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

by J. Lee Butts

  Heard Moses mumble, “Sweet Merciful Jesus.”

  “Exactly how I felt, Mose. Guess the slur must have pulled Martye McKee’s cork as well. Girl jumped over in Jack’s face and slapped him so hard his ancestors in Hell must have felt the palm of her hand. That’s when the shooting commenced. Can’t say, for sure, as who started the ball rolling. Blasting from both sides got right intense. So much spent powder in the air the shooters disappeared on me. Took the opportunity to pull the bowie in my boot and slip it into the man behind me. Got him in the leg, just below the crotch of his pants. When he yelped and bent over, punched a nice-sized hole in his neck just under his chin. Knife went in all the way to the hilt. Got him going in so many directions at once he didn’t know which end was up. Grabbed my pistols and tried to stand. Someone whacked me on the head, or maybe a bullet nicked me, can’t be clear which.

  “When I come around again, Ezra’d already passed, along with his mule, and Martye’s mustang. Girl hovered over her father. Never heard such weeping. Town’s been a-workin’ on its anger, like fire stokers in Satan’s kitchen, since the day they buried that man. Whole bunch is all horns and rattles. They’re madder’n a herd of red-eyed cows and looking for any reason available to kill somebody. If’n my name was Nightshade, I’d stay out of Sweetwater fer a spell.”

  Probably sounded just a bit too concerned when I blurted, “What about Martye, Crow Foot? She all right?”

  Could tell by the way he looked at me the news couldn’t be real good. “She’s staying with the Hickersons, son. Got pricked a couple of times by flying lead. One creased her arm, and, as she went down, noggin got a little scratch. Nothin’ life-threatenin’. But she bled so much from the head wound it might well have saved her life. Witnesses on the boardwalk in front of the mercantile said Jack went to shoot her again. Stood over the girl and cocked his pistol, but Nance stopped him. Maybe Nance thought Martye was already dead. Can’t testify to seein’ Nance stop the thing myself, but that’s what others told me.”

  Boz looked surprised. “Neither of the Nightshades got hit?”

  “Not so much as a single scratch, as near as I’ve been able to determine. But Ezra got the new boy what came to town with ’em. One load of 10-gauge shot. Kilt him deader’n John Wilkes Booth. He’d crowded Ezra to the point where that’s all it took. Cut the poor idgit in half, right at his suspender buttons.”

  Boz said, “Been able to find out who he was?”

  “Yeah. Had the town look ’im over. Three different people identified the chewed-up mess as a thief and killer from the Round Rock vicinity named Roscoe Slidell. Usually ran with Chalky Snow’s gang of cutthroats. Had to bury ’im that day. Don’t suppose we’ll ever know now for certain, lest we can get it out of Jack when, and if, we bring him in. But I gotta tell you, Boz, if’n Chalky Snow gets involved in the chaos we’ve got brewin’ here, things could get considerable nastier ’fore it all shakes out.”

  Boz ignored unforeseeable possibilities and stayed with the problem at hand. “Say you couldn’t tell who fired first?” Sounded like he hated asking the question.

  Crow Foot looked sneaky. “Well, no, cain’t say as how I seen who opened the box with that particular one.”

  Boz scratched his neck and looked thoughtful. “Jack and Nance Nightshade will just naturally claim Ezra caused the killings when he started the dance. Be willing to bet my next month’s Ranger pay on it. Know that’s what I’d do, if’n the law came after me. Swear to self-defense. Hell, Crow Foot, his lawyers would probably call you as a witness for the defense.”

  Mose said, “What about the one you went and stabbed, Sheriff Stickles?”

  “Oh, he crawled to his horse, got mounted somehow, and made it to the creek. Unfortunate drygulcher bled to death. We found him just this side of the bridge. Had a letter in his saddlebags addressed to a Jeff Proctor. Bunch of them Proctors from over in Comanche County. Maybe this is one of ’em what went bad.”

  By that point in the bloody tale, I’d made it halfway through the front door and yelled over my shoulder, “Gonna go check on Martye, Boz. See you boys later.”

  Angry swarm of citizens on the street had thinned out some. One or two, fortified with plenty of liquid nerve, shouted insults at me as I made my way over to our friend’s store. Loudmouthed bastards acted right foolish. Would have gladly attended their rude behavior had it not been for my single-minded desire to make sure of Martye McKee’s well-being.

