cut drastically. Four companies of six men each, is the rumor I'm hearing."

  "Twenty-four men to protect the whole state of Texas!"

  Hughes shrugged. "Most people don't think the state needs that much protecting anymore. There hasn't been any Indian trouble in years, the border is pretty quiet right now, and most of what we do is chasing down outlaws. People say the county sheriffs and town marshals can handle that just as well. The Frontier Battalion has been too good at its job, G.W. Folks say we're just not needed anymore."

  Braddock shook his head and scowled. He said, "They'll be singing a different song when it's their cattle that's been rustled or their loved ones who get gunned down by outlaws."

  "You're probably right, but for now I'll be satisfied just to keep the Rangers in existence, no matter what form it's in. The legislature can write a new law to fix the problem in the old one, and then the Rangers can expand again."

  One question in particular was nagging at Braddock, so he figured he might as well go ahead and ask it. "Captain...are you going to be able to keep me on as one of those twenty-four men?"

  Hughes grimaced and then shook his head. "I wish I could, G.W. You've done a fine job. Your father would have been proud of you."

  Braddock doubted that, doubted it very seriously.

  "But the few spots we'll have will go to the Rangers who've been on the force the longest, in most cases," the captain went on. "If any of them don't want to keep their jobs, then we'll move on to the next man on the list. You've only been on Company D's rolls for a couple of years, though. I don't see how there would ever be a place for you...at least, not until the legislature passes that new law I mentioned and the force expands again. Then, maybe..."

  "When will that be?"

  "To be honest, there's no way of knowing. Like I said, the Rangers have political enemies, and they're more dangerous than outlaws. They'll try to block anything that might help us get back to normal."

  "It's wrong," Braddock said. "It's all wrong."

  "I agree with you, but there's nothing we can do except wait to see how the hand plays out."

  Weariness washed over Braddock. He was too tired to fight, too worn out to even talk about it anymore. He leaned back against the pillows propped behind him and said, "There's something over there on the dresser you need to take with you, Captain."

  "What's that?" Hughes asked as he stood up. He looked down at the dresser, then back over at Braddock with a frown. "You're not talking about your badge, are you?"

  "You said I wasn't a Ranger anymore. I don't need it, do I?"

  Hughes picked up the star-in-a-circle badge and turned it over in his fingers. "You carved this yourself out of a Mexican peso, didn't you?"

  "Yeah. That's what most of the fellas have done."

  "Then it's yours. You need to keep it."

  Hughes tossed the badge toward Braddock. Out of instinct, Braddock's right hand came up and caught it, plucking the badge deftly from the air. He wouldn't have thought he could react that quickly. He supposed his reflexes were coming back to him.

  Hughes picked up his hat. "Don't worry about your medical expenses," he said. "Your injury happened in the line of duty, while you were still working for the State of Texas, so the state will pay for everything."

  "Thanks," Braddock said. He couldn't keep a note of bitterness from creeping into his voice.

  "I'll be in touch."

  Braddock could tell that Hughes wanted to get out of there. He couldn't blame the captain for feeling that way. He just nodded without saying anything, and Hughes sighed and went out.

  Braddock looked down at the badge lying on his palm. He stared at it for a long time and thought it was funny how a man's whole life could be shaped into a star and trapped inside a silver circle.

  * * *

  The next day, Braddock had a visit from a different lawman. The nurse brought a Bexar County deputy sheriff into the room. She looked uncomfortable and so did the deputy. The nurse got out as quickly as she could.

  "How are you doin', Ranger?" the deputy asked.

  "A little stronger every day," Braddock replied honestly. He felt like he would be almost back to normal in another week or so. He went on, "But I'm not a Ranger anymore. I reckon you probably know that."

  "Yeah. That's, uh, sort of why I'm here." The deputy took a deep breath. "Mr. Braddock, I've got a warrant for your arrest. You'll be under guard here at the doctor's house until he says you're well enough to be moved."

  Braddock felt like he'd been punched in the guts. Struggling to control himself, he said, "What are the charges on that warrant?"

  "Murder, attempted murder, false arrest, and unlawful imprisonment."

  "Who filed those charges?"

  "I'm not sure I ought to answer that..."

  Braddock said, "By God—", pushed the sheet back, and started to swing his legs out of bed.

  The deputy held up a hand, palm out, to stop him. "It was a lawyer representin' Tull Coleman and Jeff Hawley. They say you ambushed them and killed four of their friends."

