“When was that?”
“Yesterday” B.W. said.
“You boys must not be Texan,” Unger said. “Mostly nothing but renegades, Indians and snakes out in these parts. Most people just don’t wander out this far.”
“We’re from Virginia,” Rance said.
“You boys right with the law?”
“Hope so,” Rance said.
“Maybe you better ride along with us to the fort,” Unger said. “You can keep your guns.”
“Out of ammo anyway,” B.W. said.
“Mount up and stay close,” Unger said.
Rance and B.W. gathered their guns and untied the horses. Rance climbed on the roan and B.W. on his black.
“How far we got to go, Captain?” Rance asked.
“About a day’s ride to Fort Apache. We’ll make camp when we get out of harm’s way and ride on in tomorrow.” He dropped his rifle in the sleeve and waved his hand for everyone to ride.
Before anyone moved they saw a rider come out of a thicket, riding like hell toward them.
“I got a bead on him, captain,” one of the rangers said.
“Hold it till we know his intentions,” Unger said.
The rider was closer now. “Don’t shoot, he’s with us,” Rance said. “He’s just a boy. We sent him away when we thought we were done for.”
”Why in hell would you bring a boy out here?” Unger asked.
“An orphan we picked up on our way from Virginia.”
“Still a dumb thing to do.”
“We know that now,” B.W. said.
Tommy rode up beside Rance, smiling, and pulled Buck to a stop and jumped off. “You’re alive, major!”
“I think so,” Rance said.
“Didn’t know where to go. Hid in the brush over yonder and used your spyglass. Saw all the shootin’ and spotted the Texas Ranger badges. You and B.W. ridin’ with ‘em, figured I better come back.”
“Give me my tomahawk,” B.W. said. Tommy handed him the tomahawk and hugged him.
“You a major?” Unger said, looking at Rance.
“Rebel major,” Rance said.
“He went to West Point,” Tommy said.
“Could use a well-trained officer if you’re interested,” Unger said.
“Got one hand, captain,” Rance said.
“Can see that, but looks like it doesn’t get in your way,” he said and smiled. “What about you, B.W.?”
“Just plain old Indian,” B.W. said.
“He’s a lawyer,” Tommy said.
“You’re just full of information, ain’t you,” B.W. said to Tommy.
“That’s a hard pill to swallow,” Unger said and all the rangers in hearing distance laughed.
“My papers are in my saddle bags. Just don’t use ‘em much,” B.W. said.
“We’ll talk again later,” Unger said. “Better get a move on now before we all get bushwhacked.”
25
Rance and B.W. rode along side by side, their horses shaking their heads and stepping away from any of the ranger horses when they got too close.
“Guess it wasn’t meant for us to have that money,” B.W. said.
“Never did feel right about it anyway,” Rance said.
“Didn’t bother me.”
“Kind of puts us back on track to take care of Tommy’s problem.”
“Don’t think Travers is bluffin,’ might have to kill him.”
“What’re we goin’ to do if they try to put us in jail?” Tommy said.
“Run like hell if we get the chance,” B.W. said. “I don’t plan on spendin’ the rest of my life in prison. Take off for California, won’t matter out there.”
“You talkin’ bout me and the major, too?”
“If you want to come,” B.W. said.
“Have to think on it,” Tommy said. “Think the major might go back to Virginia. He keeps bringin’ up Miss Julie a lot.”
“That he does. Somethin’ goin’ on there, but none of our business,” B.W. said.
Captain Unger rode up beside B.W. and Tommy. “You really a lawyer?” he said to B.W.
“I am,” B.W. said. “Was supposed to represent the Cherokee nation but we had a misunderstanding about the war. I fought for the north, wasn’t welcome back after that.”
“Can see that happening,” Unger said and let the appaloosa slow his pace.
