by Tony Masero
‘Come on, son, we have to get out of here now. You recognize any more of them outlaws amongst these dead?’
‘You’ve got a couple here but they ain’t all here,’ Tag allowed. ‘All them other people, they belong in town. They’re our neighbors.’
‘Probably the blast or the crossfire killed ‘em,’ Tarfay nodded. ‘We have to get this fire out before the whole town goes up.’
‘But what about the others?’ asked Tag. ‘The worst of them ain’t here.’
‘First things first, boy. We have to stop this fire from spreading. In this heat it’ll rip through the whole town.’
‘But they’ll get away.’
‘There’ll be another day.’
Whilst the Rangers and remaining townspeople put out the fire, Tarfay figured out what had happened. He strode along the line of dead laid out in the street and Tag followed behind him identifying and separating the locals from the outlaws.
‘Del Bannerman, was their horse-holder shot down in the street,’ said Tarfay. ‘The one killed inside I don’t recognize and that weasel there was Al Wengler, caught as he came running out. Four of them got away,’ Tarfay observed bitterly. ‘Scart Benjamin amongst them. Probably his close buddy, Jed Crome and two others. They busted their way through the adjoining houses, those empty buildings alongside the bank. Plank wood walls, easy enough to kick your way through. It was the adobe brick they had to blast away,’ He looked off at the low sun sending long purple shadows stretching across the prairie at the edge of town. ‘We won’t catch them in the dark.’
‘You going after them come first light?’ asked Tag.
Tarfay sighed and looked down at the persistent youngster. He liked the boy, he had shown determination and courage far beyond his years and despite their difference in age he felt comfortable in the company of the youngster. It was a unique experience for Tarfay, who did not make friends easily, especially with children.
‘What about you, boy? You got family hereabouts?’
‘My name’s Tag Donovan, Sergeant Tarfay and no, there ain’t nobody. My pa’s dead in the war and my ma’s gone too now. There’s only me and Eloise.’
‘What about here in town? Anybody here to take you in?’
Tag shook his head, ‘They’s mostly old folk here now, everybody else has left.’
Tarfay looked along the line of dead. ‘We’ll get these people buried, then I guess we’d best take you and your sister along to Ranger Headquarters, the major will sort something out for you.’
‘Can’t I come with you?’ Tag asked.
‘No, son. It’s going to be a rough ride tracking those villains down.’
‘I don’t mind. I want to see them catched.’
‘You’ll see them when we bring them in.’
‘You’d better,’ snapped Tag. ‘You don’t, I will.’
Tarfay snorted a laugh, ‘Ain’t you the little tiger,’ he exclaimed. ‘Why, I do believe you would too. You’ll need a few years on you yet though, Tag. Those men are a mean bunch.’
Tag said nothing but the tough outline of his face glowered with intent.
He had been six years old when his father had left to go fight for the Confederacy and had to grow up fast in the meantime. The dire aftermath of the Civil War had left its mark right across the State and the troubled times had not made it any easier for settlers. With the lack of protection allowed by a missing military presence whilst the fighting was going on, raiding parties of outlaws and Indians had been given free range. It was only now with the reinforcement of the Texas Rangers that some attempt was being made to restore order.
With the fire out and the burials made, Tarfay divided up his party, he had two men with minor flesh wounds and he decided to take them and the children back to the headquarters at Rio Charro whilst the rest of his men set off after Scart Benjamin. His intention being to join up with them once the children were settled.
In the last of the daylight, the two wounded men and Eloise were placed in Ellie’s buckboard whilst Tag sat astride one of the mule’s pulling the wagon, Cornpone kept the reins and Tarfay rode alongside, his rifle couched on his thigh.
‘You been doing this a long while, Sergeant?’ asked Tag as they headed due south along the old cattle trail. ‘You being a Ranger?’
‘A few years,’ Tarfay allowed.
‘How come you talk funny like that. You are American ain’t you?’
Tarfay was not looking at Tag; his eyes roved the darkening horizon ever watchful for danger.
‘Sure, I am though my people were French at one time. They still speak the language and you can hear it in my voice.’
