by Judith Pella
What to do about this matter now plagued Pedro as he returned to the ranch, running all the way. Only as he saw Pete Barnes walking from the stable to the bunkhouse did he decide.
“Señor Pete!” he called, jogging up to the foreman.
“What is it, Pedro? You look all in a lather.”
“Señor, I have seen something.” Pedro paused and glanced nervously around. “I must talk to you alone.” There was no one in the yard at the moment, but it might not remain so.
“Let’s go to the springhouse,” Pete said.
Once at the springhouse, Pedro launched into his recent experience. “Pete, I saw him! She was talking to him, not a quarter of a mile from here—”
“Saw who, boy?”
“The bandito—I am certain it was him. Joaquin Viegas himself!”
“What’s this?” Pete leveled narrow, incisive eyes at the boy.
Pedro would have trembled at the foreman’s look had he not just survived being a stone’s throw away from a notorious outlaw. Besides, though Pete could be tough, he had always been good to Pedro. Trying to remain calm and speak clearly, Pedro related what he had seen and heard of the conversation between Lucie and Joaquin. Pedro did not mention the gringo, only because it did not seem important beside the incredible encounter with Viegas.
“That’s a mighty tall tale,” Pete said when the boy was finished.
“I swear it is the truth!”
“Well, seeing as how you and I share the same name, and you have always been a good boy, I’m gonna take you at your word.”
Pedro sighed with relief, not only that his story was believed, but also because he did not like carrying something like this alone. “What should we do?”
“You think a lot of the patrón and his daughter, don’t you, Pedro?” When the boy nodded emphatically, Pete continued, “Well, then, the best we can do for them is to forget all about this. Don’t sound like the patrón is involved at all, and with him ailing and all, it just wouldn’t do to worry him over this.”
“Sí, Señor Pete!” The last thing Pedro wanted was to bring more grief on the family that had been so kind to him over the years.
“So you won’t say a word to anyone, right?”
Again the boy nodded.
He really didn’t think it counted when a few days later he was bragging to that bully stableboy over at the Carlton place and let slip about having seen the infamous bandito.
CHAPTER
19
TENSIONS WERE MOUNTING IN San Antonio, rumors flying as thickly as Texas dust. It was believed that the Mexican general Adrian Woll had a force camped on the left bank of the Rio Grande and was poised to invade Texas.
Over the summer Congress had approved the raising of new ranger companies to defend against such encroachment. President Houston, a major proponent of statehood for Texas, knew that as long as Mexico was such a threat to the republic, the United States would drag their feet regarding admission. But little had come of the recruitment efforts.
“I can barely keep the men I have,” Hays complained one hot morning at the beginning of September.
“It ain’t that you haven’t tried,” offered Tom.
They were seated in a cantina trying to fight the heat with a tall beer. But Hays’ rising frustration wasn’t helping to dissipate the effects of the temperature.
“The men are practically destitute.” Hays shook his head dismally. “How many who have lost horses in battle have been able to replace them? Precious few.”
“Or they are forced to ride them rangy, sickly Indian ponies we capture. It’s pathetic. We all live in fear of getting our horses shot out from under us—maybe even more than getting killed ourselves.”
“It’s a sad state of affairs.”
Micah, Jed, and Big Foot Wallace walked in just then and joined the two men.
“Well, how did that inventory of supplies go?” Hays asked, though the look on his face indicated he already knew it wasn’t going to be good news.
“Pathetic,” said Wallace, who pulled out a chair and sat straddling it. “Jed, get us some beer. I’m parched.”
Jed, always eager to serve his ranger companions and never taking offense at his status as “kid,” went to the bar. In a couple of moments he returned juggling three glasses of beer.
“The barkeeper still giving us credit?” Big Foot asked.
“He wasn’t too happy about it,” said Jed, “but he did . . . ‘this time,’ he said.”
