Ranger's Trail

by Darlene Franklin

  Leta laughed, the first happy sound she had made in what felt like weeks. “If there is anything God has been teaching me lately, it’s that a person’s color or country of origin shouldn’t matter. I’m not going to tell God He sent me the wrong person. Welcome aboard, Mr. Lincoln.”

  Late that afternoon, Ricky ran into the cabin. “Ma! There’s strange men working in the field with Andy.”

  Leta laughed. If this continued, it would become a habit. The thought made her laugh again, and Ricky started giggling with her. They laced hands together and danced around in a circle. “All around the mulberry bush.” Ricky’s face lightened like the little boy he was.

  “I hired some men to work at the ranch.” That meant Andy would leave soon, but she’d worry about that when it happened. “Let’s have a party tonight. Today is a good day.”

  “I like parties.” Ricky smiled. “Will we have presents?”

  “No, but how about cake and fried chicken and corn on the cob instead?”

  “In the middle of the week?” Ricky’s eyes widened. “Hurrah!”

  Leta quizzed him on this week’s spelling words—some of the ones she had suggested to him last week, so she added a few new ones to challenge him. “You’re so good, I think you need to sit down with a dictionary and copy words.”

  Ricky’s nose wrinkled. “Ma.”

  Daylight had faded from the sky before the men came in from the fields.

  “Praise the Lord, we finished the first pasture.” Toby’s smile was as bright as the moon rising in the sky.

  “Mr. Lincoln, I know you said you didn’t require room and board, but I’d be proud if you would join us for dinner tonight.”

  Andy whistled when he saw the spread.

  The men spoke with a ready camaraderie. Any concerns Leta had about men with such different backgrounds disappeared. The cabin rang with laughter and deep male voices raised in song and tall tales. Ricky’s gaze darted among them, as if committing every detail to memory. It was good for him to be around more men.

  In spite of the male-laced conversation around the table, Leta found herself listening for one particular voice, one that had departed for distant places. Telling herself to forget about Buck didn’t work. He had come into her life and made an impression. Then he had abandoned her, as she had known he would. She had been a fool to let herself come to depend on him.

  But when she remembered his patience in training Shadow, his dedication in finding Ricky on the day he had run away, his rare smile … she knew she would do it all over again.

  Buck traversed the state for the second time in three weeks. Blaze ate up the miles, riding with speed and purpose as they covered the distance back to Mason.

  He traveled north from Nuevo Laredo to Cotulla, through towns where he heard as much Spanish as English. When he spotted the first half-timbered farmhouse, he knew he had reached the southern edge of the German settlements. Turn east, and he could reach his parents’ ranch in Victoria in a couple of days. But he kept Blaze’s nose faced forward and pressed on to Neu-Braunfels for nightfall. In this community, he could revel in his mother’s heritage. He allowed himself a small smile. The original German settlement in Texas, named after German nobleman Prince Carl Von Braunfels, offered food even better than his mother’s. He scheduled a stop whenever he could.

  After leaving Blaze in the livery, Buck sought his favorite restaurant. The waitress brought a plate covered with enough food for two men, and he ate every bite. Satisfied, full, and tired, he could have slept on rocky ground. On the soft feather mattress, he slipped into sleep.

  Desire to cover the miles to Mason, to once again see Leta’s face, drove Buck out of bed at an early hour. With a fond thought for breakfast sausage and soft-boiled eggs, kaffee kuchen, and fragrant bread fresh from the oven, he packed to leave. Rolls snagged the previous evening would have to suffice.

  Buck stopped by Austin, but learned that Major Jones had left for Mason County. Good. He wanted to make Jones aware of his decision as soon as possible. Swinging by their meeting place below Kirschberg Ridge, he was greeted by smoke swirling up through the mesquite trees.

  Major Jones sat without moving as horse and rider approached. Buck slowed down as he came closer, debating the explanation for Jones’s presence at their usual meeting place.

  Jones’s expression didn’t change, but Buck grinned as he slid from the horse. “You knew I’d come back.”