‘Uhuh,’ Tag nodded. ‘That French-land, where is that?’
‘You don’t know where France is?’ Tarfay looked across quickly at Tag.
‘No sir, I never heard of it.’
Tarfay shook his head. ‘I can see you have little education then. France is a country across the sea in Europe.’
‘Like an island, is it?’
Tarfay snorted a laugh, ‘It is definitely not an island. It is a big country.’
‘Bet it’s not bigger than Texas,’ smiled Tag proudly.
‘Maybe not but it’s a lot greener.’
‘You’ve been there, across the sea?’
‘Never. No, I only know from my people how it is.’
For a moment Tag left his confident self behind and studied the mule’s mane beneath his hand. ‘You know, sir,’ he said. ‘I’m obliged to you for what you’re doing for me and my sister.’
Tarfay watched the embarrassed boy from the corner of his eye. ‘That’s all right, Tag. You are a good boy, I think one day you will be a fine man.’
Tag wrinkled his nose, ‘You think so? I guess I’d like to be a Ranger just like you.’
Tarfay shrugged, ‘Who knows, first you must learn many things though.’
‘Like what?’
‘Like where France is for a start.’
Tag barked a laugh, ‘Show me a map and I’ll tell you.’
‘There are more ways than a map to find your way around.’ Tarfay meant it as more of a philosophical answer but the ever-practical Tag saw it differently.
‘Show me then,’ he said.
Tarfay turned his attention to the boy and cocked his head to one side, ‘Alright then, have you been looking at the trail?’
Tag pouted, ‘No, should I?’
‘Have you seen the animal tracks crossing our path?’
Tag shook his head.
‘Pay attention to them, they may get you your supper sometime. Also those there are Indian ponies,’ he waved the rifle barrel at a churn in the dust crossing their path ahead.
‘Indians?’ asked Tag, looking around warily.
‘Not to worry,’ smiled Tarfay. ‘They are old, maybe two days ago. Seven Indians rode past here. See how the wind has moved down the sides and there’s coyote tracks crossing it.’
Tag is impressed, ‘How do you know all those things?’
‘They have stopped here and fed the ponies some grain; you see the scattering of Indian corn and the moccasin prints. The way the hoof prints are worn down by wind shows they have been here a while back but not too long ago. That’s are some of the things you need to know to become a Ranger, Tag.’
Tag nodded, studying the ground closely as they rode past.
‘You bringing the boy on, Bayou?’ joked Cornpone from the buckboard seat. ‘He want to get hisself a gold star?’
Tarfay shrugged, ‘He wants to know.’ Suddenly he pulled up his pony, his eyes fixed intently on the road ahead.
‘What is it?’ asked Cornpone, dragging on the reins.
Without answering, Tarfay dug in the heels and rode off fast.
‘Where’s he going?’ asked Tag, twisting on the mule’s back to look over at Cornpone.
‘I ain’t sure,’ said the Ranger. ‘He’s spotted something. Best be watchful.’
Cornpone drew up the rifle he kept in the well of
the seat and placed it across his lap. ‘You boys back there,’ he said to the two wounded men in the wagon bed. ‘Keep your eyes open and watch over that little girl.’
‘Tag, what is it?’ called Eloise from the bed of the buckboard.
‘Don’t know yet, sis. We’re waiting on Sergeant Tarfay.’
‘Come on back here, boy,’ ordered Cornpone. ‘You get up alongside me now.’
With one eye on the distant figure of Tarfay, Tag slid from the mule and made his way back to the driving seat.
‘He’s a good Ranger, ain’t he?’ Tag asked Cornpone as they both sat squinting at the figure in the distant gloom.
‘One of the best,’ Cornpone allowed. ‘He’s a standup man you can count on.’
‘You known him long, Mister Cornpone?’
‘Long enough. Look here, he’s coming back.’
‘Lot of Indian,’ said Tarfay, pulling up alongside. ‘They’re heading west. It’s a big raiding party. Looks like they mean business too. Maybe some Comanche or Lipan Apache, I ain’t sure.’
