A Ranger Named Rowdy

by James J. Griffin

  Tim dug a deck of cards from his vest pocket, and he and Tate spent the next couple of hours playing penny ante poker. As darkness descended, Tim checked Wolfe’s handcuffs, which were attached to a seat stanchion, then stretched out his legs, tilted his Stetson over his eyes, and dozed off. It was some time later when he was awakened by the train’s sudden slowing. The locomotive seemed to be struggling to gain traction. Tim waved the conductor over when he came into the car.

  “What’s goin’ on? And whereabouts are we?” he asked.

  “We’re just out of Kent, on the north edge of the Davis Mountains,” the trainman answered. “Snow’s pretty deep. We’re havin’ trouble makin’ the upgrade. Another couple of miles and we’ll be at the top. If we can get that far, we should have no problem after that.”

  “Much obliged.”

  For the next several minutes, the engineer kept the locomotive at full throttle, dumping all the sand from the sand cylinders onto the rails in a failing attempt to gain traction. Finally, the train shuddered to a stop. Passengers murmured anxiously, some looking out the windows in a vain attempt to penetrate the world of white. Snowflakes plastered the glass, turning to a coating of ice as they melted, then refroze.

  “Looks like we’re stuck,” Tate said.

  “So it would seem,” Tim answered. “Better hope it’s not for too long.”

  A short while later, the conductor returned.

  “I’m sorry, folks,” he said, “But snow’s blocked the tracks. It’s just too deep and heavy for the engine to push aside, plus we can’t get any traction. It’s made the rails too slippery, and it’s still comin’ down hard. Appears we’ll be stuck here for a couple of days unless this storm lets up soon. But there’s nothing to worry about. We have plenty of food on board, and enough fuel for the stoves for a week, at least. You’re perfectly safe. Try and make yourselves as comfortable as you can. Might as well make the best of the situation.”

  Tim cursed under his breath. It looked like he might not be getting home for Christmas after all. Ahead, the man with the valise stood up.

  “Conductor,” he said. “It’s imperative you get this train moving at once. There has to be something you can do.”

  “I’m sorry, Mister. Not until this snow lets up.”

  “But I have to get to Toyah. It’s a matter of life or death.”

  “I wish I could say we’d be underway again shortly, but I’d be lyin’,” the conductor said.

  “You don’t understand. I’m a doctor, and this case holds a supply of smallpox vaccine. There’s been an outbreak of the disease in Toyah. Every minute’s delay in getting this vaccine to town means more people will sicken, and many of them die. We’re only about twenty miles from Toyah. Surely you can get this train moving somehow. Perhaps if all the male passengers shoveled…”

  The conductor cut him short.

  “I’m sorry, Doctor, but there’s not a thing I can do. Wish I could. Far as havin’ the tracks shoveled, even if we could try that, there’s no shovels, except for a few. We’re stuck here until the weather lets up.”

  Tim and Tate looked at each other and nodded.

  “Keep an eye on Wolfe,” Tim said. He got up and walked down the aisle.

  “Doctor?”

  “I’m Doctor Horace Baumgarten, yes. What can I do for you?”

  “I’m a Texas Ranger. Tim Bannon. My pard back there is Tate Slocum. We’ve got our horses in a cattle car at the back of this train. If you’re willin’, we’ll try and get that vaccine through by horseback for you.”

  A glimmer of hope appeared in the doctor’s eyes, then faded.

  “I appreciate the offer, Ranger Bannon, but I’m afraid a journey on horseback would be far too arduous for me, even in good weather.”

  “I wasn’t sayin’ you needed to come, Doc. My pardner and I will take the vaccine and head for Toyah. Seems like we’re the only chance you’ve got.”

  “But there’s no doctor in Toyah. No one to administer the vaccine,” Baumgarten said.

  “I’d be willing to give it a shot, if you’ll show me how.”

  Baumgarten winced at Tim’s horrific pun.

  “I’m not certain.”

  “How hard could it be? Besides, like I said it appears to me we’re your only hope of savin’ those folks.”

  Baumgarten stroked his gray beard.

  “I suppose it could work, yes. And you would need to be vaccinated before you set off, so that would show you how it’s done. However, what if you don’t make it through? You could die out there in this blizzard, Ranger.”

