Give Me A Texas Ranger

by Jodi Thomas, Linda Broday, Phyliss Miranda

  “Ella, I know you’re worried about Muley, but please don’t. I saw him yesterday evening and I know you don’t want to hear this because you think he’s infallible, but he was pickled.”

  “Drunk?”

  “As a skunk. I figured you probably don’t care to know the particulars, but I’m bettin’ he’s laid up somewhere nursin’ one wingdinger of a Texas-sized hangover.”

  “I’ve never seen him take a drink, but I guess it is plausible.” She removed the biscuits from the oven and set them on top of the stove. “He was apparently here, because he left my ledger on the table sometime during the night.”

  “No, he didn’t. I found it on the porch this morning and brought it inside.”

  “I appreciate you taking care of it.”

  How did the book get on the porch? She was sure she hadn’t taken it out there, and nobody except Muley even knew where she kept it, or had any need of it.

  “Why don’t I go check around and see if I can find him?” Hayden suggested. “He bunks in the ol’ shed, doesn’t he?”

  “Yes, and thanks. I really am beginning to worry. At first I was pretty angry that he didn’t tell me he was going to be gone, but drinking will certainly keep a man from making sound decisions.” She bit on her lip again. “Hayden, I think I’m more worried, now that you told me about his drinking.”

  Hayden held his arms open and she stepped into his embrace. She molded into him, and laid her head on his broad shoulder. He kissed the top of her head. She enjoyed the security of being held by him, and never wanted him to let her go, but she had to, if Hayden was to see what he could find out about Muley.

  Ella broke their embrace, but not before giving him a light kiss on the cheek. “Don’t be long. Breakfast is just about ready.”

  Giving her a reassuring smile, Hayden left to find Muley, juggling a hot biscuit from one hand to the other.

  Ella barely had time to fill the sugar bowl, and hoped to heck Muley had ordered another bag of sugar from the drummer, although there wasn’t a bag in the storage room. She wished she could see the front of the shed from the kitchen, but it faced the stream. When she finished with breakfast and the girls got the saloon opened for business, she’d go out there and see what she could find. By that time, Hayden would be finished with his search around the grounds. Maybe he was right in the first place and Muley was more irresponsible than she thought. If he was drunk, it made sense that he might’ve gone with the peddler to Wagon Mound.

  Dixie flounced through the door with her hair twisted on top of her head, looking quite rested; particularly when Ella knew Audrey Jo snored like a sailor.

  “Good morning.” Dixie looked around. “Where’s Audrey Jo? I’ve been lookin’ everywhere for her. She isn’t upstairs. She isn’t anywhere.”

  “I don’t know. You saw her last,” Ella said.

  “No, I didn’t. She slept with you…” Dixie stopped and looked up at Ella somberly, as if she already knew the answer. “Didn’t she?”

  “No. She left a few minutes after you, saying something about coming downstairs for a drink and some fresh air.” An uneasiness came over Ella. “When she didn’t come back, I presumed she had decided to stay with you.”

  “Ella, she didn’t sleep in my room.” Fear etched her face. “Something is wrong. Very wrong. Do you think her staying out all night has something to do with Muley?”

  “Hayden is out looking for him right now.” Ella looked up at Dixie, who had tears bubbling in her eyes. “Let me see if Muley made any entries in the ledger. Maybe it’ll tell us something.”

  Ella grabbed the book, almost dropping it in the process. An envelope fell to the ground…addressed to First Lt. Hayden C. McGraw. She and Dixie both stared at one another.

  “Aren’t you going to read it?” Dixie asked as Ella picked it up. “It’s already been opened.”

  “No. It’s addressed to Hayden.”

  “You’ve got to. It might have the answers to where Muley and Audrey Jo have gone,” Dixie encouraged.

  Slowly, Ella removed the single sheet of paper, covered in a man’s handwriting. She read it out loud.

  “Warrant of Authority sent under separate cover. Status quo on investigation of Miss P.E.S’s establishment and involvement with unlawful operations between Mobeetie, Texas, and Wagon Mound, New Mexico. Urgent. Consider armed and dangerous.”