‘Hell!’ spat Cornpone. ‘We in trouble, you think?’
‘Not yet, my guess is they’re going after bigger fish. We’d best be careful though, set up here for the night. I’ll ride out and scout around. Can you shoot a gun, Tag?’
‘I can,’ Tag affirmed. ‘Back home I got me a .22 I can shoot real good with.’
‘He can that, Mister Tarfay,’ piped up Eloise. ‘He get us plenty of jack rabbit for the table.’
Tarfay studied the boy a moment, then handed across his rifle. ‘This ain’t a .22; it’s got more of a kick and more of a bite. Use it if you have to.’
Tag swelled with pride and took the weapon reverentially, ‘I surely will, Sergeant.’
Tarfay pulled his pony around and rode off into the setting sun.
Cornpone shook his head and grinned at Tag, ‘He sure likes you, I never seen him do a thing like that before.’
‘That’s fine,’ Tag said, patting the rifle affectionately. ‘It’s real fine.’
Chapter Three
‘I don’t know what to tell you, Sergeant,’ said Major Tolomey. Being a man more akin to action, he was away from the desk he hated and standing with his hands clasped behind his back as he stared out through an open alcove that looked onto the plaza outside the Ranger Headquarters. Tolomey was not focused on anything out there though; his mind was elsewhere and far away.
‘Farms along the 98th meridian are failing; the crops are withering in the ground. And beyond that, a hundred and thirty miles of cattle frontier and that’s a war zone, we only have one Ranger for every square mile of settled country. On the ground the Indians hold more than half of the State and it’s a constant battle,’ he sighed. ‘We just don’t have the manpower.’
Tolomey was a robust person of the old school, he had been around when Texas had been a Republic twenty-five years before and had held leadership for a long hard time since fighting with Terry’s Texas Rangers during the war.
‘It’s damned tough, Bayou but I want to see us make something of this country. The government ain’t about to help, they been asked often enough. It’s down to us.’
Tarfay nodded, he knew of the attempts that had been made to get the politicians in Washington to help out but so far nothing had been forthcoming. He reckoned they had more pressing matters to attend to bringing the country into some kind of recovery after the lingering effects of the war.
‘You know of the Indian raiding party I saw sign of up there by Tamaloosa?’
Tolomey nodded, ‘I’ve had report. We’ve got two bands of Mexican rustlers on the prowl as well. Tell the truth I can’t afford your patrol chasing down some pesky bank robber right now, I need you and your boys back here.’
‘We almost had him, Major.’
Tolomey shook his head, ‘But he’s in the wind Bayou, could take months to catch him now. And about these kids you brought in. What do you intend to do with them?’
‘I was hoping you could find somewhere for them.’
‘Me! Are you kidding? There’s all hell breaking out right now, I don’t have time for it. Look, find them a place in a convent or somewhere. One of the churches will help out, I’m sure.’
Tarfay could see the man was stressed. He was a burly figure and normally a man of an unhurried and steady disposition but his red face glowed even more than usual and the white fringe of his sideburns frothed as if fevered.
‘I’ll see what I can do, sir,’ said Tarfay.
It was cool within the thick adobe arches of the Ranger Headquarters at Rio Charro and Tarfay enjoyed the quiet calm after the heat of the desert. It was strangely quiet here though, almost monastic he noticed and realized that there was no more than a skeleton staff at the Headquarters and guessed that every available man was out policing the borders.
He had certainly never seen the Major in such disarray before.
‘Give your men a week and if they haven’t come up with anything by then have them back here. Those damned hostiles will be raising havoc along the line and we need some bodies on the ground out there.’
‘As you say, sir,’ agreed Tarfay, giving a casual salute. ‘I’ll go get those kids settled in somewhere in the meantime.’
In the plaza outside, Cornpone was waiting for him.
‘The two wounded men are in the hospital,’ he told Tarfay. ‘You got the kids a place to go?’
Tarfay shook his head. ‘Damn it, no. Major says I have to sort it out.’
‘So what do we do with them?’
