[Texas Rangers 03] - The Way of the Coyote (14 page)

Bethel gave her father a quick look of disapproval, then turned away.

Shanty fingered the coin, his eyes confused. "What's this for?"

"For your part in helping my son escape. It should buy you a pint of whiskey."

"I ain't a whiskey drinker, sir."

"Well then, some tobacco or whatever you like. It's Yankee. Anybody in town will accept it."

Shanty tried to give back the coin, but Brackett waved him away. "Keep it. We're even now."

Andy felt he should extend the hospitality of the house, such as it was. "We've got some coffee inside. Or some fresh buttermilk I just churned last night."

He immediately wished he had not admitted that. Churning was something else that would have been woman's work in a Comanche camp except that the Comanches did not have milk and butter.

Brackett climbed into the wagon. His daughter moved over on the seat and handed him the reins. He said, "Thank you, but we should be getting back. There is always more work to do than time to do it."

The girl gave Andy a thin smile as her father turned the team around. "Come and see us."

"I'd like to." Watching them leave, he thought, First time there's a reason. Maybe if he studied on it he could
find
a reason.

Shanty was still rubbing the coin between his thumb and forefinger. "I didn't see him give
you
nothin'."

Andy shook his head. "He didn't."

"Then how come him to pay
me?
"

Andy knew. Brackett would feel compromised if he owed a debt to a black man. Unable to think of any painless way to explain it, Andy decided to let Shanty figure it out for himself.

He did, and quickly. Shanty drew back and sailed the coin as far as he could throw it.

* * *

The Oldhams' state police gave up any pretense of secrecy in their watching post by the river, but they did not give up the stakeout. By the time Brackett and his daughter pulled away from the cabin, a rider was already trotting his horse up to overtake them. He circled the cabin and stopped the pair. After questioning them a few minutes he let them proceed and came back to where Andy and Shanty stood watching.

This was a deputy, not an Oldham. He looked disappointed. "Thought that might be Shannon."

Andy said, "You'll have to get up mighty early in the mornin' to catch Rusty. But keep on tryin'." He had wanted to needle the deputies and, if possible, the Oldhams, but Shanty had advised against it.

The deputy said, "Just followin' orders. Clyde says do it, and we do it. Tell you the truth, I'm gettin' almighty tired of campin' down there by the river."

"Come on up here, why don't you, where you can watch us a lot closer? Spread your blankets in the dog run. Even eat with us if you'll bring the grub."

"Clyde and Buddy would raise hell. Can't get friendly with the enemy, they'd say."

Andy said, "Don't it hurt your conscience, workin' for the state police, takin' orders from people like the Oldhams?"

"It's a livin'. All our officers ain't like them. Most of them are honest men just tryin' to do a dirty job the cleanest way they can."

"Like houndin' Rusty when you know he didn't do anything wrong?"

"That's Clyde's doin'. He's got the authority, and he's friends with a judge who goes along with whatever he wants to do. They've squeezed the old rebels around here for all they could get out of them. Stole some farms and stuck most of the money in their pockets, except for what they sent to Austin to keep the higher authorities happy."

"You could quit."

"I've got a family to feed. I grit my teeth and look the other way."

"This reconstruction government won't last forever. What'll you do when it's gone?"

"Been thinkin' about California. Maybe there's still some gold left out there. Ain't none in Texas. But 'til I can save enough to make the trip, I'll bide my time, do what Clyde tells me and hope I don't have to help him starve any widders and orphans."

He started to ride away but stopped and turned back. He seemed to have a hard time getting the words out. "I oughtn't to be tellin' you-all this, but I think you deserve to know. Clyde's fixin' to steal this place from Shannon the same way he's stole them others."

The statement hit Andy in the stomach. "How could he do that?"

"Rig the tax books, say that Shannon ain't paid all his assessments. It's worked for him before, him and his judge. You-all had just as well pack up whatever you'll want to take with you. There ain't no stoppin' him."

In a moment of anger Andy thought there was one way. He considered whether he should shoot Oldham in the head, in the chest, or in the belly. Any of the three would do the job. But he knew it was a futile notion.

Preacher Webb had often spoken about the wages of sin. Watching the deputy ride back toward the river, Andy said, "Yonder goes a man who hates the sin, but he's willin' enough to take its wages."

