The Faith and the Rangers

by James J. Griffin

  “You don’t need to finish that, ma’am,” Taggart smiled, weakly. “Where is Jesse? I’d sure like to thank him. Bobby too.”

  “The boys are in school. They’ll be along later. So will Lucy Squires. They’ll be pleased to see you’ve regained consciousness.”

  “Lucy Squires? The schoolteacher?”

  “That’s right. Doctor Palmer said you needed to be watched twenty-four hours a day, until you awakened. Several women from town have been taking turns helping me do just that. Tonight is Lucy’s turn.”

  “Well, what d’ya know?” Taggart whispered.

  “What was that, Ranger Taggart?”

  “Nothing. And please, call me Clay, ma’am.”

  “All right. As long as you call me Bea.”

  “It’s a deal.”

  “Fine. Now, can I get you anything?”

  “I am a bit hungry,” Taggart admitted. “Just how long have I been unconscious?”

  “Two days,” Bea answered.

  “Two days. That means I’ve got no chance of catchin’ up with Travis Burnham.”

  “Travis Burnham?”

  “The outlaw I was trailing, and the hombre who undoubtedly shot me,” Taggart explained. “He’s probably in Mexico by now. Don’t matter. Once I’m outta this bed I’ll be on his trail again.”

  “That won’t be for several more days, at least,” Bea answered. “I can’t do anything about Travis Burnham, but I can surely do something about your empty stomach. You’re not ready for a big meal yet, but how does beef broth and coffee sound?”

  “That sounds just wonderful.”

  “Fine. I’ll heat some for you. By the time you’ve finished eating, the boys should be here. I’ll send for the doctor, too. He wanted to examine you once you awakened. Now you rest while I get your meal.”

  “Thanks, Bea. I appreciate everything your family’s done for me.”

  “We only did what any decent folks would do,” Bea answered. “So don’t trouble yourself about that. Just recover as quickly as possible.”

  “Doctor’s orders?”

  “My orders, and no one disobeys them,” Bea retorted, as she headed for the kitchen.

  ^^^^^^^^^^^^^

  Taggart had finished his meal and been dozing for an hour when Jesse and Bobby burst into his room.

  “Clay! You’re awake!” Jesse shouted.

  “I am now,” Taggart grinned.

  “I told you he was sleepin’, Jess,” Bobby scolded.

  “You were? I’m sorry, Ranger,” Jesse apologized.

  “No need to apologize, Jess. I’ve slept long enough anyway.”

  Bea hustled into the room.

  “Clay, I didn’t realize these boys were here. They snuck past me. I hope they didn’t wake you.”

  “No harm done,” Taggart assured her. “In fact, I’m glad for the company.”

  “Well, if you’re sure. I have to start supper. However, if these boys are a bother you call me. Jesse, Bobby, don’t you wear out Ranger Taggart. He still needs rest.”

  “We won’t, Ma,” Jesse promised.

  “All right. Then I’ll leave you men to talk.”

  Once Bea had left, Taggart propped himself higher on his pillows.

  “Jess, Bobby, I’ve gotta thank you for bein’ so brave. I understand if you hadn’t hauled me outta that gulch I’d be coyote bait by now. I appreciate what you did.”

  “Shucks, Ranger. It wasn’t much,” Jesse demurred.

  “That’s right,” Bobby agreed. “Your horse did most of the work. That, and you have Jesse’s horse to thank for us findin’ you. Freckles’s the one who made us take that trail. Guess you were right. Pintos sure ain’t dumb.”

  “Except for Freckles tossin’ me over his head,” Jesse corrected.

  “Freckles? Mebbe you’d best explain,” Taggart said.

  “Sure. We were goin’ fishin’,” Bobby began.

  “When we came to the old trail to Peter’s Bluff, Freckles wouldn’t take another step,” Jesse broke in.

  “Whoa, Hold on, boys. One at a time,” Taggart ordered. “There’s no hurry. I’m not goin’ anywhere, so take it slow and easy.”

  And the boys did. For the next hour, they regaled the Ranger with their version of his rescue from the bottom of Peter’s Bluff, embellishing the story but little. They were breathless by the time they finished their tale.

