“I wouldn’t take that bet,” Hoot answered. “How’re we gonna handle this here situation?”
“I dunno.” Jeb shook his head. “There’s not a lick of cover between here and that tradin’ post. If we try ridin’ in there, shootin’ and hollerin’, we’ll just give ourselves away, and probably get whoever else is in that place killed, or taken hostage. There’s no way we can get the drop on those hombres without puttin’ everyone who’s not part of the gang in danger. Some of us would probably get holes blown through us, too.”
“Then what’re we gonna do?” Hoot asked. “We can’t just sit here and do nothin’.”
Jeb rubbed his jaw before replying.
“I reckon the best thing we can do is ride down there, real casual like, as if we were a bunch of driftin’ cowboys, or mebbe another band of renegades. With any luck, those hombres won’t do anythin’ until we’re right on top of ’em. That way, we’ll at least have a chance of takin’ ’em by surprise.”
“You mean with a lot of luck,” Hoot said. “What about waitin’ until they come outside, then just ride ’em down?”
“Because they might kill the owner, and anyone else down there, before they leave,” Jeb answered. “We can’t risk that. We’ve wasted enough time already. Let’s go.”
****
It only took Jeb a few minutes to explain his plan. He and Hoot remounted, then they led the other men down the slope, heading toward the trading post. The man holding the horses spotted them, and shouted, “Riders coming!” through the open door. He pulled out his revolver, sent several shots at the oncoming Rangers, then ducked inside.
Immediately, rifle and pistol barrels were poked out of the trading post’s windows, shattering the glass. Bullets started coming in the Rangers’ direction, most of them falling short, since the distance was still long for rifles, and the lawmen were definitely still out of pistol range.
“I guess they weren’t plannin’ on takin’ chances with anybody who rode up,” Jeb shouted. He pulled his Winchester out of its scabbard, and fired several shots into the dirt around the outlaws’ horses’ feet. The panicked animals stampeded off. Curses and yells came from inside the trading post as the outlaws realized their sole means of escape had just galloped off.
“Ride in as close as you can, then get behind whatever cover you can find,” Jeb ordered. “Keep low. We’re gonna have to blast those hombres outta there.”
He had no sooner said this when he heard the thud of a bullet striking flesh, and Trace threw up his arms and toppled from his saddle. He hit the dirt, rolled several times, then lay face down and unmoving. Jeb muttered a curse, then pushed Dudley to even greater speed, zigzagging his horse to make them more difficult targets.
“Start firing!” Jeb ordered. His men laid down a volley of lead as they galloped straight at the building, driving the outlaws away from the windows. The man who’d been guarding the horses made the mistake of opening the door to take a shot at the oncoming lawmen. A. J. steadied his horse, leveled his rifle, and put a bullet through the man’s gut. The outlaw screeched in pain, dropped his six-gun, grabbed his middle and doubled over, then staggered onto the porch. He fell off the edge and lay in the dirt, curled up on his side with his hands pressed to the bullet hole in his belly, and moaning.
Jeb waved half of his men to the right of the building, the others to the left.
“Take cover!” he ordered. He rolled from his saddle and slid behind a horse trough. Bullets from the outlaws’ guns plunked into the side of the wooden trough, punching through its walls to send sprays of water into the air.
Austin and Caden reached the shelter of the well, while Colin and Gavin left their horses and raced behind a small shed. The other men huddled against the walls of the main building.
“Let’s try’n hug the wall and sneak up on those hombres, Nate,” Hoot said. “We’ll leave our rifles here. That’ll make it easier to move quiet-like, and the six-guns are better for close up work like this anyway.”
“All right,” Nate agreed. “Let’s just hope none of our pardners mistake us for one of the outlaws.”
“You’ve got a point there, but we’ve gotta get ’em outta there somehow. They’ve got the other boys pretty well pinned down, and none of ’em can get a clean shot at those renegades. It’s up to us,” Hoot said. “You ready?”
“Sure am,” Nate answered.
“Now!” Hoot said. Sticking as close to the wall as they could, Nate and Hoot edged their way onto the porch. As quietly as possible, they rolled under the two front windows. Hoot nodded to Nate and pointed at the window above him. Nate bobbed his head in understanding.