  “It’s a chance my pard and I are willin’ to take, if you are.”

  Baumgarten made his decision. “Then we’ll trust you to the mercy of the Lord, and put your fate, and that of Toyah, in God’s hands. Come.”

  Baumgarten rose from his seat and followed Tim to where Tate and Wolfe were waiting.

  “Doc, my pardner, Tate Slocum. And this is Curly Wolfe. He’s our prisoner. Curly, looks like you’ll be takin’ a ride with us. And if we make it, I’m gonna tell the governor to give you a full pardon. You willin’?”

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “Not really.”

  “That’s what I thought. I’d rather go with you anyway. Only thing I’m lookin’ forward to is a long stretch in Huntsville. Mebbe this way I’ll have some tall tales to tell while I’m behind bars.”

  “I appreciate what you’re doing, all of you,” Baumgarten said. “Now roll up your sleeves. You’ll all need to be vaccinated. Rangers, I suggest you take the needle in the opposite of your gun arm, since you’ll be sore for a few days. Unfortunately, the vaccine takes three days or so to be fully effective, but it’s better you receive it now than not at all.”

  Tim removed Wolfe’s handcuffs. Tate and Wolfe rolled up their left sleeves, Tim his right. Baumgarten opened his valise. He removed the container which held the vaccine, along with a bottle of alcohol, a cloth, and a needle.

  “Ranger Bannon, I’ll inoculate you first,” he said. He opened the container, dipped the needle in it, then quickly pricked Tim’s skin a few times. “There, you’re done. Your arm will be sore, you may feel a bit like you have influenza or a bad cold. In three days or so a scab should form at the site of the injection. That’s the sign you’ve been effectively vaccinated.”

  He dipped the needle in alcohol, then wiped it off.

  “You need to sterilize the needle after each patient,” he instructed. “However, be sure to wipe it completely dry before the next inoculation, or the residual alcohol will render the vaccine ineffective. One positive thing is the cold will help keep the vaccine efficacious. It can deteriorate quite rapidly under the wrong conditions.”

  Tim rolled down his sleeve. Baumgarten vaccinated Tate, then Wolfe. He replaced everything in the valise, buckled it shut, and handed it to Tim. He and his companions shrugged back into their heavy sheepskin coats. A matronly woman approached them. She held out three woolen scarves.

  “I knitted these for my grandchildren,” she said, “But perhaps they will help keep you warm. Take them, please. I can always make more.”

  “Much obliged, ma’am,” Tim said. “We can use them to tie our hats on our heads Keep the wind from blowin’ ’em away, and keep our ears warm besides. They’ll work better’n our chinstraps. We’re grateful.”

  “It’s the least I can do,” she said. “May God ride with you.”

  “You’re ready to go, Ranger,” Baumgarten said. “I wish you all the best. I’ll be praying you make it safely through the storm, and for a Christmas miracle. I’m most grateful.”

  “Most all of us will be doing that, Doctor,” the conductor said. “Rangers, whenever you’re ready.”

  “We’re set,” Tim said.

  They exited the train on its leeward side, where they had at least some protection from the fierce wind. They reached the cattle car, opened the door, and clambered inside. Wind-driven snow coming through the slats coated the floor two inches de
ep, making it slippery. The horses snorted, breath steaming.

  “Easy, boys,” Tim soothed them. “You’re gonna need to save all the energy you can.”

  The horse were saddled and bridled. Tim tied the valise which held the vaccine to his saddle, then their riders dropped from the car.

  “We’re gonna have to jump ‘em outta there,” Tim said. He tugged on Rowdy’s reins, and the big paint snorted, then leapt from the car. He nuzzled Tim’s face. “Yeah, I’m glad to see you too,” Tim said.

  Buddy hesitated, but also jumped. Horatio, Wolfe’s chestnut, needed some urging, but after a few moments also jumped, to join his equine companions.

  “Good luck, men,” the brakeman shouted. He slid the door shut. “May God be with you.”

  The three men mounted and put their horses into a walk. As soon as they left the shelter of the train, the wind hit them with its full force, feeling almost like walking into a brick wall. Wind-driven snow stung the unprotected parts of their faces and found its way into every opening in their clothes. They could barely see a hundred feet.