  “Not only that you would come back, but how long it would take for you to come to your senses.” Jones extended a hand. “Sit down and tell me about it.”

  Buck gave a detailed account of the raid on the Comancheros, down to the number of outlaws killed, wounded, and captured. “A couple of the men sustained minor wounds, but they succeeded in shutting down the thieves. This gang had been tormenting local farmers for some time.” Buck poured himself a cup of coffee and settled back. “I had almost forgotten what it was like to make a difference.” Staring at the major over his cup, he said, “What’s been happening in Mason?”

  Jones grimaced. “The good news is that that the court impounded Sheriff Clark for false imprisonment.”

  The look on Jones’s face told Buck that it hadn’t ended well. “But he slipped away.”

  “There’s more?”

  “Someone wrote to the governor and accused me of favoritism.”

  Buck shook his head. “I’ll testify to the steps you’ve taken to ensure an impartial Ranger force.”

  Jones looked mildly amused. “I can see to my own defense. But your support means a great deal to me. Now about your plans …”

  When Buck finished detailing his plans an hour later, a smile had returned to the major’s face. “Sounds like the Lord had a lot to say to you. God go with you, son.”

  Buck’s last doubts disappeared with the major’s words.

  “I’ve come to take you home.” Pa towered over Stella.

  “But Pa.” Stella scrambled to marshal her arguments against dragging her back to Victoria. Ever since Fred’s murder, she’d expected something like this. Pa probably thought she should have packed her bags and gone with Buck when he headed south.

  “I was helping. There’s been a lot of company.” She’d overheard ringleaders of the German mob discuss their response to the continuing atrocities, but her father didn’t need to know that. “Buck was ordered down south, and no one here could take me home.” Anger flashed through Stella, because Buck had broken his promise to delay writing to her parents.

  “I’ll have a few choice words for my son when I see him again, leaving you here, after he promised to protect you. It’s a good thing Georg sent me a letter.” Pa looked every bit as big and strong as Buck did—competent and dangerous. Barely under control. “Get packed. We’re leaving in the morning.”

  Tante Ertha burst into action. “Ach, no, Jud. Now that you are here, you must stay for a day or two at least. You must meet the little ones, and see how Georg has built up the ranch …” Her voice trailed off as Pa shook his head. “Please, Jud, we have not seen your family for so long. Please say you’ll stay until the day after tomorrow.”

  Stella watched as Tante Ertha’s words cooled down Pa’s anger like water, and she stifled a smile. She would have an extra day in Mason. Anything could happen in a day.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  If any complaint has been made to the Governor against me I should like to know the nature of it and by whom it was made, and I think I have a right to know in order that I may be able to vindicate myself.

  Letter from Major John B. Jones to

  Adjutant General William Steele,

  October 20, 1875

  Pa’s chuckle held a hint of the fiery anger he had arrived with, rueful and smoky. “Both of our families will never forgive me if I don’t come home with all the details. But I am worried about safety. What steps have you taken to protect yourselves from any further attacks? Can I take a shift of watch during the night?”

  Oh, Pa, you don’
t want to know what Henry has done. “But Pa, you don’t know the lay of the land.”

  He stared at Stella as if he had forgotten she was there. “I’ve got eyes in my head, and my aim is sure and steady.”

  Tante Ertha clucked. “You must speak with Georg about these things.”

  Onkel Georg refused Pa’s offer of help. “You must have left as soon as you received our letter, and ridden hard. Even with your marvelous Morgans, the ride must have been grueling. Rest tonight. Join us tomorrow night so you can report we are all safe. What happened to Fred was a most unfortunate accident. This … gang is seeking revenge for the death of Tim Williamson. Fred was not involved in any of that.”

  But you and Henry were. If only Buck would return. Stella wanted to give him a full report before she left for Victoria.

  Maybe she could get word to Buck another way. “Pa, how would you like to meet the men Buck is working with? They’re back in Mason.” Maybe she could see Steve Sampson again. The thought sent a shiver of pleasure down her arms.