  The signature began with “Captain,” but the rest of the name was illegible.

  Ella sank onto one of the kitchen chairs. “Miss P.E.S. has to mean Patience Eleanor Stevenson.” Ella’s chest felt tight and she didn’t think she could breathe. Webs of confusion filled her thoughts. She looked up at Dixie. “He’s been lying to me. Hayden told me he wasn’t on a case, and only came to town to get his warrant.” She would not cry, come hell or high water.

  Dixie crossed the room and stood beside her and patted Ella’s shoulder. “It’s not true. There has to be something else going on.”

  “Read it yourself.” With shaking hands, Ella pitched the letter on the table. “Hayden was willing to marry me to get what he needed to do his job.” Her voice broke right along with her heart. “I’m nothing but a job to him…an assignment.”

  “There has to be another explanation,” Dixie said, as if she really meant it.

  “Open the damn screen!” Hayden’s voice boomed from somewhere in the yard.

  Both women rushed to the door, just as Hayden stepped on the porch carrying a limp woman covered with blood…Audrey Jo.

  Dixie was already pouring hot water from the tea kettle into a bowl before Hayden made it to the other side of the kitchen.

  “Take her upstairs.” Ella opened the door and led him from the kitchen, through the small storage room, back into the saloon. She rushed ahead of him toward the stairs.

  “Can’t wait that long. She needs help now.” He crossed the saloon and laid the motionless woman on a long table near the stairwell.

  “Here.” Ella shoved rags in his hands, just as Dixie set the bowl on the small table where the candle usually was.

  “What happened, Hayden?” Ella helped him remove Audrey Jo’s dirty, blood-spattered blouse.

  “I found her on the other side of the shed like this.” He stepped back, allowing Ella and Dixie to take over.

  “Dixie, go up to Buffalo Springs and get the doctor,” Ella ordered.

  “I can take care of her. Then if we need him, I’ll go.” Dixie began cleaning the worst wound with warm soapy water.

  It became obvious to Ella that Dixie knew what she was doing as she tenderly and efficiently went about caring for their friend. She methodically tended to her until the crimson flow turned a brighter, cleaner shade of red, then stopped.

  “Wash the dirt off her face—be careful of the bruises,” she instructed Ella. “I’ve been nursing outlaws and animals ever since I was knee-high to a prairie dog.”

  Audrey Jo moaned as Hayden helped hold her shoulders in place while Dixie cleaned the wound on her upper arm and Ella washed the sand and blood from her face, finally laying a cloth across her forehead.

  Dixie continued to clean the minor wounds and scratches, applying lanolin, as she talked. “She’s pretty-well beaten up and exhausted, but I don’t think it’s anything that plenty of care and sleep won’t heal.”

  Hayden set his chin in a stubborn line and drew his lips in thoughtfully. “The bastard didn’t want her dead. He wanted to teach her a lesson.” He clamped his mouth shut.

  Audrey Jo nodded her head ever so slightly in agreement.

  “Can you hear me, Audrey Jo?” Hayden spoke with tenderness, yet with authority. “Who did this to you?”

  Her only response was to turn her head toward Hayden. Seemingly taking every ounce of her energy, she motioned for him to lean closer. His ear was almost touching her lips when she whispered her response, so quietly that only he could hear.

  Hayden pulled up to his full height, took in a deep breath, and squared his shoulders. The muscles in his
neck tightened. He touched his Colt. The big man’s lip quivered as he stormed toward the door.

  “I’ll kill the son of a bitch.”

  Chapter 12

  Hayden was about as angry as he ever recalled being, and he’d been pretty damn mad in his lifetime. It didn’t take him long to reach the livery, saddle up Stewball, and prepare to head out to search for Audrey Jo’s attacker.

  Hayden led the gelding out into the morning sunshine.

  “Hey, boy.” He spoke to the horse as though he was a friend. In every way that counted, a man’s horse was his best pal. A cowboy could tell him anything, truth or lie, and be guaranteed it wouldn’t be repeated. “Sorry I’ve neglected you these last couple of days, but I’ve got filly troubles.” He patted Stewball, secured his boot in the stirrup, and swung into the saddle. “Yep, a filly. Betcha’ve had your own troubles with fillies, haven’t you, boy?”