Micah brought the conversation back to the earlier topic. “Captain, I hate to mention this, but any word yet on when we’re gonna get some pay? Look at this—” He held out his leg, displaying the knee of his trousers where even the patch was worn through. “And you should see my backside. It’s getting indecent.”
“I’m sorry, boy,” Hays said.
Micah had to smile at the captain’s words, since he was only a handful of years older than Micah himself.
“What about the other supplies?” Hays continued.
“In a terrible state,” said Wallace, taking a gulp of his drink. “Powder and lead are so low we couldn’t fight a passel of Sunday school teachers. And there’s something else—” Wallace glanced around, then leaned forward. “I been in these parts long enough to know just about every face and name there is. Well, I been seeing a lot of strange Mexicans in town lately. I don’t like the look of it.”
“All right, Wallace, I’m going to have to send you up to Austin to try and scare us up some powder and lead and whatever other supplies you can lay your hands on. Take Jed here with you. I got a little money in the budget you can have. Use credit if you have to.”
After finishing their drinks, the men dispersed. Micah and Tom walked with Wallace and Jed to the livery stable and helped them get off on their journey to Austin. Jed was obviously quite pleased with himself, going off on his own with the redoubtable Big Foot Wallace on a vitally important mission.
“Just don’t get yourself killed,” Tom admonished Jed.
“Better yet, don’t get me killed!” put in Wallace.
“I’m gonna do good,” Jed assured, his grin taking some of the edge off his earnestness. “Just you see!”
Micah slapped his friend on the shoulder. “While you’re at it, see if you can scare me up some new trousers.”
“I won’t leave that town without some,” Jed promised.
“Let’s move!” Wallace ordered.
Micah watched the two ride off with a sense of despair he couldn’t quite identify. He supposed it had to do with the probable futility of the Wallace mission. The chances were quite slim they would find enough powder to hold off the Mexican army. And if they did, would they get back in time? Though it was all still speculation, Micah had a funny feeling in his gut that trouble was near. He thought about what Wallace had said about all the strange Mexicans in town. He thought about Lucie’s covert meeting with Viegas. Her brother? He hoped that was all it was. But it was just too coincidental that the impending trouble had come so close on the heels of that meeting. If it had been anyone else but Viegas, he might have let the matter drop. Yet he had given his word to her to keep quiet about the meeting. She would truly despise him if the matter became known and she discovered it was he who had turned her in.
And as rocky as their relationship had been lately, the last thing he wanted was her ire upon him. Even if it turned out that she was indeed a spy . . . well, he didn’t know what he’d do about that.
“Tom,” Micah asked as casually as possible, “you think Joaquin Viegas is really working for the Mexicans?”
“No doubt about it. Why do you ask?”
“Just wondering. Guess that’s why he’s been spotted so much lately in the area.”
“True,” said Tom. “If there’s gonna be an invasion, you can bet Viegas has been laying the groundwork by keeping these parts in turmoil.”
“You think he’s working alone? I mean, could he have some locals spying for him?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised.” Tom paused, then gave Micah a careful appraisal. “You know something, boy?”
“No,” he answered, probably too quickly. “I’m just curious, is all.”
Just then Hays approached, cutting off any response Tom might have made. “I can’t believe the people around here,” he said without preamble. “The town leaders are afraid of panic among the citizens, so they are trying to go about business as usual. I just pray that all we are looking at are rumors. God help us if there’s anything to them.”
Indeed, for the next few days nothing unusual happened, and life settled once more into a dull routine. Then Antonio Perez, captain of a Mexican ranger company, confided to the mayor of San Antonio that a force of fifteen hundred Mexican troops had crossed the border. A meeting was held that included a hundred native citizens and not quite that many Anglos. When one of the men reported seeing a hundred mounted riders in the vicinity, everyone seemed content to believe the invasion rumors had overblown the danger, and the townsfolk felt confident in their ability to hold off such marauders. Nevertheless, Hays was commissioned to take his men and patrol the area.
