Oh well, I guess mebbe none of us are as tired as we figured we were, Jim thought. He rolled onto his belly and nestled his face in the crook of his elbow. Even as a kid, he’d never been able to sleep on his back.
Most nights, once Jim’s face was buried in his pillow, or on his saddle when sleeping under the stars, he quickly fell asleep. However, blissful slumber wouldn’t claim him this night. His mind was restless, his muscles tense, his stomach knotted. He tossed and turned, then pulled his Stetson down tighter over his head, all to no avail. He could not shake off the sense of foreboding keeping him awake. He sat up and grabbed his Peacemaker when an unfamiliar horse whinnied nervously. He looked over at their horses, and when Monte neighed again, he realized the whinny had come from J.R.’s new mount. Not only Monte, but Smoky’s black, Midnight, was also nickering worriedly, and pulling back on his picket line. Most upsetting to Jim, his own horse, the normally unflappable Sizzle, was also trotting back and forth anxiously. He’d stop for a few moments, standing as still as a statue, neck arched and ears pricked sharply forward while he stared across the prairie, searching for something which had apparently upset him, then give an anxious neigh and resume pacing.
“Somethin’s wrong,” Jim muttered. He tossed off his blankets, pulled on his boots and grabbed his gun, then headed over to Sizzle, who was once again gazing at the horizon. When Jim reached him and patted him on the shoulder, the big paint jumped, and whickered his fear.
“What’s the matter, Siz?” Jim asked. “Somethin’s really gotten under your hide, that’s for dang sure.” Sizzle nudged his shoulder. Jim turned at a slight sound behind him.
“It’s only me comin’ up behind you, Jim,” Smoky called. “Don’t plug me, will you?”
“I’ve thought about doin’ just that, many times. But I reckon it can wait for another night, Smoke,” Jim answered, with a slight chuckle. When Smoky, who also held his gun at the ready, reached his side, he continued, “It’s a good thing you shouted that warnin’. Jumpy as I am, it’s plumb likely I just might have drilled you. Bet a hat on it.”
“So you’re feelin’ it too, huh?” Smoky said. “And what’s gotten into your horse? I’ve never seen Sizzle act like he is.”
“I dunno,” Jim admitted. “Where’s J.R.?”
“He’s takin’ a look-see around the other side of our camp,” Smoky answered. ‘Whatever it is that’s got us and the horses spooked has also gotten under J.R.’s skin. Mebbe you’d better stay with these broncs while I take a look around, too. We sure don’t want to lose them.”
“That’s a good idea, Smoke,” Jim agreed. “Be careful.”
“I aim to be,” Smoky answered. “You just try and calm down these animals, because if you can’t, there sure ain’t anyone else who can. Which would mean there really is somethin’ bad out there in the dark.” He disappeared into the night.
Jim’s nerves became even more taut once Smoky was out of sight. Sizzle seemed to pick up on his rider’s tension, for he became even more anxious, tossing his head and shoving Jim in the back.
“Siz,” Jim finally said. “I hate to do this, but I’m gonna picket you along with Monte and Midnight. You seem scared enough you might run off, and I can’t chance that.” He picked up Sizzle’s halter from the ground where he had left it, placed it on the horse, then led him back to his saddle. He removed his lariat, along with a picket pin and hammer from his saddlebags, then tied the rope to Sizzle’s halter. He led the paint back to where the other two horses were picketed, tied the other end of his rope to the pin, and drove that into the ground.
“That’ll hold you, just in case,” he said. He patted the horse’s shoulder. “It’ll be all right. We’ll figure out what’s got us all spooked, and take care of it.”
Jim kept his gun in his hand and kept peering into the dark, straining to see whatever was out there. He soothed the horses, as best he could, with a soft, calming voice, stroking their muzzles. The minutes ticked by slowly while he waited for Smoky to return. Finally, his partner’s voice called out.
“Me and J. R. are comin’ in, Jim. Ease off that trigger.”
Jim gave a sigh of relief, as he removed his thumb from the hammer of his Colt and eased the gun back into its holster.
“You find anythin’?” he asked, when both men materialized out of the gloom.
“Not a thing,” Smoky said.
