A Bad Day to Die: The Adventures of Lucius “By God” Dodge, Texas Ranger (Lucius Dodge Westerns Book 1)

by J. Lee Butts

  Sounded about as serious as cholera when he finally said, “Name’s McKee. Have a spread seven or eight mile out the Jacksboro Road. Yestiddy mornin’, wife says as how she hears squealing from the pigpen. She says, ‘Ezra, git yore gun and git down there—right now. Coyotes must be at the sow and all her shoats. We lose them pigs, could turn into a mighty lean winter.’ So, I grab up my double-barreled blaster, and do my best imitation of the Comanche tiptoe past the barn and out towards the sty. Built ’at ’ere haven fer hogs far ’nough from the house so’s the smell and flies ain’t so much of a problem, you see.”

  Boz looked like a man who wanted to pull all the hair out of his own nose rather than listen to such nonsense. Ezra McKee never missed a beat. Kept talking like his tale of pigs, sties, smells, and flies was more important than anything else happening in the entire state of Texas that morning.

  “Kinda sidled up to a tree behind the barn and noticed near’bouts six or seven horses bunched around my pigpen. Gang of fellers sat on the top rail of the fence, and was a-hollering to beat the band. You’d a-thought they was a celebratorious sack race going on, Indian leg ‘rasselin’ contest, or somethin’. Finally, seen this gal, leastways looked like a gal, down in the slops with my sow Maggie. She chased that hog round and round. Screamed and cussed a blue streak the whole time. ’Bout the third or fourth trip, she whipped out a pistol and begun shooting. Emptied that’n and pulled another’n. Musta capped off eight or ten rounds altogether.”

  Boz nodded and sagely pulled at his chin. Sounded almost sympathetic when he said, “Killed poor ole Maggie, huh?”

  McKee shook his head. “No, sir. Not right off anyways. Guess all the mud, and such, musta messed with that there gal’s aim or sumpthin’. Pig wouldn’t go down. Gal holstered them pistols and jumped on Maggie’s back. Whipped out a big ole knife and went to stabbin’ like somethin’ insane. Took her nigh on ten minutes, but she finally kilt ole Maggie. All them fellers, sittin’ along my fence, cheered like a horse they bet on done went and won a race. Took ’em a spell, but the thievin’ bastards loaded Maggie onto a pole drag and hightailed it.”

  He ran completely out of steam with the murdered porker’s untimely departure from the glories of porcine life. Couldn’t even speak for almost a minute. Then, in a husky, sad voice, he said, “Don’t know what my kids are gonna eat this winter. Damned hard to live on squirrels and hickory nuts round here. Cain’t eat the shoats. All ten of them ain’t as big as one of Maggie’s hocks. Kill any of my cows and we won’t have nothin’ to sell next spring.” He shook his head back and forth like a tired dog and, almost to himself, added, “Ain’t never ate no horse. Never been that desperate. Yet.”

  Boz shot me a bemused glance and said, “You know, Ezra, I think my young friend here should ride out to your place, and take a look around. Maybe he can get your hog back. You got any idea who done went and murdered poor defenseless Maggie?”

  “Looked like that Nightshade gal, Nance, to me. Course I watched from a ways off, and have to admit my long sight ain’t nearly as good as years past. Besides, didn’t stay, around much after the slaughter.”

  “Why not?” I asked.

  McKee’s back stiffened, and some fire flickered behind his dead brown eyes. “Left right after they started tryin’ to load Maggie up, ’cause I’ve had my share of dealin’s with them Nightshades, and their company of friends, afore. Feared if’n I stayed around, they’d spot me sooner or later. Same bunch cotched me out on Caney Creek two year ago. For absolutely no reason a-tall, they roped me round’bouts my neck, and drug me all over hell and half of Parker County. Sons of bitches laughed the whole time. They thought I wuz deader’n Stonewall Jackson whens they finally cut me loose. Bobbed around in the water like a turtle with a cracked shell for sometime ’fore I gained strength enough to pull my poor busted-up self onto the bank. Took me near three months to completely recover from that ’un. Done tried being real careful round them folks ever since. But killin’ Maggie went beyond the pale. I’ve got young’uns to feed, and ain’t had no paper money in my pocket for a whole year. That hog might’a meant the difference between my kids eatin’ and starvin’ this winter. Cain’t have that, by God. Them bastards can beat me and drag me around in muddy water, but they cain’t go messin’ with the lives of my children.”