  “You only want to delay going home as long as possible.” But Pa smiled as he said it. “Is Major Jones in the area?”

  “I’m afraid you’re out of luck. He’s on his way back to Austin.”

  Stella whirled around at the familiar voice. Buck draped his right arm around Stella’s shoulders and tugged her close. “Pa, what are you doing here?”

  Leta’s heart raced as she stared down the road where Buck had disappeared earlier that afternoon. His plan was breathtaking, risky, foolish—brilliant. She doubted it would solve all the problems in Mason County, but it might turns things around for the people who mattered most to the two of them.

  Toby would say God had given her another unexpected answer. She’d talk the details over with him, hoping he could shed some wisdom on the current situation.

  Four figures appeared on the horizon. She didn’t know how long Burnett would stay—probably not much longer. If Buck’s plan worked, Andy might stay. Even if he left, Toby and Bob could handle the lighter winter workload. Toby worked with the ease of someone with long experience, and Bob had youth and strength on his side.

  As the men came closer, Leta spotted Ricky between Andy and Toby. Since the first day, he had spent the hours after school with the men in the fields. Swinging his arms, he tried to match their swagger.

  Leta could imagine the conversation. Like herself, Ricky found the experience of meeting a former slave fascinating. He had endless questions, and Toby didn’t mind answering. “Why is your skin so dark? Are you a Yankee? Did you ever see Abraham Lincoln?”

  God had made all people—white and black, Anglo and German. They were all related, all the way back to Noah and Adam before that. The thought appealed to her. The warring factions in Mason wouldn’t appreciate the reminder that they were all members of the same human family.

  Only, like Cain and Abel, brother still killed brother. Mason County’s violence was almost as old as man’s first sin. It went right along with God giving them the freedom to choose. Every one of them, including herself, had chosen to sin.

  The fact there was sin didn’t make it any easier to live through. It wouldn’t bring back Derrick. But it also didn’t mean anyone else should die here and now.

  The men had arrived in the yard.

  “See you tomorrow.” Toby tipped his hat to Ricky and went to the corral to retrieve his horse.

  Leta stepped into the scraggly grass of the yard. “Toby, please wait. I have some business to discuss with you gentlemen after supper. Nothing special, just beans and cornbread.”

  “Good food and even better company.” He tipped his hat.

  “I’d be happy to oblige, ma’am. Nothing pressing back at my campsite.”

  “Wonderful.” Leta’s stomach fluttered, and she prayed for God’s wisdom to guide their conversation.

  If she had the food to spare, she would have prepared another Sunday-dinner type feast; but beans, cornbread, sweet tea, and a fresh peach pie with cream would have to suffice. When they finished the last bites, Toby stacked their plates. “You got something on your mind. I’ll clean up, and you start talking. I’ll be listening.”

  “Thank you.”

  Five pairs of eyes fastened on her, including Ricky’s. She wished Ricky could be somewhere else; but the plans they made tonight could endanger him. She risked danger in the hopes of achieving peace. If only life didn’t have to be so complicated.

  “Do you want me to take the boy outside, ma’am?” Toby waited before pouring hot water over the dishes.

  “No.” The word dragged out of her. “Not yet.” She shifted to the bench where Ricky sat, both elbows plunked down on the table, and pulled him close. “Promise me you’ll listen. I’ll answer any questions you have later.”

  Andy nodded, anxious brown eyes bobbing up and down, and she patted his hand for reassurance. “I expect you have all heard about the war waging across Mason County this past year.”

  Andy blinked and leaned forward. The three hired hands looked at each other.

  Leta swallowed. “My husband was one of the first victims, last summer. He was involved in the court case that got the community riled up.”

  “Them dirty Dutchmen, you mean.” Andy scowled.

  “Many of them were of German origin, yes. And so far, no one’s been arrested, let alone tried and brought to account for his death.”

  “Scott Cooley’s done a pretty good job taking care of that.” Andy’s words hung in the air.