“Me neither,” J.R. added. “Doesn’t seem to be any reason at all for us to be so jumpy, but boy howdy, I’m really on edge.”
“Same goes for me,” Smoky added. “Now, sometimes humans’ll get all het up for no reason, but why’re the horses so upset, too?”
“I dunno,” Jim answered. “A lotta horses spook real easy, but not Sizzle. Your Midnight, either, for that matter.”
“Monte’s pretty steady too,” J.R. said.
“Well, whatever it is, we’ll just have to hope it’s nothin’ we should be worried about. Mebbe it’s just the wind, or some smell we can’t quite put our fingers on, but the horses have picked up.”
“That’d be our noses, not our fingers, Smoke,” Jim said, with a laugh. “Guess there’s nothin’ to be done about whatever it is. Tell you what. You two try’n get some sleep. There’s no point in all of us losin’ a night’s shut-eye. I’ll stay with the horses, and keep ’em calmed down.”
“That sounds like a good idea,” J.R. said. “Guess I don’t have to remind you to stay alert.”
“I reckon not,” Jim said. “G’wan, get outta here. Good night.”
“’Night,” Jim.” Smoky said.
“Yeah. Good night,” J.R. added.
● ● ●
With Jim on watch, Smoky and J.R. did manage to snatch some sleep, although neither man slept very well. When the sun topped the eastern horizon, gilding it in brilliant shades of yellow and gold, they rolled out of their blankets, still bleary-eyed.
“’Mornin’, Jim,” Smoky shouted. “I take it everythin’s all right.”
“Everythin’s just fine, Smoke,” Jim called back. “Guess we were all lookin’ for ghosts that weren’t there. Get the fire goin’ and I’ll start the coffee boilin’.”
“All right.”
The three men ate a hasty breakfast, then, still tired, saddled and bridled their horses and swung onto their backs.
“I don’t know what it was back there,” J.R. said, as they heeled the mounts into a walk. “But whatever it was, I’m sure glad to leave it behind.”
Jim and Smoky nodded silent agreement.
8
Jim, Smoky, and J.R. kept their horses at a steady, ground-eating lope for most of the next day, a gait which covered plenty of ground, yet still was not excessively hard on the mounts. They arrived at Brady just around two in the afternoon. When they reached the edge of town, two young men, on horseback, materialized from the brush on either side of the trail. They each held rifles, which they leveled at the Rangers’ chests.
“Don’t make a move, hombres,” the nearer, and younger, of the pair ordered. “Don’t even twitch, or we’ll put bullets in you. Just keep your hands away from your guns and raise ’em.”
“How can we raise our guns if we have to keep our hands away from ’em?” Jim asked.
“Oh, a smart mouth,” the nearer man said. “You want me to shut it permanent-like, by puttin’ a bullet through your teeth? Now, do what I said, and get your hands up. Pronto!”
“Better do what he says, Jim,” J.R. advised. “These boys mean business.”
“All right,” Jim answered. “We ain’t lookin’ for trouble.” He raised his hands shoulder-high. As soon as he did, the unmistakable clicks of a pair of Colts’ hammers being thumbed back sounded from behind the two cowboys.
“I’d recommend you two drop those rifles and reach, unless you want bullets in your backs, instead of you pluggin’ my pardners,” Smoky ordered. He’d circled around the two sentries, while Jim and J. R. rode straight into town. “And don’t even think about pullin’ those trigge
rs, hopin’ you’ll be faster’n me. I can drop you both before either of you gets off a shot.”
The cowboy closest to Smoky uttered a curse.
“Better do what he says, Eddie. He’s got us pinned.”
Both men let their rifles fall to the dirt, then lifted their hands over their heads. Jim and J.R. lowered their hands, pulled their own pistols from their holsters, and aimed them at the two young men.
“Next time you try to get the drop on someone, you might want to make certain of how many pardners he’s got travelin’ with him,” Jim advised. “We spotted your little trap from a ways back, so we set up one of our own… one which you neatly rode right into, thank you very much. And if you boys had made the mistake of killin’ us, you’d have let yourself in for real trouble. We’re Texas Rangers. Now that you know that, one of you mind tellin’ us what’s got the pair of you so all-fired on the prod?”
“You’re Rangers?” the cowboy called Eddie said.
