Ricky’s pa. Buck bet that promise had gone the way of a lot of other dreams with the death of Derrick Denning. The boy stood in front of Blaze, stroking his nose.
“Well, mister, a horse is a mighty big responsibility. Do you know how to take care of a horse?”
“I know how to ride.” The boy’s chest puffed out.
“That’s a start.” Although Buck would want to check the level of his riding before he handed over the reins to a child. “But what else?”
“Well, he’s like a cow. He’s got to be fed and cleaned, and of course he wants to run.”
Buck laughed. “That’s enough to begin with.” Glancing up, he saw a gentle smile cross Leta’s lips. Too bad life has handed her such a rough lot. She’s not a tough-skinned rancher. She’s soft and graceful … trying to make it on her own. “When do you want me to start?”
“Don’t you have a job?” The softness around her mouth had gone. “Stopping the violence before it spreads any further?”
“It won’t hurt to set a time. If I don’t make it, it’ll be because something has come up. And when I stop by, I can keep you informed about whatever progress we’re making.”
“Have you? Made any progress since first we met?” Her brown eyes challenged him.
Careful, now. “Not much.” He hesitated. She should be forewarned. “But it might not stay that way. Scott Cooley is back in town.”
She drew in her breath, her fingers tightening on her son’s shoulders before she relaxed. “Maybe you’ll catch him this time.” She took the boy’s hand and headed for their horses. “Come tomorrow afternoon and stay for supper if you can.”
“Happy to oblige.”
Henry was working in the barn when hoofbeats pounded the earth outside his barn. He grabbed his gun and went to check.
Schmidt slid down from his horse. “Have you heard the news?”
Henry shook his head. “Is it Cooley?” “He got Wohrle earlier today.”
Henry took a step back. “So he’s at it again. What happened?”
“Wohrle was over to Harcourt’s, helping dig a well. Cooley came up as nice as you please, and then shot Wohrle in the back of the head when he turned his back. They say he pumped him full of lead and even scalped him. And left Harcourt at the bottom of the well.”
“Who’s telling the tale?”
“The guy they hired to help with the well. He skedaddled when the shooting started. Cooley didn’t go after him, so he must not be on his list.”
Henry set the hay rake against the side of the barn and sat atop a hay bale. “He’s not going to stop until he gets every last one of us.”
“We should never have gone after Williamson.”
“We can’t change the past.” Henry thought of the sermons Reverend Stricker had preached from the pulpit on more than one occasion. “There are some who would say we only are getting what we deserve, when we decided to take vengeance in our own hands.”
“We did what we had to.” Schmidt scowled. “I wanted to warn you and the other God-fearing Germans to be careful.”
Henry closed his eyes. He wasn’t a murderer. At least, he hadn’t been.
CHAPTER SIX
Since I have been here, no less than ten murders have been committed, several of them right near to me…. The alienation between Germans and non-Germans has turned into bitter hatred.
Reverend Johann Gottloeb Stricker in The Story of a Century: St. Paul’s Lutheran Church, Mason, Texas
When Buck reached the crossroads leading either west into town or south into Gillespie County, he reined in Blaze. The receipt of a letter from Major Jones had decided his next move: south, across the Llano River over the county line to Kirschberg Ridge. The major wanted an update on what Buck had learned. He wished he had more than speculations and half-truths to present to his commanding officer.
Better speculations based on observations than hearsay, Buck decided. Jones kept a cool head on his shoulders, someone he could trust to act when necessary and not before. His slight build gave lie to the skilled soldier beneath the exterior. Buck spurred Blaze, and he galloped down the road. As long as they stayed away from Fredericksburg, in the heart of German country, Buck and Jones could meet unobserved.
Blaze welcomed the gallop necessary for Buck to reach his usual meeting place before midnight. When they rode into the crevice in the rocks, Jones was pacing up and down, his fingers tugging at the ends of a luxurious black mustache. “Morgan. Good. You made it. What do you hear of Cooley?”
