[Texas Rangers 03] - The Way of the Coyote (12 page)

"We didn't find any tracks to the west."

Rusty said, "Like as not your man doubled back. Even a coyote is smart enough to do that."

Clyde Oldham fixed a hard gaze on Rusty. His brother beside him, he pushed up abreast of the officer. "Sounds thin to me, Lieutenant. Remember, Shannon was a ranger under the rebels. I'm bettin' he helped Brackett get away and put that boy and that nigger up to lyin' for him."

Shanty declared, "Mr. Rusty didn't do no such thing. He wasn't even here."

The lieutenant showed no inclination toward believing. He jerked his head at the black sergeant. "Ride down toward the river and see if you find any tracks."

Andy watched nervously as the soldier walked his horse along, looking at the ground. If the sergeant had good eyes, Andy thought, he was likely to pick up Brackett's trail. Surely enough, the trooper paused a minute, riding back and forth, then proceeded to the river. In a little while he returned and saluted the lieutenant. "Tracks are clear as day, sir. They go from here straight down to the river. By the looks of it, he changed horses and rode back up this way. Never went west at all."

Clyde Oldham declared, "This is the horse that Brackett stole off of the street after he shot the policeman." He turned a wicked gaze on Rusty. "What do you say now, Shannon?"

"Looks like I've lost a horse."

The younger Oldham had a malevolent grin. "You're fixin' to lose a lot more than a damned horse."

Clyde Oldham's eyes were cold as he looked at the lieutenant. "We've found Shannon in possession of a stolen horse, an army horse at that. Looks clear to me that he aided and abetted an escapin' criminal."

The lieutenant addressed Rusty. "I had intended to come back and talk to you about other matters, such as not paying that darkey for his labor, or this young man either. But now we have a more serious violation to consider." He glanced at Oldham. "Inasmuch as this affair began with the shooting of one of your fellow policemen, the army defers to the state. You may make the arrest."

Clyde's eyes seemed even colder. He drew a pistol and pointed it in Rusty's face. "Much obliged. Rusty Shannon, I arrest you as an accessory after the fact."

Rusty argued, "Lieutenant, this man and his brother have an old grudge against me."

Clyde said, "Damned right we do. He's the Confederate ranger that crippled Buddy." He waved the pistol. "Get your hands up, Shannon."

Rusty said, "I don't have a gun on me."

"Just the same, raise them hands. High."

Andy felt the blood rise in his face. He tried again to intercede. "Rusty wasn't even here when that feller came by."

The lieutenant pushed his horse in front of Andy. "Young man, if you interfere any further your youth will not be taken into account. I can have you sent away to a correctional institution where they will work the wild Indian out of you ... or beat it out."

Shanty said, "The boy's right. Wasn't none of Mr. Rusty's doin'."

The black sergeant was the only one who even looked at Shanty. The white men did not acknowledge his presence. Shanty protested directly to the sergeant, who studiously looked away, his jaw firmly set, and pretended not to hear.

The lieutenant finally acknowledged Shanty by giving him an order. "Boy, put Shannon's saddle on that bay horse. Mr. Oldham and his brother will take him to town while the rest of us pursue our fugitive."

Shanty gave Rusty a plaintive look. Rusty nodded for him to do as the officer ordered. Shanty soon brought the bay horse. Clyde motioned with the pistol's barrel. "Mount up, Shannon. We got a ways to ride."

Rusty shrugged in futility and swung into the saddle. "Andy, you and Shanty take care of things while I'm gone."

Buddy Oldham motioned for Rusty to start moving. "You're liable to be gone a long time. You may
never
come back."

The tone of his voice sent a chill down Andy's spine.

The lieutenant led his soldiers out toward the place where the sergeant had found the tracks leading southward. It would soon be dark, so they would not be able to follow the trail long.

Shanty worried, "Ain't nothin' to keep them Oldhams from shootin' Mr. Rusty in the back. They can claim he tried to get away in the dark."

Andy's belly went tight. He felt that it would be his fault if something happened to Rusty. "Let's catch up and go along. Maybe they won't do him no harm if we're there to witness."

Darkness fell by the time they saddled their horses and started. They set off in the direction the Oldhams had taken. They had not gone far before two pistol shots echoed through the trees.

Andy swallowed hard. "They've already done it." He put the animal into a hard run. He could hear Shanty behind him, trying futilely to catch up.

