“Cody, if I’m pryin’ just say so, but do you really want to be a cabinetmaker and carpenter?”
“No,” Cody answered, without hesitation. “Uncle Stan and Aunt Anna were real kind to ask me down here after my folks died, and I appreciate what they’ve done for me. But my uncle’s already figured out I’m not cut out for woodworking. He hasn’t come out and said so, but he wouldn’t be upset if I found another line of work.”
“Would you consider joinin’ the Rangers?” Jim asked. “We’re waitin’ for funding right now, so I can’t say for certain we’ll be lookin’ for more recruits, but if you think you’d be interested, I can let you talk with Captain Trumbull. If he feels you might make a lawman, you’d be in line once we were ready to sign up new men.”
“Jim, you read my mind,” Cody responded. “I was trying to think of a way to ask you about becoming a Ranger. I’d like to try my hand at a lawman’s job.”
“It’s not an easy life,” Jim warned. “You’ll be on the trail for weeks or months at a time, facin’ white outlaws, Mexican raiders, and renegade Indians, all of who’ll be just itchin’ to put a bullet in your back. The pay ain’t
much, thirty a month and found, when the state gets around to payin’ you at all.”
“Found?”
“Grub. Food.” “Oh.”
“You’ve got to provide your own guns, supplies, saddle, and a horse worth at least a hundred dollars. Sounds like the horse won’t be a problem for you. The state’ll reimburse you if your horse gets killed or crippled in the line of duty. Texas will also supply your ammunition, but that’s it. Otherwise, you’ll be on your own. If you think you’re loco enough to want to try your hand at bein’ a Ranger, we can ride up to Austin and meet with the captain.”
“I’ve got one question,” Cody replied.
“What’s that?”
“How soon can we leave?”
“Day after tomorrow. But boy, is Julia gonna be sore at me,” Jim laughed. “She plans on doin’ her darndest to get you and Sarah Wysocki hitched.”
“I’m not ready for that yet,” Cody answered. “But when the time comes, I sure would be interested in a woman like Sarah.”
“You could do far worse,” Jim agreed. “Well, let’s get back to the house. C’mon, Charlie. You can play with Ted later. Here’s his candy.”
“Sure, Dad.” Charlie slid from Ted’s back and ducked under the fence. He gave Ted the peppermint, then patted his nose. Ted nuzzled the boy’s chest and nickered.
“Cody, you won’t want to let on to Julia quite yet that you’re considerin’ joining the Rangers,” Jim chuckled. “You might not get the rest of those cookies if you do.”
2
“Well, here we are. Ready to meet Captain Trumbull?” Jim asked.
“Sure am,” Cody answered.
After a three day ride from Bandera, they had arrived in Austin, and were tying their horses to the rail in front of Ranger Headquarters. Jim had spent the trip observing how Cody handled a long horseback journey. The New Englander had held up well, taking the long days in the saddle without complaining. Cody was also a good judge of horseflesh. If pressed, Jim would have to admit Cody’s horse was every bit as good as his own Sam.
“Then let’s go.”
The two men headed inside. With funding for the Rangers having run out, there was no one at Headquarters, save a lone clerk and Captain Hank Trumbull. Jim led Cody straight to Trumbull’s office. The captain looked up in surprise when Jim entered.
“Jim! What’re you doin’ here? We haven’t had any word from the Capitol yet on releasing our funds before the beginning of the month.”
“I figured as much,” Jim replied, shaking Trumbull’s hand. “Those politicians always dawdle when it comes to money for the Rangers. Nope, I’m here for another reason. I’d like you to meet Cody Havlicek. Cody, this is Captain Hank Trumbull. He’s the meanest hombre and toughest man you’d ever ride with. And every one of us Rangers’d follow him to the devil and back.”
Cody took Trumbull’s hand with a firm grip.
“Pleased to meet you, Captain.”
“Same here, Cody.”
“Cap’n, Cody would like to join the Rangers, if you get the authority to take on some new men,” Jim explained.
“You would, son?”
“Yessir, Captain Trumbull.”