“Sure enough are,” Jim answered. “On the trail of the renegades who attacked this town. Got our badges in our shirt pockets and our papers in our billfolds, if you’re of a mind to see ’em. However, I’m the one askin’ the questions, and I ain’t heard an answer yet.”
Eddie shrugged.
“Reckon we might as well tell ’em, Chuck,” he said, “Seein’ as they’re Rangers and all.”
“Not to mention they’ve got their guns aimed right at our briskets… and backs,” the cowboy named Chuck said. “All right. If you’re Rangers, on the trail of the men who just about destroyed this town, like you claim, we’ve got no quarrel with you. My name’s Chuck McIlroy. My kid brother here is Eddie. Our pa was Dale McIlroy, the McCulloch County sheriff. When those hombres raided Brady, some of ’em surrounded our house. We tried to fight ’em off, us and our pa. Even our ma, her name was Eleanor, threw a few bullets at ’em. We didn’t have much luck, but neither did they. When they figured out it would take more time than they wanted to gun us down, they blew up the house. That’s what’s left of it, just over yonder.” He indicated the splintered remnants of a blown-down picket fence, behind which sat a few burnt, shattered timbers. “The dynamite must’ve landed right at pa’s feet, because we never found anythin’ left of him, at all. Not even his boots, or his belt buckle. There wasn’t much left of ma, either, just enough to give her a decent burial. Me’n Eddie still ain’t certain how we survived. Both of us recollect the explosion, but nothin’ after that, except a couple of neighbors pullin’ us from under the rubble. Since that day, we’ve been watchin’ day and night in case those raiders decided to return and finish the job. We stop every stranger who comes into town, just to make certain he’s not one of the outfit come back to scout things out again.”
“We’re sure sorry about what happened to your folks, all of us,” Jim said. “And we’re gonna make certain the men responsible pay. You can bet your hat on it. But that still doesn’t give you any call to draw down on everyone passin’ by. Now, we came here to see if we could get any more information that might possibly lead us to that gang. You reckon you might give us a hand with that?”
“We’d be glad to, Ranger,” Chuck answered. “You mind if we get our guns back now?”
“Go ahead,” Jim answered.
“Much obliged.” The two brothers lowered their hands, dismounted, and retrieved their Winchesters. Once the rifles were shoved back in the saddle boots and the boys were back on their horses, Jim, Smoky, and J.R. put up their own guns.
“Where do you want to start, Rangers?” Chuck asked.
“We’ve been ridin’ long and hard the past several days,” Jim answered. “We like to take care of our horses, get some chuck, and mebbe a room for the night. Once all that’s arranged, we’d like to talk with anyone who was here the night of the raid.”
“We can show you where to do all that,” Eddie said. “The folks around here are pretty tough. They ain’t gonna let that raid destroy Brady. The Hotel Dixie’s already been rebuilt. Same with Grandma Hussey’s Café. And the Brady Saloon, of course. That was the first place to go back up. We don’t have a store yet, since Mack Dunn was killed in the raid, so we’re waitin’ on someone to move into town and open a new place. For now, we’re buyin’ stuff from San Saba, and havin’ it freighted over. The livery barn ain’t been started yet, but Luke Jessup’s got the corrals back together. He’ll take good care of your broncs. Me and Chuck’ll help get you settled, and we’ll also spread the word you’re in town, and want to talk with folks. They’ll sure be happy to know the Rangers are after those hombres. Of course, most everyone’s bound to notice you anyway. They’ll probably look at you a little suspiciously, so you might want to pin on your badges.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” J.R. said. He pulled his badge from his shirt pocket and pinned it to his vest. Jim and Smoky did likewise.
“Good. We’re all set. Let’s go.” Jim lifted Sizzle’s reins and heeled him into a walk. He and his partners followed the brothers down Brady’s Main Street. As Eddie had said, the citizens of the town had wasted no time in beginning the resurrection of their community. Most of the debris and rubble had been carted away. Several new structures had already been completed, their siding either still unpainted raw wood, or freshly whitewashed. Still others were in various stages of construction. As Eddie had also said, most of the passersby stared at the trio of badge-wearing newcomers accompanying the brothers into town. He and Chuck led them two blocks past the hotel, then left down an alleyway. At its end was a pile of blackened timbers, all that remained of a large stable, as well as a new shed and two newly re-fenced corrals. One of those held several horses. A shed behind one held feed and tack. A small tent was alongside the other one, with a middle-aged, moon-faced man sitting on a small barrel in front of it.
