Death Mask (25 page)

Time Carlow awoke.

He was lying in a hospital bed next to Kileen. He shook his head to clear it of the cobwebs. What had happened to Tanneman Rose? Was he on the run again? Carlow looked down at his stomach; it was wrapped in fresh bandages. His clothes and gunbelt were lying on a table a few feet away. Even his discarded leggings, weathered hat and long coat, taken off for his disguise, were there. The top hat, beard and evening coat were nowhere in sight.

“Time, me son, ‘tis good to see you with us again. Been almost two days,” Kileen said, watching him from a prone position. His voice was weak, but definitely joyous.

Carlow blinked his eyes to clear them more. His left eye seemed as clear as the right.

Standing at the foot of Carlow’s bed was Duval Jonas, so happy to see the young Ranger awake that he couldn’t remain quiet any longer.

“Hi, Ranger Carlow. I’m Duval Jonas. Remember?” the boy said.

“Well, I sure do, Duval. How are you doing?”

“I’m fine, Ranger. I helped when that awful man tried to kill…Ranger Kileen,” Duval recited and pointed at the big Irishman.

Carlow bit his lip. “I know you did, Duval. Thank you for being so brave.” He looked over at Kileen. “What happened to Tanneman?”

“Doin’ no more bad, me son,” Kileen said softly. “He be dead. You shot him. It be over, me son.” He crossed himself, shivered and decided not to say anything about the possibility of Tanneman returning.

From the far end of the hospital came a loud stomping as Marshal Bridgeport strutted down the aisle with a sack in his hand. He stopped between the beds of the two Rangers.

“Brought you blokes some candy. Toffee. Absolutely delicious,” Bridgeport announced and set them on Carlow’s bed, helping himself to a large chunk.

“The doctor said you were lucky. Tanneman’s shots were off, probably because he was firing through that bloody coat. Hit you on the side. Just the side,” the British lawman declared. “You lost a lot of blood, though.” He looked over at Kileen. “You’ll be up and around before this big bloke is.”

“I’m all right.” Carlow sat up. Dizziness reached his head and he lay back. “Well, real soon.” He realized what the British marshal had said, and looked over at Kileen and said, “He said I was lucky.”

The big Ranger smiled thinly. “Aye.”

“Sure. Sure.” Bridgeport turned toward Kileen, then back to Carlow. “Found a list in that madman’s coat. A list of bloody revenge. Even had Captain McNelly’s name on it.” He shook his head. “Guess what we found in the peddler wagon? A bunch of wooden masks and a trunk of disguises. Wigs. Beards and the like.”

He straightened his chin and announced proudly, “And the bank’s money. All of it.” He folded his arms and pushed up his chin. “That’s not all. There’s another whole trunk of the queen’s gold and currency in there, too.” He shook his head. “Found a big spider. Looked like Tanneman had kept it in a jar. My deputy squashed it.”

“So that’s where the gold be—from the other banks,” Kileen said. “Me knew it weren’t no gang.” His smile at Carlow took a lot of his energy. “Ye should be knowin’ that seein’ a spider be good luck. Never be killin’ a spider, though. Never. ‘Tis room for ye an’ he. An’ never be cuttin’ down its web.” He shook his head for emphasis and took several breaths to help him finish the thought. “When I was but a wee lad, a lady told meself that such should not be done. Me be findin’ a web in our barn…an’ I knocked it down. One o’ our horses went lame. Aye. ‘Tis true.”

Smiling, Bridgeport leaned against Carlow’s bed. “How did you come onto this Tanneman Rose bloke being the peddler?”

“Should’ve guessed earlier,” Carlow said. “When I saw him on the trail…ah, whenever it was…I remembered him saying something about Rangers being with you at the Waulken place, the night we arrested Mr. Waulken. There’s no way he’d know we were Rangers…unless he knew us. But it didn’t hit me until then.” Carlow licked his lower lip. “Punky said the U.S. marshal was riding a chestnut with white stockings when he came to town. One of Tanneman’s horses matched that description.” He stopped to regain his breath. “Still…I wasn’t sure. Him being onearmed and all. So I rode past and curled back into town. Figured on waiting to see what happened when he thought I was out of the way.” He took a deep breath. “If he didn’t come, I was going to start out again.”

“Ah yes, and gathered some bloody props from the drama folks, it seems.”

“Yeah. They were most helpful. One lady wanted to come along.” He hesitated. “Thought it would help me get close without him running again.”

