[Texas Rangers 03] - The Way of the Coyote (5 page)

Andy shook his head. "Where my arms and legs?"

She said, "In the picture, you're standin' sideways."

Andy heard Rusty chuckle. Preacher Webb was wrapping a clean cloth around a rope burn on Rusty's right hand after having applied hog grease. Macy had been trying to teach Rusty how to use the reata in catching cattle. Rusty had thrown a loop around a young bull's horns but had made the mistake of letting the rawhide rope play out through his hand.

Andy had learned that Preacher Webb was a medicine man of sorts, though he had none of the feathers and rattles and powders that tribal shamans used. He spoke no incantations beyond a simple "Lord willin', that'll get better. But your hand won't fit a plow handle very good for a while."

"Won't be much plowin' to do anyway with winter comin' on. I expect I'll spend most of my time gatherin' unclaimed cattle like James has been doin'."

Webb glanced toward Andy. "I hope you'll spend some time teachin' Andy to read and write. Josie has made a start."

"I'll do the best I can. When it comes to books, I'm only middlin' myself."

Webb said, "Teach him out of the Bible. That way he'll learn two lessons at one time. I doubt he's studied much religion where he's been."

Rusty replied, "The Comanches have religion. Not the same as you teach, but I guess it fits them all right."

Webb's wrinkles deepened. "Teach him anyhow. When he's old enough, the Lord'll show him what's right."

Andy wondered if that meant going on a vision quest. Among the Comanches, when a boy came of age he went out alone to seek guidance from guardian spirits, usually in a vision. Only when he had experienced such a vision could he be considered truly a man.

James Monahan burst through the front door, his face dark with trouble. "Rusty, we're fixin' to have company. Where's your gun?"

Rusty looked quickly at Andy, then stepped toward his rifle leaning in a corner. "Comanches?"

Andy swallowed. They've come for me, he thought. He could imagine them cutting his throat for what he had done to Tonkawa Killer.

James said, "No, it ain't Comanches. It's the Oldham brothers."

Rusty's worried look told Andy that the name Oldham had a dark connotation. Rusty picked up the rifle, flinching at the pain in his burned hand. He seemed to debate with himself about whether to stand the weapon back in the corner. He said, "Maybe they've come to realize that I was forced into what I did. Maybe if I don't have a gun in my hand this time, I won't need one."

James warned darkly, "I doubt they've realized a damned thing. They're bullheaded, ignorant, and mean as snakes." He lifted his own rifle from its pegs atop the fireplace. "At least step back into the bedroom out of sight 'til I take the measure of their temper." He did not have to check his rifle. He kept it loaded all the time.

Andy could not remember hearing anyone mention the name Oldham before. He looked at Josie, hoping she might explain, but she only stared in silence at the front door, fear in her eyes.

"Who the Oldhams?" he asked.

She shook her head, bidding him to silence. He turned to watch the door. Boots struck heavily on the porch, and a large man entered the room. He had a rough face that reminded Andy of a defiant Apache captive he had seen once. A smaller man followed. He had but one arm, his right sleeve pinned below the shoulder.

The two men stopped. The larger one looked in surprise at James's rifle. "What's the matter, Monahan? A man'd think we're horse thieves or somethin'."

He carried a pistol in a leather holster high on his right hip. The smaller man wore one on the left side.

James considered before he answered, "I knew who you were when I saw you ride in, Clyde. What I don't know is why you're here."

"Just passin' through the country. Thought we'd sleep in your barn or under your shed tonight. Looks like it figures on rainin'."

James thought again. "Ordinarily we wouldn't turn anybody out to sleep in the rain, but this ain't an ordinary situation. I want you-all to take off them pistols and hand them to my granddaddy."

Clyde Oldham blinked in astonishment, resisting a moment, then giving in. "Never heard of such a thing." He unbuckled his belt and handed the weapon to Vince Purdy. The one-armed man held out until Purdy extended his hand.

Clyde complained, "We've visited better houses than this, and nobody ever told us to hand over our guns."

James said, "We want to head off trouble before it can start. You-all ain't the only guests we've got. Come on out, Rusty."

