“Yup, findin’ and keepin’ top hands can be tough, that’s for doggone certain,” Smith agreed. “I’ve been tryin’ to sell this stable for two years, so I can take it easy however much time I’ve got left before the Good Lord takes me home, but kids these days don’t seem to want to take on a hard job anymore. They’d rather just hang around the general store or saloon.”
“Speaking of stores and saloons,” Jeb said, “we need to pick up some supplies, and since we won’t be comin’ across any towns for quite a spell once we leave Llano, we’d like to get rooms for the night, and a good meal. Where’s the best places to do that?”
“The Llano Mercantile is the biggest and best store in town,” Smith answered. “Tom Howard’s prices are honest, and his merchandise is good quality.” He spat another stream of tobacco juice into the dust before continuing. “You can choose either the Llano House or Cattleman’s Rest for your hotel. They’re priced about the same, and the rooms are clean, at least as clean as the rooms you’ll find in any small town Texas hotel. Now, as for grub, are you lookin’ for better food, or better red-eye?”
“We’re lookin’ for good chuck,” Jeb answered. “I’m not lettin’ this bunch of kids anywhere near a saloon—at least not until after we get back to my ranch and they get a month’s worth of work under their belts.”
“You’re a right smart hombre, mister,” Smith answered. “So head for Betty Lou’s Café. Miz Betty Lou is kind of a grandma to everyone in town, and she cooks up the best steak and onions, fried taters, and blacked-eyed peas you’ve ever tasted. Her apple crisp is better than any your ma ever made, too. The café’s right across the street from the Llano House, and next to the Mercantile. That way, you’ll have everythin’ you need in one place, without havin’ to walk much. When you leave my stable, head to the main road, and the hotel’s two blocks down on the right.”
“Then that’s what we’ll do, Harve. We’re obliged,” Jeb answered. “Where can we stow our gear?”
“You can just hang it on the corral fence, or put it in the tack room,” Smith answered. “I’d hazard you’re better off puttin’ it on the fence, where it can air out overnight.”
“I’ll agree with you there,” Jeb answered. “C’mon, boys, let’s get these cayuses put up, so we can get supper, buy what supplies we need, then get a good night’s sleep. Harve, we’ll be leavin’ just after sunup. Can you have our horses fed and ready to go by then?”
He handed the hostler seven silver dollars and two quarters.
“They’ll be ready,” Smith assured him, as he pocketed the money. “Have a good night.”
“G’night,” Harve,” Jeb replied.
“Man, I’m sure lookin’ forward to that steak you promised me,” A. J. said to Mike, as he led Jones toward the corral.
Once the horses were turned into the corral, the saddles and bridles pulled off them and hung on the top rail of the fence, with the blankets reversed and placed on top of the saddles to dry, Jeb and the other Rangers shouldered their saddlebags and rifles, and headed for the hotel.
****
After they obtained rooms, then ate, Jeb allowed those who wished to wander around Llano for a while, taking in the sights, such as they were. He strictly admonished them to avoid any possible trouble, and especially to stay away from the saloons, gambling parlors, and dance halls.
A. J. and Mike had lingered over their meal, long after the other men had left the café, some electing to go back to their hotel rooms and turn in early, others taking a stroll around town, or finding chairs along the boardwalks and settling down to watch the people passing by. Finally, A. J. and Mike drained their final cups of coffee, and started back toward the hotel. They were walking in front of the Llano Mercantile when one of two cowboys lounging in front of the establishment yelled out to them.
“Hey, you two! Little boys like you shouldn’t be out so late, especially not without your mamas. And you sure shouldn’t be wearin’ those big guns. They’re way too heavy for you to handle.” The slur in his voice indicated he had been drinking heavily. “I reckon me and my pard Jake, here, are just gonna have to take those guns away from you, before you hurt yourselves.”
“Mister, we’ve been ridin’ all day, and we have to get up early to start out again tomorrow,” Mike answered. “We’re on our way back to our room at the Llano House to get some shut-eye. We ain’t botherin’ you or anyone else. We’re not lookin’ for trouble, so why don’t you just leave us be?”
