A Ranger Redeemed (Lone Star Ranger Book 7)

by James J. Griffin

  “You make even so much as a twitch, cowboy,” he growled, “and I’ll blow this pretty lady’s head clean off.”

  Carl let his gun slide back into its holster, and raised his hands.

  “Y’all are doin’ just fine,” the leader said. “Now, my associates will pass through this car, and collect all your valuables. Any of you try’n hold somethin’ back, and you’ll be dead. Comprende?”

  He was answered with silence.

  “Good. Now, we’ll start passin’ the hat. Think of it as the collection plate in church.”

  ****

  In the first car, five men repeated the actions of their partners, standing up and pulling their guns. One of them grabbed an elderly, frail woman, pulled her out of her seat, and shoved his gun into her spine.

  “This is a holdup,” he announced. “Any of you try’n stop us, and this old lady will be blown to Kingdom Come. I mean it,” he snarled, when Hoot and Austin attempted to slip out their guns, without being noticed. “You two gonna try somethin’ stupid, or are you gonna die, along with this woman?”

  Hoot shook his head. He and Austin raised their hands shoulder high.

  “Now that’s bein’ smart,” the man said. “Brady, you go and stop this train.”

  The man called Brady nodded, and went out the front door of the coach. He stepped off the front platform and onto the tender. A minute later, he had climbed over the wood piled high in the car.

  He stood up, leveled his gun, took careful aim at the engineer’s back, and fired. Just as he did, the train lurched. His bullet missed, ricocheting wildly around the locomotive’s cabin before falling to the floor, spent.

  Nate jerked around, and attempted to pull his Smith and Wesson from his waistband, but the hammer caught on his shirt. He was helpless when Brady took another shot, this one catching Doaks squarely in the back. He was slammed against the firebox, then tumbled to the floor.

  Nate had freed his gun, and took a hasty shot. His bullet hit one of the chunks of wood, sending splinters into Brady’s leg. When Brady tried to return Nate’s shot, his gun misfired. He grabbed a piece of wood and threw it at Nate, catching him on the side of the head. Nate crumpled. Brady jumped from the tender into the engine’s cab. He kicked Nate aside, then shoved the throttle forward and pulled on the brake. The train rolled to a stop.

  While his partners took all the valuables the passengers carried, Brady uncoupled the locomotive and tender from the car. He then kicked Nate, and Doak’s body, from the engine’s cab. Once their work was done, the other men, with shots into the cars’ ceilings for emphasis, warned their victims to not even think about sticking their heads out of the windows or doors until they were out of sight. They crowded into the locomotive. Brady released the brake and pulled back on the throttle. Then engine chuffed into motion, quickly gathering speed. Only ten minutes had elapsed from when the robbery began until it was done, and the robbers had made good their escape.

  ****

  The minute the robbers had pulled away, Hoot raced to the front of the train, while the other Rangers checked on the passengers. He found Nate and Doaks lying alongside the track. Once glance told him the engineer was dead. Nate was lying stretched out on his belly. Hoot rolled him onto his back and shook him, gently at first, then more vigorously.

  “Nate. Nate!”

  Nate’s eyes flickered open.

  “Huh? Hoot? What happened?”

  “The train got robbed, that’s what happened. The engineer’s dead, drilled through his back. What about you?”

  “Lemme think.” Nate tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness overcame him.

  “Just take it easy, pard,” Hoot urged. “You’ve got quite a bump on your head. It’s bleedin’ pretty good, too.”

  “Oh, yeah. Now, I recollect,” Nate said. “Hombre on the tender took a shot at us. He missed, but when I tried to pull out my gun, it got stuck in my shirt. That’s when he shot the engineer. I managed to free my gun, and took a quick shot. It missed, but I think some splinters went into his leg. He tried for me again, but lucky for me it seems like his gun misfired. Before I could get off another shot, he threw a chunk of wood that must’ve caught me in the head, because that’s all I remember, until you woke me up just now.”

  Hoot took a quick look at Nate’s injury.

  “Seems to me you’ll be all right. You just got a nasty bump, that’s all.”

  “What about the other boys? And the passengers?” Nate asked.

  “Everybody’s all right. Eddy took a gun barrel over his head, but he’ll be okay,” Hoot answered.

