“I reckon you’ve seen enough,” Blevins said, sarcasm touching his voice.
“You reckon wrong,” said Bean. “One more.” He swung the Winchester’s deadly snout toward Walker.
There was no change in Bean’s expression when Walker produced the badge. Again he turned to Blevins with a question.
“Jist where was you bound when the Comanches clipped yer wings? Fer sure you wasn’t goin’ to Corpus Christi, an’ now yer ready to pay to go there.”
“None of your damn business where we were bound,” Blevins snarled. “You said you’re going to Corpus Christi. We’re going there because it’s the nearest place we can buy horses and pack mules. Are you satisfied?”
“No,” said Bean, “I ain’t. I take you to Corpus Cristi, an’ I’m makin’ myself a party to whatever it is yer up to. I don’t care a damn fer the why of it, but I’m sure as hell goin’ to know where you’re bound to end up.”
“All right,” said Blevins. “This and no more. We’re on our way to the outpost at Laredo. When we get to Corpus Christi, why don’t you telegraph the Laredo post commander?”
“Maybe I will,” Bean replied. “Load yer saddles an’ packs in the second wagon, an’ them of ye needin’ a ride, pile into mine.”
Bean mounted the wagon box and waited until Springer, Coe, and Walker had clambered in through the open pucker of the wagon. Nathan thought the wounded men handled themselves well. Maybe a little too well. By the time the two wagons reached Bean’s camp it was almost dark. Cotton Blossom was nowhere to be seen. It was significant that Bean said nothing to the new arrivals about taking a turn at watch. The saddles belonging to Springer, Coe, and Walker, along with the loaded, canvas-wrapped packsaddles, remained in Eulie’s wagon, and the four men were never far away. The questionable quartet were within Bean’s camp, but they were not part of it. They spread their blankets near Eulie’s wagon, while Eulie and Nathan distanced themselves from the four. It was almost time for Nathan and Eulie to begin the second watch when Cotton Blossom finally appeared.
“He doesn’t like them,” Eulie whispered. “Rangers or not, I’m with him.”
Nathan said nothing, waiting until they joined Bean, Delmano, and Renato. It would be the first opportunity they’d had to talk freely, and Nathan wasted no time.
Bean said nothing, listening. “Maybe you’re satisfied,” Nathan said grimly, “but I’m not. I’ve seen the varmints lookin’ at our horses. They’re needin’ three horses and we have three. A damn shame we have oxen pullin’ the wagons instead of mules.”
“Ain’t it, though,” said Bean. “Them packsaddles is loaded almighty heavy with somethin’, an’ fer now they’re needin’ a wagon. I don’t know where or how they got them Ranger stars. They’re real enough, but something about this bunch jist don’t wash. I’m thinkin’ we’d best keep our guns handy.”
“I’m thinkin’ you, Delmano, and Renato had best spread your blankets near enough for us to keep close watch,” Nathan said. “This bunch could kill all of you while you sleep, givin’ ’em the edge over me and Eli.”
“We’ll do that,” said Bean. “I don’t trust this bunch as far as I could fling an ox by the tail.”
“Neither do we,” Nathan replied. “Just how long do you intend to trail with them without calling their hand?”
“Jist until first light,” said Bean. “When we’re done with breakfast, you an’ Eli be ready. When Delmano, Renato, an’ me go to our wagons, it’ll be fer our Winchesters. Foller my lead an’ we’ll get the drop. Then one of us is goin’ after them packsaddle loads. I reckon when we find out jist what these hombres is hidin‘, they’ll either prove the truth of what they told us, or we’ll see ’em fer what they really are.”
With that, followed by Delmano and Renato, Bean faded into the darkness, leaving Nathan, Eulie, and Cotton Blossom alone. They stood beneath cottonwoods, watching as the trio became visible in the dim starlight. They were going to spread their blankets near Bean’s wagon.
“We’ll stay here,” Nathan said quietly. “Blevins and his friends are down yonder behind your wagon, and we’re downwind from them.”
“None of this makes any sense,” Eulie said. “I don’t believe a word those four have spoken, but if they aren’t what they seem, why are they going to Corpus Christi? Even if there are no soldiers, the government freight office will have the telegraph.”
