The Faith and the Rangers

by James J. Griffin

  “Howdy, Todd,” Jim greeted him. He placed his rifle against the wall.

  “Howdy, Lieutenant Blawcyzk. I’ve got a wire from Austin for you.”

  Todd slid from his saddle, climbed the stairs to the porch, and shook water from his dripping Stetson. He reached inside his slicker and removed a telegram from an inside pocket. He handed the message to Jim.

  “Thanks, Todd. Why don’t you come inside and have a cup of coffee to warm up?”

  “I’d appreciate that.”

  C mon in.

  “Julia, it’s Todd Jensen,” Jim called, when they entered. “He’s brought a message from Headquarters. I invited him in for some coffee.”

  “Hello, Todd. I’ve got some cornbread to go with that coffee, if you’d like,” Julia offered.

  “That would be fine, Mrs. Blawcyzk,” the messenger answered.

  While Julia poured a mug of black coffee for Todd, Jim scanned the contents of the yellow flimsy. His blue eyes took on the hue of chips of glittering ice as he read.

  “What does Captain Trumbull say, Jim?” Julia asked. “Will you be leaving soon?”

  “Yeah,” Jim answered. “In fact, as soon as I can get packed and Sam saddled.”

  “I thought there weren’t going to be any funds for the Rangers before next month.”

  “The legislature came to its senses. They issued an emergency spending order.”

  “They must have a good reason for that.”

  “They do. Webb Patton is back in Texas. I’m to take Cody and track Patton down.”

  4

  “We’ve got to intercept Patton before he reaches Wimberley, Cody. Let me tell you what we’ll be up against,” Jim explained to the new Ranger. He had left home an hour after receiving the telegram, located Cody, and sworn him into the Rangers. The two had then ridden hard through the rest of the rainy afternoon. The rain had stopped an hour before sunset. Jim and Cody were now camped twenty miles northeast of Bandera.

  “Sure, Jim,” Cody replied. “Just let me pour myself some more coffee.”

  Cody lifted the pot from the embers to refill his tin mug.

  “Webb Patton and his bunch robbed several banks three years back,” Jim began. “They killed four men, including a deputy sheriff. They were caught, tried and convicted. But while they were waitin’ to be hanged, they broke out of jail, killin’ two more men. They managed to escape Texas. The last anyone knew they were hidin’ out up in the Territories.”

  “But now Patton’s back in Texas. Why?” Cody asked.

  “Quien sabe?” Jim shrugged. “Probably figures if he can make it back to his home grounds his relatives and friends will protect him. He left a gal behind, so mebbe he’s returned for her.”

  “Seems like he’s takin’ an awful long chance,” Cody noted.

  “Maybe. Maybe not,” Jim answered. “Patton and his men most likely would have made it home without anyone even realizin’ they were back in Texas, if they hadn’t robbed the bank in Mason. The marshal there recognized Patton’s brother, Jobe. Lucky for us he was able to say so before he died from the slug Jobe put through him.”

  “Then they hit another bank, in Llano,” Cody said.

  “So it appears,” Jim confirmed. “My guess is they’ll now stick to the back country until they reach Blanco. They’ll probably stop there to resupply, mebbe even stage another bank holdup, then head for Wimberley. If they make it before we do, we’ll have a devil of a time gettin’ at ‘em. Too many folks there are willin’ to hide them.”

  “Jim, obviously I’m not as familiar with this country as you, but it seems we’re cutting this mighty close.”

  “We are. But I’ve got a couple of aces up my sleeve.”

  “What are they? Because it seems to me we might need those.”

  “First, I know this area every bit as well as Patton. I’ve got a pretty good idea where to find him.”

  “What’s the other?”

  “I doubt Patton’ll head straight for Wimberley. He’s a cautious man. Even with his friends there, he’ll want to wait a while for things to quiet down. He might send a man ahead to scout things out before he and the rest of his bunch ride into town. No, Patton’ll most likely hole up for a spell, somewhere along the Devil’s Backbone.”

  “What in blue blazes is the Devil’s Backbone?” Cody demanded.

