“I didn’t, but I thought you might at least hazard a guess,” Nate replied. He lowered his voice to just above a whisper. “You reckon they’re gonna drum me out of the Rangers, ’cause of my age?”
“I doubt that’ll even come up, unless you bring it up, ya idjit,” Hoot answered, also softly enough that no one could overhear him. “The Rangers are always short men, and you’ve been ridin’ with us a bit more than a year now. More importantly, you’ve proved yourself a good lawman, more’n once. Except for you, me, Jeb, and Cap’n Quincy, who ain’t here, no one knows you’re not eighteen. Me neither, for that matter. You forgotten I’m only two years older’n you, Nate? I won’t turn eighteen for a few months yet. As long as you keep your mouth shut, you’ve got nothin’ to worry about. Well, except if there’s any good lookin’ gals at the Silver Star. They’ll just naturally want to be with me, rather’n a scrawny, ugly galoot like you.”
“To be honest with you, Hoot, I ain’t interested in meetin’ any girls tonight,” Nate answered. “I just want to take care of Red, clean up a bit, drop my dirty clothes off at that Chinese laundry Jeb mentioned, then have my supper and maybe a beer or two… or I might just stick with sarsaparilla. Then, I’m gonna get me a good night’s sleep, so I can be ready for whatever’s thrown at us tomorrow mornin’.”
“Nate’s givin’ good advice for all of us,” Jeb said. “Besides, The Silver Star ain’t like most of the saloons you fellers have been in. Sure, there’s some gamblin’ tables, and pretty gals servin’ drinks, but that’s all. There’s no piano player, nor any other music, and you’ll hardly ever see anyone drunk there. A fight’s even a rarer occurrence. It’s mainly a place for us Rangers, along with the local law, to relax and trade stories. If you’re lookin’ for excitement, you won’t find it at The Silver Star. Let’s just finish up carin’ for these cayuses, then I’ll show you to our bunk room.”
****
“Hey, this isn’t bad at all,” Eddy Cole exclaimed when Jeb took the men to the room which would be their quarters for the duration of their stay in Austin. “It’s sure a lot better’n most of the bunkhouses at the ranches where I’ve cowboyed.”
The room had a stove at each end, and was lined on both sides with sturdy bunk beds. At the foot of each bed were two footlockers for the men’s use, along with pegs on the walls for their clothes and gunbelts. Each bunk was neatly made up, with sheets and blankets folded at the foot of the mattress. At the near end of the room were a table, several chairs, and a writing desk.
“The wash room’s through that door on the far end,” Jeb said. “There’s plenty of pitchers and basins, and you’ll find enough towels and washcloths in the bureau for all of you, along with soap. There’s mirrors on the wall so you can see to shave, and of course once we get a fire goin’ in the stove, you can heat water to clean up.”
“It’s almost as good as a hotel,” Hoot said.
“I’m gonna take a top bunk,” Nate said. “Long as it doesn’t matter which, Jeb.”
“It doesn’t matter to me,” Jeb answered. “I’m sorry Carl went and got himself killed, but I’m kinda glad he’s not with us, at least not here. Imagine if he took a top bunk.” He laughed.
“Yeah, I can just picture it,” Hoot said. “The poor hombre in the bunk under Carl’d get squashed when Carl’s mattress said, ‘I give up!’ and collapsed under him. The bed would get smashed to smithereens, too.”
He also laughed, with the others joining him. Carl had been a brave, tough Ranger, and, despite being mortally wounded in a gun battle with a gang of train robbers, had killed three of those desperadoes before he died. However, he was a tad on the heavy side. His weight was the butt of many jokes from his partners, which he always took good-naturedly. That they were laughing about their dead partner now didn’t mean his comrades were unfeeling. On the contrary, they still felt his loss, and those of other Rangers who had fallen, keenly. It was just that, with death being so much a part of their lives, and never knowing which man might be the next one to take an outlaw’s bullet, a slightly macabre sense of humor helped ease the fear that was always lurking somewhere in the back of each man’s mind.
“I still miss Carl, though,” Hoot concluded. “I reckon we all do. Nate, I’ll take the bunk under yours. With you bein’ so lanky and all, I won’t have to fret about you fallin’ on top of me in the middle of the night. The only one skinnier in the company than you is Eddy.”