“Don’t you backtalk me, boy!” the cowboy yelled, adding a string of curses. He and his partner jumped off the boardwalk to block Mike and A. J.’s way. “Are you gonna give up those guns easy, or are we gonna have to take ’em from you?”
“We ain’t givin’ our guns up to you hombres, and you sure ain’t gonna take ’em from us, neither,” Mike answered.
“Hank, did you hear this foolish kid?” Jake, the other cowboy, said. “He actually thinks we won’t be able to take their guns. Heck, he can’t be more’n just off the farm for a few days, or a couple of weeks at most, and his pardner, well, he’s so skinny a strong breeze’ll blow him right over. I’m surprised his gunbelt hasn’t slipped over his hips, tangled itself around his ankles, and tripped him up, he’s such a beanpole.”
“Compared to him, a beanpole is a heap wider,” Hank said. “Well, since you two ain’t gonna give up those guns, I reckon we’ll just have to take ’em from you.”
He aimed a vicious punch at A. J.’s jaw. A. J. ducked the blow and sank his left fist wrist deep into Hank’s belly, driving the air from his lungs, folding him in half, and lifting him a foot off the ground. Hank slumped to the dirt, puked up all the liquor he’d consumed, and lay curled up on his side, his hands clamped to his middle, gagging.
Jake feinted a blow to Mike’s face, then, when Mike raised his arm to fend off the punch, slugged him in the gut. Mike gasped, doubled over slightly, then shook off the blow. He slammed a right uppercut to the point of Jake’s chin. The ferocious punch knocked Jake flat on his back. He slid in the dirt for two feet before lying completely still. He groaned, his eyes rolled back in their sockets, and he was out cold. Mike shook his hand and blew on his skinned knuckles.
A man wearing a deputy marshal’s badge pushed his way through the crowd which had gathered to watch the fight. He carried a double barreled shotgun, its butt braced against his right hip. He leveled the menacing weapon at A. J.’s and Mike’s stomachs.
“Neither one of you make a move, and keep your hands away from your guns. In fact, get ’em in the air,” he ordered. “Now, what the devil is goin’ on here?”
A.J. and Mike raised their hands shoulder high before Mike answered the deputy’s question.
“Me and my pard, here, were on our way back to the hotel, when those two hombres started hoorawin’ us,” Mike explained. He nodded at the two men lying in the street, one still unconscious, the other still curled up and struggling to draw air into his lungs. “They said they wanted our six-guns. It was plain they’d been drinkin’. We told ’em that we weren’t lookin’ for any trouble, and just leave us be, but they wouldn’t quit. They came off the sidewalk and blocked our way.”
“That’s right,” A. J. said, picking up the story. He pointed to the cowboy he had incapacitated with the wicked punch to his belly. “That one threw the first punch. He missed, but I didn’t. Then his pardner took a swing at mine. Mike had no choice but to fight back.”
“These two boys are tellin’ the truth, Deputy,” Tom Parsons, owner of the mercantile, confirmed. “They were just walkin’ down the street, mindin’ their own business, when the other two men jumped ’em.”
“I appreciate you’re tellin’ me that, Tom, but as soon as these other two are able to talk, I’ll want to hear their side of the story,” the deputy answered. “While we’re waitin’, you two, I’d like both your names.”
“I’m Anthony Greco, but I go by A. J,” A. J. answered.
“Mine’s Mike Horton,” Mike adde
d.
“You two boys are strangers in Llano. I’ve never seen either one of you before,” the deputy said. “You mind tellin’ me what you’re doin’ here in my town?”
“I didn’t know a deputy marshal owned a whole town,” A. J. snapped. “And just mebbe I do mind.”
“Take it easy, A. J.,” Mike said. He put a restraining hand on A. J.’s arm. “We don’t want to find ourselves in a cell.” To the deputy, he continued, “We just signed on with an outfit over in west Texas. We’re passin’ through on our way there, along with some other new hands, and one of the ranch’s owners.”
“What’s the name of the outfit?” the deputy asked.
“Uh…” Mike hesitated, not certain how to answer. A. J. also kept quiet. They were saved from their predicament when Jeb, along with Hoot and Nate, elbowed their way through the bystanders.
