Ride for Rule Cordell (26 page)

Red streaks of a new day greeted a strange group of riders entering the quiet town of Caisson. Thirty Rangers surrounded Holt’s gunmen, their hands tied in front of them, as they entered the main street. In the rear were five horses carrying dead Holt gunmen.

A barely conscious Jaudon, with his face blossoming in purple and yellow bruises, rode in the center. His horse was led by the redheaded Ranger. His hands were tied together and grasped the saddle horn.

At the front rode John Checker, Rule Cordell, Aleta Cordell and Spake Jamison.

An excited young boy ran into the street and alongside them. “What’s going on? You aren’t real Rangers, are ya? My ma says there’s a bad bunch claiming to be Rangers.”

Aleta was the first to respond. “
Buenos dias. Sí
. These ees real Rangers. They ees bringing ze bad ones in. To justice.” She looked down at him and smiled. “
Como esta usted?
Ah, how are you thees morning?”

“I’m fine, lady. I gotta go now. Tell my ma. She’ll be very happy.”

“Adios.” She waved and the boy ran off.

Spake turned in the saddle back toward the other Rangers. “Let’s take them to the city corral. Down at the end of the street. We can tie them to the poles. Any of ’em give us trouble, we’ll shoot ’em. Be less to mess with. They can stay there ’til the circuit judge can get here. Ol’ Judge Jones’ll be just what we need.”

Checker motioned toward Jaudon. The Ranger’s hands were puffy and swollen.

Spake pointed. “Except for the Frenchman. He goes in the jail.”

From the newspaper office burst a disheveled Lady Holt. She screamed, “I demand to know what is going on here! Those are my men. That is Ranger Captain Sil Jaudon. Unhand him, I demand it.”

None of the Rangers responded, focusing on the street ahead and watching as townspeople were beginning to gather along the sidewalk.

“You don’t understand. I own this town.” She waved a large sheet of paper. “This is the first edition of the
Caisson Phoenix
! It tells what is happening here.” She hurried over to the closest Ranger and shoved the paper toward him. “Here, read it. It’s exciting. There’s even a poem about Iva Lee.”

He brushed it aside and rode on.

She ran toward the first riders, pointing and screaming, “That’s John Checker—and Rule Cordell! They are wanted…for murder. Arrest them. Arrest them.”

Turning toward her, Checker said, “Better start a new edition. I’ve got the headline. ‘Lady Holt and Her Men Arrested for Murder and Attempted Land Theft.’ How’s that sound?”

She looked at him, not comprehending. “Shoot him, Jaudon. Shoot him.” As the group rode past, she frantically looked at the arrested gunmen. “Where is Tapan? I don’t see Tapan. Where is my Tapan?”

Rule pulled his horse from the group and rode over to her. “Tapan Moore is lying on the top of a ridge. Back where he tried to kill us. So is Luke Dimitry. They weren’t good enough. Your men tried to wipe out some good people. Your men weren’t good enough, either. You hired Eleven Meade to kill John Checker. He wasn’t good enough, either.” Cocking his head to the side, he said, “You aren’t good enough, either, lady.”

Aleta and Checker joined the gunfighter, easing their horses toward the wild-eyed woman.

“I’ll triple what you’re earning right now. Triple the wages!” She waved her arms and screamed, “I’m the Queen of Texas! Iva Lee, I’ve done it!”

Waving the Rangers to a stop, Spake joined Checker, Rule and Aleta in confronting the unstable English rancher.

“You’re under arrest, Holt. You’re going to jail. With your buddy here, Jaudon.” Checker swung down from his horse.

“You’re not the law. Tapan is the sheriff. Jaudon is…the Ranger captain. I’ll wire Governor Citale. He’ll put a stop to this nonsense. He’ll—”

“Citale’s about two weeks away from resigning,” Checker snarled. “Either that or he can stand trial like the dog he is.”

“No! No! He’s the governor. My governor. I am the Queen of Texas!”

For the first time, she saw that townspeople were gathering. “My people! My people! How good you are here. I need your help. These awful men are trying to ruin us. You must help me stop them. Stop them! Our glorious empire depends on it.” She stutter-stepped toward the closest group, crossing her hands over her heart.

“Glorious Phoenix, you ever are my guide. Lead me to your Father, the Sun,” she cried out. “As it dies each eve and is reborn each morn, so you direct me to become invincible.”

“This time, lady, we’re the fire—and you aren’t coming out of it. Your phoenix is just another dead bird.” Checker grabbed her shoulder to stop her advance.

“Don’t you ever touch me! I am the queen,” she screamed, and spun toward him, swinging her right arm to slap his face.

He caught the oncoming swing, grabbing her arm with his left hand in midair. She pulled at his grip and cursed.

“Be glad you’re not a man, Holt. I’ve never hit a woman, but I’d make an exception in your case.”

Aleta came behind him, leading her horse. “Ranger Checker, these ees woman’s work. Let me take her to jail. Ees
bueno
?”