“The sooner y’all pick your bunks and get cleaned up the sooner we can get our chuck,” Jeb said. He tossed his saddlebags on the nearest bunk, dug out his spare shirt, socks, and underwear, and headed for the wash room.
****
Between the long, hard ride to Austin, and knowing they had to meet the two most important law enforcement officials in the state the next morning, none of the men felt like doing much celebrating, nor staying out very late, even though it was their first night in a city in weeks. Most of them left clothes at the Wong Laundry to be washed. All of them followed Jeb to The Silver Star for supper. As he had said, it was unlike any other saloon they had ever been in. The percentage girls, while pretty, had not applied excessive rouge to their cheeks, nor painted their lips a vivid red. The dresses they wore, while slightly low cut, were very conservative compared to the gowns most saloon entertainers favored. Instead of the usual paintings of buxom women, cattle drives, or gunfights on the walls, there were mainly portraits of past members of the Rangers and their horses, along with a list of the names of those who had given their lives fighting to bring justice to the Lone Star State.
While they ate, Nate pulled out his sketch pad and pencils, and did several quick drawings of the interior of the saloon, including two showing all the members of Jeb’s patrol, including himself. Len Adams, The Silver Star’s proprietor, offered to buy two of the sketches, choosing one of the pictures showing Nate and his friends at their meal, and another depicting the bar and poker tables. However, Ned refused to take any money. He insisted on making a gift of the sketches to Adams. The saloon owner relented, and accepted Nate’s gift, with the promise that the next time Nate was in Austin, he would see those pictures framed, and displayed in a prominent spot over the back bar mirror.
Once they finished their meal, the men went straight back to Headquarters. They undressed and crawled into their bunks. Sleeping for the first time in almost two weeks with a roof over their heads, and soft mattresses with clean sheets underneath them, they all, even Nate, soon fell asleep. Tomorrow morning would come far too quickly.
2
While Rangers were usually up with the sun, this morning Nate and most of his partners took advantage of the meeting with Adjutant General Spalding and Colonel Stanley Morton not being until nine o’clock, and slept in. When they did awaken, they once more washed and shaved, dressed in their cleanest clothes, and brushed as much of the dust as possible from their boots and hats. After that, they cooked and ate their own breakfast of bacon, eggs, biscuits, and hot black coffee in the barracks mess room. The Regulator clock ticking away on the wall read eight minutes to nine when Jeb announced, “It’s time to head for the colonel’s office, boys. We’ll leave the dishes for after the meeting.”
He and his men pushed back from the tables. Jeb led them from the barracks wing into the main portion of the building, where the offices were located. They walked down a long corridor, which was badly in need of a fresh coat of paint on its mustard yellow walls and smoke darkened ceiling. At a door with “Colonel Stanley Morton, Commander, Texas Rangers” painted in gold leaf on its frosted glass window, Jeb stopped them for a moment.
“Wait here, while I check and make certain the colonel is ready for us,” he ordered.
Jeb knocked softly on the door, and when a female voice answered “Come in,” he opened it and stepped into the office. A minute later, he called for the others to follow him. They went through the door, and into a wainscoted office.
The middle-aged woman behind the desk smiled warmly at them, m
uch as would a mother welcoming her children home. She had silver hair, and sparkling blue eyes behind the spectacles perched on her nose. For a moment, Nate was reminded of his own grandmother back in Wilmington, who had passed away two years before his father decided to move the family to Texas. Nate could almost smell the delicious aromas of nutmeg and cinnamon, and the sweet/tart taste of his grandma’s apple pies, hot from the oven. The secretary’s voice broke into his reverie.
“Good morning, boys,” she said. “My name is Maudie Carlson. I hope you had a pleasant journey, and a good night’s sleep. As any Ranger can tell you, I worry about all of you like you were my own sons, so it’s good to see you back—especially you, Jeb. You’ll have to introduce me to the men I haven’t met, but later. Colonel Morton and Adjutant General Spalding are ready for you. Please, go right in. I’ll be along shortly with some fresh-baked cinnamon cookies I made just last night, and some coffee, of course. I thought you boys might appreciate those after your long trip.”
She indicated an open walnut door at the back of the main office, on which was lettered “Private”.
“Thanks, Miz Carlson,” Jeb said. “It’s always good to see you. And those cookies do sound mighty good.”