Buck had organized his thoughts during his ride, and his brain scrambled for the answer. “He is definitely back in Mason County, sir, as long ago as last Saturday. I haven’t discovered where he is yet.”
Jones frowned. “So you didn’t hear about today’s developments.”
Buck didn’t move. “No, sir. I came as soon as I received your message.”
“He went after a guy by the name of John Worley today. Worling, Wohrle, something like that. Some of the more exaggerated accounts say he scalped the man.”
Wohrle—one of the men involved with lynching Williamson. Buck grimaced. “It doesn’t sound like he’ll stop until he’s killed them all.”
Jones glanced at Buck sideways. “What do you think?”
“I don’t know him that well, sir.”
Jones’s lips curled. “I always knew you were a diplomat. What is the mood among the people?”
“What you would expect. Half of them feel like the German mob is getting what they deserve after the way they acted over the winter. The other half are scared to death and ready to fight back. It’s turning into a regular Romeo and Juliet, a blood feud between two warring factions.”
Jones worked his mouth. “So you don’t have new leads on Cooley.”
“No. The German folk don’t know.” And if they did, they’d go after him themselves and not tell a Texas Ranger who might warn him of the danger. “As far anybody else, either they think he’s doing the Lord’s work, or they just want to stay out of the middle.”
“Did you learn anything from the widow Denning?” The beautiful Leta. “Nothing substantial.”
“But?”
“I’m missing something, but I can’t put my finger on it. Something is off with her or more likely with her brother. I’m not sure.” He cleared his throat. “I’ve made arrangements to spend some extra time with them over the next few weeks. I hope to get some information, and she needs help with the ranch.” He braced himself for Jones’s reprimand.
Jones’s dark eyes stared into his. “If that was someone else talking, I would think he was interested in the widow woman. But I don’t have to worry about that with you, now, do I, Morgan?”
“No, sir.” Buck felt his fingers itching to cross themselves behind his back.
Jones peered at him before slapping him on the back. “Meet me again here same time next week. Use the usual method if you need to get word to me sooner. Let’s both of us catch forty winks before we leave again.”
Buck took care of his horse, which faced a long ride back, before lying down himself. He slept a total of three hours, opening his eyes when charcoal replaced the blackest hours of night. He grabbed the cup of cold coffee Jones had left for him and fried a bit of bacon before climbing on Blaze’s back. His stomach betrayed him by reminding him of the tasty frijoles and cornbread he had enjoyed at Leta Denning’s cabin.
He was a soldier, acquainted with hard food and even harder beds. He enjoyed a good meal when it came his way, but he wouldn’t mistake a pretty face and a full stomach for anything more than what it was … a distraction.
Leta spent every cent of her hard-earned willpower keeping a smile on her face as she and Ricky spent another day looking for the missing cattle. They hadn’t found a one so far. After two days of fruitless searching, perhaps she should give up the pursuit. If not for Ricky, she’d skip supper altogether. He was so tired, his horse ambled beside Leta, content to follow her mare home.
“We’ll be ho
me quicker than a rattlesnake’s rattle. Some good cold milk and water to drink. No more measuring it out of the canteen.” She prattled on, mentioning corn on the cob and fried okra and bread cooked in bacon grease, some of Ricky’s favorite foods.
Her son managed a small smile, but his eyes brightened and his hands tightened on the reins. “I’ll get there first.” He grinned and kicked his horse to move faster.
Glad to see him find some energy, Leta held back a tiny bit to let him win the race.
“And Andy’s home!” Ricky slid out of the saddle as slick as a sled on a snow-covered hill and ran to the barn. “Andy! It’s me, Ricky! We’re home.”
Leta wasn’t sure she recognized her brother when he came out. Grime was ground into every pore, and his waist overalls could have stood on their own if he took them off. He reeked of smoke and sweat and blood. What had he been up to?
Andy grinned at her as if he had just been gone since morning and not for several days. “I’ll be in, as soon as I clean up.” He headed for the pump.
