Lone Star Ranger
Volume 8
A Ranger Grown
James J. Griffin
A Ranger Grown by James J. Griffin
Copyright 2016 by James J. Griffin
Cover design by Livia J. Washburn
Texas Ranger badge image courtesy of the Texas Ranger Hall of Fame and Museum, Waco
Author photo credited to Susanne Onatah
All Rights Reserved
Painted Pony Books
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Lone Star Ranger:
A Ranger to Ride With
A Ranger to Reckon With
A Ranger to Fight With
A Ranger’s Christmas
A Ranger to Stand With
A Ranger Gone Bad
A Ranger Redeemed
A Ranger Grown
For the Greco Family.
PROLOGUE
The night was a clear one, but cooler than usual for this time of year in south Texas. There was no moon, so each of the myriad stars in the midnight sky stood out like a beacon.
Nate Stewart lay huddled under his blankets, looking up at those stars and thinking back on what had happened to him over the past year. The rest of his Texas Ranger partners were already asleep, either snoring softly or breathing the deep, regular breaths of men at complete rest.
Even most of the horses had stopped grazing, and were dozing. However, Nate was having trouble falling asleep. Tomorrow afternoon or evening, the troop of Rangers under Lieutenant Jeb Rollins’s command, which included Nate, would arrive at Texas Ranger Headquarters in Austin. Once they did, Nate faced an uncertain future.
Nate was fifteen now, still three years under the legal enlistment age of eighteen to join the famed Texas Rangers who, though vastly outnumbered by the outlaws taking advantage of the Lone Star State’s wide expanses, sparse population, and little law, were fighting to bring justice and civilization to the rugged Texas frontier. It was a group of Rangers which had, in fact, a year earlier saved Nate’s life, and brought him into their fold.
Nate and his family were originally from Wilmington, Delaware. Nate’s father, Marcus, had been an accountant, until he succumbed to the lure of adventure calling him. He uprooted his family, his wife Adele, and their two sons, Nate and his older brother Jonathan, and moved them all to a hardscrabble ranch on the dry plains west of San Saba, Texas.
While Jonathan had taken to Texas and the cowboy life like a duck to water, Nate had hated everything about the place from the minute he laid eyes on it.
That hate turned to outright loathing when a band of outlaws attacked the ranch. They gunned down Nate’s father, mother, and brother, and also shot Nate and left him for dead.
It was only the timely arrival of a Texas Ranger patrol that did save the youngster’s life. They pulled him from under a pile of burning rubble, patched up his wounds, and buried his family.
The next day, the decision was made to send Nate back home to Delaware, to live with his aunt, uncle, and eight cousins. While the plan was distasteful to Nate, the thought of remaining in Texas, the place he despised so much, and which had taken his family, was even more bitter.
While waiting for the stagecoach that would take him to a train back East, Nate gradually realized he didn’t want to return to Wilmington, after all. He wanted to stay in Texas and avenge the deaths of his family. However, that seemed impossible, until five outlaws confronted Jeb Rollins, the Ranger who was waiting with Nate until the stage arrived.
With Jeb being outnumbered five to one, it seemed impossible he would survive the ensuing gun battle, until a drifting cowboy named Carl Swan sided with him. Even then, one of the outlaws would have put a bullet through Jeb’s ribs, except Nate dove at him, knocked him out cold, and saved Jeb’s life.
Jeb decided on the spot that Nate had what it took to eventually become a Texas Ranger, despite the boy’s misgivings. He hatched a scheme to have his commanding officer, Captain David Quincy, put Nate on with the Ranger company he commanded as a camp helper. Instead, after hearing Jeb’s story of Nate’s bravery, Quincy decided to put Nate on as a probationary Ranger. He skirted the age requirement by listing Nate’s birth date on his enlistment papers as “unknown”, something which was not uncommon on the Western frontier.
Nate had been riding with the Rangers ever since, and had come a long way from the scrawny, terrified boy he had been just twelve short months ago. Since he knew nothing about riding and shooting, let alone being a lawman, he’d had to learn everything about the Ranger life from the beginning.