He heard Clyde Oldham's voice somewhere ahead. "Shannon! Where the hell did you go?"

Buddy Oldham called, "Shannon! Goddamn you!"

The two turned at the sound of Andy's and Shanty's horses. Clyde declared, "We had to do it, Lieutenant. Shannon was fixin' to get away." His voice changed abruptly as he realized these were not the soldiers. He aimed his pistol at them. "You stop where you're at or I'll shoot you both."

Andy drew rein. His voice almost broke from rage. "What did you do to Rusty?"

Clyde regained his composure. "I don't have to explain nothin' to a mouthy kid nor a nigger." He lowered the pistol when he saw that Andy and Shanty were not armed.

Buddy said excitedly, "He ran off, but I know I hit him. Like as not he's layin' dead out yonder somewhere."

Andy seethed. "If he is, you'll have a lot to answer for."

"I got a duty to shoot an escapin' prisoner. Anyhow, he shot me one time."

Andy said, "Folks around here think a lot of Rusty Shannon. If you've killed him they'll hunt you down like a sheep-killin' cur."

"I got the law on my side."

"Carpetbag law."

"Law just the same."

Clyde Oldham holstered his pistol. "You don't need to explain nothin' to the likes of them. We'll go and fetch help. Come mornin' we'll find Rusty Shannon no matter where he's at." He pointed a finger at Andy and Shanty. "You two better go home and stay there if you know what's good for you."

The brothers rode off into darkness. Shanty said, "Them Oldhams ain't goin' to let him live. We got to find him first."

The moon had not yet risen. Andy could barely see past Shanty. Anxiety made him shake. "He may be wounded and down."

They rode in a walk, calling Rusty's name. Andy worried, "We could go right past him and not know it."

"We can't wait for the moon to rise. He could bleed to death by then."

Andy felt cold all the way to his boots. "If he dies I swear I'll nail the Oldhams' scalps to the courthouse door."

"This ain't no time to be talkin' like a Comanche. Better you talk a little to the Lord."

A horse nickered. Andy turned toward the sound. "Rusty! Rusty, can you hear me?"

He came upon the horse. In the darkness he could not see the color, but he knew he had found the government bay.

Shanty pointed. "There, Andy."

Andy saw a dark shape on the ground. He dismounted quickly, but Shanty reached Rusty first. "Still breathin'," he said. "Mr. Rusty, it's me and Andy."

Rusty was on his stomach. He groaned. Andy dropped to his knees and reached to touch him. He drew his hand away, sticky with warm blood. "Took a bullet in his shoulder. From the back, I'd guess."

He jerked his neckerchief loose and pressed it against the seeping wound.

Shanty said, "Let's turn him over real easy. See if the bullet came out the front."

It had. At least the slug was not lodged in Rusty's body.

Andy felt like crying but managed to choke it off. He forced the words. "Rusty, we have to move you away from here. Think you can ride?"

The only answer was a groan.

Shanty said, "We got to get him to the house."

"They'll look there in the mornin'."

"Where else can we go?"

Andy thought a minute. "Tom Blessing's. He'll know what to do." Andy touched Rusty's arm. "Rusty, can you hear me?"

The voice was weak. "I hear."

"We'll take you home and get the wagon. Then we'll haul you to Tom Blessing's. Think you can ride if we hold on to you?"

Rusty murmured, "Try."

Shanty brought the bay horse and helped Andy lift Rusty to his feet. Andy had to place Rusty's foot in the stirrup. The two managed to boost him into the saddle. Shanty held him in place while Andy mounted his own horse, then Andy took over.

Andy said, "Grit your teeth, Rusty. It won't be long."

* * *

Rusty drifted in and out of consciousness. Andy held on to him but came near losing him once. "Grab on, Shanty. He's about to fall."

The cabin was a welcome sight as the moon emerged. They eased Rusty down and carried him inside. Andy worked to stop the bleeding and bind the wounds while Shanty went out to fetch the wagon and team.

Andy felt compelled to keep talking whether Rusty heard him or not. Otherwise he would break down and cry. "Damn it all, Rusty, it's my fault. I ought to've let them have Farley Brackett. Better him than you."

Rusty made a small cough. Throat aching, Andy said, "Hang on. Hang on tight. Don't you be goin' off and leavin' with me owin' you so much." He rubbed a sleeve across his eyes.

Rusty did not respond. Andy decided it was better that he remain unconscious. Perhaps the trip would not hurt him so badly.