  “How are we ever gonna find our way in this?” Wolfe asked, shouting to be heard above the howling wind.

  “We’ll follow the tracks as best we can,” Tim answered. “And we’ll use the wind to keep our direction. Long as it doesn’t shift, we’ll know which way we’re pointed.”

  The headlight of the locomotive faded behind them as the three men rode into the teeth of the maelstrom.

  ***

  It was less than twenty miles from where the train had gotten snowbound to Toyah. That would be an easy ride for most horsemen under ordinary circumstances, and for the Rangers it would be just another short journey. However, they hadn’t gone less thana mile before they realized the storm was even worse than it had seemed from the relative comfort of the train. Wind gusts, some so strong they threatened to blow the men right out of their saddles, swirled around them. At times visibility grew so bad they could barely see their horses’ ears. Tim took the lead, attempting to follow the tracks northeastward to Toyah. However, the blinding, drifting snow made that virtually impossible. More often than not he lost the rails, relying strictly on instinct and the wind’s direction to hopefully keep on the right path. There was no way to tell how deep the snow really was, for in spots the wind had swept the ground almost completely bare; in others it had piled the snow in drifts shoulder high on the horses. The men rode hunched over in their saddles, trying in vain to keep the snow from stinging their faces. Their cheeks burned, then grew numb. Snow driven through the buttonholes in their jackets and shirts, and under their collars and down their necks, soon had them soaking wet. They lost all track of time. The horses were drenched with sweat from their efforts to break through the drifts. They plodded miserably on, their heads hanging low. Snow balling up in their horseshoes turned to solid ice, making their every step treacherous. Several times they stumbled, and as they grew more exhausted their steps became ever more faltering. Wolfe shouted when Horatio went to his knees. He pulled the chestnut back up with a firm tug on the reins.

  “Dunno how much longer my horse can keep goin’, Bannon. I’m just about done in too. I’m holdin’ us all up. Just leave me here. Keep goin’. Mebbe without me draggin’ you down you’ll still be able to save those folks.”

  Tim circled back to the prisoner.

  “I’m sure not leavin’ you here to die,” he said. “Either all of us get through, or none of us will. Now c’mon.”

  “You’re a stubborn cuss, ain’t ya, Bannon?” Wolfe said. Nonetheless, he heeled Horatio into a reluctant walk.

  Tim had no idea how long they had been out there in the storm when Rowdy, exhausted, fell to his knees. Tim kicked his feet out of the stirrups and jumped from the saddle just in time to avoid being crushed when the big paint rolled onto his side. Rowdy lay there, gasping for air. Luckily, he went down on the side opposite the valise holding the smallpox vaccine. Behind him, Buddy also groaned, then went down, spilling Tate from his back. Wolfe’s horse stood spraddle-legged, unwilling to take another step.

  “C’mon, Rowdy, get up,” Tim pleaded, tugging on the reins. “It ain’t all that much further.”

  “We’ve lost, Tim,” Tate said. “The horses are played out, and we sure can’t make it much further.”

  “I hate to say it, but your pardner’s right, Bannon,” Wolfe added.

  “No! We’re not givin’ up,” Tim answered. He tugged harder on Rowdy’s reins. “C’mon, pal, get up. Please. There’s a warm stall with plenty of hay and oats waitin’ for you not far now. C’mon, Rowdy. Please.”

  Rowdy gave a snort, then struggled to his feet. Buddy also rolled onto his stomach, lay there for a moment, then regained his feet.

  “We’re gonna have to lead these horses,” Tim said. “They’re not gonna make it otherwise.” Wolfe swung from his saddle. Tim picked up Rowdy’s reins and began tramping a path through the snow.

  Exhaustion and the freezing cold threatened to claim the men at any moment. There was no sign of the storm abating. Reaching Toyah seemed hopeless. Now, it was just a matter of finding some kind of shelter, any kind, to survive. If by some miracle they were still following the tracks, with luck they might come across a telegraph shack or a maintenance building. If they didn’t find some place to hole up, and soon, they were sure to perish.

  Tim forced his way through a chest high drift, then dropped to his face, completely worn out. Rowdy whickered softly, nuzzled the back of Tim’s neck, then lay down beside him. Tim started to drift into blissful unconsciousness. His entire body seemed suffused with a delicious warmth. It would be so easy to just let go, to drift away into the welcoming darkness.