“If none of us reach Corpus Christi alive,” said Nathan, “they won’t be concerned with us using the telegraph. They could kill us somewhere north of town, and taking our horses, they’d all be mounted. One of them could ride on to Corpus Christi, buy a pair of pack animals, and the four of them could be on their way to the border with nobody the wiser.”
“But suppose they are Rangers,” Eulie said, “and when we force their hand, we kill some of them? God, we’ll both go to Huntsville for life.”
“If they’re leveling with us,” said Nathan, “I don’t expect any shooting, and if it comes to gunplay over what’s in those packs, then these pilgrims are no more Rangers than we are.”
The dawn came and breakfast was eaten in silence. Bean, Delmano, and Renato did nothing to arouse suspicion. They caught up their teams, leading them to the wagons as though to be harnessed. But inside the wagon box, next to the seat, each man carried a Winchester, and when they turned with the weapons in their hands, the surprise was total. The cocking of the Winchesters was simultaneous.
“Nobody move,” Bean said. “If yer what ye claim to be, then they won’t be no harm done. Stone, you keep yer eye on Blevins. Delmano, Renato, and me will cover the others. Eli, git into that wagon an’ tear into one of them packs. It’s time we was knowin’ what’s so almighty valuable to these gents.”
“Damn you,” said Blevins, “you’ll pay for this.”
Bean said nothing. Nathan kept his eyes on the furious Blevins as Eulie climbed into the wagon. There was some commotion as she broke into one of the canvas-wrapped packs.
“Well?” Bean shouted.
“Gold,” Eulie replied. “Double eagles, in canvas bags, with the mark of a Houston bank.”
The very mention of gold was enough to distract a man, but Blevins and his companions knew what was coming, and the initial shock bought them a small advantage. It was all the edge they were going to get, and the four went for their guns. Blevins fired once, but the shot went wild as two slugs from Nathan’s Colt tore into his belly. The three Winchesters roared almost as one. Springer, Coe, and Walker died without getting off a shot. It was all over in little more than a heartbeat. Eulie climbed down from the wagon and stood looking at the carnage.
“I reckon they told us what we needed to know,” Bean said. “Somewhere betwixt here an’ Houston, the buzzards is pickin’ the bones of four Rangers. These varmints stole that gold an’ was headin’ fer the border, sure as hell.”
“That’s a safe bet,” said Nathan, “and if it was taken from a bank, we’re up against more than the Texas Rangers. I’d gamble the Federals are looking for it right now.”
“Damn right they are,” Bean agreed, “an’ we’re goin’ to protect ourselves by takin’ ever‘thing these varmints has got in their pockets, includin’ them Ranger stars. When we git to Corpus Christi, we’re turnin’ it all over to the gover’ment. Stone, you search Blevins an’ we’ll get the others.”
The search resulted in money, pocket knives, and pocket watches. Walker, Springer, and Coe each had two, a fair indication they had ambushed and robbed their pursuers.
“They’s a shovel in ever’ wagon,” said Bean. “This bunch ain’t deservin’ of it, but we’d be skunks the equal of them if we didn’t take time fer decent buryin’.”
Nathan, Bean, Delmano, and Renato dug the graves, all within a few feet of one another. When the dead men had been buried and the graves filled, Bean stood at the head of the graves and removed his hat. Then, with a reverence Nathan would never have believed he possessed, he turned his face heavenward and spoke.
The teams were quickly harnessed and Bean again led out in the first wagon, the others following. Blevins’s horse had been tied behind the wagon Eulie drove, and Cotton Blossom again foraged far ahead. It was he who warned them of approaching riders, this time from the south. By the time the six men rode into sight, their blue uniforms identified them. Union soldiers! Bean reined up, signal enough to the trailing wagons, and they reined up as well. Bean held up his hand and the soldiers drew up beside his wagon. One of them was a lieutenant, one a sergeant, and the remaining four were privates. The officer spoke.
“I’m Lieutenant Willingham and this is Sergeant Winkler. We’ve just been assigned to Corpus Christi, arriving there on a packet from New Orleans. We had a telegram waiting for us, ordering us to move out immediately. Four men robbed a bank in Houston, escaping with more than forty thousand in gold. They were pursued by five Texas Rangers. They managed to kill four of the Rangers in an ambush. The fifth Ranger escaped with his life, and he seemed to think the four men were going to cut between San Antonio and Corpus Christi, and make a run for the border. Have you seen them?”