  Soon as my foot crossed the threshold, Marie Hickerson spotted me. Concerned lady came flying over, grabbed my arm, and pushed me toward her and Burton’s quarters in the back. My other visits had restricted themselves to the kitchen and dining areas of their residence. For some reason I never realized, or imagined, they had bedrooms available once you passed through a doorway behind, and to the right, of her Excelsior cook stove. Barely large enough for the bed, nightstand, chair, and chest, the space had but a small window for ventilation. Smelled stuffy and close. I stood in the doorway and looked at the wild, beautiful girl asleep there.

  Tiptoed my way to the chair and eased into it. Straight-backed and cane-bottomed, it groaned under my weight. Three-inch wound in the hair above her right eye must’ve scored the bone. Shade deeper and I would’ve surely spent that bit of time staring at a grave.

  Martye stirred and woke to find me seated next to her. She smiled and reached for me. Held her hot fingers squeezed in mine for several minutes before she spoke.

  “They killed my father, Lucius. Bullied up, picked a fight, and shot him like a dog. All for a pig he’d raised from a shoat.” A tear appeared in the corner of her eye, and she turned away, but went on talking. “Got to admit, we had a bushel of fun getting ole Maggie back from those thieves. But, oh, my God, the final tally on our effort was mighty dear.”

  I wanted to reassure her. Show off my manly side. Step up and brag on how the law, and the Texas Rangers, would see to her comfort and revenge, but I couldn’t. Crow Foot’s rendition of the shooting left too many holes to fill. Given the history of such proceedings in the courts, I knew Boz was dead-on accurate with his assessment of how such an effort would likely resolve itself. At that moment, my frustration and confusion with the situation at hand existed on a level more profound than any I’d ever felt.

  Sat with Martye for most of an hour. As I got up to leave, she pulled me down and kissed my cheek. Whispered in my ear, “I’ve missed you, Lucius. Try not to stay away so long again.”

  “I’ll keep myself nearby,” I said. “Get some rest. Heal up. Want you well as soon as possible.”

  She tried to grin. “Don’t worry. Now that you’re back in town I plan on being up and around by tomorrow noon at the latest.” Gently pulled the door closed, and headed back for the office.

  Boz caught me climbing on Grizz and said, “Where you goin’, Lucius?”

  “Gonna pay the Nightshades a friendly visit.” No mockery in my voice, but he didn’t take to the idea.

  “Now wait just a damned minute. You might want to think that ’un over for a spell. No need to go out there all half-cocked yet. Give me a day or so to mull this situation over, and then we’ll all stroll out together. Let ’em know how the cow ate the cabbage.”

  Held my animal in place and said, “Don’t worry, Boz. I’m just gonna mosey by the ranch and talk with Nance. Maybe I can keep this killing spree from turning into any worse bloodbath than we’ve already got. Seems like we’re working our way up to a dozen dead. From the looks of what’s going on here in town, someone needs to warn the Nightshade band and their friends not to come back for a spell. Any of ’em show their faces tomorrow, or the next day, and there’s gonna be more lifeless folks on the street. Sure as hell can’t imagine we need that.”

  He thought over my rant for a few seconds. Crow Foot and Mose strolled out on the boardwalk and listened in. Finally he said, “Actually, you ain’t got a bad idea there, son. Fact is Nance likes you. Yes. Yes indeed. Probably better if you make the visit alone, than a
ll of us running in on ’em at the same time this soon after the shootings. Go on out and see what you can do. Think such a visit will be good for our side, no matter how you slice it. If you’re not back by dark, we’ll come a-looking.”

  Didn’t necessarily like the rather ominous sound of his final words on the matter. Wheeled Grizz around in a tight circle. “Sounds good to me, Boz,” I said, and kicked for Little Agnes Creek.

  Made no effort to conceal my movements that time out. Rode right to the front of the main house, the same way Boz and me had on our first visit with the rowdy family. Youngest of the kids started yelling and running for home as soon as they spotted me wading the creek.

  Pulled the Henry. Laid the iron-framed weapon across my saddle while Grizz was still knee-deep in water. Snapped the hammer thongs on all my pistols and cocked each one. By the time I reined up, the whole clan had assembled on the porch, armed to the teeth. Appeared my intent for a private conversation with Nance would have to wait.

