Stands a Ranger

by Cotton Smith

  “ ’Course I-uh have,” Dillingham answered. “Not too-day though. Not too-day.” His voice was loud.

  Carlow stepped toward the door. “It isn’t necessary to yell, Dillingham. You can tell Holden what you said when I leave.”

  Marshal Dillingham’s ears flapped in silent response as he shook his head to negate what the young Ranger implied.

  “When we come back, Holden better still be here.” Carlow grabbed the door handle.

  “Are yo-all a-sayin’ I would be lettin’ him go?” Marshal Dillingham leaned forward in his chair, resting the coffee cup on a short stack of papers.

  “No, I’m saying if he’s gone, we’ll hang you for conspiracy. No matter whose fault it is.” Carlow turned and left.

  Dillingham glanced at the far cell and reached into the bottom drawer of his desk to retrieve a whiskey flask.

  Outside, Carlow’s mind was pulling him toward finding Thunder and going after Jessie Holden together. Or should I let Thunder enjoy a drink or two? He’s earned it, bringing in Dr. Holden and that black killer, he told himself as he holstered his gun and swung into the saddle. I don’t want to take the chance on her getting away, either—and I don’t know where Thunder is. There are a lot of saloons in town. He recalled his search for Silver Mallow.

  Obviously there had been a fight at the ranch, and Kileen had won. Carlow thought of his first meeting with Bea Von Pearce, her shotgun and pistol in her apron. He smiled. Most likely she had been right beside his uncle when the fighting began. Bea and Hattie must be unhurt or he would have brought them to town. Or would he? The only doctor was in jail. No, they were all right or his uncle would not have come in.

  He nudged his horse into a walk toward the main string of saloons. His thoughts returned to finding Jessie Holden.

  Ghost Queen. Carlow mulled the phrase over in his mind. That’s what the outlaw said Del Gato called her. Ghost Queen. She had told him about his own mother and father. How did she know that? How did she know about Thunder? Maybe I said something without realizing it. Could she have hypnotized me, right then and there? That seemed far-fetched to him. It had to be Silver Mallow.

  Into Carlow’s mind seeped the recollection that several childhood friends had been a part of Mallow’s gang. Why didn’t he think of that before? They would have known about his parents—and his uncle. Between them and what he overheard while in the Bennett jail, Mallow could have have easily known the details she came forth with.

  He straightened in the saddle. If he talked with her before escaping, that meant he most likely talked with Dr. Holden and Red Anklon. It meant they lied about not seeing Mallow. Of course. They had to be in on his escape from the whorehouse.

  He returned to his encounter with Jessie at the drugstore.

  “This . . . was your father’s. He was a great warrior. His spirit stands close. So does your mother’s. She worries about you. Another Irish warrior of this world . . . rides to . . .”

  Her smile would have felled most men. A long kiss promised. The hint of a delicious night together. That’s what made her presentation so mesmerizing. He shook his head to clear away the rest of her and decided to wait on looking for Kileen. His priority should be on finding her. He told himself once more that this was his duty and that he wasn’t interested in seeing her again for any other reason. Ghost Queen, he repeated to himself. Ghost Queen. He reined the horse to the right and urged it forward. She might still be in the store.

  In front of the Holden Apothecary, he swung down and flipped the reins twice over the rack. There were no signs of anyone in the store. He walked over to the window and peered inside. Nothing. She definitely wasn’t in the front. Perhaps she was in the back storeroom.

  Chance followed him after his admonishment to be quiet, and they walked around to the rear of the quiet building in a long alley. About thirty feet away from the back door was the darkened shape of an outhouse. Carlow glanced in its direction to assure himself that no one was hiding there. The drugstore door itself was fettered with a shiny long-nosed padlock, and there were no windows.

  He drew his gun, placed its nose against the lock, and fired. For a moment the shot controlled the evening stillness; the lock shivered and sprang apart. He yanked it off and stepped inside. This wasn’t the time for subtlety. If she were here, she probably knew he was coming. He assured himself that her awareness would have come from seeing him through the window—and not from some vision or hearing about it from a ghost.

