[Texas Rangers 02] - Badger Boy (32 page)

"But what about me?"

"What about you? I'm sick of your bitchin' and complainin'. I ought to've left you behind a long time ago."

Scully's voice was near the breaking point. "What'll I do?"

"You'll walk like hell if you know what's good for you. Run, if you can. Or find you a hole somewhere and pull it in after you." He reined Scully's horse around and started north.

For a while he could hear Scully's voice, pleading, as Scully tried to run after him. He put the horse into a lope and soon outdistanced his partner. When he finally looked back he saw Scully sitting on the ground, a picture of despair.

* * *

Rusty did not know what to expect as he rode in to the Dawkins place. Several of the colonel's field hands were gathered in front of the big house. They seemed heavily burdened. Rusty nodded at James and the sergeant and rode up to the group. He expected hostility but saw no evidence of it. The men appeared saddened.

He said, "We're lookin' for Pete Dawkins. You-all seen him pass this way?"

One man took a step forward. Rusty had encountered him before, though he could not remember his name. The black man said, "He done come and gone. Him and that Scully. Caught fresh horses and left yonderway." He indicated to the north.

"How long ago?"

The man looked at his companions and shrugged. "A right smart of a while. Ain't got no watch."

"Didn't say where he was headed?"

"Didn't say nothin' much to any of us. Might've said somethin' to the colonel. I wouldn't know."

"Maybe we'd better go talk to the colonel."

"I'm afraid you're too late. Ain't nobody goin' to talk to the colonel, not ever again. He's dead."

A cold chill ran through Rusty. "Pete killed him?" He found that hard to believe, even for Pete.

"No sir. But Pete knocked him down. Colonel never got up. Had him a heart seizure after Pete left. Wasn't nothin' I could do for him. He was gone before I could even finish sayin' the Lord's Prayer."

Rusty looked at James. In view of the long enmity, and the fact that Dawkins had hanged his father and brother, Rusty expected James to be glad. Instead, he seemed regretful.

James said, "I've thought of a hundred ways for the old devil to die and wished for every one of them. But this way never crossed my mind."

Sergeant Bailey had not spoken. Beyond the little conversation he might have overheard, he knew nothing about the violent history between the Dawkins family and the Monahans. He said, "We're settin' here. He's travelin'."

James's voice was bitter. "He'd
better
travel. Just one good shot at him, that's all I ask for. Just one good shot."

Rusty said, "We need to bring him in alive."

"We didn't promise that. You told the lieutenant we'd bring him back either in the saddle or tied across it. If I can get just one good shot, he'll be across it."

Rusty realized James had no intention of bringing Pete back alive. He looked for Bailey's reaction.

The sergeant said, "He's goin' to die anyway. Why not save the army some money?"

Rusty led the way out. The tracks were easy to follow, for Pete had made no apparent effort to hide them. They indicated that his and Scully's horses had run hard for the first mile or so, then slowed. The course was due north.

"Headin' for the Red River the quickest way they can," Rusty speculated.

James nodded. "Probably think they'll be safe when they get to the Nations. But they've stolen a way too many Indian horses. If any of them so-called friendlies recognize them, their lives won't be worth a Confederate dollar."

They came at length upon a crippled horse, standing with its head down. It turned away, trying to move on three legs.

Grimly James said, "Pete and Scully must be ridin' double. They're as good as dead now." He rode over for a closer look at the lame horse. He drew his pistol to shoot it but changed his mind. "I don't think its leg is broke. Just taken a bad sprain."

Rusty removed the saddle and bridle, dropping them to the ground so the horse could move unencumbered.

A little farther on, a man afoot spotted them about the same time they saw him. He began to run, stumbling, falling, getting up, and running again. James spurred ahead of Rusty and Bailey, his pistol in his hand.

"If that's Pete ...'

Rusty soon saw that the fugitive was Scully.

James shouted, "Stop, Scully."

Scully darted to the left. James fired at the ground just past him. Scully darted back to the right. James fired again, the bullet kicking up dirt at Scully's feet. Scully dropped to his knees and began to cry.

"Don't shoot me! I never killed nobody!"