“Now,” Hoot silently mouthed. He and Nate came to their knees, aimed through the windows, and put several shots through them. The two men behind those windows went down, their chests riddled with Ranger lead.
Hoot and Nate rolled away from the windows, and scampered back around the side of the building. They had no sooner ducked around its corner when the heavy blasts of both barrels of a double barreled shotgun roared from inside the trading post, followed by screams of pain and the thumps of two bodies hitting the floor.
The remaining two outlaws burst out of the building, running low and firing as fast as they could. They were cut down by the Rangers’ accurate shooting before they made ten yards.
“Move in real easy, men,” Jeb ordered, when no more gunfire came from the building. “Be real careful, just in case one of those hombres is playin’ possum, or hidin’ out.”
He waved the Rangers toward the trading post. Just as they started to move, a middle-aged woman, plump, with gray hair held tightly in a bun, appeared in the doorway. In one hand she held a still smoking shotgun, in the other an apron. She waved the once white, but now tattered and stained, apron over her head.
“Don’t shoot!” she called. “I’m peaceable. Dunno who you fellers are, but I sure do appreciate your help. I couldn’t have stalled off those renegades much longer.” She peppered her speech with a string of curses that would make even a sailor blush.
“We’re Texas Rangers,” Jeb said. He removed his badge from his shirt pocket and pinned it to his vest. “Mind if we don’t put our guns up until we have a look around?”
“Not at all,” the woman agreed.
“Eddy, Sean, see how bad Trace’s hit. Bring him inside if he ain’t dead. Nate, Hoot, you come with me. The rest of you boys check these men outside,” Jeb ordered. “Soon as you’re certain they’re done for, or at least no longer a threat, meet us inside.”
Nate and Hoot followed Jeb into the trading post. The interior was a shambles of overturned display counters, spilled goods, and bullet holes. The two men Nate and Hoot had shot were lying on their backs, both clearly dead. Two other men lay face down in the middle of the room, their backs riddled with buckshot. Jeb rolled them onto their backs.
“Oh, they’re plumb dead, Ranger. I made sure of that,” the woman said. “My name’s Ruby McDaniel. I own this place.”
“I reckon we can put our guns away,” Jeb answered, as he slid his Colt into its holster. He was studying the face of one of the men Ruby had shot.
“Rufus Darnell!” he exclaimed, when he recognized the man. “The Rangers have been lookin’ for him and his outfit for a long time, now. He was wanted in Kansas, New Mexico Territory, Missouri, and Iowa, too. I guess he’s one more name we can cross off the Fugitive List. You sure stopped his clock, ma’am.”
“Shucks, Ranger, ’twern’t nothin’. Although, I do have to admit, if you boys hadn’t come along these sons of Satan would have killed me, and who knows what they might’ve done before that. They for certain intended to clean me out, and burn down my place. And as I told you, the name’s Ruby, like on the sign out front.”
“Lieutenant Jeb Rollins. These men are Corporal Hoot Harrison and Ranger Nate Stewart. The rest of my men are checkin’ the outlaws outside, as well as one of my men who got plugged. You run this place all by yourself, Ruby? No husband or son
to help you?”
“Never been married, Ranger,” Ruby answered. “I came out here, built this place, and run it. I’m better at business than most men, and I like it out here. It’s quiet and peaceful, and the few folks who do pass by are all the company I need. It’s a good life.”
“If you say so, Ruby,” Jeb answered. “I love bein’ a Ranger, but sometimes bein’ out for weeks, not seein’ another person, can get mighty lonesome.”
“I’ve got my cats, the desert, and the Good Lord to keep me company, Ranger. I make out just fine.”
The rest of the men tramped into the store. Eddy and Sean were supporting Trace, who had a bloody tear in the right leg of his denims.
“You hit real bad, Trace?” Jeb asked.
“I dunno.” Trace shook his head. “I think the slug just winged me. Put a hole through my leg, but didn’t break the bone, far as I can tell. I am bleedin’ like a stuck hog, though. I must’ve been knocked out when I hit the dirt.”
“Set him down on that couch over there and I’ll tend to him,” Ruby ordered. “The stove’s in the kitchen, through that door. There’s cloths I use for bandages in a cabinet alongside it. One of you start some water boilin’.”