‘I guess I’ll take them out to my place in the meantime, they can stay with Mama Bass until we arrange something better. We get them there then we’ll ride on and fetch the other fellows back. Major says he can’t spare us, we got too much going on here to chase down Scart Benjamin.’
Cornpone nodded, ‘Makes sense. Shame about Scart though.’
‘His day will come. Let’s go get the kids and ride.’
They mounted the two children up behind them on their ponies, Tag with Tarfay and Eloise with Cornpone and headed out.
‘Where we going?’ Tag asked, his arms firmly wrapped around Tarfay’s waist.
‘I gotta take you out to my place temporary. We’ve got an emergency going on right now and later when things quieten down we’ll find you somewhere more permanent.’
‘Where is your place?’
‘Well, it ain’t much. Just a small ranch about forty mile down the road, we’ll be there by noon. I run a few head of cattle. Not many, no more than fifty head. Mama Bass keeps the house and Delgado watches the herd and busts mustangs when he’s got the time.’
‘We ain’t got no clothes or nothing,’ Tag complained.
‘I know it, if I swing by your place at Tamaloosa on the way back down I’ll pick something up for you and your sister.’
‘You’ll bring me some dresses, won’t you Mister Tarfay?’ Eloise called across as she had been listening to their conversation with a sharp ear.
‘Sure I will,’ promised Tarfay.
‘I got a right nice green one I’d like, if you can.’
‘I’ll remember.’
Tarfay’s homestead was set in a dip between two round-topped hills. Besides the main building there was a barn, an outhouse, chicken coop and a corral with four mustangs inside. The house was fronted by a deep porch and covered by a sloping roof, a large, throne-like rocking chair sat to one side. The building was a low wooden structure with small shuttered windows, a sod roof and a stone built chimney. Water came from a small creek that ran down between the hills from the sloping highland to the northwest.
‘This is it,’ said Tarfay as he guided his pony down the slope.
‘We going to be here long?’ asked Tag.
‘Can’t rightly say, young ‘un. Be as long as it takes.’
‘What’re we going to do whilst we wait?’
‘Well, I guess you can help out around the place. Mama Bass will tell you what to do.’
&nbs
p; ‘Who is she? She your wife?’
‘Lord, no. She a Mexican lady and Delgado, he’s…. well, he’s kinda like her husband.’
‘You mean they ain’t married?’
‘Well, I guess it ain’t strictly legal but they been together a while.’
They pulled up outside the house and Tarfay called out loudly, ‘Hello, the house! Are you lazy good-for-nothings around or you all gone fishing?’
There were rustling and bumping noises from the interior and eventually the largest woman Tag had ever seen bustled onto the porch.
She was huge and she was ugly. Under a short, and unevenly cut crop of black hair her flat impassive Indian features watched their approach with slanted dark eyes that showed no expression. She wore a simple stained calico dress over her bulk. It hung like a sack to her knees and bulged over the roundness of her belly to be hiked up by the protruding paunch and expose monstrous hairless legs. She stood simply with hands hanging down by her side and bare feet planted firm and wide on the porch.
‘This here is Mama Bass,’ Tarfay introduced. ‘Mama you’re going to care for these kids for a spell. They lost their Ma recent.’
Mama Bass nodded, a short sharp jerk of her head that shook the pockmarked fat around her jowls.
‘Where’s Delgado?’ Tarfay asked, swinging a leg forward and dropping from the saddle. He reached up to help Tag down but the boy had already shunted himself over the pony’s rump and was on the ground.
Mama Bass said nothing but inclined her head in the direction of the house interior.
‘What you two been up to?’ leered a grinning Cornpone suspiciously, his eyes holding a knowing look as he helped Eloise down.
The only answer Mama Bass made was to tug down the sides of her sack-like dress between chubby forefinger and thumb.
‘She don’t say much,’ Tarfay explained unnecessarily.
There was the clump of boots and a small bow-legged Mexican man, who barely reached up to Mama Bass’s shoulder, hurried out fastening the belt buckle on his pants.
‘Senor Tarfay,’ he acknowledged breathlessly. ‘Senor Cornpone, buenos dias.’