Ralph Compton Death Rides a Chestnut Mare (37 page)

“Christmas,” said Danielle with a long, painful sigh. “It'll be the first time I've ever been away from my family at Christmas. I don't know what I'll do. I feel like I'm so old, Captain. A thousand years old, in just the few months since leaving Missouri. I've ridden so long on the dark side, there's no light to guide me.”

“All the more reason why you need a few days' rest,” Captain Jennings said. “I have two friends in Austin—Rangers Elmore and Williams—and like me, they have no family. They generally ride down here on Christmas Eve, and just for a day or two, we become as close to being a family as any of us will ever get. This Christmas, I'd like for you to join us.”

“I . . . I don't know, Captain,” said Danielle, touched.

“My last Christmas at home, I was seven years old,” Captain Jennings said. “A week later, the Comanches struck and burned our house. Ma and Pa died in the attack, and a kindly old aunt took me in.”

While his eyes were on Danielle, he wasn't seeing her. His mind was far away, at a different time and place. Danielle spoke, breaking his reverie.

“I'll spend Christmas with you and your
amigos,
Captain. I think I'd like that.”

“Bueno,”
said Jennings. “Find yourself a hotel and get some rest. Elmore and Williams will be here sometime tomorrow, and we can meet for supper.”

Danielle left Sundown at a nearby stable and chose one of the better hotels in which there was a dining room. There was a chill wind from the west, bringing with it a hint of snow that might blow in from the high plains. Removing her hat, gun belts, and boots, Danielle stretched out on the bed and slept. Far into the night, she awakened to the howling wind outside. Thankful that she and Sundown had a roof over their heads, she undressed and went back to sleep.

 

 

Danielle joined Captain Jennings for breakfast.

“Be here at the office at five o'clock tomorrow,” said Captain Jennings. “Our ranger
amigos
will be here by then.”

The threat of last night's storm had past, and it being Christmas Eve, the streets were alive with people. Danielle had started across the street to her hotel when a shot rang out. Suddenly there was a blinding pain in her head, and she felt herself blacking out. At first there was only merciful darkness, and then through slitted eyes she could see daylight. A man in town clothes was bending over her. Captain Jennings stood at the foot of the bed, watching with concern.

“You have a concussion,” the doctor said. “For the next few days don't do anything foolish that might jolt you around.”

“No riding then,” said Danielle.

“Especially no riding,” the doctor said. “Spend as much time in bed as you can. I'll be back to look in on you the day after tomorrow. Where are you staying?”

“Come by my office, Doc, and I'll take you there,” Captain Jennings said. “Is he in a good enough condition to make it back to the hotel?”

“It all depends on him,” said the doctor. “Young man, can you stand?”

“I don't know,” Danielle said. “I'll try.”

Holding on to the bed's iron footboard, she got to her feet, only to be engulfed by a wave of dizziness. But it soon passed, and she spoke to the doctor.

“I can make it, Doc.”

“I'll go with him,” said Captain Jennings.

“Take this bottle of laudanum with you,” the doctor said. “There may be more pain, and this will help you sleep.”

Captain Jennings said nothing until they reached Danielle's room on the first floor of the Cattlemen's Hotel. Then Jennings had a question.

“Do you have any idea who might have fired that shot?”

“No,” said Danielle. “It came from behind me. Some of those outlaws who rode out of Brownsville may be here.”

 

The bushwhacker had been firing from cover, and when Danielle fell, he didn't fire again. Only when someone helped Danielle to her feet did Leroy Lomax curse. This damn little gunman had shamed him in Indian Territory, leading to a falling out with the four men Lomax had been riding with. Now he intended to get his revenge. The kid seemed to have just been creased. When he was again up and about, Leroy would try again, and this time, he wouldn't miss.

 

Alone in her hotel room, Danielle removed her hat, gun belts, and boots. She stretched out on the bed and was soon asleep. She was awakened by knocking on the door.

“Who's there?” she asked.

“Captain Jennings. I stopped by to see how you're feeling.”

Danielle got up, unlocked the door, and Jennings entered.

“There's no pain,” said Danielle, “but the side of my head's sore.”

“Elmore and Williams are in town,” Captain Jennings said, “and they'd like to meet you. That invite to supper still stands if you feel up to it.”

“I'm hungry,” said Danielle, “and I feel steady enough. I'll try it.”

“I thought you would,” Jennings said, “so we're eating in the hotel dining room.”

After meeting Jennings's friends, Elmore and Williams, Danielle was glad she had been asked to join them. While they were a little younger than Jennings, they showed no less enthusiasm for their work.

“Captain Jennings told us about you,” said Elmore while they waited for their food, “but he's gettin' old. I got a feeling he left some of it out.”

“Yeah,” Williams said, “what you've done is worthy of a company of rangers. Tell us all of it.”

Danielle told them, stressing the loyalty of Ephiram and Ethel Delaney. They listened in silence, and when Danielle had finished, there seemed little to be said. Captain Jennings spoke.

“Daniel, take off your hat.”

Danielle did so, revealing the bandage around her head.

“That happened on the street yesterday, right here in San Antonio,” said Jennings. “A bushwhacker, firing from cover.”

“Then you have no idea who he is,” Williams said.

“No,” said Jennings. “It could easily be one of the outlaws from Brownsville. They had a death grip on the town until Daniel evened the odds.”

“If he hated you enough to bushwhack you once, he'll try again,” Elmore predicted. “I think we'll have Christmas dinner here at the hotel restaurant tomorrow, keeping you off the street for a while.”