“Nate, you give her a hand,” Jeb ordered. “Zack, what about the rest of these outlaws?”
“We won’t have to worry about ’em,” Zack answered. “The one A. J. belly-shot was still breathin’ when we got to him, but he ain’t no more. Rest were already dead.”
“Ruby, I see a few shovels hangin’ on the wall over there,” Jeb said. “Mind if my men use ’em to plant these renegades?”
“Feel free,” Ruby answered. “You did me a real favor by gettin’ rid of those boys. Just dig their graves far enough away I won’t have to look at ’em. There’s a buckboard and pair of mules in the barn. You can use those to get these sons of Satan offa my place.”
“Of course,” Jeb answered. “Men, take theses bodies out of here and plant ’em with their pardners. One of you try’n round up their horses. Ruby, I figure there’s seven good horses, and the gear, you can keep to compensate you for your trouble. I’m sure you must get travelers who need to replace a worn out cayuse.”
“All the time, Ranger, all the time,” Ruby answered. “This country is mighty tough on both man and beast.”
“I’ll round up those broncs,” A. J. said. He stepped onto the porch and gave three short, shrill whistles. An answering whinny sliced through the air. A moment later, along came Jones. He nickered, and shoved at A. J.’s chest.
“No time for biscuits now, Jones, we’ve got work to do. Let’s go, boy.”
A.J. picked up the reins, swung into the saddle, turned Jones away from the trading post, and galloped after the outlaws’ runaway horses. The other men dragged the four dead outlaws outside. After the mules were hitched and all the bodies loaded, they drove off into the desert, to bury the outlaws a quarter-mile from the trading post.
Ruby turned her attention to Trace. She sliced open the right leg of his denims to reveal a bloody bullet hole, which went clear through the flesh of his thigh. Blood still oozed from the wound, and ran down Trace’s leg.
“It don’t look all that bad,” she said. “Bullet went in and out of your leg clean, without hittin’ any bone. Once I clean the wound and patch it up, you’ll be fine in a week or two, son. You’ll be sore, and we’ll have to watch for it to putrefy, but you should heal up right well.”
“Will he be able to ride?” Jeb asked. “We’ve still got quite a ways to go.”
“Quien sabe?” Ruby shrugged her shoulders. “Depends on how much he hurts.”
“I’ll be able to ride, Jeb,” Trace said. “One hole in my leg ain’t gonna keep me tied down.”
“Bueno,” Jeb said. “As long as Ruby and Nate are carin’ for you, I’m gonna go give the rest of the boys a hand buryin’ those outlaws. Be back as soon as we’re done. Then we’ll help you clean up the place.”
“He’ll be here, Ranger, I promise you that,” Ruby said. “Soon as this boy’s patched up, I’m gonna start supper for you. Pronghorn stew, with plenty of bread and butter I just churned, all the coffee you can drink, and dried apple pie for dessert. You’re welcome to spend the night, too. It’s the least I can do, after you pulled my bacon out of the fire. And don’t worry about cleanin’ up around here. Y’all look plumb tuckered out, and like you need a good night’s rest. I’ll have plenty of time to straighten up after you leave.”
“We’ll take you up on that offer, and we’re obliged,” Jeb answered. “If you need any help, just ask Nate. He’s not a half-bad cook.”
“I’ll do that, and gracias,” Ruby answered.
****
The outlaws had been buried, and their horses rounded up and placed in the corral along with the Rangers’ mounts. They had been rubbed down and fed, and given plenty of hay for the night. Trace’s wound had been treated, and stitched shut. Ruby had even washed and sewed the bullet tear in his pants.
Now, the Rangers were sitting around the table, downing bowls full of pronghorn stew, accompanied by still warm bread, freshly churned butter, and plenty of hot, black coffee. Jeb had turned down Ruby’s offer to add whiskey to the brew, making an exception for Trace. The red-eye would help ease his pain.
“I’m sure glad you boys came along when you did,” Ruby said, once again. “The few folks who live out here have been pesterin’ Austin for a long time now, askin’ for Ranger help to clean out the outlaw snakes who’ve been infestin’ these parts for years, but we’ve been ignored. I thought our pleas had fallen on deaf ears, until today.”