“Howdy, Luke,” Chuck called. “Got a couple of customers for you.”
“Looks more like three,” Luke answered, as he rose from the barrel and went to meet the newcomers. “Don’t matter none, I’ll take all the business I can get. Men, I’m sorry the accommodations for your horses won’t be up to my usual standards, but I’ll take care of ’em real good. Won’t have my barn rebuilt for a spell, but at least none of the horses in my care got burned to death. Seven got stolen, though. Rangers, huh? Sure glad to see you boys. I reckon you’re here about those renegades who plumb near destroyed this town. Sure hope you catch ’em. When you do, bring ’em back here and I’ll put the ropes around their necks my ownself. Although plenty of other folks would like that chance, too.”
“Luke,” Chuck broke in, when the hostler finally paused for breath, “just take care of their horses, will you? Rangers, me’n Eddie forgot to tell you Luke don’t ever shut up once he gets wound up… and he’s always wound up.”
“Yeah,” Eddie added. “I’m kinda surprised ’ol Luke didn’t talk those raiders to death. Rangers, now that I can get a word in, this here’s Luke Jessup, the livery owner. Luke, Rangers… you know, you hombres never did give us your names.”
“Lieutenant Jim Blawcyzk, that’s BLUH-zhick,” Jim answered. “It’s Polish, and most folks can’t pronounce it. Can’t wrap their tongues around it, and end up gettin’ ’em all tangled up. Easier to just call me Jim, or Ranger. My pards are Lieutenant Jim Huggins, better known as J.R., and Sergeant Smoky McCue.”
“Well, don’t just set there,” Luke answered. “Swing offa them broncs and turn ’em into the first corral, that’s the empty one. You can stow your gear in the shed yonder. No one’ll touch it, I guarantee you. Your horses, neither. I sleep with one eye open and a shotgun alongside me. Only reason those raiders got seven of my horses is there were too doggone many of ’em for me to plug. They pinned me down, then cornered me in the barn when they set it afire. I reckon the only reason they didn’t fill me fulla lead is they figured I’d already been shot, and my body’d be eaten up by the flames. Lucky thing for me they didn’t wait to make certain. I was able to bust out a few boards in the back wall and get ou
t before the whole shebang collapsed. It was darn close, though.”
“Like Eddie said, Luke, if you’d tried talkin’ ’em to death, instead of attemptin’ to shoot those raiders, they’d all be six feet under right now,” Chuck said. “Just open the gate for us, will you?”
“All right, all right,” Luke answered. He slid open the gate’s bars, and the five men rode in, then dismounted.
“I’ll get some feed ready for your horses,” Luke said, as he slid the bars back in place.
“Just a minute before you do,” Jim said. “I’d like to ask you a couple of questions about those raiders, if you don’t mind. And when you answer, give me the short version.”
“Not at all, Ranger,” Luke agreed. “Go ahead.”
“All right. They’re pretty simple,” Jim answered. “Did you happen to get a look at any of those men?”
“No, I sure didn’t,” Luke answered. “They all had on white robes, with white pillowcases or some such over their heads to mask their faces. White or light-colored hats over those. Couldn’t even catch a glimpse of their boots.”
“How about their horses? Any marks, anything which might be recognizable?”
“Nope.” Luke shook his head. “All whites or grays. Some white markings on a couple of the grays, blazes or stars, mebbe one or two had white stockings, but nothing you wouldn’t see on a thousand other broncs. No brands, neither, at least none that I could see.”
“What about the horses they stole from you?” J.R. asked. “Any unusual markings on them, or any brands?”
“Four of ’em weren’t mine. They belonged to men boardin’ their horses in my stable, which of course I don’t have any more, leastwise until I get it built back up,” Luke said. “And all four of those boys are dead, so I reckon they don’t need those broncs anymore. Still, it’s a shame they got stole…”
“Luke,” Chuck said.
“Huh?”
The Ghost Riders Page 7