  A neat storeroom greeted him. His spurs danced on the floor as he moved between neatly arranged lines of boxes. Satisfied, he entered the store area itself. Nothing. His eyes were now accustomed to the darkness, and he studied the shadows carefully. Certainly she could have seen him coming and hidden. His mind was unclear on his own motives, and he frowned to rid it of haunting thoughts of her beauty.

  Shelves of jars, containers, and bottles were menacing shapes of gray and black. Displays of cloth and pots and shoes were crouching enemies. Glass showcases teased with softly reflected light that could be a gun. He took a deep breath and continued his search.

  His mind reminded him that Del Gato could be with her. “Find them, Chance.”

  The wolf-dog sprang from his side and disappeared inside the store. Only the soft padding of his feet on the floor indicated where he might be. Carlow waited. He started to draw his hand-carbine, then decided not to.

  A few minutes later, Chance reappeared in the aisle, wagging his tail. Still nothing.

  Dr. Holden’s private office for patients was behind Carlow and to his left. The office door was slightly ajar and opened with a defiant screech as he pulled it toward him. This time the nose of his hand-carbine led the way into an even darker room. He had convinced himself that she was fully capable of killing him—and Del Gato, if he were with her, definitely was.

  He studied the silent space. A long table for surgery dominated the space. The only other pieces of furniture were a rolltop desk and chair and a counter with a well-ordered display of instruments. He recognized an amputation kit filled with various-sized knives, scalpels, pinchers, and picks. That made him think of the horror Will Nichols had been through. A half-empty bottle of Hostetter’s Stomach Bitters rested next to the assembly.

  Where could she be? he asked himself. The immediate answer was their house in town. Would she already know her husband had been arrested? He would have to assume she did and would be expecting the Rangers to come for her. Probably with Del Gato at her side. If she wasn’t there, he would check the livery. After that, he had no idea. Maybe get Thunder.

  “Come on, Chance.” He retreated from the office and headed for the back door, holstering his gun.

  The dog hesitated and broke away toward the counter.

  Carlow waited. Could they have missed her? Or the halfbreed?

  A gray cat sprang from the darkness, screaming its hatred at the wolf-dog. Carlow jumped at the sudden appearance of Jessie’s pet. He stopped his right hand from continuing to pull his weapon. Why would she leave the animal behind? Mice? Carlow knew his uncle would say the cat was actually Jessie in disguise.

  “Chance, that’s enough, boy. Let it go.”

  Tail wagging, Chance appeared. The cat was nowhere in sight as they went to the door and Carlow opened it. Moving beside him, Chance suddently stiffened and growled.

  “What is it now, boy? We haven’t got time for that cat.”

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Three gunshots rattled in the alley. The young Ranger slammed the door but didn’t think the bullets were directed at him. Drawing his hand-carbine, he cracked the door enough to see out.

  In the gloomy alleyway was Jimmy Ward Flanker, a few feet from the outhouse. At his feet was a body. Unmoving. Carlow squinted to examine the dead man.

  Del Gato.

  “Yo-all don’t need to be worryin’ about Del Gato at your back no more, Range-uh Carlow.” Flanker slipped new cartridges into his shiny revolver.

  “I can see that.” Ca
rlow responded without opening the door further. Was this a trap?

  “Come to think of it, the back-shooter went out with bullets in his back. Fittin’, I’d say,” Flanker pronounced, and added, “A first for me.” He returned his reloaded gun to its shoulder holster.

  Without moving closer, the heavyset man explained he had seen a big Ranger bring Dr. Holden to the jail, along with the body of Viceroy. Del Gato had slipped into the jail shortly after the Ranger left, and Flanker guessed he was after him when he saw Carlow ride in.

  “I don’t want yo-all a’thinkin’ Jimmy Flanker thought yo-all needed help now,” Flanker concluded, and stepped over the body. “Just tired of that backshooter givin’ us professionals a bad name.” He chuckled and his stomach rippled.

  “Thanks, Jimmy, I owe you one. Or is it two?” Carlow cleared the door with Chance at his side. He holstered his hand-carbine, easing the trigger down as he did. He walked toward the fat shootist with his right hand extended.

  Chance eased toward the dead body and sniffed, then returned to Carlow’s side.

  “Someday I’ll collect.” Flanker shook his hand. “Had a feelin’ you’d stand an’ help the widow. I take it yo-all’s Silver man got away.”