“I’d like that, Aleta. Thank you. I’ve about had it with this piece of British crap.”

The Mexican beauty stepped next to Lady Holt and delivered a savage slap across the evil rancher’s face. Lady Holt staggered and grabbed her pained cheek.

“Now, senorita, do you want to go to thees jail easy—or hard? Eet makes no difference to me.” In Aleta’s other hand was one of her revolvers.

Holding her reddened face, Lady Holt bit her lower lip, whimpered and started walking toward the jail. Hurrying down the sidewalk came Margaret Loren, her own face flushed.

“Miss? Miss? May I help you? I own the dry goods place up the street—and I’ve waited a long time for this day.” She motioned toward Lady Holt and produced a short-barreled revolver from beneath her apron.

“
Gracias
, senorita.”

Aleta started again, with Margaret beside her, moving the distraught Lady Holt toward the jail with jabs of their guns in her back.

“Riders coming!” Rule said, looking behind them.

Emmett, Rikor and Morgan led another bunch of Rangers—and Charlie Carlson and his six cowboys—into Caisson. Checker and Spake waved at their Ranger friends, part of Captain Poe’s main force. They had heard of the trouble and come to help, ignoring Poe’s wire demands that his men stay out of the complicated situation.

Immediately, Emmett spotted Aleta and Margaret taking Lady Holt to jail. His worried exclamation about where his boys were was answered by Rule. Both sets of children were fine and with the Morrisons, who were staying with them at the Cordells’ home. He explained they were a black family who had become their friends.

Emmett swallowed what he was about to say and, instead, asked what had happened. They had decided not to go on to Morgan’s ranch, but to come to Caisson to help. London Fiss’s body was left where it was, for later caring. They just couldn’t ride away and leave the trouble to Checker and Rule.

Jumping down and leaving the reins on the ground, Morgan ran toward Checker. She flung herself into his arms. At that moment, Jaudon pulled free the holstered pistol from the distracted Ranger next to him. Morgan stiffened as the bullet hit her, instead of Checker, and she slumped in his arms.

Checker, Rule and Spake fired at the Frenchman at almost the same instant. The lead impact lifted him from his saddle and his frightened horse bolted down the street as Jaudon slammed against the earth and was still. The Ranger next to him jumped down and ran toward the dying Morgan. He was crying.

Spake yelled at three men to find the doctor and they galloped away. Rule went over to examine the bullet-riddled Jaudon. No one saw a hungover Wilson Tanner slip toward the livery. With him was Alex Wilkerson, the banker and mayor.

Checker knelt in the street, cradling the young woman he loved. Jaudon’s bullet had struck her heart and he knew it. Tearing off his neckerchief, he wadded the cloth and held it against the seeping wound.

“M-Morgan, hold on. Hold on. W-we’ll get the doctor here.” He touched her cheek as his eyes welled with tears.

She grabbed his arm and her eyes fluttered open. “M-my d-dearest John…I—I w-wanted…a l-life with…y-you.”

“Morgan, please! I love you,” Checker declared as tears trembled down his face.

“I…I…l-love you.” Her hand slid from his arm and she was still.

Two weeks later, a somber John Checker and Rule Cordell walked into the governor’s outer office.

“We need to see Citale.” Checker’s growl was a bowie knife.

“Ah…ah, the governor is busy right now. May I tell—”

Neither paused as they pushed open the door and walked into the governor’s office. The stocky assistant scurried from his desk, wiping back his hair as he moved. Rule’s glare stopped him.

“I…ah, go in. P-please…sirs.”

The gaunt governor looked up, his face rich with annoyance at being disturbed. Captain Poe was sitting across from Citale’s desk. Next to him was a well-dressed businessman. Checker reached under his Comanche tunic and pulled free an envelope.

“What in the world? These two are wanted murderers. Arrest them, Poe.”

“Don’t even think about it, Poe.” Checker’s hard face attacked the Ranger captain with his eyes. “I’ve had more of you than I can handle.” He walked over to the surprised governor’s desk and tossed the envelope on his desk.

“Here’s your train ticket. To New Orleans,” the tall Ranger said. “You are resigning as of right now. Lieutenant Governor Morse will assume leadership. He’s waiting outside—with half of Captain Temple’s Ranger force. The other half are taking prisoners to prison. All of them are criminals you made into Rangers.” The heat of his glare made the governor look away.

“What the hell are you clowns talking about? Get out of here,” the balding, narrow-faced governor said. “Can’t you see I’m having a meeting with one of my Ranger captains…and, and an important citizen of the state? They are asking me to run for the U.S. Senate.”

Checker reached across the desk, grabbed the governor by his shirt and yanked him to his feet. “I only see a spineless son of a bitch who has no business in this office or any other—or the state of Texas.”

“Ranger Checker, this is extremely out of order,” Captain Poe said, waving his arms.

“Shut up, Poe—or you’re leaving, too.”