Andy and Shanty carried Rusty outside and placed him on blankets spread in the bed of the wagon.

Shanty fretted, "A wagon won't be no trouble for the Oldhams to follow."

"We'll use the town road as far as we can. I doubt they can tell one wagon track from another."

Tying two horses on behind, they started toward the road that led to the settlement.

Rusty lay quiet and still, reacting only when the wagon hit a bump that jarred him. Andy remained on the road awhile, then turned onto a lesser-used trail that led to Tom Blessing's place. He stopped for a minute and made an effort to brush out the tracks.

Past midnight, he saw the cabin ahead.

He said, "We're there, Rusty. We've made it." He did not know if Rusty heard him.

A dog barked. A man emerged from beneath a shed. Andy recognized the lanky form of Len Tanner. "Len." he shouted, "come a-runnin'."

Barefoot and in his long underwear, Tanner came in a trot. "What's the trouble?"

"Rusty's been shot. Go rouse Tom Blessing, would you?"

Tanner demanded, "Who done this to him?"

"Clyde and Buddy Oldham. Go, would you?"

"Oldham?" Tanner spat the name. He hurried away, cursing the Oldhams, all their antecedents and any progeny they might ever have.

Rusty regained consciousness enough to ask where they were. Blessing came out of the bedroom side of the double cabin, buttoning his britches, bringing his suspenders up over his shoulders. He was barefoot and without a shirt. Tanner trotted alongside him, looking thin enough for a strong wind to blow him away.

Blessing peered into the bed of the wagon. "How bad is it?"

Rusty had become completely aware. He managed a raspy answer. "I ain't dead yet."

Blessing slid strong arms beneath him. He shouted at his wife to bring a light to the door, then set some water on to boil in the fireplace. He carried Rusty inside the bedroom. To Andy, Blessing seemed an old man, yet he had the strength of a bull. Mrs. Blessing held a lantern, setting it down on a table as her husband gently placed Rusty on the warm bed the couple had just vacated. She hurried to the cabin's other side to stir the coals in the fireplace and set a kettle of water on.

Blessing cautiously unwrapped the binding and examined the wounds.

Andy told him, "The bullet went plumb through. He lost a right smart of blood before we could stop it."

Shanty said, "It was God's mercy that he didn't bleed to death."

Andy explained about the fugitive Brackett, about the soldiers and the Oldhams.

Tanner swore. "Me and Rusty ought to've shot them damned Oldhams years ago when we had the chance."

Blessing grunted. "Now they're state policemen. They can get away with just about anything."

Andy said, "You've been the sheriff. You know the law. What can we do?"

"Not much. The state police and the military just barely tolerate us old rebels."

"But Rusty never was a rebel, and he had no part in Brackett gettin' away. I don't see how they'd have a case against him."

"The law is whatever the carpetbag courts say it is. As long as men of the Oldhams' caliber wear a badge, Rusty has a sword hangin' over his head."

Andy clenched a fist. "I wish I could bring the Comanches down here."

Blessing pointed out, "They'd hit a lot of the rest of us, too. No, we've got trouble enough as it is."

Mrs. Blessing washed the wounds with water as hot as her hands could stand it. Her husband poured whiskey into the bullet hole, front and rear. Rusty arched his back and sucked air between his teeth.

Blessing said, "I wish Preacher Webb was here. He can heal the body as well as the soul."

Mrs. Blessing replied, "If he
was
here, he'd wonder how come we keep whiskey in the house."

Shanty had watched gravely but said little. "I doubt the Lord minds folks takin' a little nip, long as it's in a healin' way."

The rough handling had brought Rusty to full consciousness. Blessing asked him, "How'd this happen?"

Rusty struggled with his answer. "I had a notion what they were goin' to do. When I heard the hammer click I set the horse to runnin'. I reckon the first flash blinded them. They couldn't see where I went."

Andy worried, "When they can't find you, they'll start figurin' all the places we might've took you. How long before they come here?"

Blessing finished wrapping the wounds with clean cloth. "Not long. Some damned fool is bound to tell them me and Rusty have been friends since the battle of Plum Creek."

"Where can we take him?"

Rusty said, "The Monahan place."

Tanner nodded vigorously. "Back when we was rangers, Rusty caught a Comanche arrow in his leg. The Monahans took care of him 'til he was on his feet. They'd do it again."