Rusty stepped from the bedroom. Andy watched the Oldham brothers' faces change, eyes widening in surprise, then narrowing. Clyde exclaimed, "Ranger Shannon!" He stared in disbelief. "I hoped somebody had killed you long before now."

"Been some wanted to. Your brother Buddy-Boy tried as hard as anybody."

Clyde's voice was gritty. "And look what you done to him. He's only got one arm."

"What else could I do? He was fixin' to kill me."

The younger brother's face filled with hatred. "Looks like I'll still have to." He extended his hand toward Purdy. "Give me back my gun, old man."

Purdy stepped away, maintaining a tight grip on the pistol. "I reckon not."

Clemmie Monahan quickly sized up the situation. She said firmly, "There'll be no sheddin' of blood in this house. The war is over."

Andy looked from one face to another in confusion. The tension was tight as a bowstring. He could only guess at the root of it.

James stared fiercely at Clyde Oldham. "I was there at the brush camp when it happened, remember? Your mutton-headed brother took it on himself to declare Rusty a Confederate Army spy and try to shoot him. Damned lucky Buddy-Boy didn't lose more than an arm."

Rusty said, "I don't want any trouble here on my account. It's better if me and Andy go."

Josie protested, "Go? But why? A couple more weeks and I'll have Andy talkin' and readin' pretty good."

Rusty said, "It can't be helped."

Josie argued, "It was wartime when all that happened. We're at peace now.

Rusty said, "Not everybody." He looked at Clemmie. "The war brought too much grief to this place. I don't want to be the cause of any more. We'll leave soon as we can throw our stuff together."

Josie said, "You're not the one in the wrong here. Let them leave."

Rusty shook his head. "If they go first, they'll just stop out yonder and lay in wait for us."

Buddy-Boy's eyes reminded Andy of a wolf closing in on a crippled buffalo. "We just might, for a fact."

Rusty shrugged. "You see how it is. So me and Andy will leave. I don't think the Oldhams are Indian enough to trail us."

James said, "We'll take them cow-huntin' with us tomorrow. They can work for their keep."

Clyde protested, "We ain't your slaves."

James lifted the muzzle of the rifle a couple of inches, just enough to get the Oldhams' attention. "You're our guests. We wouldn't think of you-all leavin' before you've wore out your welcome."

Tears glistened in Josie's eyes. "Don't go, Rusty. Please."

Rusty started to reach out to her, then dropped his hands. "We'd figured to leave in a day or two anyhow. This is just a little quicker than we thought."

Clemmie said, "Come into the kitchen, Josie. We'll fix up some vittles for them to take along."

Reluctantly Josie turned away, pausing in the door for a look back.

James said, "You-all can leave at first light."

Rusty shook his head. "No, we'll leave now. No use takin' a chance on somethin' goin' wrong."

Buddy-Boy gave Rusty a look that could wound if not kill. "A rabbit can run far and fast, but a patient wolf always gets him sooner or later."

Rusty's eyes were sad. "It was you and your brother that brought on the trouble. I didn't want any of it. But if you ever bring any more trouble to me, I won't stand still and be a target." He jerked his head. "Come on, Andy."

As he walked out the door Andy heard James say, "Clyde, you and Buddy-Boy set yourselves down. My sisters'll fix you some supper."

Clyde sat in sullen silence. Buddy-Boy said something in an angry voice; Andy could not make out the words. But James's reply was clear. "I'm a damned sight better shot than Rusty is."

Vince Purdy and Preacher Webb came out to the barn to watch Rusty and Andy saddle up. Vince nodded toward lightning flashes in the east. "I'm afraid you're fixin' to get wet."

Rusty said, "That's all right. The country needs rain to make winter grass. Might make our tracks hard to find, too."

Webb said, "Normally I hate to speak ill of anybody, but there's not much good to be said about those Oldhams."

Vince was in a mood for a fight. "You sure you don't want to stay and have it out with them? Leavin' only puts things off to another day."

Webb said gravely, "Killin' is a mean thing in the sight of the Lord, but I believe there's times He knows it needs to be done. God forgive me for sayin' this, Rusty, but it would've been better if you'd killed the both of them that day. You may still have to do it."

"Not if they don't find out where I live."

"Nobody here will tell them anything."