The Rangers taught him how to care for and ride a horse, to use a gun, both six-shooter and rifle, and how to fight with fists and knives. He’d learned how to doctor wounds, how to track and rope, and how to hunt his own food. In short, he’d learned everything he needed to know to survive both as an individual, and a lawman, in the unforgiving land that was Texas. Nate himself had been with the Rangers when they finally tracked down the outlaws who had murdered his family, and had been the one who killed the gang’s ruthless leader. He’d shot men and been shot, won or lost more than a few fist fights, mourned the loss of partners killed by renegades, faced the worst weather Texas could throw at him, and at one time, nearly drowned.
Once or twice, he’d even danced with and kissed a girl. He’d grown several inches, and filled out. Of course, he was, in many ways, still just a kid, with a kid’s rash impulses that could get him into trouble.
He and his partner, Hoot Harrison, had formed an unbreakable bond. Hoot, who was two years older than Nate, and like him had enlisted in the Rangers by fibbing about his true age, had gotten into more than one scrape over liquor or girls. However, for the most part, Nate had done his job well, and grown to love it. His Ranger partners had declared him a “man to ride the river with”, the highest compliment any man of the West could receive.
However, with too few Rangers and far too many outlaws in Texas, Captain Quincy was ordered to divide his company in two. Jeb Rollins was promoted to lieutenant, and Nate, Hoot, who was given the rank of corporal, and several of the other younger men were sent to the Texas Panhandle, to subdue a gang of outlaws preying on the Fort Worth, Abilene, and Denver Railroad. They had succeeded, and the members of the gang were either in prison, or dead. With the assignment completed, Jeb had received orders for him and his men to proceed to Austin.
That was what had Nate so worried, and why sleep refused to come. If Austin ever found out his true age, he was certain to be dismissed from the Rangers.
With a sigh, Nate rolled onto his belly, and pulled his blanket more tightly around him. Whatever happened tomorrow, there was nothing he could do about it. With that unhappy thought in his head, he finally fell into a fitful sleep.
1
It was about four o’clock the next afternoon when Jeb ordered his Rangers to stop for a moment, on one of the low hills to the northwest of the capital city.
“There she is down below, for you boys who haven’t seen her before… Austin,” he said. “The heart of Texas.”
“Well, what d’ya think, pard?” Hoot asked Nate. “Ain’t Austin just about the biggest town you’ve ever seen in your whole life?”
“Well, I hate to disappoint you, Hoot, but everythin’ ain’t bigger in Texas, despite what you might think,” Nate answered. “I’ll grant you Austin’s the biggest town I’ve seen since I got to Texas, bu
t it’s nowhere near as big as Wilmington. And Wilmington ain’t nowhere near as big as Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. I’ve never been to New York City, but I understand that’s bigger’n any of ’em. I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but Austin’s probably not even in the top twenty or thirty. Mebbe not even in the top hundred.”
“You’re tellin’ whoppers again, Nate, ya idjit,” Hoot objected, using his favorite nickname for his friend. “There can’t be any towns hardly much bigger than Austin.”
“One day I might just have the chance to take you to Wilmington,” Nate answered. “Then, you’ll see I ain’t lyin’. Not one bit.”
“Will you two stop your bickerin’ already?” Jeb grumbled. “You sound like an old married couple. It don’t matter which city is bigger. Wilmington’s pretty near two thousand miles away, by my reckoning, while Austin’s just ahead of us. Once we reach Headquarters, there’ll be stalls and plenty of grain for our horses, and nice comfortable bunks for us. Dunno about the rest of you, but I’m sure lookin’ forward to that. So let’s get movin’.”
He touched his spurs to his paint’s sides, putting the horse into a trot, as he waved the rest of the men forward. Forty minutes later, they were reining up in front of Ranger Headquarters on Congress Avenue.
“You boys wait here, while I go inside and find Colonel Morton,” he ordered. “The barracks and stable are around the back. As soon as I speak with the colonel, and find out where he wants us to bed down for the night, I’ll come back and tell you. Corporal Harrison, you’re in charge until I return.”
