[Texas Rangers 03] - The Way of the Coyote (32 page)

"I heard the shootin'."

Andy beckoned Rusty into Elnora's room. He said, "You followed me, didn't you?"

"I just said I wouldn't come with you. I didn't promise not to follow you. Wasn't no tellin' what trouble you might get into." He looked with concern at the wounded woman. "What about her husband?"

Andy shook his head. "Buddy Oldham started the shootin'. He saw the father and thought he was Farley." A worrisome thought struck him. "I hope Farley didn't come with you."

"I convinced him to stay at Shanty's. Told him he might bring danger to his folks." Ruefully Rusty added, "He did that without even bein' here."

Andy told Rusty about the captain firing the Oldhams. "Just the same, they've still got charges against you. Better get away from here before somebody recognizes you."

"We'd better both get away from here."

Andy took Bethel's hand. "You goin' to be all right?"

"It'll be a long time before I'm all right. But if you're askin' whether it's all right for you to go, the answer is yes. I've got good folks here to help me, and there'll be neighbors here in the mornin'."

"I'm sorry about all this. It wouldn't have happened if I hadn't come."

"But you came for Farley. It wasn't your fault. Wasn't anybody's fault but Farley's and the Oldhams'."

"I'll come back when I can and see if I can be any help."

"I'd like that, Andy. You'll be welcome." She clasped his hand tightly, then released it.

Andy felt a glow unlike any he had known before. He said quickly, "We better go, Rusty."

* * *

Some of the black laborers had begun coming in so that there was traffic on the front porch and in the hallway. Andy and Rusty departed through the back door into the darkness. No one seemed to pay them any attention, probably assuming they were policemen.

They retrieved their horses and started toward Shanty's. Rusty asked, "Did you get Farley's money?"

"No. There wasn't a chance, once the excitement started. He don't deserve it anyway."

Rusty grimaced. "I was hopin' he'd take it and go west, or down to Mexico. I'm afraid now he'll stay around for a chance at the Oldhams."

Andy said hopefully, "Maybe they'll kill one another, and it'll all be over.

"I've got a problem with that. Clyde Oldham took my farm in his name. He's the only one can sign it back over to me."

"He won't ever do it."

"He might, with my gun barrel stuck in his ear."

The coming sunrise was already lacing the skyline clouds with pink and purple when Andy and Rusty rode up to Shanty's place. The dog announced them. Farley Brackett came out from beneath the shed where he had spent the night. Andy had known he was unlikely to sleep in the cabin under the same roof with Shanty. Farley held a pistol in his hand until he was certain no one had come with Andy and Rusty, and no one had followed.

He demanded, "Where's my money?"

Andy felt like hitting him. "I didn't get it."

Farley's face twisted with anger. "Did that damned old man refuse to give it to you?"

Outrage gave a sharp edge to Andy's voice. "That damned old man died
tryin'
to give it to me."

Farley stood slack-jawed. "Died?"

In as few words as possible, Andy told him what had happened. Farley looked as if he had been shot in the stomach. "How bad is my mother hurt? What about my sister?"

"Your mother is probably on the way to town by now. Your sister wasn't hit."

Shanty had heard most of it. He stood silent, eyes sympathetic for a man who had shown him only contempt.

Farley turned his back, pulling himself together. When he turned again, his face was taut with anger and hatred. "What about them Oldhams? They still at our place?"

Andy said, "The captain fired them. Told them he would pay them off in town."

"Town!" Farley dropped his hand to the butt of his pistol. "Whereabouts in town?"

"I don't know. Courthouse, I guess."

Rusty frowned, motioning for Andy to be quiet. But the bag was already open and the cat let out.

Farley started for the corral, where his horse stood waiting for feed. "Then they'll get paid off twice."

Rusty said, "I wish you hadn't told him. Now he's on his way to kill the Oldhams."

"Wouldn't make any difference whether I told him or not. He'd figure it out."

Rusty swung back into the saddle. "We've got to try and get to town ahead of him. Maybe we can find some way to stop this."

"We might delay it, but I doubt we can stop it short of killin' him ourselves. Bethel said he won't leave here 'til he gets his revenge on Clyde and Buddy. I expect she's right."