Evan Gifford and Geneva heard the commotion and came out of their cabin. They waited as Rusty and Andy led their horses back toward the main house. Geneva said regretfully, "You're leavin' early."

Rusty could not look at her without a feeling of loss. "Somethin' came up."

Evan said, "The Oldham brothers. I was with James when they rode in. If there's anything I can do—"

"Much obliged. You can help James see that they stay here awhile."

Andy noted that Rusty gave Geneva a long look before he pulled away and moved on toward the main house. Clemmie and the girls came out from the dog run. Josie said, "We've put somethin' together for you and Andy to eat on the way." She handed Rusty a canvas sack and managed to hold on to his hand. He did not immediately pull it away.

Rusty said, "I'm obliged to everybody. I'm sorry we brought trouble to your door."

Clemmie said, "Trouble is no stranger here. You've helped us through the worst there ever was. We'd do anything we can for you."

"You wouldn't do murder. That's what it might take to settle with the Oldhams."

Rusty shook hands with the men, except for James, who remained in the house to watch the brothers. Clemmie and both girls hugged Andy. It made him uncomfortable.

Josie said, "Mind now, Andy, you keep studyin'."

He promised her he would, though he had reservations.

Riding away, Andy turned to look back at the lantern light in the windows. He said, "That Josie, she likes you. Likes you pretty good."

Rusty did not answer.

Andy said, "Those Oldhams don't. You think they like to hide and kill you?"

"I'd bet my horse and saddle on it."

"Why we don't hide and wait for
them?
Kill them easy."

Rusty gave Andy a look of disbelief. "That's not the way honest men do things."

"It is Comanche way. Kill them, you fix everything."

Rusty grunted. "I've got a lot more to teach you than just how to read."

COLORADO RIVER, TEXAS, 1871

.

S
ix years had passed without war, but they had not brought peace. They had brought a reconstruction government but not reconstruction.

The blacksmith rolled the wagon wheel out for Rusty to see. He leaned it against his broad hip and said, "There she is, a few spokes, a new rim, and she's as good as when that wagon first came out of the shop that made it."

The original wheel had buckled when Andy brought the team a little too fast down a rough hillside. He had a youth's weakness for speed. "It'll do fine," Rusty said. He dug into his pocket, wishing he did not have to spend any of the dollars he had received for cattle he sent up the trail with James Monahan. It seemed there were never enough dollars to cover his needs and still pay the heavy taxes imposed by the occupation government.

The blacksmith remarked, "You've taught that Andy boy readin' and writin', but you ain't taught him much about caution. He's whipped most of the young fellers his size around here and some a right smart bigger. Still got a lot of Indian in him."

"Lord knows I've tried. He's got no notion about consequences. Do it now and think about it later, that's his style."

More than once since he had been living with Rusty Andy had taken a horse, a blanket, and very little else and disappeared without offering any explanation. After several weeks he would return thinner, browner, and silent about where he had been. Threats of punishment had no effect.

The responsibility weighed heavily on Rusty's shoulders like a hundred-pound sack of feed. Sometimes he wondered if he had assumed a load he was not equipped to carry. He observed, "At least Andy makes friends of most of the boys after he's whipped them."

"I've been afraid he'd get hisself killed before you could finish raisin' him. He'd be sixteen, maybe seventeen now wouldn't he?"

"The best we can guess."

"Ever talk about goin' back to the Comanches?"

"Not anymore, but now and then he gets moody. He stares off to the north, and I can guess what's in his mind." At times Andy would be sitting in a room with Rusty or riding alongside him on horseback but seem to be miles and years away.

The blacksmith said, "He sure needs a woman's influence. You got any prospects?"

Rusty sidestepped the question. "Do you hear somethin'?"

Shouts arose from down toward the mercantile store.

The blacksmith turned his right ear in that direction. "Sounds like a fight. I'd bet you a dollar that Indian of yours is in the middle of it."

Rusty said, "I've got no extra dollar to throw away." He set out down the dirt street in a brisk trot, ignoring pain from the old arrow wound in his leg. He muttered, "Damn it, I can't turn my back for five minutes ..."

There was hardly a young man living in or around the settlement who had not made his peace with Andy, often after a stern comparison of knuckles. But now and then a new one turned up.