“Mercy sakes, my name is Maudie, not Miz Carlson,” the secretary answered. “How many times do I have to remind you of that, Jeb? Miz Carlson makes me sound so old.”
“My apologies…Maudie,” Jeb said, grinning as he tipped his hat to her. “C’mon, men. Let’s not keep the colonel and general waiting.”
Jeb went into the office, with the men of his patrol following. Colonel Spalding was seated behind his desk. He stood up when Jeb and the others entered. Spalding was a short man, no taller than five-foot-five, even in his boots, but with broad shoulders and a barrel chest. He was hatless, so the dark, wavy hair covering his head was readily apparent. His brown eyes seemed to bore right through each and every man in the office. He wore a full beard, and a cherrywood pipe dangled from the corner of his mouth. Despite his short stature, he exuded power and confidence. The captain was clearly not a man to be trifled with.
Adjutant General Spalding was in a chair right alongside him. Spalding was in his late fifties or early sixties, Nate would estimate, and would stand about five- foot-ten or -eleven. He also was hatless, his hair and moustache salt and pepper shaded. His eyes were a frosty blue, and while it seemed to Nate the general could readily smile, right now, those eyes were shadowed, and his face wore a serious, even worried, expression. He held a half-smoked cigar in his right hand.
Four other men, all in their late teens or early twenties, were also in the office. Nate recognized one of them instantly.
“Zack! Zack Ellesio!” he exclaimed. “What the devil are you doin’ here?”
Zack was a young cowboy who had found Nate after he had been swept away by and nearly drowned in the Rio Grande, just before the previous Christmas. He had brought Nate back to the ranch where he worked, to be reunited with his Ranger partners and recuperate.
“Nate! I sure didn’t expect to ever see you again,” Zack answered. “I got sick and tired of cowboyin’, lookin’ at the back end of cows all the time, doin’ nothin’ else but mendin’ fences and chasin’ strays. I wanted some more excitement in my life. So, as soon as I turned eighteen a few months back, I left the Circle Dot E, and signed on with the Rangers. This is gonna be my first real assignment. It’ll be great, ridin’ with you and Jeb.”
“I never guessed you were close to eighteen,” Nate answered. “You sure don’t look it.”
“If you two youngsters wouldn’t mind, we’d like to get this meeting started,” Colonel Morton said. “You can have your reunion later, after we’re done. And Private Ellesio, I can assure you, before the assignment I’m about to hand you men is finished, you’ll have a bellyful of excitement. I can guarantee it.”
“I apologize, sir,” Nate said. “It’s just that I was so surprised when I walked in and saw Zack—”
“Understood, son,” Morton said. “Jeb, if you would go through the formalities, so we can get those out of the way.”
“Yessir, Colonel,” Jeb answered. “Men, line up at attention.”
Nate and his partners did as ordered, forming a line that, while it wouldn’t have been quite straight enough for the United States Army, was more than sufficient by the Rangers’ standards.
“Lieutenant Jeb Rollins and his patrol reporting for duty, sir!” Jeb said. He sketched a salute, with his men following his example. Colonel Morton returned the salute with a short one of his own.
“Glad to see you again, Jeb,” he said. “Close the door, please. Men, I know it’s crowded in here, but find yourselves a chair, or make yourselves comfortable as best you can. You may smoke, if you wish.” He paused, took a puff on his pipe, and blew a smoke ring toward the ceiling. Once everyone had found a spot, he resumed speaking. “Since I believe only Lieutenant Rollins has met both myself or the Adjutant General, I’ll introduce the two of us now. Gentlemen, I am Colonel Stanley A. Morton, Commanding Officer of the Texas Rangers. This is Adjutant General Joseph H. Spalding, who is in command of all State of Texas law enforcement, militias, and home guard units which may be activated. If you would, give him your names, please.”
“Hoot, you first, then we’ll go around the room,” Jeb ordered.
“Of course, Lieutenant,” Hoot answered. “Corporal Henry Harrison, sir.”
Even the normally brash Hoot, who despised his given name, felt the somber mood in the room.
“Private Nathaniel Stewart, sir,” Nate said, next. The other Rangers gave their names, until all had been introduced.
“Private Austin Frahm, sir.”