Standing in the doorway, Rule recited what had taken place in Caisson—and that the Rangers waiting outside, and in Caisson, were waiting to be officially reinstated. The new governor would be doing that. He would also be dropping the charges against Captain Temple and officially restoring him to his proper rank and authority

“Lots of changes in Caisson and around there,” Rule said. “Town’s looking for a new bank owner. New saloon owner, too. Could use an attorney—and somebody who knows about land titles and the like.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “They’re going to vote on a new sheriff. Spake is serving as their lawman for now. Same with the mayor. Mrs. Loren’s the acting mayor. I’m sure she’ll be voted in. Going to get a new town council while they’re at it. Oh yeah, the new city judge is, oh, I can’t think of his name, he owns the gun shop.”

The gunfighter glanced at Checker, returned his attention to Citale and Poe. “Holt’s ranch is going to be split up. Pieces sold off. Emmett Gardner and Charlie Carlson are buying pieces. Others, too. Judge Jones is overseeing the effort.”

Checker shoved his hands into his gun belt. “Holt’s servants and chef have left. Gave each one a month’s salary. From her account. Looks like there’s going to be enough left over to build a church. My friend has agreed to be their preacher until they get one of their own.”

“That big herd’s being divided among the new owners,” Cordell added. “Not sure what’s going to happen to her foreman. He’s not wanted, though. He and his men were real cowmen. Heard he was going to buy a chunk of her land. Don’t know that for certain.”

Rule’s right hand slid from resting against the door frame to his gun belt. A stone earring wiggled below his ear. Poe and Citale saw the stem attached to the lapel of his long black coat and wondered what it was.

He continued with what had happened. Morgan Peale, a local rancher, and her employee, London Fiss, were murdered by Holt’s men. They were buried in a quiet place where they had earlier buried Ranger A. J. Bartlett, who was also killed trying to stop the Holt gang. Lady Holt’s men, under her direction, had also murdered Jimmy Benson, the blacksmith who served as the temporary sheriff. It appeared that Henry Seitmeyer, the newspaper publisher, was going to make it, in spite of a severe head blow.

Lady Holt had been tried by Judge Roebuck Jones, the district circuit judge and convicted of murder, rustling and land embezzlement. Sil Jaudon, Tapan Moore, Luke Dimitry and Eleven Meade, all hired by her, were dead. Her other gunmen were on their way to federal prison, escorted by Rangers.

The businessman coughed and stood. “I believe my business can wait. For the new governor.”

“Wait a minute, Mr. Kreig. This is just a silly misunderstanding. These men have no authority to…” Citale rubbed his fingers across his fine mustache and looked at the envelope resting on the desk.

“We have all the authority we need,” Checker growled, and drew his Colt. “Your greed has cost me the lives of two friends—and the woman I love.”

Frantically, Citale pulled open the right-hand drawer of his desk, to reveal a gold-plated revolver with ivory handles. Checker’s challenge stopped his movement toward it.

“Pick up that gun. Please. I want you to. I imagine Sil Jaudon gave it to you when you appointed him captain. He killed my lady.” Checker leaned forward. “Pick it up, Citale. Come on, you bastard, pick it up. Or can’t you handle doing evil things yourself? I’ll get your assistant in here. Maybe he can try.”

“Easy, John.” Rule drew his revolver. “They were friends of mine, too,” he said to Citale. “You and Lady Holt tried to run over some good folks. One of them is my uncle. I didn’t like that, either.”

“Wh-who are you?”

“I’m Rule Cordell.”

His face dark with fury barely controlled, Checker nodded toward the gunfighter in the black long coat. “I asked my friend to come with me today, to keep me from tearing you apart. You’re getting a break with that train ride, Citale. If I ever hear you’ve stepped onto Texas soil again, I’ll find you—and kill you.”

“B-but, but what’ll I say? What’ll I tell the newspapers? I’ve got state projects we’re working on. Important things. For Texas. Tell them, ah, Kreig. I’m running for…the U.S. Senate.”

The businessman paused at the doorway. “Nothing that can’t wait. You aren’t running for anything.” He looked at Checker, then Rule. “I didn’t know.” He hesitated and continued out of the office. Outside, the frightened assistant was sobbing.

“Your health is the reason for the sudden resignation,” Rule said. “That’s what the new governor will tell them. You can tell them anything you want.”

“But there won’t be any time for that, Citale. The train leaves in an hour. We’re taking you there,” Checker said, slamming the desk drawer shut.

Citale’s eyes blinked four times and it looked as though he was going to vomit. “Wh-where’s L-Lady Holt now?”

“She’s in the Caisson jail, waiting to be hanged.”

“H-hanged?”

“Yeah, she asked to be burned, but Texas doesn’t do things like that,” Checker said. “Something about being a phoenix.”

Captain Poe swallowed and blurted, “I almost forgot.” With the two gunfighters’ permission, he reached inside his coat pocket and produced a letter. “Came for you, John. From Dodge City, Kansas. It’s from a Mrs. Amelia Checker Hedrickson. Know her?”