“We have,” Bean said. “After they kilt the Rangers, they was hit by the Comanches. Lost their pack mules an’ three horses. Showed us them Ranger stars an’ wanted a ride to Corpus Christi. I’m Roy Bean, and them’s all my wagons an’ drivers behind me. I offered ‘em a ride, but even with them four Ranger stars, we didn’t trust ’em. This mornin‘, we got the drop, an’ one of my drivers busted into one of them packs. When we found the gold, them four went fer their guns. Wasn’t nothin’ we could do but cut’em down. Planted ’em maybe five er six mile upriver.”
“You have the gold, then,” said Lieutenant Willingham.
“We got it,” Bean said. “It’s in the fourth wagon, an’ we ain’t laid a hand on it, ‘cept the one sack we opened. We went through the pockets of the varmints, takin’ ever’thing. Even the Ranger stars. The one horse they had is on a lead rope behind the wagon with the gold.”
“You did exactly the right thing, sir,” the Lieutenant said. “We were given execution warrants for those four, and you did no more than we would have been forced to do, had we caught up with them. Since you’re going on to Corpus Christi, I would take it as a favor if the gold can remain where it is. I’ll post a guard over it at night, until we can take it off your hands.”
“Wagon’s empty, ’cept fer the gold,” said Bean. “Leave it there, an’ welcome.”
Nathan, Eulie, Delmano, and Renato had left their wagons and had moved close enough to hear the conversation between the officer and Bean.
“Two of those men had been wounded,” Nathan said, “and not by Comanche arrows. They’d been shot.”
“That fits in with what we were told,” Lieutenant Willingham said. “The Ranger who managed to escape said he thought two of the robbers had been hit during the ambush.”
Again Bean led out, and this time, a soldier rode on each side of Eulie’s wagon. Two more followed Nathan’s wagon, while Lieutenant Willingham and Sergeant Winkler rode beside Bean’s wagon. Despite the delays, they made fifteen miles. The soldiers set up their own camp near Bean’s, and from dusk until dawn, took turns—in pairs—standing watch near the wagon with the gold. The procedure continued for two more days and nights, until Bean reined up his wagon near the government warehouse. Eulie swung her wagon wide, and then backed it up, so that the gold might be conveniently unloaded.
Corpus Christi, Texas. September 7, 1866.
Enough freight had backed up to convince Bean they shouldn’t lay over any longer than necessary, and the morning after their arrival, they began loading the wagons for the return to San Antonio. It was early September, but the Texas sun showed them no mercy. The bucket of water Bean had brought was good for less than an hour. Delmano and Renato occasionally poured a dipperful over their sweaty heads.
“Damn it,” said Bean, after filling the bucket a second time, “take off long enough to dunk yerselves in the Gulf.”
The wagon half-loaded, Nathan and Eulie paused to straighten up, resting their aching backs.
“It’s been a while since I’ve sweated like this,” Nathan groaned.
“Not me,” Eulie replied. “Although I wasn’t the man-child Daddy wanted, he worked me like one. Until the war killed the market for cotton, I reckon there wasn’t a slave anywhere that worked harder than I did. Daddy had a quaint way of thinking. An unmarried woman living at home had to earn her keep, and he was the judge as to how much work she must do to earn it.”
When Bean had designated what was to be loaded, he helped load the wagons, wrestling pieces heavy enough for two men. They worked steadily, and before sundown, the wagons were loaded with all the teams could pull.
“We’ll get us a good feed of town grub, hit the blankets early, an’ pull out at first light,” Bean said.
He then headed for one of the saloons, followed by Delmano and Renato. Nathan and Eulie, leaving their horses and the packhorse at the hitch rail, entered a cafe, followed by Cotton Blossom. The place was far from full, and the few patrons eyed the newcomers, especially Cotton Blossom.
“Mister,” said the cook, “the dog stays outside.”
“He’s a paying customer,” Nathan replied. “We’ll take a table near the back and I’ll see that he doesn’t bother anybody.”
“Nathan,” said Eulie, after they had taken a table and ordered their food, “There was a man who spent most of the day watching us load the wagons. I’d swear I’ve seen him somewhere.”
