[Texas Rangers 06] - Jericho's Road (16 page)

As Donahue walked away, Len said, “Talkin’ too much can lead to trouble. You’d better learn to keep quiet, like me.”

A raid was more likely here near the border than it had been on the San Saba, so Andy fought the sleepiness that kept tugging at his eyelids after he went on duty. Out west it might not have mattered if he gave in to it so long as an officer did not catch him. Here it could lead to deadly consequences if either Texan or Mexican raiders decided to make a try for the Rangers’ remuda. A man could get killed before he came fully awake. The ugly image of the dead prisoner kept rising before him.

He pictured what Rusty Shannon’s reaction might have been had he seen what Andy had witnessed.

A vague figure moved in the night. A man walked among the horses, bridling one and saddling it. Andy challenged him. “Who are you?”

A voice said, “Manuel.”

“
What’re you doin’ out here afoot in the middle of the night?”

“
I have business across the river. Sergeant Donahue, he knows.”

Andy thought on what Pablo had told him. He shivered. “You already killed one today. Isn’t that enough?”

“
It will be enough when they are all dead.” Manuel rode toward the river, disappearing like a malevolent ghost into the darkness.

Andy began to wonder if he had made a mistake in agreeing to come to this part of the country. Rangers—some, anyway—had a different view of duty here than they had to the north and the west. In retrospect, Rusty’s farm looked better than he had realized when he left there.

CHAPTER EIGHT

F
arley Brackett rode in about noon, hunched in weariness. Andy was standing horse guard. Farley reined in beside him and declared with a tone of accusation, “You-all didn’t wait for me.”

“
We figured you’d come on back to camp.”

“
I might’ve needed you if I’d had a little bad luck.”

Andy suspected Farley had not returned to the appointed place either. This was his way of grabbing the offensive and keeping it. Andy refused to take the bait. “We figured you’re man enough to take care of yourself.”

“
I am. Many a state policeman found that out to his regret.” Farley frowned. “I wish you and Tanner hadn’t rode off with the pack mule. I ain’t et in two days. Damn a country where you can’t stir up at least a squirrel or a prairie chicken. I came near shootin’ a javelina hog.”

A little spell of hunger might teach Farley humility, Andy thought. Farley had ridden away in his own direction without even mentioning that he might want the pack mule or at least some of what it carried. Andy saw no gain in pointing this out. Farley would come up with an answer.

Farley gave Andy’s face closer attention. “You been in a fight?”

“
Wasps. I lost.” Most of the swelling had gone down. Andy had thought it might no longer be noticeable, but Farley didn’t miss much.

Farley snorted. “The country’s full of bandits, and you waste time doin’ battle with wasps.”

Andy asked, “Where you been all this time?”

“
I followed them cowboys plumb to Jericho’s headquarters. That place is like a fort. The Spaniards that built it must’ve been awful scared of Indians.

“
Len and me, we saw Jericho himself.”

“
So did I. He came in just before dark. He was damned mad about somethin’. I couldn’t sneak up close enough to hear what his trouble was.”

It might have been about a burned windmill. Andy chose not to tell about that. Farley would harp on it for a week. He said, “We got so close we could’ve counted his red whiskers if we’d wanted to.”

Gruffly Farley said, “I got close enough to see what I went for, and I didn’t let a few little wasps booger me away, neither.” He shook his head. “Wasps! What are the Rangers comin’ to?”

Andy flirted with the idea of putting a nest of wasps in Farley’s bed, but he saw no way to do it without being stung again. He realized the notion was childish. Even so, it was pleasant to contemplate.

Farley turned toward camp. “I’ve been about to start gnawin’ on my saddle strings. Has that Mexican Pablo called dinner yet?”

“
Not that I’ve noticed.” At mealtime the cook hammered on an iron rod bent into the shape of a triangle. The sound could reach for a mile.

Andy wanted to hear more about Jericho’s headquarters, but asking questions would subject him to continued unpleasantness from Farley. He saw that a couple of the company horses had grazed far enough to be almost out of his sight. He trotted his mount around them, gently hazing them back toward the main remuda. The horses not in use were loosely herded during the day to allow them to graze freely but not to stray far enough that they could be picked off by an opportunistic thief. Every remuda seemed to have a few bunch quitters that preferred to be off by themselves. They had that in common with Farley Brackett.

Andy heard the dinner triangle, but he had to wait until someone came to relieve him. After a time Len showed up. He said, “Better go eat before Farley takes it all. Acts like it’s the first meal he ever had.”

Len could put away a prodigious amount of grub himself.

Most of the men had finished eating by the time Andy got there. Pablo stood at an iron stove. Its black smoke pipe extended out through a slit in the side of the tent. A young Mexican boy washed tin plates, cups, and utensils in a tub of soapy water. The boy was a prisoner being treated as a trusty. He had stolen a sack of sugar out of a Mexican store. Most border Rangers paid little attention to crimes by Mexicans against other Mexicans so long as they stopped short of murder. Even minor crimes against whites, by contrast, were treated as serious because it was thought they might lead to something worse if they were tolerated.

Sergeant Donahue’s motto was, “Let them steal a chicken one day and they’ll steal a cow the next.”

Farley had finally eaten his fill. He sat facing Andy and cradled a cup of coffee in his hands. Sergeant Donahue was questioning him. “You say you saw Jericho’s men brandin’ cattle?”

“
A steer herd, it was. Looked to me like they was puttin’ a trail brand on them. Probably gettin’ ready to drive them north to the railroad. I wasn’t close enough to read the original brands.”