  “Shouldn’t we be gettin’ after those men?”

  Hoot shook his head.

  “We can’t. They knew exactly what they we’re doin’. They took the engine, and this canyon is so narrow there’s not enough space to even get the horses out of the cattle car. The nearest town is Caddo. We’re gonna have to hoof it there.”

  “Mebbe we’ll get lucky,” Nate said. “They wouldn’t dare take the engine into town. We’ll probably find it along the tracks a couple miles ahead, where they had horses waitin’.”

  “Can you drive a train?” Hoot asked.

  “Now that you bring it up, no,” Nate answered.

  “Well, neither can I. But the conductor probably can. I’ll go get him.”

  “Hoot?”

  “Yeah, Nate?”

  “You reckon Lieutenant Jeb’s gonna be sore?”

  “I reckon,” Hoot answered. “We sure got caught nappin’ this time.”

  ****

  Nate, who had recovered sufficiently to move, Hoot, and Kevin Sullivan, the conductor, walked nearly a mile-and-a-half before they found the locomotive. They stopped short at their discovery. The robbers had apparently abandoned it, as Nate had predicted, but the last man must have set the throttle to full speed, then jumped while the engine was still moving slowly. It had derailed at the first curve, and was lying on its side, wrecked, smoke and steam still rising from the wreckage.

  “Those…” Sullivan said, cursing. “They made certain they couldn’t be followed.”

  “Nothin’ to do for it, except keep walkin’ until we get to Caddo, so you can find another engine to go pick up the cars,” Hoot said. “Let’s keep movin’.”

  ****

  Hoot’s conviction that Jeb would be “sore” when he found out his men had let the train robbers get away proved to be an understatement. The lieutenant tore them apart, up one side and down the other. And where he left off, Sergeant Carey picked up. Once the sergeant finished his tirade, Jeb picked it up again. He saved most of his ire for Hoot and Carl.

  “I still can’t believe you had those robbers right in your hands and let ’em slip away. Boy howdy, if that don’t beat all. Hoot and Carl, especially you two. Hoot, yeah, you’re still young, but Cap’n Dave made you a corporal for a reason, because you’re experienced, and supposed to be smart. Seems to me you just proved him wrong. You never spotted those hombres until it was too late.

  “And Carl, you were sleepin’. Sleepin’! That’s the one thing a Ranger is never supposed to do—fall asleep on the job. Yet, you were. Right?”

  “Right, Lieutenant,” Carl answered, his eyes downcast.

  “So five Rangers let a gang of outlaws rob a train and get away without so much as a scratch,” Jeb continued.

  “Beggin’ your pardon, Lieutenant, but Nate did wing one of ’em, or at least shot some splinters into his leg,” Hoot said. “And we did get a name. Brady.”

  “So he gave one of those hombres a little scratch,” Jeb answered. “That don’t mean nothin’, except that it seems to me Nate was the only one who was even tryin’ to do his job. But he couldn’t, not without help from his pardners. He didn’t have a chance, not single-handed. As far as the name, there’s probably ten thousand men named Brady in Texas. And at least that many who match the descriptions you gave me.”

  “But, Jeb—” Nate started to object.

  “Just keep shut, Nate,” Jeb
answered. “I don’t want to hear another word about this, not even from you. All of you, get outta my sight. I’ll decide what to do about this later. Dismissed.”

  Silently, having been thoroughly chastised, the men shuffled out of the marshal’s office. Carl, Austin, and Eddy walked across the street, to the Railroad Saloon. Nate and Hoot paused in front of the office.

  “You were right about Jeb bein’ sore, Hoot,” Nate said. “I’ve never seen him so angry.”

  “He had his mad up, all right,” Hoot answered, as he rolled a quirly. “I can’t really blame him. We messed up in a bad way. Like he and the sergeant both said, there’s no excuse for it. Well, nothin’ to be done for it now except wait and see what happens. Meantime, I’m plumb starved. You want to get a nice, thick steak, with spuds and beans to go with it?”

  “Yeah, but first I’m gonna head for the barber shop and take a long, hot bath,” Nate said. “I’ve got to get the coal dust outta my hide before I do anythin’ else.”

  “That’s not a bad idea,” Hoot said. “We’ll get baths, then eat.”

