[Texas Rangers 01] - The Buckskin Line (15 page)

"There has. There are bitter feelin's on both sides."

"Same here, I'm sorry to say. Serious enough that I'm afraid it could lead to bloodlettin'."

Clemmie protested, "Lon, don't be scarin' the children."

"It's the truth. I ain't seen folks get so worked up since the war against Mexico. This may be worse, because it has neighbor buttin' heads with neighbor. Damndest notion I ever heard of, wantin' to pull out of the union! Don't you agree, Preacher?"

Webb looked about the table before he answered. "Every argument sounds good while you listen to it. Then you hear an answer from the other side, and it sounds good, too. As a minister I think I'd best stay out of it."

"The way it looks, everybody's goin' to have to choose a side, like it or not."

"I'm on God's side, and God wants us to live in peace."

Monahan's eyes were fierce. "There won't be peace if Texas pulls out. We'll find ourselves in the damnedest war this country ever saw."

Clemmie broke in. "This is no fit subject for the dinner table. James, pass your daddy the gravy."

In deference to her, the conversation turned to subjects that sparked no controversy, such as speculation that a railroad might be built to haul farm produce from the interior to a gulf port, and the need for a soaking rain.

Rusty only half listened to most of it. He did not know enough about railroads to voice an opinion, and all the talk in the world would not bring rain so long as the wind was out of the west. He kept his chin down as if he were concentrating on eating, but he lifted his gaze to Geneva, across the table. Somehow she didn't seem quite so skinny as he had first thought. The longer he looked at her, the more he wanted to look. He did not have a lot to judge her by. Girls of her age were scarce down on his section of the Colorado River. He had gone to school with Fowler Gaskin's daughter, Florey, but she looked too much like her brothers to arouse any interest. The only person he knew uglier than the Gaskin brothers was their father.

After dinner James saddled a horse and set out eastward to notify neighbors that Preacher Webb would conduct services that evening at the Monahans'. Billy Monahan rode north and west.

Lon Monahan shouted after James, "You tell them to be sure and come! Ain't a one of them but what can stand a damned good dose of salvation!"

Rusty thought it might not have been necessary for the boys to ride out. Monahan could have stood on the porch and hollered loudly enough to reach everyone within four or five miles.

Clemmie admonished, "Lon, is it necessary to use that kind of language in front of the preacher?"

"Hell, he's heard it all before. A little honest swearin' wipeth away anger and bringeth peace to the soul." He winked at Rusty.

Rusty was reminded that Mike Shannon had looked at it that way too, and the thought brought sadness. Mike had had much in common with Lon Monahan besides their political leanings.

Clemmie noticed Rusty's expression. She said, "You're lookin' kind of down, son. Not feelin' good?"

Rusty did not want to get into a discussion about what had happened to Mike. He replied, "Just thinkin' over what Mr. Monahan said about war."

Clemmie turned on her husband. "See what you done, talkin' so free? Some things you'd ought to keep to yourself."

Monahan said, "Ain't no dodgin' what's true." Once the boys were gone, he suggested, 'We'd just as well forget about fence buildin' today. Preacher, I'd like to show you my horses. Traded for a nice little set of mares and a sorrel stud since you were here last."

"As I recall, the Comanches cleaned you out last year."

"I'm hopin' the volunteers can keep them crafty devils from comin' south." He looked at Rusty as if for verification.

Rusty found Geneva looking at him too, and felt compelled to make some kind of answer, even if it meant nothing. "I'll just be followin' orders, but I expect we'll do the best we can."

Monahan said, "The country you've got to cover is big, and there won't be many of you. Seein' how poor Texas is now, I can't understand how anybody thinks it'd be better off by quittin' the union. Everything the union's been doin' for us, we'll have to do for ourselves."

Rusty could see the other side of the argument. "A lot of folks don't think it has done much for us."

"A lot of folks are wrong. I'm afraid they're fixin' to find that out."

Rusty was not overly interested in seeing Monahan's mares. He would rather have stayed and gotten acquainted with Monahan's daughter, but he felt it his obligation as a guest to act pleased and accept in good grace whatever courtesy the host extended. He rode out with Monahan and Webb.