“Fine. Let’s talk about that for a bit. You want some coffee?”
“I wouldn’t mind some,” Cody admitted.
“Good.” Trumbull poured three cups of coffee from the battered pot he always kept hot on the corner stove. He handed one each to Jim and Cody, then settled behind his scarred desk.
“You want a smoke?” he asked Cody, knowing that Jim never used tobacco nor drank liquor.
“No thank you, Captain. Never got in the habit,” Cody answered.
“All right.” Trumbull’s frosty blue eyes studied Cody while he rolled a quirly, then lit up.
“Where are you from, Cody?” was his first question.
“Keene.”
“Keene? You mean that town up by Fort Worth?”
“Not exactly. Keene, New Hampshire. Close by Vermont and Massachusetts.”
“Ah. That explains the accent,” Trumbull grunted. “How’d you land in Texas? And what makes you think you want to be a Texas Ranger?”
“The only kin I have left are my aunt and uncle, in Bandera,” Cody answered. “I came down here to learn carpentry from my uncle, but it’s not for me. Jim here suggested I might try my hand at Rangerin’. The thought had already crossed my mind, so when Jim said he’d see what he could do, I jumped at the chance.”
“I see.” Trumbull blew a ring of smoke toward the ceiling.
“Can you shoot?”
“I’ve done some huntin’.”
“Fight? With fists and knife?”
“A bit with my hands. Never tried with a knife,” Cody admitted.
“Ride?”
“Yes, pretty well.”
“Cody, don’t be so modest,” Jim interrupted. “Cap’n, he can ride darn near as well as me. ‘Course, we had to get him a good stock saddle before we left Bandera. And he’s got a real good horse.”
“A good horse. Figures you’d see that as qualifyin’ a man for the Rangers, Lieutenant,” Trumbull snorted.
“But havin’ a decent horse is one of the requirements, Cap’n,” Jim protested. “And Cody’s is a fine animal. He even has the same temperament as Sam.”
“Just what the Rangers need. Two cayuses like yours,” Trumbull retorted. He turned his attention back to Cody.
“What other qualifications do you have?”
“Just that I’m willin’ to try real hard to learn everything I need to know to be a good lawman,” Cody answered.
“Cody’s also my distant cousin,” Jim answered. “So we share the same blood.”
“Your cousin?” Trumbull echoed.
“Yep. Distant cousin. One of those fourth cousin three times removed deals. Somethin’ like that,” Jim answered. “Cody’s aunt can explain it better’n me.”
“Jim Blawcyzk’s cousin. With a horse like his. Lord help me…and the Texas Rangers,” Trumbull groaned.
“Cap’n, we’ve got at least two weeks before the money for the Rangers will be reinstated,” Jim continued. “I can use that time to teach Cody almost everythin’ he’ll need to know about Rangerin’. Once you get the go-ahead to recruit more men, he’ll be ready.”
“You can teach him all you want, Jim, but if Cody doesn’t have the instincts of a lawman he won’t last a month before he gets a knife in his guts or a bullet in his back,” Trumbull objected.
“I’ll know about that by the time I’m finished workin’ with him,” Jim replied. “If Cody doesn’t have the makin’s of a Ranger, I’ll be the first to say so. I�
��m sure not gonna chance any of my pards’ lives on a man who can’t cut it. Bet a hat on that.”
“I’m certain of that,” Trumbull responded. “But let’s leave that up to your cousin.”
“How about you?” he continued to Cody. “Did Jim explain exactly how tough a Ranger’s life is?”
“He did,” Cody answered.
“And you think you can handle it?”
“I’m sure of that.”
“Cap’n, you can never be certain a man will make a Ranger until you give him a try,” Jim broke in.
“I know that,” Trumbull answered.
“Captain Trumbull, if you’ll give me the opportunity to prove myself, I promise I won’t let you down,” Cody stated.
Trumbull studied Cody for a moment, liking what he saw. The young man’s eyes never blinked, his expression never flinched under the Captain’s icy gaze.
“All right,” he decided. “I’m not makin’ any promises, but if the state grants me the funds I need, and Jim says you’ll make a Ranger, then we’ll give you a try. Is that fair enough?”