Two hours later, they rode into a clump of trees, dismounted and posted lookouts, set a picket line for the horses and everyone found a place for their saddles to bed down. Rance walked up holding his saddle with his good hand and dropped it on the ground. B.W. and Tommy followed and dropped their saddles on the ground, too.
“Gonna fix some beans and coffee if you want some,” Rance said. “After I gather some wood.”
“I am kind of hungry,” B.W. said. “Need some help with the wood?”
“I can do it. Still learnin’ how to do things with one hand.”
“I’ll take some beans, don’t want any coffee,” Tommy said.
They broke camp the next morning and rode most of the day before reaching Fort Apache. They ate supper with the rangers and B.W. had Rance buy him a bottle of whiskey from the commissary because it was against regulations to sell whiskey to Indians.
Captain Unger came in the barracks and held up his hand and it got quiet.
“That was a hell of a job you did out there. Wanted you to know how proud I am of you,” he said. “Anyone need some time off come see me.” Everyone cheered. He stopped on his way out to talk to Rance and B.W.
“Been thinking on if you were chasing the two men instead of them chasing you,” Unger said. “But I figured you was in the right. Gonna let sleeping dogs lie. Not gonna hold you up anymore. You can go when you want to. Would be a good idea to get back to a more civilized place with that boy. Tell the cook I said to give you a week’s supplies.”
“We’re free to go?” B.W. asked.
“Yes,” he said and walked out.
“What do you think, B W.?” Rance said. “What are we goin’ to do?”
“Still want to find my mama’s killer,” Tommy said.
“Be working on a cold trail to find our way back,” B.W. said.
“Want to try at least,” Tommy said.
“Figured that,” B.W. said.
“Not done with Travers either,” Rance said.
“Still on that doin’ something useful thing, huh?” B.W. said.
“Then it’s settled,” Rance said. “We’re go back to Traversville.”
“It is,” B.W. said. “Now me and my whiskey are goin’ to get reacquainted ‘fore we do.”
“Don’t get too friendly, we got a long ride,” Rance said.
“We’ll just be kissing cousins,” B.W. said, smiled and headed for his saddle bags.
26
Julie and Fannie had been in the boarding house for almost two weeks now with no word from anyone. She was spending her café money so fast there wouldn’t be any left if she didn’t make a decision soon on how she was going to make a living. She still had her looks and knew one way, but that wasn’t going to happen if she had any other choices. Down deep inside she had hoped she could find Rance and he would be happy to see her and his son and they could become a family. Now that looked even less a possibility than ever.
Booker Church hadn’t bothered her since the confrontation in the livery stable but she knew he would because of her big mouth. He could decide to silence her at any time or Travers decides for him.
Riley Jones was the only one she felt she could trust, but like he said, he was no match for Church. It might be best to catch the next train out to somewhere safe. She decided it was time to have a talk with Fannie.
She finished bathing Mitchell, dressed him and found Fannie on the back porch mending a fluffy pink dress.
She sat Mitchell down and gave him a corn dodger. “Don’t remember seein’ you in that dress,” Julie said.
“Not mine, payin’ me fifty cents to
fix it. Got more to do.”
Julie looked at the dress. “Pretty,” she said then remembered why she was there. “It looks like we made the trip for nothing. I wanted to see how you felt about movin’ on or goin’ our separate ways. You have a right to choose your own path.”
Fannie laid the dress down beside her and looked at Julie. “You know you never fooled anyone.”
“What do you mean?” Julie asked.
“We all knew Mr. Rance was the love of your life, even if you didn’t. Miss Paige was a good woman so I ain’t faulting her, but I know how you feel and you have nothing to be ashamed of. Grew up in your house. Did what you did. Never felt like a slave though I knew I was. Got in a lot of fights over you with the other colored girls, ain’t goin’ to let none of that go to waste now. We wait, they’ll come back,” she said, picked up the dress and ran a needle through it.
“Never thought of you as a slave,” Julie said.
“I know, why I’m still here.”