  I felt right sorry for the man. Said, “We’ll see what we can do about this, Mr. McKee.”

  Surprised both of us when he shoved his tattered hat back on his head and snapped, “I’d surely appreciate your kind assistance, Rangers. You see, next time any of the Nightshade bunch tries to buffalo me, or comes on my property, I can guarantee you boys they’s gonna be a killin’. Maybe more’n one. Ain’t about to spend a lot of time waitin’ for upcoming outrages. Next dance I’ll shoot to kill first, and pay the devil his due afterwards.” Then he climbed back on his bony mule and waited.

  Boz walked me down to Rickards’. We’d stabled our animals with him. House took better care of Grizz than any man I’ve met since. Blacksmith developed a particular affection for Butterbean. Turned out kind of a mutual thing. Think the mule loved the old man as well.

  My partner slapped me on the leg after I got mounted and said, “Don’t take any unnecessary chances, Lucius. Try to stay away from the Nightshades, if you can. Ride on over to this pitiful soul’s place. Poke around a little. Try to act like you know what you’re about. Anything you do should make him happy. Maybe even put off the killing he mentioned. Best if one of us stays in town just in case something pops up here. If you’re not back by tomorrow afternoon, I’ll come looking for you.”

  The jaunt to Ezra McKee’s ranch took us south on the Jacksboro Road for six or eight miles. Turned west on a barely visible cattle trail for another mile or two. As we rode along, my guide revealed in conversation that he worked body and soul raising a herd of horses and cows on his small ranch. And he complained that the size of his family had resulted in more farming than he really cared for. But, as he noted, with more than a little regret, a man does what he must when the future of his children rests in the balance.

  Found the main house for his spread nestled against a free-flowing creek lined with a stand of fifty-foot cottonwoods. Imprint of a strong-willed woman was obvious on the entire visible operation. Given his scruffy appearance, I could never have imagined Ezra McKee’s home would be so neat, and well kept.

  As if by magic, children appeared from behind virtually every rock, tree, and stump. Pair, who looked like twins, stumbled from the barn carrying a bucket of milk. Counted seven by the time I stopped. Eldest girl sported a seasoned Yellow Boy rifle across her arm and, in my less-than-learned estimation, must have been at least fifteen or sixteen years old. Remaining flock of McKee’s offspring descended in age from her.

  Mrs. McKee, holding a baby on her hip and a Walker Colt in her free hand, stood in the doorway of the house. Tired and worn ragged by life, the woman still had a dignified look about her that evidenced itself in the obvious pride she took in her home and children. She was tall, dark-eyed, and willowy of figure, and a sunburned weariness had draped itself over the once-beautiful woman’s chiseled face.

  McKee’s excited brood yammered so much, and so fast, I couldn’t understand much of anything said. Family fogged around their father as he slid off the mule. Could tell by the way he caressed the backs of their heads, ole Ezra had meant every word when he said messing with his kids would most certainly end in a killing.

  Soon as he got the excited bunch quieted down a bit, the oldest girl said, “They come back, Papa. You couldn’a been gone more’n an hour or so. May have took some of the horses. Two or three, I think. Cain’t be sure. Scared Mama and the little ones so bad, I’ve been keepin’ ’em close to the house. Nightshade flunky called Underhill rode up here in the yard and yelled out how the next time they visit, he might have to kill some kids just for the hell of it. Said he figured he’d be doing the county a favor by ridding this area of baby vermin. Big-mouthed bastard didn�
��t stay around long after I sent a pair of blue whistlers past his ears.”

  Look on McKee’s hollow dejected countenance could have jerked tears from a glass eye. Man trembled and shook as he stumbled for his wife and baby. The couple clung to each other like drowning lovers. Kids latched onto their parents’ legs. Some of the youngsters giggled, others cried.

  Proud rancher motioned me toward the churning mass of humanity, and tried to introduce all of them. Presented his wife to me as Irene. Today I couldn’t tell you all the kid’s names on a bet. Never forget the oldest girl, though. Auburn-haired, green-eyed, and deceptively tough, she was obviously her father’s favorite.

  “Martha Francis, this here’s Mr. Dodge. He’s a Texas Ranger. Come out to help. That bunch from over at Nightshade’s won’t be bothering the McKee family no more.”