Donahue nodded. “That connects with the report Manuel brought back from Mexico. Our spies told him Jericho is puttin’ together a big trail herd, and the Chavez gang plans to capture it. They want to get even for that last sashay Jericho’s men made across the river.”

It was not a private’s place to ask unnecessary questions. Andy assumed the sergeant intended for the Rangers to set up an unpleasant reception for Chavez’s men.

Len was never bashful. If he wanted to know, he asked. “What’s the chance we’ll get Lupe Chavez hisself?”

Donahue seemed a little annoyed at Len’s impertinence. Privates were supposed to listen, not speak. “Not good. We’ve never been able to catch him on this side of the river, just like we’ve never caught Jericho at anything that would stick against him.”

Cutting off a chance for more questions, the sergeant strode toward the headquarters tent. He returned in a short time and said, “I’m takin’ eight men with me on a special detail. We start in half an hour.” He pointed to Andy and Len first, then nodded at Farley.

Len said, “I thought me and Andy was goin’ to rest a little.”

“
You can rest when you get old. If you live that long. Now roll your blankets, then saddle up. I don’t abide laggards.”

Sergeant Donahue dropped the men off singly at intervals. He said, “You’ll each patrol your section along the river. Watch for Meskin raiders, but don’t challenge them. When they cross, get word to the men on either side of you. That word will work its way up to me. We’ll all join together and quietly follow them to Jericho’s herd.”

Len asked, “Hadn’t we ought to stop them before they get there?”

The sergeant cut him a hard look. “Damn it, Tanner, you ask more questions than an old maid schoolteacher. Can’t you just follow orders?”

“
Always did. I like to know the reasons, is all.”

“
We’re not doin’ this to save Jericho’s cattle. We’re doin’ it to cripple Lupe Chavez. I figure Jericho’s men will whittle them Meskins down a right smart before we have to step in and pick up the leavin’s.”

“
Jericho’s apt to lose some men.”

“
If so, we can mark them off of the wanted list.”

Donahue dropped Andy a few miles after he dropped Len. He left Andy with an admonition: “You’ll ride downriver far enough to meet Tanner, then you’ll turn and go back upriver till you meet Brackett. The bandits’ll likely cross over in the dark, so hit the saddle as soon as it’s light enough to see tracks. And don’t let Tanner drag you into any long-winded conversations, or you’re liable to miss somethin’.”

Donahue had said no bandits were likely to cross the river in daylight, so Andy saw no harm in resting awhile. The sergeant might not approve, but what he did not know would not hurt him. Andy had raw bacon and jerked beef as well as some of Pablo’s leftover biscuits. He ate a little, then stretched out beneath a mesquite.

He awakened to see the sun going down. He chewed a little more tough jerky while he took his time saddling his horse. Watching the riverbank for tracks, he moved downriver in an easy trot. Eventually he met Len coming toward him. Len dismounted and stretched his long legs.

Andy said, “I see that no outlaws have shot you yet.”

“
It’s so quiet I could hear the sun bump as it went down. I think Donahue saved the most likely stretch of the river for himself.”

“
Are you spoilin’ for a fight?”

“
Jericho’s men may not leave enough of them to give us a decent scrap.”

Andy said, “It doesn’t matter who gets them so long as they’re got. It’ll be justice if some of Jericho’s bunch are got too. There’s no saints on either side.”

Riding back the way he had come, Andy could see little by the scant light of a quarter moon. He wished for bright moonlight but knew this kind of night would be a border jumper’s preference. The darker the better.

He heard water splash and stopped abruptly. He made out the vague form of a man riding a burro across a wide, shallow stretch of the river. He drew his rifle but soon slipped it back into its scabbard. One man on a burro hardly constituted a raiding party. He could imagine many reasons for the crossing. The rider could be going to or from a sweetheart. He could have family on both sides. Or maybe he was just stealing a burro. Whatever his mission, it was not likely to be of concern to the Rangers. But seeing the lone man reminded Andy how easy it was to pass between the two nations. The boundary was too flimsy to be a challenge to anyone determined to cross over.

He rested again. Just before daybreak he heard a horse walking toward him from the west. He stepped quickly to where he had his mount staked and put his hand over its nose to prevent it from nickering. Not until the rider was almost upon him did he see clearly enough to recognize Farley from the way he sat in the saddle.

Andy said, “You’re awful early. See anything?”

Farley exclaimed, “Damn. I didn’t even see you. Don’t you know you could get shot, surprisin’ a man that way?”

“
Shootin’ me would’ve pleasured you, wouldn’t it?” The question was not entirely in jest.

“
It’d cause me a lot of aggravation, talkin’ to all them lawyers. I’d rather just ignore you.” Farley rolled and lighted a cigarette. “I take it you ain’t seen anything either.”

“
Nothin’ but a Mexican on a burro awhile after dark. Probably visitin’ a woman.”

“
A good time of night for it. You ever had a sweetheart, Badger Boy?”

“
Always been too busy.”

“
For a long while I’ve known you’re sweet on my little sister. She could do better for herself.” Farley turned his horse around and started back upriver. He shouted over his shoulder, “Go on back to sleep.”

In early daylight Andy built a small fire. He impaled a chunk of fat bacon on the end of a stick and propped it securely over the low flames. He fetched river water in a tin can and added ground coffee. That he set atop the coals. It was a poor substitute for Pablo’s cooking, but it would sustain him. He doubted that the sergeant had anything better. Few Rangers ran to fat.