Monahan said, "If it hadn't taken us so long to borrow horses to ride, we'd've caught up to them Indians and got our own back. As it was, we trailed them all the way to the Red River, me and James and Billy."

Webb was incredulous. "The three of you? What would you have done if you'd caught up to the Indians?"

"Like I said, we'd've took back our horses. By the tracks there wasn't but six or seven hostiles. Me and the boys could've whipped up on them easy.

The stallion made a threatening rush at the three horsemen, but Monahan put him to flight by waving his hat and shouting at the top of his voice. Rusty thought he might have flushed birds out of the trees half a mile away.

By the time they returned to the house, the first neighbors had begun arriving a-horseback, in wagons and buggies. Most brought food in baskets or sacks to help the Monahans feed the expected crowd. Rusty was introduced to so many that he had no chance of remembering the names. It had always been that way when he had accompanied Preacher Webb on his circuit. Prayer meeting was more than a religious event. It provided a rare excuse for a social gathering where the men could swap yarns, horses, and dogs. Women could exchange news about weddings and births and discuss whatever they had been able to learn about fashion in faraway places like St. Louis and New Orleans.

This gathering also provided a forum for extended discussions on secession. Rusty noted that the preponderance of opinion favored pulling out. Monahan's was definitely a minority view. In another setting the debate might have sparked violent quarreling, but here the visitors respected the host's views even as most disagreed with them.

Clemmie Monahan walked out onto the porch, drying wet hands on an apron. She told her husband, "Appears to me that just about everybody's here and lookin' hungry."

Her father said, "I sure am."

Lon Monahan asked Webb, "You want to eat first or do it after the preachin'?"

"Minister first to the body, then the soul will be ready for the Word."

Old Vince Purdy said, "Amen."

Preacher Webb broke up the scattered conversations by calling for the visitors to bow their heads. He beseeched the Lord to heal divisions and restore peace to troubled hearts.

He had barely reached the "Amen" when a large man of commanding presence rode up on a big white horse, trailed by three riders whose subservient manner indicated they were in his pay or in his debt. The man wore a long black coat, open so that no one could miss seeing the pistol he carried in his broad waistband.

Lon Monahan was obviously displeased about the late-arriving guests, but he showed himself a good host by walking out to meet them. "You're late, Colonel, but we're just fixin' to eat supper. "There's plenty for all of you. And Preacher Webb ain't delivered his sermon yet."

Rusty heard Vince Purdy mutter, "Colonel Caleb Dawkins. I'd rather be bit by a hydrophoby dog."

Dawkins did not dismount. He seemed seven feet tall in the saddle, a huge man with shoulders that looked wide enough to bump a doorway on both sides and hands big enough to choke a mule. "We have not come to eat or listen to platitudes." His voice was deep and resonant, like Monahan's, and chillingly calm. "We have come to see how many choose to align themselves with traitors."

Stung, Monahan struggled to recover his composure. "You'll find no traitors here, Colonel Dawkins. There is scarcely a man in this crowd who has not answered the call against Mexico or against the savage."

"We've a different enemy this time. You and your family have openly allied yourself with the northern union. I must assume that those who break bread with you support you in your sedition."

The accusation aroused angry shouts from among the visitors. Half a dozen men surged forward in protest. The three with Dawkins dropped their hands to their weapons, and the threat cooled. Dawkins remained unmoved, showing no emotion. He seemed to be above anger or fear.

Monahan's face colored. "Damn you, Colonel, you've just abused the hell out of my hospitality." He moved toward the man, but Preacher Webb stepped in front of him.

Webb said, "You are wrong, Colonel Dawkins. A vote here tonight would probably be ninety percent for secession. These people have come for a prayer meeting, not a political fight. I would invite you to join us in fellowship and worship."

Dawkins looked at Webb as if he were a beggar on the street. "You call yourself a man of God, yet you sup with one flagrantly disloyal to his state. The devil rules here tonight, not God." His chilling gaze swept over the crowd. "I warn all of you, judgment day is coming. When the vote is taken and Texas secedes, a swift and just punishment will he visited upon all who are not on God's side." He leaned forward, piercing eyes fixed on Lon Monahan. "Be warned. You will be the first."