Micah was glad to do something. He’d be happy to prove once and for all that there was no threat of invasion. If it should be proved otherwise, he would be just as happy to fight. He felt he was going soft lately, thinking too much of romance and such nonsense, too little of settling old scores and righting old wrongs. Lucie had said he ought to let a little love disperse some of his hate, but he wasn’t ready for that, and he needed a good fight to remind him of that fact.
The rangers patrolled south along the Laredo road, the most likely approach of a Mexican army. They turned up nothing, and two days later returned to San Antonio. Upon reaching the outskirts of town, they were astonished to find it was occupied by General Woll’s army. Apparently while the rangers were scouting to the south, Woll, with well over a thousand soldiers, had slipped around to the north and invaded from that direction.
Hays took his men and retreated to Seguin, about thirty miles northeast of San Antonio. There, several days later, they met with Wallace and Jed, who luckily had stopped there to get feed for their horses before going on to San Antonio. Wallace had a keg of powder, and Jed had a box of lead balls and some percussion caps.
“We ran into Comanches,” Jed said.
They were seated around a campfire on the edge of town eating stewed rabbit Micah had shot and exchanging news.
“Jed killed one,” added Wallace.
“Good thing they didn’t get either of you,” Hays said. “We’re gonna need every man we can get now.”
“I still can’t believe that old varmint Woll slipped into San Antonio like that,” Wallace said.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if someone didn’t let him know just when we’d be gone on patrol,” Tom said.
Micah squirmed uncomfortably. Lucie could not have had anything to do with that, but still, sitting on his secret was wearing away at him.
“I don’t reckon it would have done any good if we’d been there,” Micah said. “A couple dozen against a thousand?”
“Only took a hundred twenty-five men to take San Antonio from the Mexicans back in ’35,” Tom said. “Caldwell down in Gonzales has at least that many mobilized and will march when he doubles that number.”
“I’ve sent couriers all over,” said Hays. “We’ll raise an army now that Woll has made his move.” He didn’t add that it was too bad it took an invasion to rally an army, though all were thinking it.
Then Jed jumped up. “I nearly forgot!” He went to his saddlebag and took out a small bundle that he then held out to Micah.
“What’s this?” Micah asked.
“What you asked for.”
Micah unfolded the brown bundle, revealing a pair of trousers, slightly used, but still in fairly good condition.
“Where’d you get them?” asked Wallace. “I didn’t see you buy nothing in the store.”
“I bought them from a woman who was hanging out her laundry.”
Jed’s reply was edged with defensiveness.
“Where’d you get the money?” asked Tom. It was understandable the man would be concerned, since Jed was his responsibility and still on probation.
“Well . . . I . . . didn’t—”
Jed, suddenly flustered at the negative attention, glanced at Micah as if asking his friend to get him out of this mess as he usually did. But this was a rare time when the two had been apart, and Micah didn’t know what to say in Jed’s defense.
But he couldn’t remain silent. “Hey, you got no right accusing Jed like that!”
Tom softened his tone. “It’s just that . . . well, Jed, we know you meant well. But what else are we supposed to think? You ain’t got no money, and you wouldn’t be the first man to lift an item from some housewife’s clothesline.”
“I didn’t! Honest!” Jed exclaimed.
“Least you can do is believe one of your own men,” Micah said, grow.ing more and more perturbed, especially since this had all been started because of him. “Jed’s covered your behind more than once, Tom.”
“We all get tempted occasionally,” Hays said in a placating tone.
“But I expect my men to be above reproach.”
Micah snorted snidely, but a sharp look from Tom made him think again about showing disrespect toward his captain. “Well,” his own tone altered slightly, “I ain’t met a ranger yet who could pass for an angel.”
“That may be true,” Hays said.