  “Blue blazes? You’re beginning to talk like a Texan, Cody,” Jim chuckled. “The Devil’s Backbone is a long hogback. It’s a razor-back ridge which twists and turns for almost twenty-five miles between Wimberley and Blanco. There’s plenty of places for a man to disappear in that stretch. Lots of side ridges and canyons. Patton’s used it as a hideout before. I’d imagine he’ll use it again.”

  “That makes sense,” Cody conceded. “But why did Captain Trumbull hand this job to you? It seems to me Rangers from Austin could reach Wimberley before us.”

  “You’re right,” Jim agreed, “But like I said, I know this country real well, probably better’n any other man in the Rangers. So we’ve got a better chance of findin’ Patton, without gettin’ ambushed and a bullet in our backs, than the rest of the outfit.”

  “That’s real comforting,” Cody sarcastically replied. “Exactly how many men will we be up against? Or are you saving that as a surprise?”

  “Six for certain. Webb and Jobe. Their cousins, Wade and Matt. Two others, Hank Martin and Ed Torneau. There might be one or two more.”

  “Those are long odds.”

  “Not for the Rangers. Usually we’re outnumbered six or seven to one, even more. Three to one odds aren’t much.”

  “But I haven’t even gotten my feet wet,” Cody objected. “You’re stuck with a raw recruit, Jim. Wouldn’t you prefer having an experienced Ranger riding with you?”

  “Someone like Jim Huggins?” Huggins was a veteran sergeant who had ridden with Jim on more than one occasion. “Sure, I’d like to have him sidin’ me. But you’ve got to start somewhere, Cody. And I’m not worried. You’ve got the makin’s of a Ranger. You’ll do fine. I’d bet my hat on it.”

  “I appreciate your confidence in me. Sure hope it’s justified.”

  Jim dumped the dregs from his mug.

  “Time we turned in. I want to reach Blanco by tomorrow night. That means a full day of hard ridin’. We’ll pull out an hour before sunup.”

  “Why Blanco?”

  “Just playin’ a hunch. With luck, we’ll get there before Patton. If not, we’ll trail him down into the Devil’s Backbone.”

  “What if you’re wrong, and he’s headed straight to Wimberley?”

  “Then we’ll have two choices. First, try and find him there. That’d be real difficult, since hardly anyone in town would help us. Most likely they’d shoot us instead.”

  “What’s the other option? Any better chance of us finding Patton with that one, and not getting ourselves killed?”

  “Yeah. We’d have no trouble at all findin’ Patton. In fact, he’d come lookin’ for us.”

  “Why?” Cody asked.

  “Because I’m the man who rounded up Patton and his bunch. He vowed to kill me, if he ever got the chance.”

  “So that’s the real reason he’s back in Texas,” Cody said.

  “I’d imagine. And if we don’t stop him before he reaches Wimberley, he’ll stay there a few days, then head for Bandera.”

  “Where he’d find you…along with Julia and Charlie,” Cody answered.

  “That’s right. So we’ve gotta stop Patton before he gets anywhere near my family.”

  ^^^^^^^^^^^^^

  The Rangers found Blanco with an empty bank vault and dead deputy sheriff, the result of a robbery two days previous. While the outlaws had been masked, the head teller was certain it was Wade Patton’s gang which had looted the bank. He also confirmed the robbers had headed in the dir
ection of the Devil’s Backbone. Jim and Cody remained in town to rest themselves and their horses overnight. They were again on the trail at the first light of false dawn.

  “We don’t have a chance of catchin’ up with ‘em before they reach town if they ride straight for Wimberley, do we, Jim?” Cody questioned. They were keeping Sam and Yankee at a ground-eating lope.

  “Not a prayer,” Jim confirmed. “But my gut’s still tellin’ me they’ll hole up for a few days first, mebbe even longer. They’ve stirred up quite a hornet’s nest, and if Jobe suspects that marshal talked before he died, they’ll know the Rangers’ll be after ‘em. They’ll wait until things settle down a bit. Webb’ll send one of his men into town, with word where they’ll be. Then, once any lawmen show up in Wimberley, don’t find Webb or his men, and leave, one of Webb’s kinfolk will ride to their hideout and tell Webb it’s safe. That’s when he’ll finally head for Wimberley.”

  “Couldn’t that lawman kind of hang around outside town, watch for that messenger, then follow him?” Cody asked.