“That’s all I ask, Captain,” Cody replied, a grin spreading from ear to ear.
“Cody’ll be a man to ride the river with. You’ll see, Cap’n,” Jim said.
“I believe you’re right, Jim,” Trumbull answered. “Now, how about we head over to the Silver Star for some drinks? On me.”
“As long as it’s sarsaparilla,” Cody answered.
“You too?” Trumbull questioned. “Jim won’t touch alcohol, either. Next thing you’ll be tellin’ me you also don’t cuss.”
“That’s right,” Cody answered.
“Let me guess. You go to church every Sunday.”
“Never miss Mass if I can help it.”
Trumbull shook his head.
“Two of you. Both left-handed. And even your looks are similar. Dunno if Texas is ready for that.”
“Reckon we’ll find out, Cap’n,” Jim grinned.
“I reckon we will. But I know one thing for certain.”
“What’s that, Captain?” Cody asked.
“Now I really need that drink. Let’s get to the saloon.”
^^^^^^^^^^^^^
“All right, Cody. Time to find out how well you can shoot.”
Jim and Cody were at the far end of the pasture behind Jim’s horse corral, where Jim had set up a series of targets.
“Try for the center of that board nailed to the cottonwood stump,” Jim ordered.
“Sure.”
Cody lifted the new Colt pistol from the holster on his left hip, leveled it, thumbed back the hammer,
squeezed the trigger, and fired. His shot hit four inches to the right of the board’s center.
“How’s that, Jim?”
“Not bad. But nowhere near good enough for the Rangers,” Jim answered. “You’re gonna need a lot of practice. And that’s just aimin’ at a steady target. Once you’ve got that down, then I’ll have you shootin’ at movin’ targets, rocks tossed in the air, things like that. Finally, I’ll teach you how to get your gun out of your holster, fast. However, that’s the last thing you need to know. It doesn’t matter how fast you are if you can’t shoot straight. You’ll be the one lyin’ dead, with a bullet in your belly. The man who wins a gunfight is usually the one who takes that extra split second to aim carefully. Now try again. Put the five bullets left in your gun into that target.”
“All right.”
Cody triggered five more shots. All five hit the target. Three of them were within an inch of the board’s middle.
“That’s a heckuva lot better,” Jim praised. “Now reload. We’ll try for those bottles next. I’ll go first.”
Jim had set up a row of twelve bottles on the fence’s top rail. He drew and fired. In quick succession, six of the bottles were shattered by Jim’s bullets.
“Wow!” Cody exclaimed.
“Don’t be impressed. Just see what you can do,” Jim ordered.
“Okay.”
Cody took aim at the remaining bottles. When he had emptied his gun, only one remained standing.
“Well?” he smiled.
“Real good shootin’,” Jim praised. “But that one bottle still up there could be the hombre who plugs you. I’ll set up more targets and you’ll try that again. This time see if you can get all six. And don’t forget, take your time.”
Jim set up six more bottles. As soon as they were in place, Cody drew and fired. This time, he hit four of the six.
“You’re rushin’ your shots, and tryin’ too hard,” Jim told him. “You want to squeeze the trigger, not jerk it. Reload. You’re gonna try again.”
^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Jim spent the next week training Cody in the skills needed by a Texas Ranger. Through all the lessons, he kept reminding Cody that, while he would have to be proficient with fists, gun, and knife, his most important weapon as a Ranger would be his brain. No matter how good a Ranger was with Colt and Winchester, he needed
to be able to think on his feet, and keep his wits about him at all times.
“Cody, you’ve gotten about as good as you can with a gun,” Jim stated as they finished another session. “You’re pretty fast on the draw, too. I can’t help you much more. All you need is more practice, and you don’t need my help for that.”
“I appreciate all you’ve done for me,” Cody replied.
“You’re a quick learner,” Jim answered. “You also handle a knife well. What I think needs more work is your fist-fightin’ ability. I don’t believe you’re quite ready for a down and dirty saloon brawl. Let’s work on that.”