  Noticed several new faces in the congregation. Sweetwater gossip had more than a little basis in truth, as near as I could tell. Nightshade ranch tended to host a new bunch of cutthroats about every other day or so. Three newcomers had the hard-eyed look of living on the run, eating from campfires, and sleeping on the ground.

  Jack went surly on me as soon as I pulled up. “Lord Almighty, please save the Nightshade family from the goddamned law. What the hell you want this time, Dodge? Come out here to brag on how you killed my friends up in the Nations? Want me to slap you on the back for dragging Tom and Latigo in for a certain hanging? Want to gloat over how Ezra McKee and that ole bastard of a deputy butchered my compadres like dogs? Well, you come to the wrong place. Ain’t nobody on Little Agnes Creek gonna sing any of you do-rights’ praises for murdering Jesse and Leo, or Chalky’s boys.”

  No point getting involved in a spit-slinging debate with a man convinced he’s right. Jack’s addled, wide-of-the-mark reasoning didn’t leave any room for discussion, and I figured the rest of his poorly informed family felt the same way. So I went ahead and dropped the whole load on him first jump out of the box.

  Forced my voice as low as I could. Dozen or so people on the Nightshades’ porch had to lean forward to hear me. “Jack, you folks have backed yourselves into the only corner of a burning building. The good people of Sweetwater won’t put up with any new call-out shootings on Main Street where a well-liked man is killed and his daughter wounded. Won’t abide another stage robbery, especially one that ends in double murder—even if none of you Nightshades had anything directly to do with it. Those folks feel they’ve been put upon for the last time, and all indications point to a community that won’t stand for anymore disappearing livestock, or abuse of its citizens in the saloons, mercantile stores, or on the streets. You’ve hit the end of your bullying string.”

  Being out front made Jack bold. He stopped me with a raised hand and snapped, “Cain’t prove none of that. Just a bunch of Rebel lies told on us ’cause my family sided with the Union during the Rebellion.”

  Wanted them to hear it all, so I kept moving soon as I could get a word in edgewise. “For all your protests to the contrary and assertions of innocence, you’ve made so many enemies in these parts that I genuinely fear for your family’s safety—especially the women and kids. Those of us who carry the weight of the law on our chests will do what we can to avoid more murderous confrontation. But, I’m truly fearful that the next time you, and yours, ride into town looking for trouble, you’ll get way more than you bargained for. You keep messin’ ’round and oak-tree justice seems like an absolute certainty.”

  Thought there for a second Jack Nightshade’s head might explode. “Damn you and all those like you,” he yelled. I’m certain he meant it, but his words didn’t fall on me with the force I expected. Wish I could say as much for his mother.

  Dusky stood between her oldest son and daughter while I spoke. Soon as Jack got finished snapping back, the belligerent woman tore into me like a wounded mama bear. She shook a knotted finger in my face and screeched, “We’re God-fearing country folk here, Ranger. Ain’t done nothin’ to nobody. Just tryin’ to get along. And I’m damned if I’ll tell my children to hide from the likes of those yammerin’ gossips from hell in Sweetwater. We done put up with their brand of tall-tale-carrying and sanctimonious nattering muck since the day we got here. Vacated Alabama to get away from the same sort. Nightshades go where we damn well please. Enjoy the company of our friends. Do as we please, and don’t need the likes of you to show up on our property and tell any of us a goddamned thing. You best put yourself on the road back to town, boy. Lest I turn my pack of dogs loose on you right this instant. One word from me, and you’ll be crow bait.”

  Thought the old lady might snatch me off Grizz’s back and set to kicking bloody hell out of me her very own self. But guess she satisfied any need for venom, and retired behind the shelter of her sullen, itchy-fingered brood.

  The most vicious-looking of the three newcomers stepped up to fill Dusky’s place. Heavy silver spurs chinked against the plank boards. Could barely see his leather breeches for all the pistols hanging around his narrow waist. Wine-colored silk vest covered a homespun pullover shirt, and the whole shebang got topped off with a short-brimmed black felt gambler’s hat festooned with a turkey feather. Every piece of flesh available to the eye had a lumpy pink scar or pockmark on it. Bandanna, poorly tied around his neck, did little to hide a ragged chunk of flesh that someone left after what appeared to me as an attempt to cut his head off.