  The Ranger and his trusted companion headed out of Buffalo Wallow. His heart told him to circle back and tell Ella good-bye, but common sense dictated that there was no time to waste. If things worked out the way he thought they would, he’d be back in her kitchen before the biscuits got hard; and if they didn’t, well, it wouldn’t be the first time he ended up with hardtack and camp brew for breakfast.

  As much as Hayden resisted, logic told him it was time to bring in Sheriff Oldham. Audrey Jo’s assault was officially in the sheriff’s jurisdiction, but unofficially it was utmost on Hayden’s mind.

  But before he tried to locate the local lawman, Hayden had to step back and view things with a critical, nonjudgmental eye. He couldn’t lose sight of the fact that rangering was a team effort, not one person making his own rules and going off half-cocked. He needed to think things through, locking out his heart. He had to be fair and impartial, regardless of who might be involved. At this point, he couldn’t rule out anybody.

  Justice for Audrey Jo was his only concern. Somebody wanted to shut her up, not kill her. The man had a brand of cowardice laid on him that held no redemption. He didn’t play by the rules and couldn’t care less who he took down with him. But why? It wasn’t just her assault that bothered Hayden; it was every tiny fragment of what was going on around Ella that felt like a jigsaw puzzle without even the border in place.

  Hayden convinced himself quite easily not to seek out the sheriff right away. Instead, he’d do some footwork first. He reined Stewball toward the shack where the peddler’s wagon was last seen. Although the drummer gave a cockamamie story about heading back to Buffalo Springs to spend the night, something didn’t settle well in Hayden’s gut.

  Ella had told him that Willard bedded down near the stream when he wanted to get an early start the next day. So why had he suddenly decided to go back up to Buffalo Springs?

  In the dry, hard soil it was easy to trail the fully-loaded wagon’s path, leading away from Ella’s property. Hayden followed along, as the tracks circled back toward the bank of the stream where the mule team had apparently halted just this side of the fallen cottonwood tree.

  Hayden reined Stewball in and dismounted, carefully following the driver’s boot tracks leading away from the wagon and eventually disappearing into the stream, where Willard Porter could have gone in any direction without leaving tracks.

  Relentlessly, Hayden walked the banks, keeping his eye out for fresh tracks while his mind retraced what he knew as facts.

  Although hunting down Audrey Jo’s assailant was paramount, Hayden kept going back to the shed and how the activities surrounding it might fit into someone wanting her harmed.

  What was important enough for Muley to spend all of his extra time in the cornfield or the shed; yet not important enough for him to stay off the rotgut?

  Facts. Facts. Facts.

  Water carted in from the stream instead of the well.

  A building reeking of sourdough starter.

  Excessive amounts of sugar hauled in.

  The only logical answer—moonshine. Sugar added to the starter, with a handful or two of cornmeal tossed in for flavor, would be the makin’s for corn whiskey mash. Mule-kick. Add the brown bottles and a hauler and it was the formula for a booming white-lightnin’ business. And if Hayden had to venture a guess, the yeast smell was coming from barrels where the mash was fermenting. To the best of his recollection, it’d generally take somewhere around two days before the mixture would begin to furiously bubble. Eventually it would quit working and what was left was pretty close to the kick of a mule colt.

  That’s what Audrey Jo had served him by mistake. A poorly concocted corn whiskey, as Hayden’s taste buds could attest to.

  No doubt in some form or fashion every man he’d seen at the shed was involved in making moonshine and bootleggin’. He’d bring them all down, but the one he wanted most was the man who had hurt Audrey Jo.

  The spineless, lily-livered bastard better pray that Sheriff Oldham found him before Hayden did, because he’d show him no mercy.

  Audrey Jo had whispered the name of her attacker to him, but experience told Hayden not to stay focused on only one suspect, regardless of how guilty they might seem. He had to take the time necessary to think things through before developing a strategy. He couldn’t mark anyone off his list.