Rusty said, "Shanty, see if you can keep Farley here a little longer. Offer him coffee, fix him breakfast ... anything you can do."

"I'll try, Mr. Rusty, but looks to me like he's got the devil ridin' with him. Watch out he don't kill
you
if you get in his way."

Rusty spurred into a lope. Andy managed to bring Long Red up even. He said, "He'll know what you're up to. He'll run that horse to death tryin' to beat us to town."

Andy had reason to fear they might run their own horses to death. Rusty kept pushing hard, frequently looking back over his shoulder. Andy looked back too, but could not see Farley.

He said, "Hadn't we better slow down a little? I can feel my horse givin' out."

"He can give out after we've done what we have to."

Andy muttered under his breath, then realized he had been talking Comanche to himself. He understood Rusty's reason for wanting to keep Clyde Oldham alive, but he could not help thinking that the community would be better off without either the Oldhams or Farley Brackett.

The courthouse was new, built of stone, with a cupola and a parapet. The old frame building had served well, but the local reconstruction government had decided that its dignity demanded something better, no matter the cost. The taxpayers were mostly rebels anyway.

Rusty reined up at the low rail fence that surrounded the courthouse square. His horse was lathered and breathing hard. Andy pulled in beside him and tied Long Red to a post. He said, "Maybe you'd better let me go talk to the Oldhams, if I can find them in there. Goin' by what they did last night, they may shoot you and
then
ask what you want."

"No, I want to try and make a bargain with Clyde."

Andy shrugged and followed Rusty up the steps. He had never been inside the new courthouse. Once through the door, he had no idea where the state police office might be. But Rusty knew. He led off down a corridor, Andy on his heels.

Andy remembered the captain from the night before. The officer looked up. He recognized Andy, but he did not seem to know Rusty.

Rusty said, "I'm lookin' for the Oldham brothers."

The captain studied him a moment. "I released them from the service this morning. They are no responsibility of mine."

"But where are they at?"

The captain's eyes narrowed. "Are you some kin of the Bracketts?"

"No, I'm Rusty Shannon. But if I don't find the Oldhams pretty quick, they're fixin' to meet up with a member of the Brackett family."

That got the captain's attention. "You mean Farley?"

"Yes, and if he gets to them first Jeremiah won't be the only man needs buryin'."

The captain said, "The Oldhams were in a surly mood when they left here. I would guess they have gone to one of the liquor establishments around the square to soak their anger in whiskey. What is your interest in them?"

"Clyde Oldham owes me a farm."

"I know about that. And you wish him to remain alive until you get it back?"

"That'd be long enough."

The officer reached for his pistol and belt, hanging on a hat rack beside the door. "I'll take the north side of the square. You take the south. But stand clear if Farley Brackett shows up. He belongs to me."

Rusty and Andy stepped out into the hallway. Rusty stopped so abruptly that Andy bumped into him. A sturdy man with a thick gray mustache came out of an office on the other side. Rusty exclaimed, "Captain Burmeister!"

"Private Shannon. And Andy." The old ranger limped across the hall, his hand outstretched.

The police captain stopped, puzzled. "You know these men, Judge Burmeister?"

"Indeed. Many a long mile Private Shannon and I rode together as rangers. And Andy, he did a remarkable thing."

Rusty was still immobilized by surprise. "You're the new judge here? What happened to the other one?"

"He was a stealer. A little one only, but he did not share with the big stealers in Austin. He was fired. What brings you here?"

"Hopin' to stop a killin'. Maybe two of them. You remember the Oldham brothers?"

Burmeister nodded briskly. "But too well. Who are they about to kill?"

"More likely it'll be the other way around if we can't stop it."

"Then go, by all means. My docket is full already with murders." Judge Burmeister waited until Rusty and Andy were near the door before he called and pointed. "My office is here. Come visit sometime."

The police captain collared one of his deputies to help him. They went out another door.

To Andy's recollection, two whiskey shops stood on the street due south of the courthouse. He was considered underage and had not been allowed inside. He followed Rusty into the first one. A quick look around did not reveal the Oldhams. Rusty glanced anxiously up the street. Andy knew he was looking for Farley.

Rusty said, "Let's try this other one."