  “And that’s everything, Clay,” Jesse concluded.

  “Well, that’s quite a story,” Taggart answered. “Once I’m up and around I’ll make sure your horses get an entire sack of peppermints. And I’ll find something special for you boys, too.”

  “That’s not necessary, Clay,” Bobby protested.

  “I know it’s not, but you deserve a reward,” Taggart insisted.

  Jesse’s mother poked her head in the door.

  “Speaking of rewards, I just finished mixing a cake. Would you boys want to lick the icing bowl?”

  “Would we?” Jesse exclaimed, then hesitated and looked at Taggart.

  “Go ahead,” Clay chuckled.

  “Thanks!”

  The boys raced from the room.

  “Clay, I was afraid they were tiring you out, so I used that cake as an excuse,” Bea explained. “But if you’re up to it, the rest of the family is home. I’d like you to meet them.”

  “Sure,” Taggart agreed.

  “I’ll bring them right in.”

  Bea departed, returning shortly with a rugged- looking man about her age, and two children who bore strong resemblance to Jesse.

  “Clay, this is my husband Benjamin, Jesse’s older brother Frank, and my daughter, Mary. Ben brought you here, and Frank fetched the doctor for you. Mary’s been helping me care for you.”

  “Well, I’m beholden to all of you,” Taggart stated.

  Introductions completed, the Collins’s and Taggart spent a few minutes in conversation, until they were interrupted by a tapping at the bedroom door.

  “I hate to interrupt, but may I come in? I need to examine my patient.”

  “Certainly, Doctor,” Bea answered. “Clay, this is Doctor Thaddeus Palmer.”

  “Glad to meet you, Doc,” Taggart said.

  “And I’m very pleased to see you awake,” Palmer replied. “I couldn’t be certain just how severe your concussion was. Now folks, if you can leave us.”

  “Of course. Supper is about ready. And don’t forget you’re joining us,” Bea reminded him. “We’ll see you shortly.”

  “Ranger, you gave everyone quite a scare,” Palmer chided. He held up his right hand and extended two fingers.

  “How many fingers do you see?”

  “Two.”

  “That’s fine. Do you have much dizziness? Any nausea? Blurred vision?”

  “Nope. I’m just a bit lightheaded, Doc. And I’m starved.”

  “That’s good. I’ll permit you a light meal once I’m finished.”

  Palmer cleaned and readied Taggart’s scalp, then took his temperature. He checked the Ranger’s pulse, then put a stethoscope to Taggart’s chest to check his heartbeat.

  “You’re doing fine, Ranger Taggart,” he concluded. “You should make a full recovery.”

  “So I’ll be outta this bed in a couple of days?”

  “Not quite. You’ll have that lightheaded sensation for a while, and that concussion will affect your balance. Riding a horse will be impossible, for at least a week. However, I am pleased with your progress. I’ll return in three days to reexamine you. If you are still doing well, then you’ll be able to get up for short periods. But no more.”

  “Doc, I can’t do that. I’ve gotta get after the hombre who shot me,” Taggart objected.

  “Leave that to Sheriff Moran. And let me make this plain. If you get out of that bed
too soon, you’ll finish the job Burnham started,” Palmer warned. “Now, I have other patients to visit. Follow my instructions, and I’ll see you in three days. Don’t, and you’ll be dead. Is that clear?”

  “As crystal.”

  “Good. I’ll see myself out.”

  “Doc?”

  “Yes, Ranger?”

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re quite welcome.”

  After Palmer departed, Taggart lay brooding. Despite the physician’s stern warning, the desire to get after Travis Burnham burned like a fire deep in the Ranger’s gut. He

  wasn’t aware of Bea Collins entering the room with his supper until she called his name, twice.

  “Clay. I was afraid you’d passed out again,” she said.

  “Nah. Just thinkin’. Lucy!” Taggart exclaimed, when he spotted the schoolteacher standing alongside Bea.

  “I told you I’d see you again, Clay,” Lucy smiled. “However, I seem to recall you promised not to have your hide punctured, to use your words.”

  “Luckily the bullet hit my thick skull, so there wasn’t much damage,” Taggart answered.