“Too bloody close.” Bridgeport glanced over at Kileen and nodded. “There are some people waiting outside, to see you both. Mrs. Waulken, Mrs. Mirabile and her son.”

“Ah, ‘tis a kind thing they be doin’,” Kileen said.

Bridgeport took another piece of toffee and rolled it around in his mouth. “Oh yeah, there’s a reporter out there, too. From New York. Says he talked to you before, son. Wants to interview you both.”

“Tell him to write about Mrs. Waulken. She’d make a good story,” Carlow snapped.

Bridgeport slapped his hand down on the bed, shrugged his shoulders and grinned at such a reaction, and said, “Blimey, I almost forgot. Everyone likes your idea about the lynchers helping out. Even Mrs. Waulken. I think she bloody well is looking forward to managing the lot of them.”

Carlow tried to sit up again, this time moving slowly. “Where’s Chance?”

Bridgeport explained the wolf-dog and Carlow’s horse, as well as Kileen’s, were fine and in the stable.

After finishing her duties across the room, Mariah hurried toward them, realizing Carlow was awake. She moved past Bridgeport, close to Carlow’s bed, and smiled at him.

“Oh,
Señor
Ranger Carlow. You are awake!”

Bridgeport looked at Kileen and winked.

Another commotion at the far end of the hospital drew their attention. A thin man with a long goatee, looking more like a Presbyterian minister than a legendary lawman, strode confidently down the aisle. He ignored the demands of the head nurse charging behind him, waving her arms. His clothes were of the trail and he looked weary, but determined as always.

“Thunder, that’s the captain coming.”

Kileen shut his eyes for a moment, then squinted at the advancing figure.

“Sweet mither of Mary.”

The head nurse finally stopped and wheeled around when Carlow waved.

Captain McNelly strode to their beds, shaking his head. “What is this? Two of my best Rangers sleeping on the job.” His laugh was deep. “We came as soon as we heard.” His voice rang through the gray building, making everyone come to attention. “Marshal Bridgeport here was kind enough to wire me with the report. Concise. Well written. I like that.” He nodded toward the British lawman, who smiled.

McNelly stepped next to Kileen’s bed and held out his left hand in greeting, realizing the big Irishman would be unable to shake hands conventionally with his wounded right arm.

Kileen grabbed it with his own left paw. “Be good to be seein’ ye, Captain.”

“Good work, Rangers. Tanneman Rose led us on quite a chase—and took the lives of some fine men,” McNelly pronounced, looking around the room as he spoke. “Everyone thought it was a gang—and that he was dead. Except you two.”

Kileen looked over at his nephew. “Captain, me love. It be Ranger Carlow thinkin’ it be Tanneman by hisself. Not meself.”

“Yes, I know. He sent me a wire to check out his death. That’s when I realized we had been fooled.”

Kileen’s eyes widened and he stared at Carlow, who only grinned.

Folding his arms, McNelly continued, “The banks will be notified of your recovery. The law in San Antonio has already been told of the situation and an innocent man has been freed. I’m sorry we were too late to save the German.” He frowned. “Thunder, you know the rules. You’re off the payroll—until you’re ready to ride again.”

“Aye. ‘Twill be soon.”

“I know it will.” McNelly’s face didn’t match his positive response. His mouth a narrow line, he turned toward Carlow and held out his right hand.

The young Ranger gripped it and his gaze met McNelly’s steady stare.

“How soon can you ride? We can’t wait for Thunder,” the intense captain said. “I want to resume our drive to the border. Stop the rustling along there.” His right arm moved horizontally in front of him to demonstrate their movement. “We’ll cross the Rio Grande if we have to. This has to end.”

Carlow straightened his shoulders. “I’m ready now, Captain. It’s just a flesh wound.”

Her dark eyes flashing anger, Mariah declared, “You are not ready, Ranger Carlow. You haff been hurt
mucho.
” Her glare took in McNelly, who actually appeared flustered for a moment.

McNelly shook his head and glanced at Bridgeport, then Kileen. “You heard the young lady. A few more days then.”

“Ees better.”

“Good.” The captain smiled. “There’s a bunch of hard-nosed Rangers outside. They’ve got bets down on how soon these boys’ll be back. May they come in?”

“
Si.
” She put her hand on Carlow’s shoulder and he held it there.

“Cotton Smith is one of the finest of a new breed of writers of the American West.”

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A LEISURE BOOK
^®

July 2009

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Copyright © 2009 by Cotton Smith

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