Shanty replied, "I'm glad I won't be wearin' his shoes when he walks up to the Golden Gates."

"He's wearin' better shoes than me and you."

"I'd rather be barefooted."

* * *

Andy was almost finished with his chores when he recognized the blue roan horse approaching from the direction of the Brackett farm. It was too far to identify the rider. "Company comin'," he called. His first thought was that the elder Brackett was bringing back the roan.

"Damn! I'll bet he wants to take Long Red." That was the name Andy and Shanty had given to the sorrel.

Shanty arose from his wooden chair and entered the kitchen. He was back in a moment with the rifle. "Hope it ain't Clyde Oldham, comin' around to hound us again."

"He wouldn't be ridin' that roan. Anyway, I saw him down on the river awhile ago, watchin' this place." He squinted. "That's not Old Man Brackett after all. It's his son Farley. They look a right smart alike."

"Him that caused us all this trouble?" Shanty made no secret of his disliking for the man. He handed Andy the rifle. "Mighty reckless, showin' hisself when the police are huntin' all over for him."

"Maybe he's come to thank us for that roan horse."

"He never looked like a man spillin' over with thankfulness."

Brackett reined up a little short of the cabin and studied the rifle with misgivings. The eye at the upper end of his facial scar was squinted almost shut. "Ain't no need for that."

Andy said, "I hope not, but I'd use it if you was to give me cause."

Brackett raised a hand, signaling peaceful intentions. "You and that nigger played a mean trick on me, puttin' me onto this roan. He ain't worth six bits in Yankee silver."

Andy shook his head. "You didn't do us no favor either, leavin' us with a horse that had a US brand on it. That's caused us no end of hell."

"So I've heard. I'm sorry for what happened to Shannon."

"Bein' sorry don't take Clyde Oldham off of his back, or ours."

"Ain't nothin' I can do about it."

"You could surrender to the state police. You could tell them how it really was. Then Rusty could come home."

"I'd just as well put a gun in my ear and pull the trigger as to give myself up to that bunch."

"Then what did you come here for?"

"Just wanted to say I appreciate you puttin' the soldiers off of my trail."

Andy said, "I'm wishin' now we hadn't done it."

Brackett leaned down to look closer at Andy. "That's quite a mark on your face."

"Quirt. Buddy Oldham did it."

"I'd like to take a bullwhip and write my name across his back with it. Him and all the others."

Andy said, "You've got trouble enough, shootin' a state policeman."

"He lived. Guess I'll have to try again."

Andy felt relieved. At least Rusty could not be charged as an accessory to murder. "After you do, run some other direction, would you? Don't come by here."

A smile flickered and was quickly gone. "If there's anything you need, go talk to my old daddy. If he's got it, you can have it."

Andy said, "He brought us a horse. We don't need nothin' else from him. But you might need a little advice from us."

"What's that?"

"Don't go down by the river. Clyde Oldham and one of his deputies are there watchin' to see if Rusty comes back."

"The hell you say!" Brackett looked toward the river. "I don't see anybody."

"We're not supposed to either, but they get careless now and again."

"You want me to go down there and shoot them?"

"Looks like you'd get tired of shootin' policemen."

"I ain't yet, but I guess this time I'll be movin' on." Brackett set the roan into a trot and disappeared around the cabin.

Relieved at his departure, Andy drew a deep breath. Shanty wiped a sleeve across his face.

Andy's relief quickly faded as he saw Clyde Oldham and a deputy riding up from the river. He growled, "Preacher Webb says trouble likes to travel in pairs." He cradled the rifle in his arms.

Oldham spat a stream of tobacco juice and gave Andy a fierce scowl as he approached. "That wasn't Rusty Shannon, was it?"

Andy said, "The shape you left Rusty in, he couldn't ride like that."

"Then who was it?"

"He didn't mention his name."

Oldham clenched a fist. "If it's somebody carryin' messages to Shannon ...

Andy tried not to betray his surprise as he saw Farley Brackett ride out from behind the cabin and move up behind Oldham. Oldham heard and turned quickly, then froze, gaze fixed on a pistol in Brackett's hand.