“I saw him,” said Nathan, “and I’m wondering if his interest in what we were doing didn’t have something to do with those twenty cases of Winchesters and the cannisters of ammunition we were loading. In the hands of a Comanche, each of those rifles is worth its weight in gold.”
“Outlaw whites might attack us and then deal with the Comanches?”
“Why not?” Nathan said. “It’s happened before.”
“This seemed like a good idea, at first, bullwhacking. Now, I’m not so sure. First the Comanches on the way to San Antonio, and then those thieves and killers when we started south. If we hadn’t gotten the advantage, those men would have killed us.”
“The white thieves are more dangerous than the Comanches,” said Nathan, “because we’ll be up against rifles instead of mostly bows and arrows. Men with rifles can hole up and cut us down from cover.”
After they’d eaten and paid for their meal, they stepped out into the gathering darkness. To the right of the cafe entrance, new lumber had been stacked head high, and within the shadow of it, Nathan caught fleeting movement. Colt in his hand, he turned to face the danger, only to have lead slam into his right side, just above his belt. A second slug tore into his chest high on the left side. There were more shots, one of them sounding far away. On the ground, Nathan could see muzzle flashes only inches away. Eulie was on her knees, returning fire. It ended suddenly and Nathan heard Eulie’s voice.
“I got him, Nathan. I got him.”
The patrons in the cafe remained there. Men erupted from the nearby saloon, Bean, Delmano, and Renato in the lead. Cotton Blossom crouched over Nathan, his teeth bared, daring anyone to come close.
“Lord God,” said Bean, when he and his Mexican teamsters arrived. Eulie had calmed Cotton Blossom and was on her knees, still clutching the Colt. Blood welled out of a wound just below her left knee. But it was Nathan Stone who looked dead.
“Delmano,” Bean ordered, “git over yonder to that gover’ ment warehouse an’ tell them soldiers to git over here pronto, bringin’ the doc with ‘em. Eli, if you got any say with that dog, git him away ’fore the doc gets here. Lemme have that Colt, an’ I’ll see if you plugged the varmint that started all this.”
Her eyes on Nathan, Eulie surrendered the Colt, and Bean
moved cautiously toward the stacked lumber. It wasn’t much cover, for it had been ricked in a loose manner so that the sun might dry it. In the shadow lay a man, belly-down, his right hand still clutching a revolver. Bean rolled the body over, so that a patch of light from the cafe window shone on the face. Immediately he recognized the man who had been watching them load the wagons. Even in the poor light, Bean could see the pair of bullet holes in the chest oozing blood, and barely visible from a shirt pocket, the corner of a piece of paper. Without knowing what it was, Bean took it.
Within minutes, Lieutenant Willingham, Sergeant Winkler, and two privates arrived. With them was a medic—Lieutenant Pilkington—who had just been assigned to the outpost at Corpus Christi. It was fortunate that Lieutenant Willingham recognized Nathan and Eulie as two of Bean’s drivers, recalling their part in recovering the stolen gold. Lieutenant Pilkington knelt beside Nathan, and failing to find a pulse, tried the big artery in the neck.
“He’s alive,” Pilkington said, getting to his feet. “Get him on the stretcher and down to quarters. Quickly.”
The two privates who had brought the stretcher lifted Nathan onto it and set off toward the government warehouse where the soldiers were temporarily quartered. Sergeant Winkler helped Eulie to her feet; she leaned on him, and the two followed Lieutenant Pilkington. Lieutenant Willingham then turned to Roy Bean.
“What do you know about this?” the officer asked.
“Not much more’n you do,” said Bean. “Stone an’ Prater come here fer grub, while me an’ my Mex drivers went to the saloon. Next thing we knowed, guns was blastin’ away. We heard five shots, three of ’em quick. The last two, I’d say, was fired by Prater, and I reckon it was them that kilt the bushwhacker.”
“He’s dead, then,” the officer said.
“Considerable,” said Bean. “He’s over yonder, betwixt the cafe an’ that pile of lumber.”
“If you’ll witness it,” Willingham said, “I’ll search the body. Perhaps we can learn his identity and what his motive was.”
The Dawn of Fury Page 13