  "They were outlaws! They robbed a bank in Corpus Christi and killed two people!"

  "They're suspected of it, but no charges have been filed against them yet in Nueces County. That lawyer fella convinced the judge he had to let 'em go, since they'd been arrested illegally by, uh, you. And then he turned around and filed the charges against you. The sheriff says we've got to arrest you and let the whole thing run its course."

  Braddock sat there stunned. It seemed as if everything in the world had gone wrong suddenly, that the way things were supposed to be had been turned on its head.

  The deputy thumbed back his hat and went on, "I'll stay here with you until somebody relieves me. Hope you won't hold this against me."

  Somehow, Braddock managed to shake his head and say, "You're just doing your job."

  The deputy turned the chair around and straddled it. "Yeah, that's the way I'm tryin' to look at it, too, but I got to tell you, it's hard. I mean, hell, you're a Texas Ranger. That's what I wanted to be someday."

  Thinking about what Captain Hughes had told him the day before, Braddock said, "It looks like we're both out of luck."

  Chapter 4

  The case against Braddock was heard by the grand jury a week later. That was pretty fast, due to a combination of circumstances. The grand jury happened to be in session, and Captain Hughes called in favors and used his influence to get Braddock's case moved up on the docket.

  Braddock used a cane when he entered the courtroom, but he didn't really need it. The wound on his back had healed, the blood poisoning was gone, and most of his strength had returned to him. He wore a brown tweed suit he had bought for this hearing, all his other clothes being range garb. His shaggy hair was trimmed, and so was his mustache. His lawyer, a man named Dunaway whose fee was being paid by Captain Hughes personally, told Braddock that he looked properly respectful and respectable for court.

  Grand jury proceedings were closed to the public, so the benches where spectators normally sat were empty. Braddock and Dunaway sat at one table in the front of the room while the district attorney sat at the other, along with Tull Coleman, Jeff Hawley, and their lawyer. Hawley was thin and pale and sat in a wheelchair, confirming Gomez's prediction that he would never walk again. Coleman had been cleaned up and looked hale and hearty, though. All the bruises had faded from his face. Seeing him there like that, free to walk the streets with an arrogant smirk on his face while all his victims were dead and buried, made Braddock's hands clench into fists.

  If he'd had a six-gun right now, he would have been sorely tempted to blow both outlaws straight to hell, his own fate be damned. So it was probably a good thing they didn't allow people to be armed in the courtroom.

  The judge came in and everybody stood up, Braddock leaning on the cane as he did so. Then the grand jury filed in and took their seats.

  Braddock
had testified before a grand jury once before, so he knew a little about how the proceedings worked. The district attorney presented the charges against him, then called witnesses, in this case Coleman and Hawley. Their testimony made it sound like they and their companions had been ambushed by Braddock with no warning and cut down ruthlessly by his shots.

  The judge and the jury foreman interrupted now and then to ask questions, usually pressing the witnesses for more details. It seemed obvious to Braddock that Coleman and Hawley were lying, and he hoped everybody else could see that, too.

  Hawley testified with a quaver in his voice, though, and talked about what a rough time of it he'd had with legs that no longer worked, and Braddock thought he saw a little sympathy in the eyes of some of the jurors. That made him seethe inside, but he tried not to show it.

  Coleman and Hawley were the only witnesses the district attorney had. Then it was Braddock's turn. When he was called to the stand, he started to use his cane, then changed his mind and left it lying on the table. He didn't need it, and damned it he was going to pretend that he did. He strode tall and straight to the witness chair.

  After the bailiff had sworn him in, Dunaway asked him to tell his version of what had happened down there in the chapparal, about halfway between San Antonio and Corpus Christi.

  "I got on the trail of the men who'd robbed the bank in Corpus and killed two people, then followed them into the brasada country," Braddock said. He nodded toward Coleman and Hawley. "Those two and four of their friends."

  The outlaws' lawyer immediately objected. "There's no proof that my clients committed any crime," he insisted. "No charges have been filed against them."

  "That's because they haven't been taken back to Nueces County where there'd be witnesses to what they did!" Braddock said.

  The judge gaveled him to silence. "You're here to answer questions, Mr. Braddock, not to argue," he warned. "Confine yourself to that."

  Anger made Braddock breathe a little harder, but he clamped his mouth shut and jerked his head in a nod.