“All right,” Cody agreed.
They peeled off their shirts and shucked their gunbelts, hanging them from a fencepost. As they turned to face each other, Jim launched a punch at Cody’s jaw. Cody ducked under the punch and slugged him hard in the belly. Jim jackknifed. Cody’s following blow took Jim on the point of his chin, knocking him flat on his back. Before Jim could react, Cody put his bootheel into the pit of his stomach. Jim lay there for a moment, stunned, then propped himself up on his elbows. He shook his head, attempting to clear the cobwebs. Cody stood over him, grinning.
“How’s that, Jim? Am I ready for the Rangers?” he asked.
Jim rubbed his jaw.
“I reckon,” he admitted. “You pack quite a punch, Cody. Now, how about lettin’ me up?”
“All right.”
Cody lifted his foot from Jim’s stomach.
Jim slowly came to his feet, then lunged at Cody, slamming a fist into his middle. Cody doubled over, grunting with pain.
“You got careless,” Jim said. “Imagine if I’d pulled a knife when you relaxed. I’d’ve gutted you, Cody. If I’d been some renegade you were after, you’d be dead. Bet a hat on it.”
“I guess you’re right,” Cody gasped.
“It’s one more lesson,” Jim answered. “Never let your guard down. I learned that the hard way. I’d rather you didn’t.”
Cody rubbed the sore spot on his belly where Jim’s fist had connected.
“I don’t think I’ll forget,” he answered.
“Good,” Jim replied. “What now? More practice, or you want to rest a spell and get some cold water?”
“I’d rather the water, but I guess you’re right. I need the practice more,” Cody conceded.
“I was hopin’ you’d say that,” Jim approved. “Let’s go.”
The two men squared off again.
3
Julia looked up from her reading, enjoying the sound of rain hitting the roof. This storm was not a typical midsummer Texas gullywasher, which hit quickly and violently, most of its water running off, but a good rancher’s rain, a steady rain which would last for a day or so, sinking deep into the earth. After the recent dry spell, it was just what ever
y farmer and rancher had been praying for.
The rain had kept Jim inside all morning, which he’d spent roughhousing with Charlie. Julia’s reading had been interrupted more than once by the sound of shouting and laughter as Charlie and his dad wrestled and chased each other around Charlie’s room. Jim would groan in mock pain when Charlie bounced up and down on his stomach. Charlie’s giggles became almost hysterical when Jim caught him, pretending to be a “belly monster” who would chomp out Charlie’s guts. The boy loved that silly game. The noise of her husband and son playing brought Julia great contentment. All too soon, she knew, the Rangers would have orders for Jim. He would hit the trail once again, Julia not knowing when, or even if, he would return. Still, Julia could never love another man the way
she loved her wandering Ranger. His long absences only made their time together that much sweeter.
Julia soon realized the sound of the raindrops and gentle breeze had become so much clearer because of the silence now emanating from Charlie’s room. For the past several minutes she had not heard a sound, except that of the rain.
I’d better see what those two are doing, she thought. When they’re this quiet, it usually means they’re up to no good.
Julia set aside her book and went to Charlie’s bedroom, following a trail of discarded boots, socks, and finally shirts. She found Jim and Charlie sleeping. Charlie was snuggled against his dad’s side, his head resting on Jim’s chest. Jim had one arm wrapped protectively around his son.
I guess they finally wore each other out. I’ll just let them sleep.
Julia stood in the doorway for quite some time, quietly watching Jim and Charlie while they napped.
If I could stop time, I’d do it right now, she mused. Her reverie was broken by the sound of an approaching horse and rider. Jim stirred at the hoofbeats. He sat up on the edge of the bed.
“Reckon I fell asleep. Someone comin’?” he whispered, not wanting to awaken Charlie.
“Yes, there is,” Julia answered.
“Best see who it is.” Jim padded barefoot across the floor, retrieved his Winchester from its rack in the kitchen, and opened the door. Todd Jensen, the young clerk from the Western Union office, was just tying his bay mare to the rail.
The Faith and the Rangers Page 6