“I’m thinking it’s more important that we stick together,” Micah added, and if he would have listened closely to himself, he would have noted a self-righteousness in his tone that sounded hauntingly like his father. “We ought to back each other up instead of thinking the worst and accusing—”
“All right, Micah,” Tom cut in. He obviously was not happy about the way the matter had disintegrated. They had bigger problems to solve. “Jed, I apologize for what I said and what I thought.”
“I reckon I do, too,” said Big Foot.
“Thank you kindly,” Jed said sincerely. “Just so’s you know,” he added, “I helped that woman carry a couple of tubs of water up from the creek— that was while you was in the cantina, Big Foot. Remember, I went for a walk around town. Well, that lady said she wished she could pay me for my help, but she didn’t have no extra money. I asked if she had a spare pair of trousers her husband might not miss. That’s how I got ’em.”
“Let’s see how they fit,” Micah said, glad for an opportunity to further disperse the tension in the air. Quickly, and with Jed’s help, he tugged off his boots. Then he slipped off his old pants and put on the new ones. They were a pretty good fit. A bit short, but otherwise could have been made for him.
He looked at Jed. “It’s been a long time since I had a new pair of pants.”
“They ain’t new,” Jed said almost apologetically.
“New enough.” Micah ran a hand along the slightly worn fabric, feeling a touch of emotion. He didn’t appreciate Jed’s friendship enough and was going to have to find a way to make it up to him.
The other men, mostly for Jed’s sake, added their own compliments. Captain Hays even commended Jed on his resourcefulness, saying that was a prime ranger attribute and proved Jed was coming into his own as a ranger. That made Jed forget all about the previous altercation.
CHAPTER
20
THE SOUND OF HORSES CLAMORING into the yard drew Lucie to the front door. Opening it and stepping outside, she saw several riders, perhaps a half dozen. They were familiar faces, her neighbors. The lowering late afternoon sun set them into a shadowed relief, making dark expressions seem even darker.
“Your pa around?” asked Axel Carlton without so much as a howdy-do.
“He’s not well,” she replied. “What can I do for you?” There was not a friendly face among the lot of them.
“If your pa can walk, he best come out here and see us,” Carlton ordered
.
“I’m sorry.” She wasn’t sorry at all and made that clear in her tone.
Lucie didn’t like his attitude. “My father isn’t leaving his sickbed, so you best tell me what the matter is.”
“Never you mind, Lucie,” Reid said from just over her shoulder.
“Papa, I’ll take care of this—”
“Maccallum!” Carlton broke in harshly. “You got some explaining to do.”
“Yeah, Reid,” said one of the other men, the foreman out at the Samson ranch. “We been hearing things—”
“And we want to know just what is going on!” Axel finished, with a sneer on his face. He had obviously wanted to be the spokesman in the group. “We hear your daughter’s been meeting secretly with Joaquin Viegas.”
Reid had come up beside Lucie, and now he gave her a quick unreadable glance before facing Axel. “What are you implying, Carlton?”
“It’s pretty obvious!”
“Of all the nerve!” Lucie piped up, desperate to shoulder the load of these accusations for her father. “Where have you heard such lies?”
“Don’t matter where I heard them,” said Carlton, with no intention of backing down. “You sure they are lies?”
“If my daughter says they are, Carlton, then that’s all anyone needs to hear.” Reid put a protective arm around Lucie.
It felt so good, and she needed his support so much. She hated lying, but what else could she do?
“We got a witness who says she met with Viegas just a few nights before the Mexicans took San Antonio,” Carlton said. “This witness says Viegas is her brother, and there’s just no reason he’d make this up. What do you say to that?”
“We have been your neighbors for years, Mr. Carlton,” Lucie began.
But Reid stopped her, laying a hand on her shoulder. “I am a loyal Texan, Axel.” His tone was weary but somehow managed to be forceful as well. “As is my daughter. I fought with Houston, and I’ll not listen to anyone who calls our loyalty into question. But I will not lie to you—I am tired of secrets and lies. Joaquin Viegas is my son—”