Rusty was reminded of Isaac York. This man could have been York's close kin except that York was highly excitable, where Dawkins was stolid and cold. Rusty could not help shivering.

James Monahan, trembling with anger, reached down to pick up a rock. "Git off of this place, Dawkins, before I chunk you off."

Lon Monahan caught his oldest son's throwing arm and held it. "This is for your daddy to take care of." He looked up at Dawkins. "James said it as good as I could: Git! Else I'll be forced to stomp hell out of you in front of the Lord and everybody."

Old Vince Purdy joined his son-in-law. "And damned if me and James don't whip the other three."

Caleb Dawkins could have been leaving church for all the emotion he showed in departing. The men with him followed without speaking, though they kept looking back over their shoulders as if expecting trouble to run and catch up.

James hurled the rock, missing Dawkins by only a couple of feet. "We could've beaten him, Pa. Him and that hired trash with him."

"He ain't worth skinnin' our knuckles over. He talks strong because it's the only way he can get anybody to listen to him."

Webb said, "
I
listened to him, and he scared me."

"God save us from zealots." Monahan turned his back on the retreating Dawkins. "He'll keep. Right now we've got company."

They did not have it for long. Caleb Dawkins's appearance sapped all the pleasure from the gathering. Conversation was subdued as the people ate. Preacher Webb sensed the crowd's distraction and trimmed his sermon short. Guests thanked the Monahans for their hospitality and Webb for his message, of which most had probably heard little. They saddled horses and climbed into wagons and buggies, then headed off in several directions.

"I'm sorry, Preacher," Monahan apologized. "Everything kind of went to hell after the colonel got here."

"It wasn't your fault."

"He's been itchin' for a killin' ever since he came into this country. Everybody knows he's a little crazy."

"That makes him all the more dangerous."

Rusty asked, "Who is he, and how come you-all call him colonel?"

Monahan said, "He was one once, in the war against Mexico. Hung a couple of men for cowardice because they retreated without orders when the Mexicans was fixin' to overrun them. Got cashiered out of the army. He never could see where he'd done anything wrong. He's hated the federal government ever since."

Rusty saw worry in Geneva Monahan's eyes, and for the first time he was certain of their color: blue, like his own. He felt an urge to put a protective arm around her, but he did not know just what he could protect her from or how he would do it.

Clemmie jerked her head to beckon her daughters. "Come on. Geneva, you and the other girls. We've got some cleanin' up to do."

Lon Monahan looked glumly toward the last departing guests, three hundred yards down the wagon road. He said to his sons, "We'd best be gettin' the stock fed. The horses probably think we've forgotten them."

James grumbled, "I still say we could've whipped them. I was cocked and primed to do it."

Lon replied, "You're too eager to fight, son. Time you've been in as many scraps as me and your granddaddy and the preacher, you won't be so anxious for another one."

Rusty and Webb trailed behind, prepared to help. Rusty said, "If I was Lon Monahan, I'd never be more than a step away from a gun. Dawkins sounds a lot like Isaac York, and everybody knows what Isaac did to Daddy Mike."

"We don't know that for sure."

"I'm as certain as if I'd been there and seen it. And one of these days he'll pay."

"Vengeance is best left to the Lord."

"When the day comes, I'll give the Lord some help."

* * *

The next morning Rusty went out before breakfast to saddle Alamo and pack Chapultepec for an early start. Preacher Webb walked with him but remained outside of the corral. Rusty said, "I thought we were leavin' today."

"
You
are, but I'm not goin' the rest of the way with you. Looks like I'm needed here."

Rusty suspected the quarrel between Monahan and Dawkins weighed heavily on the minister's mind. "Maybe I'd better stay with you."

"You're obliged to obey orders and go on. I feel my obligation is to try to pour oil on troubled waters. I smell blood in the air."

Rusty paused, his hand on the rope that tied the mule's pack. "You don't reckon Dawkins would do somethin' to the family ... to the womenfolks and all?"

"I doubt he's crazy enough to hurt the women. People around here would turn against him in a minute." Webb seemed to see through Rusty's eyes and into his mind. "You're worried about the girl."