  Left-handed, he removed the half-finished hand-rolled smoke dangling from his lips. “Name’s Chalky Snow, Ranger. Sure you’ve heard of me.” His rough, grating voice clawed its way across my eardrums. Coarse sound that emanated from a tobacco-stained, snaggle-toothed mouth led me to hope he didn’t have much to say. He winked like we might be friends, or something. Ruffian obviously felt he was the most dangerous man around, and wanted as much fear introduced into the conversation as possible.

  Didn’t feel inclined to go giving the evil snake any credit, if I could help it. “No. Can’t say as I have. Your name supposed to mean something, Snow?”

  One eye closed, then the lid fluttered like a wounded bird. Appeared as though a pain hit him somewhere on the back of his head. “Well,” he growled, “if’n you’d ever been down Round Rock way, you would, for damn sure, have heard my name. Chalky Snow’s known as a pretty bad sort, from Waco all the way to the border.”

  Kind of liked the idea I’d managed to put a burr in his drawers, and decided to see just how far I could push it. “That a fact. My family ranches near Lampasas. Lived in the area most of my life. Usually when there’s a skunk out and about word gets around, but like I said, never heard of you.”

  He bulled up and snorted, “Could be I might have to see to your education on the subject down the trail a piece, Ranger.”

  Didn’t give him any slack when I shot back, “Little doubt, if you work a bit harder on your reputation, the law will see to your comfort and security at some point in the near future. As past events now stand, followers of yours have done enough damage in Parker County. I’d advise you to stay out of this problem henceforth, or I’ll personally settle your hash myself.” Mighty bold talk from a tenderfoot in the Ranger business, but I figured the badge on my chest gave more than enough official weight for the move.

  Don’t think ole Chalky had ever been challenged outright like that in front of those he counted as friends. He swelled his scrawny chest even more, got right bullfroggy, and eased a hand toward one of his weapons.

  I brought the Henry around and kind of quiet and slow said, “You touch that pistol, Snow, and it’ll be the last thing you ever lay a hand on in this life.”

  Nance jumped between us and shouted, “Stop it. Stop this right now.” She glanced over her shoulder at the quivering gunman and snapped, “You’re a guest in my family’s home, Chalky. There’s kids standin’ behind you this morning. Put your ang
er aside. Don’t make any moves that might get more than you dead.”

  Jack grinned. “Hell, Nance, let Chalky have Ranger Lucius By-God Dodge. Could be he’ll kill this arrogant do-right and save me the trouble. Personally don’t have no problem with such an outcome myself.”

  Being as how I’d jumped in feet-first and fully dressed, went ahead and really bored in on all of them. “Won’t say but one other thing before I take my leave, Nightshade. You, family members, or any of your friends, even look like the killers responsible for the death of a Texas Ranger, and a force of Biblical proportions will fall on this place the likes of which can’t be imagined in midnight’s most fearful reveries. Company B will erase your peckerwood-sized ranch from the face of the earth.” Finished with Jack and turned to Chalky Snow again. “Best saddle up and get on back to Round Rock, Snow. Ain’t healthy for the likes of you in these parts. Make one bad move around here and your friends down south will be attending a funeral.”

  Backed Grizz all the way to the creek, then slanted my way across so I could keep them in view till I’d put some distance, and a few trees, between us. Didn’t get in any hurry and couldn’t have managed more than a mile or so when Nance caught up with me. She fogged up the trail fast as her animal could run. Came to a jumping stop so close, she was able to reach out and grab me by the arm.

  “Please stop. I need to talk.”

  Altogether the most courtesy I’d heard from any of the unruly bunch that morning, so I sheathed the Henry and waited.

  “Jack’s gone crazy, Lucius. My brother’s had a bent axel since the day Ma birthed him. But after Euless White-cotton killed Pa, he’s gotten worse by a ox-drawn wag-onload. The towheads can’t see it, and Ma won’t admit it.” Then she almost whispered, “Sometimes I think she’s crazier than Jack.”

  Her chin dropped to her chest, and she shook her head back and forth like a weary dog. “I’m tired of this life, Lucius. My family’s fought everyone we’ve ever met, anywhere we’ve lived. Been going on my entire life. Hell, we learned it from Pa. I loved the man because he was my father, but anger, quarrelsome behavior, and isolation from decent folk can prove a heavy burden once you’ve carried it long enough.”