Brackett said, "No, I ain't Shannon."

Andy swallowed hard.

Oldham stammered, fear rising in his eyes. He raised his hands. "Brackett. Where? ... How? . . ." His voice choked off.

Brackett reached forward and took Oldham's pistol from its holster, then the deputy's. "Don't worry, I ain't made plans to kill anybody today unless I'm provoked. For what it's worth, the time I stopped by this place and took a fresh horse, Shannon wasn't even here. Besides, what I did wasn't much."

"You shot a state policeman."

"He oughtn't to've messed with me and my folks. But I didn't kill him."

"You tried."

"Yes, I did. Some days I can't shoot worth a damn. Anyway, you've got nothin' to blame Shannon for. I stole his horse, same as I'm fixin' to steal yours." He nodded at the deputy. "You heard what I just said? You can bear witness to it."

The deputy looked uneasily at Oldham. "I heard."

"Don't forget it, or I'm liable to come lookin' for
you
on one of the days when my shootin' eye is sharp." He nodded toward the roan. "Now, Deputy, I wish you'd take the saddle off of this horse and put it on Oldham's."

Oldham sputtered. "You'd leave me afoot?"

"You'll have the roan. I warn you, though, he ain't much of a horse."

The deputy switched saddles. Brackett looked Oldham's brown horse over and nodded approval. "Too good for a state policeman. The roan is more your caliber."

Oldham fumed. "I'll get you someday."

"Be damned careful that I don't get you." Brackett mounted and rode away in a stiff trot.

Left without a weapon, Oldham could only stare, his eyes smoldering.

With a touch of malice, Andy said, "You want to stay for supper? We'll he servin' crow."

Shanty frowned at him.

Oldham said, "It don't make any difference what Farley Brackett says, I'm still goin' to get Shannon."

Andy protested, "But you heard him say Rusty wasn't here to give him that roan horse. He just took it."

Oldham acted as if he did not hear.

* * *

Four weeks had passed without word from or about Rusty. Andy was uneasy, but he knew it would not do for Rusty or the Monahans to write a letter. Any mail would almost certainly be opened and read by the Oldhams or the Federally appointed postmaster.

He found that in a perverse way he enjoyed the present situation except for being concerned about Rusty's condition and a continuing guilty feeling that he was responsible for it. He felt a sense of being on his own and given a high level of responsibility. With the Comanches the equivalent would be if he were allowed to participate in running of the buffalo or raiding into Texas settlements and Mexico. The Comanches did not count birthdays quite as white men did. A boy became a man when he proved he could carry his weight. For some, that could be as little as fifteen or sixteen summers. For others, it took longer.

Shanty came into the cabin's kitchen, carrying a slab of bacon from the smokehouse. His eyes were troubled. "Andy, did you hear my dog barkin' last night?"

"No. At least, he didn't wake me up."

"Me neither. I slept real good. But there's some hog meat missin' from the smokehouse."

Andy's first thought was that whoever stood guard at the river might have run out of meat and decided to replenish his supply. That idea gave way to a more likely answer. "Fowler Gaskin or his nephew Euclid. Clyde let them take those hams from us the day they came lookin' for Rusty. They probably figure they've got the law's blessin' to do it again."

Shanty said, "Can't always trust that fool dog to raise a ruckus. Maybe I better take to sleepin' out by the smokehouse."

A delicious thought came to Andy. "I wonder if anybody's got a wolf trap we could borrow."

"There's some over at my place, in the old shed. Me and Mr. Isaac used to do a bit of winter trappin'. Mostly for coons and ringtails and such, but now and then we caught us a wolf."

"I'm thinkin' more about catchin' us a hog. Your field probably needs weedin' again. We'll go over there tomorrow."

They had been working at Shanty's farm every few days, taking care of the field and garden. Because the cabin had been burned, they had been going early in the morning, then returning to Rusty's place late in the day to do the chores, fix supper, and sleep. Before they started home Andy sorted through several steel traps hanging in Shanty's shed, picking two of the largest. He set one of them, then tripped it. The jaws snapped hard enough to break a dry stick he used to trigger the mechanism.

"Not strong enough to bust an ankle," he judged, "but he's liable to hop around on one foot for a few days."