“Wish I had your faith,” Julie said. “If you will keep an eye on Mitchell, I need to take the horse over to the livery stable for Mr. Jones to feed.”
“Here,” Fannie said and handed Julie a derringer pistol out of her dress pocket.
“Where did you get that?”
“Had it for a long time,” Fannie said. “Been keepin’ it handy lately cause of that Church fella.”
“Thanks.” Julie took the pistol and stuck it in her hand bag.
As Julie drove up to the livery stable, two blonde-headed boys came out of the house next door and ran into the livery. Riley saw her and came over to her.
“Them your boys?” Julie asked.
“Come here, boys,” Riley said, and the boys ran over beside Riley and looked up at Julie. “The oldest one is Riley Jr., he’s ten, and the little one, William, is six. Say hello to Miss Julie, boys.”
“Hello,” they said in unison.
“Well hello,” Julie said, “glad to meet you all. You look just like your papa.”
They didn’t say anything and looked at Riley. “Okay you can go play now,” Riley said and the boys took off.
“I look forward to meeting your wife,” Julie said.
Riley dropped his head and sighed. “Don’t have one, a widower. Lydia died givin’ birth to William.”
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.”
“No reason you should. Thank you,” he said. “Got some cool water in the pitcher if you want a drink while I take care of the horse. Gettin’ hot early today.”
“That’s very kind of you,” Julie said.
Riley helped her down from the buggy, brought a chair over for her to sit down, got her a glass of water and handed it to her. “Won’t take long to feed and curry him. You need anything, holler.”
“Thank you,” she said and sat down with her glass of water and put her hand bag in her lap.
Riley filled the feed bag and hung it on the horse’s head and walked back over to Julie. “Well, ain’t seen hide nor hair of ‘em. Been over two weeks. Would think they would be back by now if they was comin.’”
“Gonna wait a little while longer.”
“Keep a watchful eye,” Riley said. “Church is just plain mean. Would enjoy hurtin’ you, and the sheriff, too. Round here it’s Travers’ way or no way. Got two boys to take care of, I do.”
Riley didn’t come straight out and say it but Julie knew he was telling her he couldn’t help her. After Riley was done with the horse he helped her back up on the buggy and she drove out. A little ways down the street, Booker Church appeared on his paint and rode up next to her and grabbed the reins and stopped her horse.
“Mr. Travers thinks it time for you to leave and so do I.”
“Well I don’t, so let go of my horse.” She placed her hand in her hand bag.
“Your friends are not coming back,” Church said, “they know better.”
“They’ll be back.”
Church smiled. “Be the biggest mistake they’ll ever make.”
“Let go of the reins.”
“That pretty little nigger gal can stay, too, got plans for her.”
“You can’t buy and sell people anymore, Church.”
“Might better keep a close eye on that boy of yours, could have an accident.”
Julie jerked the reins and Church let go. “Get out of my way,” she said, slamming the reins against the horse’s backside and he trotted away, with Church leaning on his saddle horn, watching and grinning.
27
The sun was moving slowly across the Texas sky, showing no mercy for man nor beast.
“How long will it take us to get back to Traversville?” Tommy asked.
“Four, five days,” B.W. said. “Can’t diddle-daddle around out here, too many bad things can happen.”
“Can get so hot you could fry an egg on a rock,” Rance said. “You stay out in it long enough can fry your brain, too.”
“Yeah, think we had enough for today,” B.W. said. “I’m startin’ to see cornbread walkin’ across the ground.”
“Those mesquite trees ahead are a good place to make camp,” Rance said.
“Can we build a fire?” Tommy said.
“Better not,” Rance said. “We’re still in dangerous country.”
“Got some canned beans and jerky,” B.W. said.
“Oh goody,” Tommy said, wrinkled up his nose and frowned.
“Beats goin’ hungry,” B.W. said.