Rusty thrust the pistol into Scully's face. "Where's Pete?"

Scully had trouble controlling his voice. "He crippled his horse. He took mine and went on. Bound for the Nations."

James glanced at Rusty. "Just like we figured."

Rusty asked, "How far ahead is he?"

"I don't know. An hour. Maybe two."

"By the tracks, he's been pushin' hard."

"He don't care if he kills a horse. He just cares about gettin' away."

Rusty beckoned James and Bailey to one side. "What'll we do about Scully? Anybody want to stay and watch him?"

James said, "I vote we shoot him right here."

Bailey said, "The lieutenant would he right put out about that. Anyway, it's the other one we want the most."

Rusty turned to Scully. "We're goin' on after Pete. You start walkin' back to the Dawkins place. We'll pick you up there."

James protested, "How do we know he won't keep walkin'?"

"Because he knows the army'll hunt him down and hang him like a sheep-killin' dog."

Scully cried, "I never killed nobody. The army's got no call to hang me."

"Then you wait for us at Dawkins's. Maybe Sergeant Bailey will testify for you."

Scully looked at Bailey and trembled. "You'll tell them it was Pete done it all? You'll tell them I didn't do nothin' to get hanged for?"

"I'll tell them what I know. I can't do no better than that."

Following Pete's trail was not a heavy challenge. Even the few times Rusty temporarily lost it, James or Sergeant Bailey quickly picked it up again. "There was no mistaking Pete's intention. He was headed for the Red River as directly as the terrain would allow him to travel.

And there was no mistaking James's intention. He meant to kill Pete on sight. The fierce look in his eyes made a chill run down Rusty's back.

Rusty said, "There's no tellin' what we may run into if we have to follow him over to the other side." He had become acutely aware that they had left in too much of a hurry to be concerned about supplies. Hunger was beginning to gnaw at him. He suspected Bailey was running a fever, though the sergeant had not complained. But James had a determined look that said he would follow Pete across hell and out the far side if he had to.

Coming upon a freighter camp, they stopped only long enough to wolf down some cold bread and red beans and sample some weak coffee extended with parched grain. The boss freighter wore what was left of a Confederate uniform. He glared at the sergeant, but James's manner was grim enough to make him swallow whatever negative feelings he might have about black soldiers. His only comment was, "There's some places you won't want to go as long as he's with you."

James said, "To catch the man we're after, we'll go wherever we have to.

"If you catch him, I hope you ain't goin' to let that darky take him in. It's a damned poor white man who'd do that."

James's eyes narrowed dangerously. "When we catch him, he'll be
beggin'
us to let that darky take him in."

As they left the freighter camp, picking up the trail again, Rusty reminded James, "We promised the lieutenant we'd bring him in."

"You promised him. I didn't. If we bring him back alive there's too many ways he can cheat the hangman. Bring him in dead and there won't be no appeal, no bond, no parole."

"Even Pete Dawkins deserves his chance in court."

"You still talk like a ranger. There ain't no rangers anymore. You're just another civilian, same as me."

Rusty thought back on his former ranger commanders. August Burmeister and later Captain Whitfield. Badly as they might have hated a man like Pete Dawkins, they would have made every reasonable effort to bring him in for a jury's judgment rather than impose judgment of their own. "I guess I'm still a ranger at heart. If they're ever reorganized, I'll be the first in line to join up."

"Fine, but I'm not burdened with all that righteousness. If I get Pete in my sights, I'll kill him."

Rusty looked to Bailey for his opinion. Bailey said, "All I promised was that we'd bring him back. I didn't say what shape he'd be in."

They came at last to the river. The sign indicated that they were not far behind Pete. Horse droppings were still fresh. The rust-colored river was at low ebb, much of its water running unseen beneath the red sands. Only one narrow channel toward the center of the broad riverbed showed a current. The tracks were deep and bold.

Rusty took a deep breath, fighting back dread. He had crossed this river more than once, farther west. His experiences on the other side had invariably been unpleasant. This time, he felt, would be no different. "All right, let's be after him."