  “That does explain a lot,” Lucy retorted.

  “I’m going to leave you two. Lucy, make sure he eats everything,” Bea ordered.

  “You won’t have to worry about that. I’m famished,” Taggart answered.

  “I’ll take good care of him,” Lucy promised.

  After Taggart finished his meal, he and Lucy talked for some time, until sleep once again claimed him. With Doctor Palmer still wanting the Ranger observed constantly, Lucy remained with Taggart, finally dozing off in her chair.

  Bea Collins, checking on the Ranger before retiring for the night, tucked a blanket around the sleeping

  schoolmarm, then put an extra quilt over Taggart. She smiled once she had finished.

  Looks like one good thing might come out of this, she thought. I’d better tell the preacher to get ready for a wedding.

  6

  Taggart spent several frustrating days recuperating. Sheriff Moran informed the Ranger he and his deputies had failed to locate Travis Burnham.

  “We lost his trail not far from where he drygulched you,” Moran had said. “I have no idea where he headed. I’ve got men watching the Burnham place, but it’s unlikely he’ll show there. My guess is he’s in Mexico.

  “You’re probably right. But I still can’t figure why he doubled back north,” Taggart had answered.

  Finally allowed out of bed, Clay was brushing his horse. He looked up at the sound of approaching hoofbeats.

  “Someone’s comin’, Mike.”

  A moment later, the sheriff rode into the Triangle C yard and dismounted.

  “Howdy, Clay.”

  “Howdy yourself, Bill. What brings you by? You look as if you’re carryin’ the weight of the world on your shoulders.”

  “Might as well be. Travis Burnham’s turned up.”

  “He has? Where?”

  “Pretty much everywhere around here. I just started gettin’ reports from the past several days. He hit the bank in Blewett, then a saloon in Dabney. Rode north to Reagan Wells and robbed their general store. Headed east from there to Utopia, where he robbed another bank and killed the teller. Yesterday he hit the bank in Sabinal.”

  “He’s makin’ a circle,” Taggart observed.

  “Seems so,” Moran agreed.

  “And he’s headed back here to Uvalde. I’d bet my hat on it!” Taggart exclaimed. “C’mon, Mike.”

  He grabbed the pinto’s leadrope and started for the barn.

  “You figure on goin’ after Burnham?” Moran questioned, following along.

  “Darn right,” Taggart answered. He threw the blanket and saddle on Mike’s back.

  “You want some help?”

  “No, except keep watch on the Burnham spread. I appreciate the offer, but I’ll have a better chance of findin’ Burnham on my own. He won’t be lookin’ for me. He thinks he killed me, remember?”

  “I reckon you’re right, but where do you start lookin’ for him?”

  “Right back where he bushwhacked me. I’ve a hunch his hideout is near there.”

  “Where? My men and I went over every inch of that spot,” Moran protested.

  “Dunno. But if he’s in there, I’ll find him,” Taggart promised. “Bill, do me a favor. Tell the Collins’ I rode after Burnham. Let them know I’ll be back.”

  “Sure. But are you ready to be in the saddle? Doc Palmer…”

  “Doesn’t matter what the doc says. Burnham’s got to be stopped.”

  Taggart slipped the bit into Mike’s mouth, then mounted.

  “Okay. I’ll tell them,” Moran agreed. “You be careful, Clay. Vaya con Dios.”

  “Gracias, Bill. Adios.”

  Taggart sent Mike out of the yard at a trot. He let the horse warm up for a mile, then put him into a gallop. An hour later, the Ranger was combing the area where he’d been ambushed.

  “Burnham’s holed up somewhere in here, Mike. I know it,” he told his horse. “But this time we’re ready for him.”

  Taggart dismounted, studying the area from which the shot had come. A chill went up his spine when he looked down into the gully where he’d nearly died. He turned away, and gazed to the top of the bluff.

  “Somewhere up there,” he muttered. “That’s gotta be it. Mike, I’ll have to leave you here and go on foot.”

  He tied the gelding to a live oak.

  Taggart edged along the base of the bluff, seeking any opening large enough to hold a man and horse. He was about to give up when he spied some brush that was dry and withered.