“Mike. A. J.,” Jeb said. “What in the blue blazes did you get yourselves into? I thought I told you to make certain not to get in any trouble while we’re in town.”
“We didn’t start any trouble, honest, Jeb. Those two hombres did,” Mike answered. He indicated the two cowboys. Hank, the one who’d attempted to knock out A. J., had managed to sit up, but was still hunched over, with his arms wrapped around his middle. Jake, the one who’d gone after Mike, was still lying senseless.
“They wanted to take our six-guns,” Mike continued. “We tried to ignore ’em, but they blocked our path. They started the fight.”
“Do these two yahoos work for you, mister?” the deputy asked.
“They sure do, deputy,” Jeb answered. “My handle’s Jeb Rollins. This here is my segundo, Hoot Harrison, and my horse wrangler, Nate Stewart. We’re headed for my ranch, which is about a hundred miles south of Fort Stockton. We stopped here for the night because it was our last chance to sleep in a real bed until we get home.”
“Well, I don’t much care who started the fight, your two boys are still under arrest for disturbin’ the peace,” the deputy answered.
“Would you mind givin’ me your name, Deputy?” Jeb requested.
“Not at all. It’s Meeks. Deputy Marshal Fred Meeks.”
“Where’s your boss, the Llano marshal?”
“This time of night, he’s at home with his wife and kids,” Meeks answered. “I’m in charge until he comes back on duty at eight tomorrow morning. He would be really peeved if I woke him up over a simple fist fight.”
“Do you mind if we speak private-like for a moment, Deputy?” Jeb asked. “And no, I ain’t goin’ for a gun. Just want to show you somethin’.”
“Okay, but don’t move sudden-like, or this here scattergun’ll blow you in half,” Meeks answered. “If you’re gonna reach into your pocket, do it real slow.”
“All right,” Jeb agreed. He carefully lifted the flap of his vest’s left chest pocket, making certain his move wasn’t misconstrued. He palmed his badge, lifting it just enough so only the deputy could see the silver star in silver circle, then let it slide back into the pocket.
“I guess it’ll be all right, as long as you promise me these two men won’t try and make a break for it,” Meeks said.
“You have my word,” Jeb answered. “And to guarantee it, I’ll have my segundo keep an eye on ’em until we’re done palaverin’. Hoot, do you hear me? Make certain Mike and A. J. don’t do anythin’ else stupid. If they try, they’re fired, and the deputy, here, can lock them up from now until Judgement Day, for all I care.”
“You’ve got it, boss,” Hoot answered.
Jeb and Deputy Meeks stepped a few yards away from the scene of the fight, speaking in low tones so as not to be overheard. They talked for a few minutes, then went back to where A. J. and Mike waited. By now, Hank had regained his feet, although he still had one hand pressed to his bruised belly. He was also still wheezing. Jake had finally regained consciousness, and was sitting in the middle of the road, rubbing the lump rising on his jaw. Blood dribbled from both corners of his mouth and dribbled down his chin, to drip onto his shirtfront.
“I see you’ve come to, Jake Miller,” Meeks said. “I was kinda hopin’ you’d been hit so hard your neck had been snapped. You and your buddy Hank aren’t worth the space you take up. You both ain’t worth spit.”
He turned to A.J. and Mike. “You two are free to go. Tom Parsons backed up your story, and your boss promised me you’ll go back to your rooms and stay there, until your outfit pulls out in the mornin’. Is that agreeable?”
“That’s what we were plannin’ on doin’ anyway, Deputy,” A. J. answered.
“Fine. As long as you stay off the streets until then, you’ll have no further trouble with me. Now, do you want to press charges against these two worthless jaspers?”
Mike and A. J. glanced at Jeb, who gave them a discreet shake of his head.
“I reckon not, Deputy,” Mike answered. “They were too drunk to know what the devil they were doin’.”
“That’s right,” A. J. added.
“Then everythin’s settled, although I am still gonna run these two into a cell, until they can sober up. I reckon they’ll be sore enough for quite some time that they’ll remember what happened. They’re also gonna have one heck of a hangover come mornin’. Mebbe this’ll finally smarten ’em up enough so they won’t try another stupid stunt like this…although I doubt it,” Meeks said. “Miller, Harstan, start walkin’ for the jail. The rest of you, go on about your business. There’s nothin’ more to see here.”