  “You’re startin’ to think like a Ranger,” Jim praised. “Yeah, he could, but most likely he’d lose that rider. Either that, or the hombre would bushwhack him. There’s not too many lawmen fool enough to ride alone into the Devil’s Backbone.”

  “But I reckon we’re two of ‘em who are,” Cody ruefully chuckled.

  “I reckon,” Jim agreed. “How you feelin’, pardner? Scared at all?”

  “Scared? Not a bit,” Cody scoffed. “Except for the churning in my guts, the pounding in my head, and my heart racin’ a hundred miles an hour, I’m not nervous at all!”

  “That’s good,” Jim replied. “I’d be worried if you weren’t scared. Any man facin’ a bunch of killers who claims he isn’t nervous is either lyin’ or loco, or both. And that’s the man who’ll make a mistake which gets him or his pardner killed.”

  “Jim, if there’s so many hiding places around here, how’ll we ever find Patton’s bunch?”

  “A little bit of skill and a lot of luck. I’ve got a good idea where to start lookin’. We should come on their tracks sometime today, unless I miss my guess. While

  there’s plenty of hidin’ places, there’s not that many trails which go clear through to Wimberley. The main one runs right along the ridge top. Patton won’t use that one if he can help it. Too hard on the horses, and too many spots where he could be skylined.

  “Skylined? What’s that?”

  “Gotta keep remindin’ myself you’re still a new recruit,” Jim laughed. “A man skylines himself when he’s ridin’ or standin’ on a ridge or the rim of a canyon, with the sky behind him. Makes a real easy target for a drygulcher down below.”

  “That makes sense,” Cody agreed. “Except it seems to me that works both ways. A man up high could spot someone down below real easy.”

  “You’re learnin’, Cody.”

  Jim pulled Sam down to a walk.

  “We’ll rest the horses for half an hour, once we reach that creek just ahead,” he ordered. “After that it’ll be slower goin’. I’ll start lookin’ for signs of Patton.”

  “All right.”

  The two men rested for thirty minutes, while the horses had a short drink and cropped at the grass bordering the stream. Once they were back in the saddle, Jim kept their pace alternating between a walk and slow jogtrot, while he searched the ground for any marks of

  the outlaws’ passing. They were now riding along the Devil’s Backbone.

  It was late that morning when Jim found the first sign. The hoof prints of several horses emerged from a side arroyo. He pulled Sam to a halt.

  “Blast it! Hold up a minute, Cody. You see those?”

  He pointed at the tracks.

  “I sure do,” Cody confirmed. “Patton’s outfit?”

  “I’d bet my hat on it,” Jim answered. “That’s how he fooled the sheriff and posse, just like he fooled me. I plumb forgot about that old Indian track which runs from the Pedernales south through here. Patton circled north out of town, picked up that trail, and took it. That’s why we haven’t seen any sign until now.”

  “But wouldn’t circling take longer?”

  “Not in this case. That Indian trail does a lot less windin’ around and doublin’ back on itself than the one we’ve been followin’. Patton’s gained at least half a day on us.”

  “That doesn’t mean we’ve lost him?”

  Jim spat in the dirt.

  “Not a chance. And now that we’ve picked up Patton’s trail, there’s no way he’ll shake us off.”

  “Even if he tries to cover his trail?”

  “It’s just too hard to hide the signs of eight horses from an experienced tracker,” Jim explained. “I might lose them for a bit, but I’ll find ‘em again. Don’t worry about that. Just worry about what we’re gonna do when we catch up with ‘em.”

  “How soon’ll that be?”

  “Tomorrow, or the day after for certain, unless I’m wrong and they are headin’ right to Wimberley. In that case, all bets are off. Let’s go.”

  Jim heeled Sam into a lope, Cody and Yankee on their heels.

  ^^^^^^^^^^^^^

  They rode until darkness made it impossible to follow the trail any longer. Jim chose a campsite near a small spring. After he was unsaddled, Sam, as always, nuzzled Jim’s hip pocket for an ever-present peppermint.

  “Sure, you can have one, you ol’ beggar,” Jim laughed. He slipped Sam a candy, which the paint eagerly took.

  “Cody, you want one for your horse?”