Leta reheated beans from last night’s supper and fried a few slabs of bacon. Ricky wolfed down a bacon sandwich and a plate of beans, but was nodding over his food before Andy came in. He had scrubbed off some of the stench and changed into the waist overalls Leta had washed on Monday. He tousled Ricky’s hair and sat down before a full plate of beans. “I’m glad to have some of your good cooking.”
“I’ve been serving regular meals.” Leta bit her tongue in the effort to keep from grilling her brother about his whereabouts the last few days. “Not my fault if you’ve gone hungry.”
“I didn’t say it was.” He turned his attention to Ricky. “I saw some of the most interesting things you ever did see. There was this rattlesnake sunning himself on the rock.”
“That’s nothing.” Like any child raised on a ranch, Ricky had encountered rattlesnakes on more than one occasion.
“Oh, but this wasn’t any ordinary rattler. He wasn’t a proper rattlesnake at all. Just a common garter snake. He had tied a baby’s rattle to his tail to scare away the rabbits.”
Ricky shook his head. “You’re making fun of me. A snake can’t tie a string.”
“This snake did.” Andy winked his right eye at Leta. “He was scared of the rabbit. That rabbit had horns growing where his ears should have been.”
“Andy, stop those tall tales before you scare Ricky.” But Leta laughed, and so did Ricky.
“There’s no such things as rabbits with horns,” Ricky said.
“I’m serious. There was. Not horns exactly, but growths on top of his head that kind of looked like horns.”
“Andy—” Leta said.
“I’m telling the truth. About the rabbit at least.” He gave an exaggerated wink that made even Ricky laugh before he yawned.
“You’d better get on to bed, little man.”
“But I want to hear more of Uncle Andy’s stories.” A yawn swallowed the rest of Ricky’s protest.
“I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow. That way I get to tell my stories twice.” Andy pushed from the table. “I’ll get him settled, sis, give you a break. You look tired.”
Times like this, Derrick used to scoop their son into his arms and carry him to bed. Tonight Leta wouldn’t even get a kiss on the forehead. Ricky must have begged for a story, because Andy began, “There once was a preacher named Jonah …”
Leta shook her head. Whales were as imaginary to Ricky as Andy’s snake with a baby rattle and horned rabbit. Maybe she could find a copy of Moby Dick and introduce her son to the whales that sailors chased through the oceans. Did Jonah specify a whale or was that what her imagination conjured up? She pulled down her Bible and was reading the first chapter —a great fish, that was all Jonah said—when Andy joined her at the table.
She said, “It wasn’t a whale, you know.”
“What?”
“The fish that swallowed Jonah. It only says a big fish.” She closed her Bible and smiled. “But it’s a grand story. A true tale of adventure.”
“He asked for David and Goliath tomorrow night.”
“Will you be here?” Leta said.
“I think so.” He glanced away, avoiding her eyes.
“Promise me.”
“I’m not a child, Leta.” He slapped his hands on the table and looked at her.
Her heart twisted. He was still young in so many ways. She kept a rein on her anger—and fear. “As long as you live under my roof, you will treat me with respect, Andrew Warren. Either you live here, or you don’t. I’ve got to know I can depend on you or if I need to hire somebody else.”
“I heard about a chance to make some cash. It kept me away for a few extra days.” He dug into his pockets and slapped a few coins on the table.
“Well, why didn’t you say so in the first place? Next time, let me know before you take off. You must have a way to get a message back to me.”
The black look he gave her was unreadable, and she felt worried. “Don’t get yourself involved in anything dangerous.”
“I don’t plan on it.” Leta couldn’t get more of a commitment from him.
Andy’s whisper woke Leta in the morning. “Somebody’s outside.” He had a rifle in his hand. Leta peeked over the windowsill. Buck Morgan was talking to Ricky’s colt Shadow in the corral. The way he was speaking to the horse, running his hands along his neck, he looked the most relaxed Leta had ever seen him.