  “That doesn’t look right,” he muttered. “It’s been rainin’, so there’s no good reason for those bushes to be dead.”

  Taggart yanked on one of the shrubs. It came easily out of the ground, revealing a dim trail climbing through a narrow defile.

  “This is it!” Taggart exclaimed. He hurried back to Mike, untied him, and swung into the saddle.

  “C’mon, Mike. We’ve got him now!”

  Taggart walked his horse into the opening. Fresh hoof prints were evident in the dust.

  “Pretty clever. Burnham hid this trail by cutting brush and stickin’ it in front of the entrance. Would’ve

  worked, too, if he’d replaced it sooner, before it dried up. Well, he’s not gonna slip away again.”

  Twenty minutes later, the defile opened into a small glade, with a cabin at its center.

  “No horse in the corral,” Taggart said. “Bet Burnham’s not home. But I’d better make sure.”

  Taggart checked the shack and found it empty. He emerged from the cabin… and a bullet whistled past his cheek. The Ranger dove to his belly. When another slug ripped the air over his head, he jerked out his Colt and returned fire. Travis Burnham sent one more bullet in Taggart’s direction, then whirled his bay around and raced for the opposite end of the glade.

  Taggart ran for his horse and leapt into the saddle. He touched spurs to Mike’s flanks, putting him into a dead run.

  “We’ve got him now, pard. Go, boy!”

  There were few horses in Texas which could match the big pinto’s speed and endurance. Mike was well rested and eager to run. He streaked after the fleeing renegade.

  The trail emerged onto rolling, open ground, interspersed with low hills and occasional shallow ravines. Although Burnham had a good start, Mike was steadily gaining on the outlaw’s tiring bay.

  “He’s headin’ for town. What the devil is he thinkin’?” Taggart muttered. He urged Mike to greater speed.

  Burnham turned in his saddle to send several shots at his pursuer. Taggart returned fire, but with accurate aim from the back of a running horse impossible, neither man came near his target.

  They pounded into Uva
lde. Burnham pulled his bay to a stop in front of the school and jumped from the saddle. He sent one last shot at the Ranger to slow him, then burst into the building.

  Taggart left his saddle while Mike was still at a run. He reloaded his sixgun as he raced up the school’s steps. A bullet smacked into the wall over his head when he stepped through the door.

  “Drop the gun, Ranger! Right now! Or I’ll kill her!”

  Travis Burnham was at the front of the room, Lucy Squires in his grasp. He held his pistol to the side of her head.

  “I mean it, Ranger.”

  “Let her go, Burnham,” Taggart ordered. “She’s got nothin’ to do with this. Neither do these kids. You don’t want to kill a woman.”

  The children were huddled behind their desks, several of the younger ones crying.

  “No. You let your gun drop,” Burnham insisted. “I’ll give you ten seconds.”

  “You don’t wanna do this,” Taggart replied. “Let her go and we’ll take this outside, man to man.”

  “Ranger, this time you’re dead for certain. Only choice you have is whether I kill this schoolmarm before I plug you. What’s it gonna be?”

  “Reckon you win, Burnham.”

  Taggart lowered his gun. Too late, he spied movement from the corner of his eye.

  “Jesse, Bobby. No!”

  The boys had slipped from their seats while Burnham was occupied with the Ranger. Now, they rushed to the front of the room and dove at their teacher. The collision separated her from Burnham’s grasp.

  For a split-second, Burnham’s attention was diverted from Taggart. Nonetheless, he was already thumbing back the hammer of his sixgun when the Ranger lifted his Peacemaker and fired. Burnham pulled his trigger at the same moment. Taggart’s bullet took the outlaw in his belly, while Burnham’s hastily fired shot slammed into the Ranger’s side.

  The mortally wounded outlaw attempted to level his gun and put another slug into Taggart. Taggart shot him again, through the chest. The bullet smashed Burnham back. He twisted, fell across the teacher’s desk, shuddered, then lay still. Taggart wrested Burnham’s gun from his

  hand and tossed it aside. He slid his own gun back in its holster.

  “Lucy, are you all right?” he asked.