  “Why not?” Cody answered.

  “All right. But once your bronc gets a taste for these, he’ll always be lookin’ for ‘em,” Jim warned.

  “I suppose. It doesn’t matter. Yank’s as spoiled as your horse,” Cody admitted, as he gave Yankee a peppermint.

  “I’m not so sure,” Jim disagreed. “But I make no apologies for the way I care for Sam. He’s more of a friend than most men.”

  “I’ve gotta agree with you,” Cody said. “Probably smarter, too. Yankee sure is.”

  Another thing the two had in common was their affection for horses. After caring for their mounts, they made a cold camp.

  “A fire’d stand out for miles around here. It’d be just like a signal beacon,” Jim explained to Cody. “We can’t chance someone spottin’ it, so we’ll have settle for jerky, leftover biscuits, and water.”

  Jim dug the meager meal out of his saddlebags. The two men ate silently, then rolled in their blankets. Jim, as always, said his evening prayers. He noted Cody did the same.

  Jim was almost asleep when Cody called him.

  “Jim, you asleep?”

  “Not quite. Why?”

  “I’m just wonderin’. How soon do you think we’ll find Patton?” Cody asked.

  “If our luck holds out, sooner than you’d imagine,” Jim answered. “I’ve got a pretty good idea where he’s at.”

  “Where?”

  “There’s an abandoned homestead about a half day’s ride from here. It’s pretty well hidden, behind a ridge then up a canyon. It’s been used by Patton before.”

  “Is that where you trailed him last time?”

  “Not exactly. He’d been there, but already ridden on by the time I discovered the place. I caught up with him a week later.”

  “Do you really believe he’ll go back to the same place, since he must realize you know about it?”

  “I’d bet a hat he will. The cabin’s pretty large, and in decent shape. There’s good water and grazin’, and lots of game for meat. Plus the place is well-hidden, and there’s plenty of spots in there to hide and pick off anyone snoopin’ around.”

  “That’s a real comforting thought,” Cody said.

  “As long as you ain’t dumb enough to step in front of a bullet, you’ve got nothin’ to wo
rry about,” Jim laughed. “Now, if you’re done with your questions, I’m plumb tired. Good night.”

  “’Night.”

  ^^^^^^^^^^^^^

  It was about two the next afternoon when Jim reined up at the almost invisible entrance to a narrow side canyon. Thick brush made the opening nearly impossible to spot.

  Patton and his men had made some effort to cover their trail, but to an experienced tracker like Jim their sign was still plain. Jim leaned from his saddle to pluck a strand of sorrel horsehair from a mesquite branch.

  “This is it, Cody,” Jim said. “Patton’s ridin’ a sorrel. They turned in here.”

  “I never would’ve found it,” Cody admitted. “You’ve got some eyesight.”

  “You’ll learn,” Jim answered. “Just takes practice. Let’s go. But be careful. And quiet. Does Yank like to call out to other horses?”

  “No. He’s not the talkative kind,” Cody replied.

  “Good. Otherwise you’ll have to tie your bandanna over his muzzle.”

  Sam snorted a protest when Jim pushed him through the thorny brush. Once they had gone fifty yards, the trail widened. The prints of eight horses were plainly visible in the sandy soil.

  “Eight horses went in, none came out. They’re in here all right,” Jim stated. “And not even botherin’ to hide their tracks. They must figure no one’d notice that entrance. Time to check our guns.”

  They checked the actions of their guns, and put a bullet into the empty chambers of their Colts. Jim also removed his Ranger badge from his shirt pocket. He pinned the silver star on silver circle to his vest.

  “All right. That shack’s about two miles in. Let’s move. Keep a sharp lookout,” Jim warned.

  They put their horses into a walk, easing them as quietly as possible up the winding path.

  About half a mile before the cabin, they rounded a bend and came upon an approaching rider.

  “Blawcyzk!” he shouted, recognizing the Ranger. He clawed for his sixgun. Jim pulled his own Peacemaker just as the rider cleared leather, and knocked him from the saddle with a bullet in the chest. The rider pitched to the dirt, rolled onto his face, shuddered, and lay unmoving. His horse trotted a short distance away, then dropped its head to pull at a clump of bunch grass.