“It’s just that Ranger. Buck Morgan. He offered to break in Shadow.”
“The Ranger. I thought he looked familiar.” Andy drew his breath between his teeth, a hissing sound. “When did he get so friendly? Has he been back?”
If you’d been here, you would know. Leta didn’t voice the thought. “He’s been back once or twice. We can use his help.”
“Is that Ranger Buck?” Ricky poked his head around the curtain. “He’s working with Shadow!” He ran for the door.
“Clothes and breakfast first,” Leta said.
Ricky gave her a mutinous look and poked his head out the door. “I’ll be out soon!”
Buck waved. Ricky disappeared behind the curtain, and Leta pulled on her dressing gown before heading to the kitchen. She had nothing left from last night’s supper, since Andy had arrived unexpectedly and polished off any leftovers.
Ricky came in, his shirt buttoned in the wrong holes and hanging over the waistband of his trousers. His hair stuck out ten different ways. Leta fought the urge to laugh.
“Go get dressed proper.” By the time he returned, she had rolled out biscuits. When she inspected him, he had not only buttoned his shirt, but pulled on his square-toed boots. “Well done.” She handed him an apple. “I’ll call you and Ranger Morgan when breakfast is ready.”
“Here I am!” Ricky ran to the corral and climbed on the rails. Buck hadn’t done much except start the colt trotting around the corral. Andy appeared wearing the clean trousers he had changed into last night. “I’ll go watch.”
By the time she got food on the table, everyone would be ready for a good-sized breakfast. She fried bacon and broke eggs into the skillet, adding fresh cow’s milk, salt, and pepper. When it all finished cooking, she rang the bell before she slipped away to change into her day dress.
Andy and Ricky came inside, but she saw no sign of Buck. “Where is Mr. Morgan?”
“He said he already had breakfast.”
“Nonsense.” Leta went outside to the corral. “You must join us for breakfast. It’s the least I can do.”
Buck hid his face against Shadow’s neck, rubbing it gently, and gave no indication he had heard her.
She was about to repeat her request when he turned. “He’s ready for a break, so that’s good. I think he knows the worst part is ahead of him.” He matched his longer strides to her shorter ones. “While the boys aren’t about, I wanted to warn you there’s been more trouble. There was another murder yesterday.”
The pleasure Leta had been taking in the morning disappeared like a
smoke ring. “What? Where? Who?” “A man by the name of Wohrle.” “One of the Germans, then.” Buck glanced at her.
“Of course that’s terrible. It’s just … When they’re going after Germans, I don’t worry they’re after me and mine.”
Buck shrugged. “Maybe so. Have you heard anything out this way? Or maybe Andy picked up something wherever he’s been?”
Andy. They had arrived back at the cabin. “I haven’t heard anything. It’s good to have Andy home again…. I hope you like biscuits and bacon gravy, because we have plenty.” Buck didn’t say much, but ate steadily, polishing off as much as Andy and Ricky put together. Cooking for a grown man again did Leta’s heart good. Ricky was too excited to eat much. He rushed through a single plate of eggs and bacon and then sat, drumming his fingers on the table, watching every mouthful that went into Buck’s mouth.
Buck took his time eating the food, and drank the coffee in small sips. At last he stood and carried the dishes to the sink. “I expect Shadow is ready for us now.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
SAN ANTONIO DAILY HERALD
October 11, 1875
[He] says he has a list showing the names of the men he intends to kill.
As Ricky followed Buck out the door, Andy made to follow.
“Hold on a minute, Andy.” Leta poured fresh coffee into his cup and gave him the last biscuit. “While Buck’s breaking that colt with Ricky, I have some things I want to talk about with you.”
Andy sat, his expression guarded. Leta thought of the information she wanted to demand from her brother, but knew he wouldn’t tell her. She considered the benefits of an ultimatum: act right or get out. But she couldn’t do that, not after she promised Ma and Pa that Andy would always have a home with her.
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