“Private Colin Frahm, sir.”
“Private Sean Wehner, sir.”
“Private Eddy Cole, sir.”
“Private Gavin Kaminski, sir.”
“Private Caden Kaminski, sir.”
“Private Eli Strauss, sir.”
“Thank you, men,” Morton said, once they were finished. “Jeb, it seems you have a couple of pairs of brothers under your command.”
“I do indeed, sir,” Jeb answered. “And Private Wehner is cousin to the Frahm boys.”
“Quite a few families have given more than one son in service to the Rangers over the years. You fellas can be proud you’re followin’ in that tradition,” Morton said.
“Since Private Stewart has already announced Private Ellesio’s name,” Morton continued, “I’ll just introduce the four other new men. We have Privates Anthony Greco, Trace Donovan, Mike Horton, and Newt Collins. You’ll all be riding together, for the next several weeks at least, perhaps longer. If, for some reason, any of you have any differences, then work ’em out on the trail, before you get where you’re goin’. Because you’re about to be sent into a part of Texas where even ol’ Beelzebub himself wouldn’t dare set foot. Now, I’m goin’ to turn this meeting over to General Spalding.”
“Thank you, Colonel,” Spalding said. “Just remain seated, men. We’ll be here for a spell, so you might as well settle in.”
Maudie knocked on the door, then came into the office. She carried a tray heaped with cinnamon cookies, as well as a pot of coffee.
“I’ll just set these here on your desk, Colonel Morton, so you boys can pick at them while you talk,” she said.
“Thanks, Maudie,” Morton answered. “We’re obliged.”
“It’s no bother at all,” Maudie answered. “Since Norman, my dear husband, passed away, God rest his soul, I have no one to cook for. It’s too much trouble to bake a whole batch of cookies for myself, and I could never eat all of them. I get a lot of joy out of being able to bake for you boys. I know how little good home cookin’ most of you get, when you’re out in the middle of nowhere, searching for outlaws.”
“Well, we certainly appreciate your efforts,” Morton answered.
“Thank you,” Maudie said. “I’ve got to get back to filing reports. If you need anything, just call me.”<
br />
“I will,” Morton assured her. Once she left, he noted, “I know it’s rather unusual to have a woman for a secretary, especially in a lawman’s office, but I don’t know how I would ever manage without Maudie. She’s a rare jewel.”
“She sure is,” Jeb agreed. “She’s a real sweetheart, and knows her job inside and out.”
“I’ve tried to steal her away from Colonel Morton many times, but she won’t leave him,” Spalding said. “As far as a female being a secretary, true, there aren’t all that many, but it seems like more and more of ’em are taking on the job for a career. I have to confess, in many cases women are far more suited than men, for more jobs than we males are willing to admit. They often are far better organized, more careful listeners, tend, more than men do, to think things through rather than just rushing into action, and even better problem solvers. Mark my words, the day won’t be too far off when we’ll see women in lots of professions that used to be for men only.”
“Including the Rangers, General?” Jeb asked.
“No, that’ll never happen,” Spalding answered, with a shake of his head. “Some jobs just ain’t for women. Law work is one of those. We’ll never see female Rangers. Before I go on, I’ll let everyone have a few minutes to pour yourselves a cup of coffee and grab some of Maudie’s absolutely delicious cookies.”
The general waited while the men obtained mugs, poured them full of the hot black coffee, then took a couple of cookies each. Once everyone was back in their seats, he continued.
“Now, back to the reason you men are here. You might have noticed that, except for Jeb, every one of you is a young man. Trace is twenty-two, as is Eli, and Mike is twenty one. The rest of you are all eighteen or nineteen.”
Nate flushed bright red, and he swallowed, hard. He was certain Spalding was looking right at him when he mentioned their ages. He sure hoped the Adjutant General didn’t question each man about his age, especially since he had just told Zack that he didn’t look eighteen. That might have been a big mistake, Nate thought to himself. If Spalding did ask about their ages, Nate would have to lie, and hope he didn’t get caught, or tell the truth and find himself no longer a Ranger. Neither choice would be a pleasant one. Hoot noticed the frown on Nate’s face, and elbowed him in the ribs, bringing Nate’s attention back to what Spalding was saying.
A Ranger Grown (Lone Star Ranger Book 8) Page 2