“Yessir, Lieutenant,” Hoot answered.
Jeb shot Hoot a look.
“Since when do you call me ‘Lieutenant’, Hoot?”
“Since you just called me ‘Corporal’, Lieutenant. I figured that’s what you wanted while we’re at Headquarters,” Hoot answered.
“Only if we’re within earshot of our superior officers, or when givin’ orders,” Jeb answered. “You know the Rangers ain’t like the Army. We don’t hold much truck with all that military folderol…Hoot.”
“All right, Jeb,” Hoot conceded. “We’ll just wait here and take it easy until you come back.”
“That’s all I’m askin’.”
Jeb dismounted, looped his horse’s reins over the well chewed hitch rail, and went inside the large, native stone building which was Texas Ranger Headquarters. The rest of the men also dismounted, and loosened their horses’ cinches. Those who smoked rolled and lit quirlies. Nate plucked a long blade of grass, stuck one end in his mouth, and began chewing on it. After Hoot lit his cigarette and took a puff, he turned to Nate.
“Well, now that you’ve ridden through a good chunk of Austin, do you still say it’s a small town?” he asked.
“I never said it was a small town,” Nate answered. “Just that it wasn’t as big as a lot of others. But it’s certainly a busy one, I’ll give you that.”
The wide roads around Headquarters were bustling with street traffic and pedestrians. Men on horseback, teamsters driving heavily laden freight wagons pulled by teams of mules or large draft horses, and carriages drawn by matched teams of high stepping horses all jostled for position on the crowded streets. On the sidewalks, some wooden, others paved with bricks, mingled well-dressed ladies, carrying parasols to protect them from the blazing Texas sun, business or tradesmen, and many others, both male and female, from all walks of life.
All races were represented, mostly whites, but with a goodly number of Mexicans and blacks, the majority of the latter freed slaves, mixed in, as everyone hurried along the streets. Even an occasional Indian walked by. The frenzied pace reminded Nate of Wilmington, Delaware, his home town. And after spending the past year away from big cities, he realized he didn’t miss the crowds, noise, and odors one bit.
“I dunno about the rest of you, but I’d rather be out in the country somewhere,” Eli Strauss muttered.
“The same here,” Eddy Cole agreed.
“I think that goes for most of us,” Hoot said. “Otherwise, we’d have found other jobs, besides cowboyin’ or Rangerin’. I’d imagine it’d be a whole lot safer, livin’ in town, havin’ an easy job clerkin’ in a store or workin’ in an office, with a house of your own to come home to, with a hot supper waitin’, clean sheets, and soft bed every night.”
“Yeah, but it’d be awful boring,” Gavin Kaminski answered. “Doin’ the same thing day after day would sure get tiresome for me, real quick.”
“Yep. It wouldn’t be at all like sleepin’ on the hard ground most nights, either freezin’ half to death, or roastin’,” his brother Caden added, with a laugh. “Not to mention long days in the saddle, lousy grub, bein’ all sweaty and dirty most of the time, and gettin’ shot at by all sorts of renegades and outlaws. No, I’d purely hate livin’ easy in the city.” As a pretty girl walked by, and gave him a smile, he said. “On second thought, mebbe…” He paused, then shook his head. “Nah. I like bein’ a Ranger just fine. I reckon I’ll stick with that.”
The men fell into quiet conversation while they waited for Jeb to return, watching the people rushing to and fro, occasionally taking notice when an especially pretty girl walked by. Unlike most other towns, where the arrival of a Ranger patrol almost always created a stir, none of the passersby paid them any attention. Rangers coming and going from Headquarters were not an uncommon sight, so Jeb’s men attracted only an infrequent nod from someone walking by.
After about half an hour, Jeb returned.
“Well, Jeb, what’s the word?” Hoot asked.
“I’m not certain yet.” Jeb shook his head. “Colonel Morton is having all of us meet with the adjutant general at nine o’clock tomorrow morning.”