  They started up the street, heading for the barber’s.

  8

  A week later, the entire Ranger troop under Jeb Rollins’s command was in Fort Worth. Along with Harry Smith, they were meeting in a private room in the Fort Worth, Abilene, and Denver’s station.

  “Men,” Smith said, “You’ve all been brought here to Fort Worth for one very good reason. Jeb and George already know what that is. Tomorrow morning, the train which pulls out of Fort Worth at nine a.m. will be carrying a shipment of thirty thousand dollars for the banks in Abilene. There’s a lot of ranchers with payrolls overdue, because of the money lost in the last several holdups.

  “We’re certain this train will be a target for the same outfit that hit us last week. We’ve gone over witnesses’ accounts, and their descriptions of the suspects, from all the previous robberies. They seem to match, for the most part, the men who got away with the last holdup, right down to the number, nine men. I don’t need to tell you, they have to be stopped. Jeb—”

  “All twelve of us are gonna be on that train tomorrow, along with the detective, here,” Jeb continued. “I’d leave the five of you who let that bunch get away stay back here, on suspension, but I need every man available to stop that outfit. For once, we’re gonna have them outnumbered—unless, of course, they have more pardners we don’t know about.

  “Gentlemen, they will not escape from us again. I repeat, they will not escape from us again. If they do, every man here will turn in his resignation from the Rangers. Yes, that includes me. So, get more coffee if you need it, because it’s gonna be a long mornin’. Any questions before you do? Or does anyone want to resign right now?”

  He was answered with a shaking of heads and one question, from Eli.

  “Jeb, do you have any idea where they might strike?”

  “There’s several places, so we’ll have to be ready at all of ’em,” Jeb answered. “Most likely it’ll be somewhere in the Palo Pintos or the Caprock, where there’s lots of upgrades and curves where the train’ll have to slow down, and even a couple of tunnels. But they could surprise us, and hit us someplace totally unexpected. So we’ll have to be prepared for ’em, every mile of the way. Comprende? Good, then let’s go over our plans.”

  ****

  The morning train for Abilene consisted of the locomotive and tender, followed by an express car, three passenger cars, a flat car containing crates of supplies, along with rails and ties, and a boxcar for the Rangers’ horses, followed by a caboose. Harry Smith and Jeb were riding in the express car, along with two railroad guards. Carl and Eli were in the first passenger coach, Hoot and Eddy in the second, Gavin and Colin in the third. Austin and Caden were hidden behind the crates on the flat car. George and Sean were in the caboose, along with a brakeman.

  Nate, as he had been on the last train, was assigned as the fireman. He’d gotten used to the job, and Jeb figured, after Nate’s last confrontation with the holdup men, he wouldn’t be caught flat-footed a second time.

  With the hissing of steam, clanking of couplers, ringing of the bell, and a blast from the whistle, the train pulled out of the Fort Worth station, only ten minutes late. Once it cleared the yards, the engineer pulled back on the throttle, increasing its speed to a steady thirty miles per hour.

  The Rangers settled into their seats, appearing to be nothing more than ordinary passengers on their way west. However, under their pulled-low Stetsons, their eyes were constantly moving, scanning the passing countryside for any sign of trouble. Each and every man knew what failure on this mission would bring… dismissal from the Texas Rangers.

  ****

  Slightly over two hours later, the train pulled out of the small settlement of Palo Pinto, crossed the Palo Pinto Mountains, and then began its climb up the Caprock, the two-hundred-mile-long north-south escarpment that separated the high plains and Llano Estacado of north Texas from the lower lands to the south and east.

  Hoot was engaged in conversation with his seatmate, Father Theodore Vitali. Father Vitali told Hoot he was a Jesuit priest, a professor of philosophy at St. Louis University, and was known as Father Ted.

  The train was struggling up a long, curving grade when three men in their car pulled masks over their faces, stood up, and took their guns from their holsters. Two of them happened to be seated in front of Hoot and Father Vitali. One of the pair turned around and pressed the barrel of his six-sun directly against the priest’s forehead.

  “This is a holdup,” he announced. “I overheard this man say he’s a priest. Now, unless all you people want a dead padre on your hands, you’ll do exactly as we say.”