  “Scott Cooley isn’t a lawman, though. It wasn’t his place. Although I understand his desire to see justice served. I felt—I feel—the same way.” She drew in a deep breath. “I’ve learned about the death of a young man, almost the same age as you, Andy. Fred Fletcher. He hadn’t done any wrong, any more than Derrick did. He got caught in the crossfire.”

  Andy’s scowl deepened, turning his face an ugly red. “His brother did.”

  Henry Fletcher. Tears formed in Leta’s eyes, but she blinked them away. She wished she had never identified the men who killed Derrick. Too many people had been hurt. Of the men she recognized, only Peter Jordan had been attacked—and escaped with little more than a scratch. “Do you think it was right to blame the lad for what his brother did?”

  “It’s like they say about Indians—they’re only good when they’re dead. Germans, leastwise here in Mason, will just keep multiplying trouble.” Andy’s jaw stuck out.

  “I think Miss Leta has some ideas how we can stop that. Let’s have a listen.” Toby swiped the dish towel over the last pan and joined them at the table.

  “Fred Fletcher was Buck Morgan’s cousin.” Leta waited, giving her words time to sink in. “The Fletchers had a hand in Derrick’s death. I’m not denying that.” She looked at each man, lingering when she stared at her brother. “But you were there when Fred Fletcher was killed.”

  Andy shot to his feet. “Who told you that?”

  “Buck saw you, Andy.”

  He groaned. “He’ll sic those Dutchmen on me for sure.” “No, he won’t.”

  “Why? Because he’s a Ranger?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” She frowned. “We had a long talk. What both of us want, more than justice or vengeance or whatever you want to call it, is peace between our families. We want to see you—and Henry—quit this path you’re on.”

  “It won’t happen.” Andy bared his teeth. “It’s gone too far. They hate us as much as we hate them.”

  “We have to try. I’ve invited the Fletchers to join us for dinner tomorrow. We’ll have a picnic here at the D-Bar-D. And if you care about me at all, Andy, you will attend, even if it’s the last thing you do before you leave.”

  “You can’t make me.” Andy stomped out the door.

  “Do you want me to go after him?” Bob asked.

  Leta shook her head. “He’ll either come back, or he won’t. I’ve finally realized Andy’s not my little brother anymore, but a man who will make his own choices.” She knelt dow
n and pulled Ricky into her arms. “Go ahead and get ready for bed. I’ll be there in a few minutes, and we can pray for your uncle Andy.”

  His sad brown eyes looked at her. “Are we safe, Ma?”

  “God is with us.” She hugged him again and gently pushed him behind the curtain. “I’ll come back in a few minutes.”

  Leta rejoined the men at the table. “The three of you also have a choice to make. I would welcome your presence at the picnic, but I’ll understand if you choose to stay away. This isn’t your fight. Especially you, Bob.”

  “I want peace as much as anybody. I don’t want to start out married life wondering if somebody will ride across our land and decide they don’t like our accents. Count me in.”

  “I’m always ready for a good fight.” Burnett touched the gun he kept belted to his waist.

  “This is supposed to be a peaceful gathering.” Leta wished she could demand everyone leave their guns at home, but most men of her acquaintance would feel naked without them.

  All of them looked at Toby. “You don’t have to ask. If you like I’ll stay close by. Just in case.”

  Leta prayed that the primary players in both families would come and be as ready as she was to see peace reign between them.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  I think a very excellent man for sheriff will be elected Mr. James Baird, at present the only candidate … With his election I look for a more orderly and law-abiding spirit to spring up and hope, but dare not say however, that peace will be restored.

  Letter from Henry Holmes to

  Governor Richard Coke, September 24, 1875

  You want what?” Henry glared at Buck. “Young Andy Warren was one of the ones who killed Fred. I recognized him.” Buck stood his ground. “It’s possible that someone in our family was involved with the death of Mrs. Denning’s husband last summer.”

  Henry squirmed under his cousin’s gaze.

  Pa whirled around, surprise evident in his face. “You? You were part of the group that took out Denning?”