They rode the horses up under a low-hanging limb, dismounted and unsaddled the horses and found a place to bed down under the shade of the trees, poured some water down the horses from a goat bag and tied them to a picket line. They strung a rope around their bed rolls to deter snakes coming too close. Sometimes it worked and sometimes it didn’t.
“Kind of strange the way the weather is out here,” B.W. said. “Hot as the hinges of hell durin’ the day and cold at night.” He took the whiskey bottle out of his saddle bags, took the cap off and took a swig. “Want a shot of whiskey, major?”
“Don’t mind if I do,” Rance said. “Help take the chill off.” B.W. handed him the bottle.
Rance took a big drink and handed the bottle back to B.W.
“What about me,” Tommy said. “I’m cold too.”
“Sorry,” B.W. said. “You don’t get no more whiskey, might start to like it. Drink water, cover up with your blanket.” B.W. screwed the cap back on the bottle and put it back in his saddle bags.
“You handlin’ that whiskey real well now,” Rance said.
“Got too much ridin’ on me staying sober,” B.W. said. “You and Tommy catch a wink, I’ll take the first watch.”
“So you’ll know,” Rance said, “wouldn’t want anyone else at my back.”
“Feel the same way,” B.W. said.
Sounds they never heard in the daylight were loud in the dark every night. Prairie dogs barked, coyotes wailed and night birds chirped. The wind whistled through the little trees and shadows appeared from unknown creatures.
The next morning, they rode for hours across the barren prairie until a hot summer wind blew up a dust storm that made it impossible to go on.
They found a dry creek bed to block the wind and dust, tied their bandanas over the horses’ eyes, stuck their hats in their saddle bags, put on their slickers and pulled them up over their heads and then huddled together against the creek bank and hung on to the horses’ reins for dear life with both hands until the dust storm was gone.
By the time the storm was over, the heat was already on its way early the next morning.
They saw two riders coming toward them through the shimmering heat waves, too far away to tell who or what they were.
“What do you think?” B.W. said.
“Best to let ‘em come to us,” Rance said. “Use the creek bed for cover.”
“I’ll saddle the horses,” Tommy said.
B.W. picked up the double-barrel, cracked the breach to make sure it was loaded and snapped the
barrels shut.
“Tommy, you stay down and watch the horses,” Rance said.
They waited for the riders to come into focus. There were two riders on one horse and a lone rider on the other, all of them wearing sombreros, sitting on big horn Mexican saddles with pistols stuck in their belts and the saddle boots filled with rifles.
They rode up to within earshot and Rance yelled, “That’s close enough, what do you want?”
“Ah, gringos,” the lone rider said. “Need your horses.”
“Never gonna happen,” Rance said.
The rider placed his hand on the butt of the Colt in his belt, the initials WP carved in the walnut handle. B.W. looked at Rance and he nodded.
The exhausted horses had their heads almost to the ground, sweat salt covering their chest ready to go down at any time, the one with the two riders in the worse shape.
The lone rider turned his horse sideways, dismounted, slid his rifle out of the sleeve and pointed at them over the horse’s saddle. “Your horses now, señors, or you die.”
The two riders on the other horse didn’t move.
“No way,” Rance said.
The horse with the two riders suddenly collapsed, dumping the riders off over his head to the ground and fell over on his side, dead. The two riders jumped up and ran to the dead horse for cover.
The lone rider’s horse was frightened but too weak to run. He shook his head and staggered backwards, leaving the rider standing in the open.
He raised his rifle and Rance drew his Colt and put a bullet through his right eye and out the back of his head. Blood gushed out, covering his face and his dirty black shirt before he hit the ground.
The two riders stuck their heads up from behind the dead horse with their pistols in their hands and B. W pulled the triggers on both barrels of the twelve gauge and blew the guts out of the dead horse, and the faces off the two men, into buzzard meat.
The exhausted horse still on his feet stood there in a stupor, shaking, too tired to move from the spot.
“Looks like some of them did get away,” B.W. said. “That was Preston’s Colt he had.”
The Last Good Day Page 16