  Father Vitali drew back his foot, then kicked the robber solidly in his shin. The outlaw howled with pain, and fell backward. His gun fired, the bullet harmlessly punching a hole through the ceiling.

  The second man whirled, but before he could pull his trigger, Hoot yanked out his own gun and shot him through the belly. The man screamed, doubled over, and slumped to the floor.

  With the barrel of his gun, Hoot clubbed the still pain-crippled outlaw Father Vitali had kicked in the shin. With a moan, the man dropped into his seat, out cold. At the same time, Eddy put a bullet into the chest of the third outlaw, slamming him to his back.

  “Father, can you keep an eye on this hombre, just in case he comes to?” Hoot asked. “I’ve got to see if my pards need help.”

  “Go right ahead, Ranger,” Father Vitali answered. “Don’t worry about anything in this car. I’ve got your backs.”

  “I’m obliged, Father,” Hoot said. “Eddy, let’s go see if we can lend a hand.”

  “Right, Hoot.” He and Hoot raced for the next car, as gunfire sounded from it.

  Over the noise of the struggling locomotive, Nate heard the shots. He dropped threw one last chunk of wood into the firebox, told the engineer to keep the train moving as fast as possible, then turned and drew his Smith and Wesson.

  Despite his instincts urging him to climb over the wood piled in the tender and head for the express car, he waited, impatiently.

  A moment later, Brady, the same man who had commandeered the locomotive during the last robbery, appeared at the top of the woodpile.

  “Hold it right there, and drop that gun!” Nate ordered, shouting at the top of his lungs to be heard over the puffing engine and rattling cars.

  Brady ignored the order and fired a hasty shot, which went wide. Nate’s return bullet also missed. He and Brady fired again, at just about the same moment. Brady’s bullet ricocheted off the floor of the locomotive, then its roof, and fell to the floor, spent. His feet spread wide as he attempted to keep his balance, Brady looked in disbelief at the blood spreading over his shirt, just above his belt buckle. He struggled to raise his gun again.

  Nate put a second bullet into his gut. Brady jackknifed, and somersaulted off the tender. His body landed with a thump alongside the tracks, then rolled down an embankment. Wi
th more gunfire erupting from the cars, Nate clambered over the wood and climbed onto the roof of the express car.

  Ahead of him, he could see Carl Swan on top of the second coach, struggling with two men. Nate leveled his pistol, thumbed back the hammer, started to pull back the trigger, then eased off. With the rocking of the train, he didn’t dare fire. His bullet would be as likely to strike Carl as one of the outlaws.

  A sudden lurch of the train dropped Nate to his hands and knees. He dropped to his belly and began crawling toward Carl.

  Carl managed to shove one of his assailants off the train. With a scream, the man fell between the two coaches, to be run over by the following cars. When he did, that gave Nate, still flat on his stomach, the chance to shoot the second man in the back. He dropped to his face on the coach’s roof, his spine shattered by Nate’s bullet.

  Just as he did, a shot rang out from below. Carl clawed at his shoulder. He braced himself, grabbed the edge of the roof with one hand, then swung onto the coach’s rear platform.

  As the train rolled onto a trestle, Nate reached the edge of the car’s roof and peered over. He saw Carl struggling with two more outlaws, who were attempting to pull the pin from the coupler, to release the rearmost cars from the rest of the train.

  The steep upgrade put pressure from the cars on the pin, making it almost impossible to remove. Carl had gotten his gun out of its holster, and attempted to shoot one of the outlaws in the side. The man slammed his fist down on Carl’s wrist, knocking the gun out of his hand. It clattered off the platform and under the train. Carl pulled out his Bowie knife and shoved it between the outlaw’s ribs, who staggered, then fell. He bounced off the trestle, then, with a scream of terror, plummeted into a deep arroyo.

  The second outlaw shoved the barrel of his six-gun into Carl’s belly and pulled the trigger. Carl grunted, then yelled angrily. He wrapped his arms around his killer’s waist as he fell forward. Both men plunged into the arroyo.

  Several horsemen were waiting on the other side of the trestle, holding extra mounts. When the train, now starting downhill, rolled past them, its whistle blowing shrilly, they pulled out their rifles and galloped after it, firing wildly.