  Muley Mullinex, the retiring, bashful bartender who had a dark side when bending his elbow with liquor. He had everything to lose if the illegal operation was exposed; especially the only family he knew.

  Willard Porter, the drummer, who transported the white lightnin’ to the railroaders in Wagon Mound, New Mexico. The operation made him a lot of money.

  Boisterous Baldy, the loudmouth who seemed to be everywhere and involved in everything that caused havoc. The newcomer to town that nobody seemed to know anything about.

  Not giving up, Hayden continued tracking along the banks as far as he thought feasible and returned to where Willard’s wagon was last seen. He methodically checked for boot prints in the direction of Molly Lou’s and finally came across some fresh ones coming out of the stream very near a downed cottonwood. Probably the mail drop, if he had to make a guess.

  Sun reflected off something shiny near the tree trunk. Loose dirt covered most of the round metal, which Hayden dug out with his fingers.

  A Texas Ranger badge…exactly like the one he wore.

  The find numbed his senses, made him lose focus on everything except the badge he continued to stare at. It was a sign of a Ranger’s honor. His judge and his jury. An emblem of proud tradition. The strength of an oak and the peace of an olive branch. Everything he stood for and fought for.

  A Ranger would never leave his badge behind on purpose…unless it was intended as a signal or warning.

  A burst of sunlight hit Hayden between his eyes. He dropped to his knees. The last thing he remembered before falling deep into the depths of unconsciousness.

  Chapter 13

  For the third night in a row, Ella had kissed Hayden’s silhouette hanging on the wall good night and crawled in the big four-poster bed. Wrapped in her private cocoon of loneliness, her heart ached like an old wound on a rainy day.

  Consumed with sharing the duties of caring for Audrey Jo with Dixie, during the day Ella mindlessly went about her business. Camouflaging the deep hurt she felt from Muley abandoning them, she vacillated between how much she cared for Hayden and the fact that, for reasons only he knew, he’d lied to her about coming to Buffalo Wallow. But somewhere deep in the caverns of her soul she knew it was for the right reasons.

  The endless night had finally grayed into dawn.

  A slice of sunrise broke through the window and woke Ella. She resisted the intrusion. Closing her eyes, she burrowed down beneath her mother’s quilt.

  Her thoughts wandered to Audrey Jo. Ella said a prayer that today would be better than yesterday and tomorrow would be better than today.

  Ella’s heart broke for the woman. Since her injury, she had sat for hours in lonely silence, withdrawn; allowing the misery of the night she was beaten to haun
t her. Although her visual wounds were healing, her heart wasn’t.

  Confusion lingered around Audrey Jo. So far, all she could recall was helping clean up the feathers in Ella’s room, and going downstairs for a drink of water. She remembered a calico kitten scurrying across the yard and her following it. She vaguely recalled being grabbed from behind and a man’s big hand covering her mouth. She thought he was going to take advantage of her.

  Ella realized Audrey Jo was more fragile mentally than physically, but continued to gingerly ask questions about who hurt her. She shamefully ducked her head when she said he’d said awful things about her. The strong, tall man said something about “you womenfolk are imbeciles” and referred to her as “a pathetic fool.” Then her next recollection was being picked up and carried to Ella’s kitchen.

  Although the memories came back to Audrey Jo in tiny fragments, no matter how hard Ella tried, Audrey Jo couldn’t remember telling Hayden the name of her assailant. It seemed to be blocked from her memory.

  A soft knock at the door brought Ella back to the morning.

  Hayden? Had he returned and they could straighten out the problem with the letter and his assignment? Although the envelope was addressed to him, the letter wasn’t, so that gave him the benefit of the doubt. They’d work things out one way or another. Hayden had not lied to her. She felt it in her soul.

  Barefooted, Ella crossed the room. To her delight, Audrey Jo’s red curls bobbled as she asked if she and Dixie could come in. At the moment, Ella wasn’t sure who she would have rather seen standing at the door—Audrey Jo or Hayden.

  To hell with the rest of the day! One of Ella’s prayers had been answered. The three women sat cross-legged in the middle of the four-poster bed and talked until their stomachs told them it was time to eat.