  Offered my hand and said, “Pleased to meet you, Martha Francis.”

  Not a glimmer of timidity in the girl’s conduct. She grabbed my ungloved paw, threw me a glance of green-eyed fury, and said, “Don’t call me Francis. Only person who calls me Francis is Ma when she’s angry about something I either did, or didn’t do proper. Don’t know why Pa always introduces me that way. Everyone calls me Martye, Ranger Dodge.”

  She kind of caught me off guard. Given the beaten behavior exhibited by Ezra, her fiery lip came as something of a surprise. Tried to smooth the way a bit. Affable as possible, I said, “Sounds good to me, Martye.”

  She wasn’t in a friendly mood. “Hope you don’t turn out to be the same kind of coward as Sheriff Fain. That tubby gob of chicken shit rode out here twice before, when Pa complained about the Nightshades. Beer-bellied coward never did a thing to help us out—first cousin to Moses Rose as far as I’m concerned. Then he ran like a scared rabbit, right after one of Nightshades’ henchmen pistol-whipped him in that rat’s nest saloon of Shorty Small’s. Ever since then, the whole town’s been scared to death of them sons of bitches.”

  Mrs. McKee tried to step in and calm her spirited daughter when she said, “Now, Martye. There’s no need for profanity. Mr. Dodge doesn’t know you that well yet. Please excuse her, sir. My daughter’s conduct is the result of an unrefined backwater upbringing.”

  The feisty little gal had her stinger out, and was spoiling for the opportunity to put bumps on somebody’s head. She snapped, “I don’t care what this man thinks of me, Ma. We’ve had to put up with that clan of egg-sucking prairie snakes for three years. ’Bout time someone with the right level of authority, and grit, took notice.”

  Thought I’d get away from her when Ezra led me out to his pigpen. Regrettably, my luck didn’t hold. She followed, and ragged on me the whole time.

  I’d just scouted around some and found sign leading to the north when she snapped, “You done wasted thirty minutes, Ranger Dodge. I coulda told you which way they went. If this trail don’t lead right to the Nightshades’ front porch, I’ll eat one of them Mexican barn hornets raw. No salt. Straight up. You gonna go after ’em, or stand here with your face hanging out, and gandering at the tracks?”

  Couldn’t help but smile, which didn’t do anything but make her even madder. I said, “Don’t you ever calm down, darlin’?”

  Her lips peeled back and she snarled, “You don’t know me well enough yet to call me darlin’. Besides, if you don’t put some hurry-up into this, they’ll have Maggie butchered and et ’fore night falls. Pile of pork that big ain’t gonna keep. Thievin’ sons of bitches could be cookin’ her right now.”

  No profit to be had arguing with the girl. Besides, I never much liked being abused by good-looking females. Mounted up and started following the track. No difficulty there. Pole drag left deep cuts on the baked soil, and considerable blood sign along the way as well.

  Not sure what I expected, but the Nightshade ranch couldn’t have been more’n three or four miles from McKee’s place. Surprised me when I came upon their house. Poor Ezra’s unfortunate closeness virtually assured the kind of harassment bullies, and thugs, never seem to get their fill of. Reined up in a stand of trees on the south side of Little Agnes Creek, and pulled my long glass.

  Appeared as though the entire band had gathered behind the house around a spit turned by a constantly changing parade of children. The carcass of a recently slaughtered hog cooked in its own juices over a smoky, slow-burning fire. I counted eleven people in the yard. Figured that covered Nightshade, at least seven kids, and a couple of extras. Spotted Nance helping her father baste the pig from a bucket of some kind of sauce.

  Swept the glass over the crowd, one last time, and kinda mumbled to myself, “One of you boys must be Underhill. And I’d bet the other’n is probably the one Boz whacked on the noggin.”

  Damn near scared me speechless when this voice out of nowhere whispered, “Well, you gonna do something, Ranger Dodge, or just sit here with your face hanging out?” Last time I got myself armed that fast involved a running gun battle with Comanches out on the Llano Estacado.

  9

  “ARE ALL YOU RANGERS THIS BADLY INFORMED . . .?”

  MARTYE MCKEE SAT bareback on a pinto pony and stared into the open muzzle of my pistol. If she had moved about an inch closer, the tip of her nose could’ve fit inside.