“The adjutant general?” Nate echoed.
“Yeah. He’s the head honcho, the man in charge of all state law enforcement and militias,” Jeb explained. “I guess you’ve never heard any of us talk about him.”
“I sure haven’t,” Nate confirmed.
“The current one is Adjutant General Joseph H. Spalding,” Jeb answered. “He answers directly to the governor, and Colonel Morton answers directly to him. I don’t need to tell all of you to be on your best behavior while we’re in town, and especially when we meet with General Spalding and Colonel Morton tomorrow. In fact, when we meet them, that is one of the few times you’ll be expected to salute.”
“Do you have any idea what they’re gonna tell us?” Nate asked.
Again, Jeb shook his head.
“Nope. They didn’t give me a clue. All Colonel Morton said was to be in his office at nine o’clock, sharp. That means we’re free until then. Follow me, and I’ll show y’all where to put your horses and stash your gear. After our animals are cared for, I’ll take you to where we’ll be bunkin’ while we’re in town.
“The barracks has a wash room, so you won’t need to go to a barber shop for baths or shaves, only if you want to get a haircut.
“There’s a Chinese laundry just down the street. The Wongs clean just about every Ranger’s clothes who hit Austin, and do a fine job of it. I’d recommend you take advantage of that to get your duds washed while we’re in town, which I’m certain won’t be all that long.
“After you’ve got your bunks, we’ll head over to the Silver Star Saloon for supper and, for those who want ’em, a couple of drinks. The Silver Star’s kind of the unofficial Ranger saloon here in Austin. As far as those drinks, I do mean just a couple. I don’t want one man jack of you showin’ up for that meetin’ tomorrow drunk or hung over. If any of you do, it’ll be your last day as a Ranger. Comprende?”
The men in his patrol murmured their understanding.
“Good. Now let’s get these horses settled, so we can eat. I dunno about the rest of you, but my belly’s been complainin’ for the last two hours that it’s empty.”
Jeb led them around the back of the headquarters building to a large, airy stable and several sturdy corrals.
“There’s no other men in town right now
, except those assigned to Headquarters, so that means there’s plenty of empty stalls to pick from. Just choose the one you want,” Jeb ordered. “Hay and grain are in a room at the far end of the buildin’. Make sure you give your broncs plenty of both, and lots of water. They’re gonna need all of ’em.”
“I thought you said you don’t have a clue what our orders will be, Jeb,” Nate said.
“I don’t,” Jeb answered. “I just have a gut feelin’ we’re gonna be in for a long, hard ride. Why else would we be ordered all the way back to Austin? I want to make certain our horses start out on havin’ had a good feed.”
Dudley, Jeb’s paint, snorted, and shoved Jeb in the back.
“I guess you agree with me, huh, pardner?” Jeb said, chuckling, as he slapped Dudley fondly on the neck. “Have I ever let you starve?”
Dudley snorted again.
“All right, I’ll concede we’ve had to go on empty bellies a time or two, when food was scarce or we were hard on the trail of some renegades,” Jeb admitted to his paint. “But not tonight, pal. You’ll eat real good.”
He led Dudley into the nearest empty stall, and started to pull the gear off him. The other men also found stalls for their mounts and began unsaddling them. Once that was done, they filled the mangers with grain and tossed forkfuls of hay into the stalls, so their horses could eat while being rubbed down and curried.
Nate and Hoot chose adjacent stalls for their horses, Nate’s sorrel gelding, Big Red, who had belonged to his older brother Jonathan, before he was killed during the raid on the Stewart family ranch, and Dusty, Hoot’s lineback dun gelding.
“Hoot, what d’ya think we’re gonna be told tomorrow?” Nate asked, as he cleaned out Red’s feet, and checked his shoes.
“I dunno. If Jeb says he ain’t got a clue, what makes you think I would?” Hoot answered. “Doggone these burrs,” he said, adding a mild curse as he tried to remove the sharp-spined prickers knotted in Dusty’s mane.
A Ranger Grown (Lone Star Ranger Book 8) Page 1