He headed for another, which Andy knew by reputation. Its sign marked it as LONE STAR GROCERY, with smaller letters proclaiming that it dealt in the finest of tobacco and spiritous liquors, and a billiard table from St. Louis. It was known as a hangout for off-duty state police and others of Union leanings. Most old Confederates avoided it.

Buddy Oldham sat at a table, a full glass and a half-empty bottle in front of him. Clyde Oldham stood with his back turned. He was haranguing half a dozen listeners with an account of how they had been unjustly dismissed from the state police force because of a natural mistake anyone might have made. "The old man was a die-hard rebel anyway," he declared. "Ought to've been killed years ago, him and Farley, too."

Buddy recognized Rusty and pushed his chair back from the table. He called to his brother. "Clyde."

Clyde was so busy talking that he did not hear the first time. Buddy repeated the call and stood up. "Clyde, looky who just came in."

Clyde turned. He froze a moment, then placed a hand on his pistol. "Rusty Shannon, you are under arrest."

Rusty said, "You've got no authority to arrest anybody. But if you want to try, there's a lot bigger game than me out yonder lookin' for you."

Buddy asked, "And who would that he?"

The startled expression in Clyde's face indicated that he already guessed. He spoke the name fearfully. "Farley Brackett?"

Rusty nodded. "He's on his way. May already be here. I'd advise you boys to go out the back door and not let your shirttails touch you 'til you're in the next county. Maybe two counties over."

Clyde's voice was shaky. "How come you tellin' us?"

"Because I want to keep you alive, at least 'til you sign my farm back to me."

"That'll be a cold day in hell." Clyde jerked his head. "Come on, Buddy." He started for the back door.

Buddy did not follow. Stubbornly he said, "I ain't scared of Farley Brackett. Almost got him a couple of times. Get him now and maybe they'll take us back into the police. Even if they don't, there's a reward on him."

Clyde was halfway to the back door. "I never seen a dead man collect a reward. Come on, Buddy, let's go while we can."

"No. I'm takin' Farley Brackett." Buddy started for the front. Clyde trotted after him and grabbed a handful of Buddy's shirt. Buddy jerked loose and went out the door.

Trembling, Clyde started after him but stopped, still inside the saloon. "Come on, you men," he called. "Buddy don't stand a chance. You got to help him."

Nobody seemed much inclined to move. Rusty said, "He's your brother. You stop him."

Clyde's hands shook as he surveyed the men in the room, some of them state police. "If we work together we can get Brackett this time. We'll split the reward, even money for everybody."

Nobody moved.

Clyde drew his pistol and shuffled uncertainly out the door. Rusty and Andy followed.

Andy asked Rusty, "Ain't you goin' to stop them?"

Rusty answered gravely, "It's gone out of our hands. The only thing that'll stop Buddy now is a bullet."

Buddy stood in the center of the street, pistol in hand, waiting. Farley was riding toward him. Other men, sensing what was building, hurried out of the way. As Farley dismounted and dropped his reins, Buddy shouted, "Farley Brackett, you are under arrest in the name of the law!"

Brackett did not reply. He walked toward Buddy. Buddy shouted at him to stop, but Farley kept coming. Buddy raised the pistol and fired.

Farley did not even flinch. He drew his revolver and put two shots into Buddy's chest. Buddy buckled forward and fell on his face. He twitched a couple of times and was still.

Clyde made a noise that was almost a scream. The hand that held the pistol shook uncontrollably. He tried to raise the weapon, but he could not lift it. It was as if it weighed a hundred pounds.

Farley strode past Buddy and bore down on Clyde. Clyde cried out, "No!" His whole body was shaking. The pistol fell from his hand, and he sank to his knees.

"For God's sake, don't kill me."

"You wounded my mother. You killed my old daddy," Farley shouted at him. "Now pick up that pistol and die like a man."

Clyde hunched over, sobbing. "Oh God. Don't." He twisted around, trying to find Rusty. "Shannon, help me. Don't let him do it."

Andy did not know whether to pity the man or walk over and spit on him. He looked at Rusty, seeking Rusty's reaction.

Rusty walked forward to stand beside Clyde. "Farley, you've killed Buddy. One ought to be enough. I need Clyde to stay alive."

Farley hesitated, then leveled his pistol almost in Clyde's face. "I need him dead worse than you need him alive."