  I eased the hammer down, holstered the gun, and hissed, “Goddammit, girl, how in the blue-eyed hell did you get this close without me knowing? Sweet Weeping Jesus, I damn near blew your head off.”

  She smiled, and in a voice dripping with sarcasm said, “Slipping up on the likes of you ain’t that hard.” She patted the pony’s neck. “Sneaky, here, has the lightest feet in Parker County. I can ride her right up to the Nightshades’ back porch, in broad daylight, and they won’t hear me.”

  Soon as I stopped shaking, tried to get her to go home. Girl wouldn’t give an inch. Snapped at me like she wanted to bite my ears off. “I ain’t gonna. You can forget it. Besides, you can’t get our hog back alone, and I’ve got a plan.”

  “Well, that’s just by God peachy. Not sure I really expected to ‘get your hog back.’ Randall Bozworth Tatum, my senior in this matter, warned me to be careful around this bunch of hard cases. But you’ve got a plan. Does this plan of yours involve getting me killed anytime today?”

  “Maybe, but I don’t think so.”

  “You don’t think so?”

  “No. If you do what I’ve got in mind, we can get Maggie and be back on the ranch so fast they’ll still be standing around arguing with each other about what happened to ’em this time tomorrow.”

  Well, she actually did have a fairly good idea about how to handle the situation. Dangerous, but a pretty impressive scheme for an Indian-wild, pony-riding, barefoot country girl. All came down to the notion that she expected me to ride up to the Nightshade house and reclaim her family’s slaughtered porker, while she and her Yellow Boy covered me from the safety of the willow-covered creek bank. And although Boz’s warning, not to confront Titus and his band of thugs, rang in my ears like cathedral bells, Martye McKee’s “I by God dare you, Lucius Dodge” attitude got the better of me.

  Before I waded Grizz across the creek, pointed and said, “You see the bucket sitting on top of the spit?” She nodded. “Can you hit something that small from here?”

  She looked at me like I’d sprouted a third head. Groaned and said, “I could put lead in a target that size from twice this distance, shooting over my shoulder with a two-hundred-year-old cracked mirror.”

  Had to smile, but used the back of my hand to conceal my mouth. “As best you can, get out of sight, Martye. When you see me point at the bucket, I expect splintered wood in the air, immediately, if not a damned sight sooner. No room for carelessness here. You understand?”

  “My Glorious God. Are all you Rangers this badly informed about the mental powers of the womenfolk of Parker County? This whole dance was my idea to start with.” She pushed herself up on the pony’s back, leaned toward me, and rattled off one word at a time. “I think my pea-sized brain comprehends what you want
me to do, Mr. Dodge.” Then she grinned and winked. God, but women could be a mystery for a young man blessed with limited familiarity in the study of those creatures.

  Pulled up on the far side of the shallow creek, kept mumbling to myself like an aged grandpa with hardening of the arteries. Couldn’t believe the emerald-eyed little devil could set me talking to myself like she did. Course my experience with women, and girls at the time, could charitably be described as elementary at best. Only female-type person of my close acquaintance, at that point in my life, was my mother. Trust me when I tell you, Matilda Dodge exhibited none of the attributes of Fort Worth’s soiled doves, Nance Nightshade, or the spunky Miss Martye McKee.

  The brazen clan of hog thieves must have been watering at the mouth so much they didn’t bother to notice my arrival. I damn near rode right up in the middle of them. Guess the prospect of a free meal let their bellies get the better of their questionable judgment. Only good thing about the whole situation was when I noticed they’d leaned their rifles against the fence, and the top rail was gaily decorated with a number of unreachable pistol belts.

  Two rough tables, dressed out with wooden bowls and pewter utensils, had been jammed against each other to form a single ten-foot-long eating surface. Piles of corn, taters, hoecakes, and beans waited while the cook basted the stolen hog with a rag wrapped around a long pole.

  “Smells mighty good,” I said. Whole bunch jumped around at the same time like I’d fired a cannon. “Bet Ezra McKee’s gonna be glad to get her back.”

  Titus held the meat-basting stick like a magic wand. Kids of every imaginable age gathered around their father and threw daggered looks my direction. He dropped the rag-and-pole contraption into a bucket on the ground and said, “You got a lot of nerve coming out here alone, Ranger Dodge. Must be feeling mighty wolfish.”