“I’m sorry to have to say I can’t tell you much, Ruby, except that my men have been ordered to round up as many of the renegades, whites and Indians both, who’ve been plaguin’ this area. I can’t tell you where we’re headed, since you know how word can spread, even accidentally. So, if you wouldn’t mention to anyone we were here, I’d appreciate that.”
“I’ll sew my lips shut if I have to, Ranger,” Ruby said. “Besides, it seems like you made a pretty good start today, cleanin’ out the vultures that were intendin’ to rob and kill me.”
“You made our job a lot easier, when you blasted two of ’em with your scattergun,” Jeb replied. “I am gonna reveal one thing, since I’m certain you can keep a confidence, and just mebbe you’ll be able to make our job a bit easier. Back in Austin, we were told there’s at least three good-sized outlaw gangs plaguin’ the area where we’re headed. Now, we’re still quite a ways east of that, but I have a suspicion Rufus Darnell and his bunch was one of those three gangs. You have any thoughts on that? I’m sure you get all the gossip from anyone passin’ though who stops by here.”
“Yeah, but if you and your men hadn’t happened along, I’d never have had the chance to get the drop on ’em,” Ruby said. “Soon as we’re done with supper, I’ll get the supplies you need. No charge…and don’t argue with me. I’m also gonna cook you a good breakfast before you pull out, and you’ll have plenty of grub to take along when you go. Cigars, too, for whoever smokes.
“Now, to answer your question, I hear rumors and tales all the time, of course. A rough lookin’ hombre passin’ through a couple weeks back claimed the territory between the Guadalupes and Cornudas was so lousy with desperadoes and renegade Indians even some of the outlaws were pullin’ up stakes and headin’ elsewhere. I wouldn’t be surprised if Darnell’s bunch was one of ’em. They rode in from the west.”
“Muchas gracias, Ruby. If that hombre was tellin’ the truth, with any luck we’ve only got two big gangs left to deal with. Of course, there’s always the loners, and outlaws who travel in twos and threes. We’ve still got our work cut out for us, that’s for certain. But I do appreciate the information. Now, soon as we’ve finished eatin’, we’re gonna turn in,” Jeb said. “We’ll be gettin’ an early start come mornin’.”
“I’ll have breakfast ready whenever you’d like,” Ruby said.
After finishing their sup
per, the Rangers rolled out their blankets on the trading post’s front porch, all except Trace. Ruby insisted he sleep inside, on the sofa, so she could check his wounds before she also turned in, and to be there in case he developed a fever or needed some more whiskey to dull the pain of his wounded leg during the night.
A waning gibbous moon bathed the trading post and surrounding country with its soft light. It gave a peaceful glow to the scene. Nate spent a few minutes sketching the moonlit post and desert, then he also rolled out his blankets for some much needed sleep.
8
The Rangers departed Ruby’s Trading Post just after sunup the next morning. As she had promised, Ruby supplied them with enough provisions to last a week, if they were careful and didn’t waste them. Each man had a bag of foodstuffs, and another filled with grain for his horse, hanging from his saddlehorn.
Trace’s pants bulged where the bandage was wrapped around his leg, and he occasionally winced with pain, but he rode stoically, without complaining. It was clear to his partners Trace had the stuff a Texas Ranger was made of.
Two days after leaving Ruby, the Rangers came upon a well-established road, which was deeply rutted by wagon and stagecoach wheels. Jeb reined Dudley to a stop. The rest of the men gathered around him, their horses blowing and snorting.
“This is it, men. The Butterfield Overland Stage Line’s mail route,” Jeb said. “We’re gettin’ close to the Guadalupes. It should only take us two or three days at the most to get there. We’ll follow this road west, until we come up to a way station. Dependin’ on just where we hit the road, it could be anywhere from a mile to fifteen miles or so until we reach the place. It’ll be dark in an hour at most, so we’ll put up there for the night. We’ll be able to get a home cooked meal, too. Dependin’ on who manages the station, some of these stage stops have food as good as your ma makes. Let’s keep movin’.”
A Ranger Grown (Lone Star Ranger Book 8) Page 9