“Good idea,” said Williams.

After supper, the three rangers saw Danielle to her room before departing.

“We'll see you at eleven o'clock tomorrow morning,” Captain Jennings promised.

Again Danielle stretched out on the bed, restless. She was starting to regret having promised Captain Jennings she would remain a few days in San Antonio. The hotel had gone to great lengths to decorate the lobby and the restaurant for the holiday, but it did not cheer Danielle. She thought only of her family in far away Missouri, who had to spend this holiday not knowing if she was alive or dead. She drifted off into troubled sleep, only to be awakened by the distant clanging of a church bell. She sat up on the edge of the bed, listening. Finally, she pulled on her boots, buckled on her gun belts, and reached for her hat. When she reached the street, the sound of the bell was much closer. Following the sound, she came to a church just as the bell was silenced. From within the church came the glorious sound of several hundred voices singing the old hymns and Christmas carols. There was no music except in the melodious voices. Danielle stood there listening, and it was as though her feet had minds of their own. When she entered the church, she slipped into a back pew. Some of the congregation, seeing the pair of tied-down Colts, looked at her curiously, but kept singing.

For at least an hour, Danielle lifted her voice in singing the old songs she had learned as a child. Long-forgotten memories came alive, and she closed her eyes, relishing the images. The words of the old songs, like long-forgotten friends, came rushing back to her. After the last song had been sung, Danielle slipped out the door during the closing prayer. She considered visiting the Alamo Saloon, but suddenly it seemed like a tawdry place, filled with boastful, cursing men. She returned to her hotel room and, with the joyful chorus still ringing in her head, was soon asleep.

 

 

Many of the cafes were closed, so Danielle had breakfast in the hotel dining room. She wasn't surprised to find her three ranger friends already there. Danielle pulled out a chair and sat down.

“We forgot to mention breakfast this morning,” said Captain Jennings, “and I thought you might want to sleep late.”

“I can't hide out forever,” Danielle said. “Sooner or later, the varmint that's out to get me will have to show himself. When he does, I'll be ready.”

“If he doesn't shoot you from behind,” said Williams. “That's one thing you can count on. A coward never changes.”

After breakfast, lacking anything better to do, Danielle returned to her room, unaware that hostile eyes had been watching her. Leroy Lomax sat in the hotel lobby, an unfolded newspaper shielding his face. He watched to see how far down the hall Danielle was going, and then he went to the hotel desk.

“I want a room for the night,” said Lomax. “Bot tom floor.”

Given a key, he was gratified to learn that his room was almost directly across the hall from that of the little gunman he hated. The kid had to eat, and Lomax would try again at dinner or supper. Lomax lay across the bed, waiting. The kid seemed to have a habit of eating with Texas Rangers, and Lomax didn't want to make his play as long as any of the famed lawmen were in the hotel. He would go after Daniel Strange after he had left the dining room and was on his way down the hall.

Danielle reached the dining room just a few minutes after eleven. Jennings, Elmore, and Williams were already there.

“Feeling better?” Jennings asked.

“Considerably,” said Danielle. “I feel like I could eat a whole turkey, goose, or double portions of whatever's being served.”

The meal was an occasion to remember. Prodded by Danielle, the three rangers spoke of trails they had ridden, outlaws they had captured, and violent brushes with death. Only then did Captain Jennings take from under his belt a Colt, laying it on the table before Danielle.

“It's a .31 caliber Colt pocket pistol, from the three of us to you,” said Jennings. “It will fit neatly under your belt or under your coat. It's a short barrel, but no less a Colt. It'll stop a man dead in his tracks.”

“I . . . I don't know what to say,” Danielle said.

“There's nothing to say, except Merry Christmas,” said Jennings.

“But I have nothing for any of you,” Danielle protested.

“You gave us our Christmas early,” said Williams, “when you salted down that ranger killer, Snakehead Kalpana.”

“I'm obliged,” Danielle said, slipping the short barreled Colt beneath the waistband of her Levi's. When dinner was over, Danielle left her friends and started down the hall to her room. Softly, a door opened behind her, and a cold voice spoke.

“Unbuckle them belts and let 'em fall.” Danielle paused and felt the muzzle of a gun poking her in the back. Slowly she loosed her gun belts, allowing her Colts to slide to the floor.

“Now go on to your room, where you was headed,” said the voice.

Danielle had her key in her left hand, and while fumbling for the key hole, she eased her right hand to the butt of the pocket pistol. Suddenly the door opened, and Danielle seemed to fall forward into the room. Rolling over on her side, she fired twice, slamming Lomax into a door on the other side of the hall. He fired twice, but his arm had begun to sag, and the lead plowed into the carpet at his feet. Men came running down the hall, three of them the rangers who had not yet left the building. Danielle's Colts lay on the floor in the hall, but in her hand she held the Colt pocket pistol.

“That's Leroy Lomax,” Danielle said. “I had trouble with him in Indian Territory.”

She stepped out in the hall, retrieved her gun belts, and buckled them on. She then slid the Colt pocket pistol under her waistband and, facing the three rangers, spoke.

“You gave me the best Christmas gift of all. My life.”

“You still aim to stay a few days, don't you?” Captain Jennings asked.

“Yes,” said Danielle, “but then I'll be riding on. There's six more killers I must find before my pa can rest easy. I want the varmints to know they're living under the shadow of a noose.”

(Continue riding the vengeance trail with Danielle in the forthcoming book,
The Shadow of a Noose.
)