  “No!” Tim weakly told himself. “We’re not givin’ up. Not after comin’ this far. Lord, give me a sign.” He lifted his face as the wind slowed for just a moment. The white curtain of the snow parted, revealing the glow of lights from windows just a few hundred yards distant.

  “Toyah! That’s Toyah just ahead. We made it. “C’mon, Rowdy. We’ve come through, pard. Get up.”

  Rowdy lay moaning, unwilling to move.

  “C’mon Rowdy. Get up. St. Francis, please, intercede for me,” Tim prayed. “Save Rowdy’s life. Besides, the vaccine’s underneath him. There’s no way I can get at it if he don’t get up. That means a lot of folks will die. I just hope the snow cushioned it and kept it from bein’ crushed and busted open. Please, St. Francis. Please, dear Lord.”

  Rowdy lifted his head.

  “That’s it, Rowdy. C’mon, boy. You can do it.”

  Rowdy nickered.

  “C’mon, Rowdy.”

  Rowdy lunged to his feet, then shook himself.

  “Good boy. Thanks, Lord. Thanks, St. Francis!”

  Hope renewed, Tim led Rowdy the final yards into Toyah. He and his horse, in taking the lead, had taken the brunt of breaking a trail through the drifted snow, so Buddy and Horatio had a bit more left in them. Tate and Wolfe likewise weren’t quite as done in as Tim. They followed him into town. Most of the buildings were dark. Tim climbed the steps of the first one with lights showing, the local saloon. He slammed open the doors and led Rowdy straight inside. Tate and Wolfe and their mounts were right behind him. The occupants of the bar turned to stare in disbelief at the snow-coated apparitions.

  “What the…”? the bartender said.

  “Texas Rangers,” Tim gasped out. “Got the smallpox vaccine here. Get all the townsfolk here quick as you can, so we can start vaccinatin’ them. Hurry.”

  “What in the blue blazes are you talkin’ about, Mister?” a man wearing a marshal’s star asked. “You’re Rangers? Sure don’t look like it.”

  Tim and Tate hadn’t shaved or had haircuts since leaving Austin, so their faces and necks were stubbled with several days’ growth of beard, and their hair hung over their collars. They looked more like drifting, out of work saddle tramps than members of the famous law enforcement organization.

  Tim reached inside
his coat, dug in his vest pocket and removed his badge, then held it out for the marshal to see.

  “Name’s Tim Bannon. My pards are Tate Slocum and Curly Wolfe.”

  “You’ve got the vaccine, not a doc?”

  “That’s right, Marshal,” Tim said. “Train got stranded by this storm, about twenty miles back. We were on it. So was the doc. Only chance you had was for us to bring it on horseback. Now start roundin’ folks up. Time’s everythin’ when it comes to gettin’ vaccinated, the doc told us. Showed us how to perform the procedure, and gave us the vaccine. Get movin’.”

  “Those horses can’t stay in here. Get ‘em out,” the bartender ordered.

  “Mister, these horses just saved our lives, and probably the lives of every man, woman, and child in this town,” Tim answered. “They can’t take another step. Anyone tries to move ‘em outta here’s liable to get himself shot. They stay right where they are.”

  “Leave ‘em be, Marv,” the marshal said. “All right boys, line up for your shots. Ranger, I’ll take mine first. Name’s Hank Martin. Then me and a couple of the others will get everyone else in town who’s willin’ to take the vaccine here. Shouldn’t take all that long.”

  “Bueno.” Tim untied the valise and lifted it from his saddle. As soon as he did, Rowdy laid down, then rolled onto his side. The exhausted horse’s snores reverberated throughout the saloon. Buddy and Horatio also went down, before their saddles could even be removed.

  “Roll up your shirtsleeve, Marshal,” Tim ordered. He vaccinated the marshal, while Tate and Wolfe inoculated two other men. Those two accompanied Martin as he made the rounds of Toyah, urging people to go to the saloon for their shots.

  Tim, Tate, and Wolfe spent the better part of an hour inoculating every resident of Toyah who was willing to take the smallpox vaccine. When they were finished, Tim, finally completely done in, dropped to the floor by his horse. He pillowed his head on Rowdy’s soft belly and was instantly asleep.