The horses' feet sank deeply into the wet sand and made a sucking sound as they lifted for each next step. The tracks almost instantly filled with water behind them. The three men had crossed only a quarter of the wide riverbed when James stopped.

"Somebody's comin' yonder."

On the north side of the river a rider came pushing his horse for all the speed he could summon. A dozen horsemen were in close pursuit. All seemed to be yelling.

James declared, "That's Pete, by God." He raised his rifle.

Bailey mused, "Looks like he's roused up half the Nations."

Pete plunged his horse into the shallow water. He hammered his boots against the animal's ribs and looked back over his shoulder. Rusty knew he had taken a rifle from Bailey, but he evidently no longer had it. He must have dropped it in his panicked flight.

From across the width of the river Pete's urgent voice rose almost into a scream. "Help me! For God's sake, help me!"

James muttered, "I'll help you. I'll shoot you right where you're at." He brought the rifle to his shoulder.

Rusty grabbed James's arm. "No. The Indians will think you're shootin' at them. There's way too many for us to tackle."

The Indians rode into the river after Pete, rapidly gaining on him. Pete's pleas made Rusty's skin go cold.

Midway across, the Indians overtook Pete and circled around him. Rusty heard one more high-pitched scream. Pete's horse broke free and splashed toward the three men on the south edge of the river. Pete was not on him.

James said, "They're liable to come for us next." He raised his rifle again but did not point it.

Three men might cut down some of the Indians but could not get them all. Rusty shivered, and not from cold.

The Indians turned back toward the north bank, still yelling in triumph. Behind them, half buried in the wet sand, lay a lifeless lump. The river ran redder as it moved around and past Pete Dawkins.

The three watched in silence as the Indians moved northward. Finally Bailey said, "We promised the lieutenant we'd bring him back."

James said, "I'm afraid there ain't enough left of him to
take
back."

Rusty rode out to intercept Pete's horse and lead it to the south bank. It belonged to the army. "We'll need it for Scully." He did not look again at whatever remained of Pete Dawkins.

L
ieutenant Ames walked fifty yards out to meet them as they rode up to the Monahan farm. He gave Scully only a quick glance. "I don't see Dawkins. Did he get away?"

Rusty said, "No, he didn't get away."

"You killed him, then?"

"We didn't. He ran into some old Indian acquaintances. They saved the army some time and money." He glanced toward James. "May have kept some other folks out of trouble, too."

Ames gave Scully a second look. "At least you brought back this one."

"We'll want to talk to you about him, but we can do that later." Rusty looked beyond the officer, toward the two houses. "Everything been all right here while we were gone?"

"Fine. Your Comanche boy is a lot stronger. Evan Gifford was out of bed this morning, walking around. And it appears there is to be a wedding in the family."

Rusty blinked. "A weddin'?" Alice was too young. And Josie? Surely not Josie.

"Clemmie and your minister Webb have decided to throw in their lot together."

Rusty smiled. "Been awhile comin'."

James said, "Everybody's known it for a long time, everybody but
them
."

They unsaddled the horses and walked to the house. Andy stood just past the dog run, Josie a step behind him. Andy came down to meet Rusty halfway across the yard. He barely showed a limp.

"I am strong now, Rusty. I am ready to go."

Rusty wished he could think of a new argument against it, but they had already talked the subject to death without any weakening that he could see on Andy's part. Regretfully he said, "All right. Tomorrow, then."

Josie caught Rusty's hands. "Tomorrow?"

"I've argued myself hoarse, but a promise is a promise."

"I thought you were goin' to stay a few days."

"Pete Dawkins spoiled that. Maybe when I come back."

"
If
you come back."

"I will, I promise. I wouldn't want to miss seein' Preacher and Clemmie get married."

"Maybe that'll give you some notions of your own."

It was time to change the subject. "I'm dry to my toes. Reckon there's some coffee in the kitchen?"

"If there isn't, I'll make some. Come on in the house."

* * *

Directly across the Red River lay the Indian reservations, but Rusty knew Andy's band was unlikely to be there, submitting themselves to military supervision and agency regulations. They would range free farther west on the Texas plains, wherever the buffalo grazed. Time had come for the autumn hunt to lay in meat for the long winter ahead.