“Thanks, Deputy,” Mike said.
“Yeah, thanks,” A. J. added. “We’re obliged.”
“Don’t thank me,” Meeks said. “If Tom hadn’t backed up your story, you’d be headed for the jail, too. Get out of here, and don’t let me see you again.”
He herded his two prisoners toward the marshal’s office and jail. A. J. and Mike headed back to the hotel, along with Jeb, Hoot, and Nate.
“Jeb, we’re real sorry for stirrin’ things up,” A. J. said. “We did everythin’ we could to avoid that fight.”
“I’ve figured that out already, or you two would have been busted out of the Rangers, and on your way back to Austin, or wherever you wanted to go,” Jeb answered. “You handled yourselves well through the whole situation. It seems like Colonel Morton picked a couple of good men. No more discussion about tonight. It’s already behind us. Let’s hit the sack, so we’ll be good and rested in the mornin’. As I said when we reached town, I want to be on the trail by sunup.”
A.J. and Mike were sharing a room with Nate and Hoot. Once they reached the Llano House, they went straight to their quarters. They undressed, rolled back the blankets and laid on top of the sheets, since it was a hot, muggy night, with no breeze. Ten minutes after hitting the mattresses, they were all sound asleep.
5
The next two days passed uneventfully. Nate and his compadres were now entering some of the most isolated, desolate, and unforgiving land in the state of Texas. Between the almost constant thirst, choking dust, blazing heat, and the relentless sun beating down on them, both men and horses were tired, and in foul moods.
However, the worst problem for the men was boredom, traveling mile after mile over the mostly featureless plains and high desert, the few distant mesas and buttes visible never seeming to draw any nearer.
They had been on the trail for four days by now, and covered slightly less than one hundred and eight miles, which meant they still had approximately three hundred more miles and ten or more days in the saddle before reaching their destination. They had not seen another house, ranch, trading post, or even another traveler, since leaving Llano.
Jeb finally called a halt for the evening just before sunset, at the only spot for miles around that promised at least a bit of water. A few sorry looking scrub willows and salt cedars struggled for life around a small spring, which was little more than a seep. The water issuing from the spring formed a small pool, hardly more than a large puddle. There was a shallow draw at the south end of the water hol
e, which headed toward the southeast. What little water that did manage to reach the sandy draw either sank into the soil, or evaporated, before making a hundred feet.
“Allow your horses a short drink, men,” Jeb ordered. “No more than a few sips each. We don’t know how much this water hole really holds, and I want to make certain each animal gets a drink. Since it doesn’t seem to flow all that much, we’ll probably have to wait a bit for it to refill. I just hope there’ll be enough for both the horses and us. After they have that short drink, we’ll unsaddle ’em, rub ’em down, and picket ’em to graze while we wait for the seep to fill back up.
“Make certain you pay extra attention to your horses’ backs. They’ve been sweatin’ all day, and I don’t want any of ’em to get sores on their backs. They won’t be fit to ride if that happens, so make certain you get their backs as dry as you can.”
“Sure. Jeb’s worried about the horses, but not about us gettin’ saddle sores on our butts,” Nate grumbled to Zack. “I’m chafed in places an hombre should never get chafed.”
“I ain’t got any sores, but I’m sure itchy where my seat hits the saddle, and the rest of my butt feels like it’s on fire,” Zack answered. “I’m about ready to drop my drawers and scratch it against a prickly pear cactus, that’s how bad it’s itchin’. Or mebbe just stick it in that water hole.”
After the long days in the saddle, Jeb was just as irritable as the young Rangers he commanded. He exploded at Nate’s and Zack’s backtalk.
“Ranger Stewart! I thought me’n Phil Knight taught you better than that, about carin’ for your horse, and keepin’ him healthy, and sound, above everythin’ else. If your brother were still alive and heard you talkin’ like that, he’d agree with me. In fact, he’d probably tan that skinny butt of yours all by his ownself. I figured you cared about Big Red more than that. Mebbe I figured wrong.
A Ranger Grown (Lone Star Ranger Book 8) Page 6