  “For now, anyway.”

  “Yo-all will get him. Of that, I’d take odds. Yo-all an’ that wild-lookin’ creature with ya.” He shook his head.

  Brushing imaginary dust from his coat, Flanker added that he was headed to Charlie’s Whiskey and Pool Hall, where a game waited. He asked and Carlow said he was going to Dr. Holden’s house to arrest his wife if she was there.

  “Be careful, young Time,” Flanker cautioned. “Roses have thorns.”

  “Especially frozen pink ones.”

  The shootist’s face was a question, but Carlow didn’t elaborate on his comment. “Say, is that mountain of a Range-uh who I think it is?”

  “It is—if you think it’s Thunder Kileen.”

  “Ah yes, Thunder Kileen. His name does ring a bell.” Flanker smiled. “Don’t think I’ve had the pleasure though.”

  “He’s my uncle.”

  “Well, I’ll be.” Flanker nodded. “That explains a lot.”

  It was Carlow’s turn to wonder what the fat man meant.

  Flanker turned away, headed back toward the outhouse. He stopped in midstride; his immense belly shook with the change. “Now, Range-uh Carlow, don’t yo-all go ’round sayin’ Jimmy Flanker dun he’ped yoall. Wouldn’t be good for business.”

  Carlow waved, smiled thinly, and replaced the broken lock in its hinge and left it hanging. He would buy a new one in the morning. Even Chance seemed eager to leave this place.

  After remounting, he looked around the street for someone he might ask for directions to Dr. Holden’s home. A well-dressed couple were strolling down the board sidewalk, and he rode over to them. Both were startled by his sudden presence.

  “Sorry to bother you, folks, but I need to find Dr. Holden’s house. Got a friend in need of some doctoring.”

  The woman, wearing a silk scarf tied over her head, returned his smile and politely gave him directions. Her dress was quite proper, covering her ankles when she walked. It matched her evergreen scarf. Her husband felt it important to add that the doctor didn’t like visitors after hours. His suit was obviously tailored, showing gentle wear. A fresh celluloid collar was quite stiff and uncomfortable-looking. His short-brimmed hat was curled and trimmed with silk. Carlow guessed he was a banker.

  The young Ranger acknowledged both statements and started to ride away. Her question stopped him. “Is that a wolf?”

  “No, ma’am, he just looks that way. Real gentle soul.”

  Authoritatively the man added, “Well, he surely looks like a wolf. I believe there is a town ordinance against such.”

  “A lot of things look like what they’re not.” Carlow touched the brim of his hat and loped on.

  The couple watched him for a moment.

  “I’m not at all certain Dr. Holden will treat an Irishman,” the man said.

  She agreed. “Yes, he’s a good man, but good has its limits. We did right giving him directions, though. Him being a Ranger.”

  “It was our duty, Mary. We’ve always known our duty.”

  They walked on, seeing Carlow turn left at the corner they had indicated.

  Their directions were accurate, and Carlow soon found himself nearing an imposing two-story white house with well-groomed bushes lining its front and a welcoming presentation of poplar and oak trees throughout the property. There seemed to be a garden in the back; Carlow could see a rocked edge and a few plantings.

  The house was dark inside. No invitation of light anywhere on either floor. Maybe she wasn’t home after all. Maybe she had left for their ranch. Maybe she hadn’t come to town at all. Or maybe she went directly to the stage. He hadn’t thought of that before. Was there one today? Possibly. If so, he could wire the authorities at the various stops with instructions to arrest and hold her. He chuckled about the phrase to himself. What man wouldn’t like to hold her?

  Carlow dismounted and led his horse to the ornate hitching rack outside the Holden house. He scratched Chance’s head and told him to stay.

  A turn of the heavy brass knob told him it was locked. His knock on the dark walnut door sounded loud in the stillness. It seemed a bit silly to be so cordial when he was going to arrest her, but he knocked again anyway. Giving up that approach, he walked over to the window and started to draw his hand-carbine to break the glass.

  Her voice floated through the door. “Come in, Time Carlow. I’ve been waiting for you.”

  Carlow hurried back and grabbed the doorknob. This time it turned easily in his hand. He stepped inside, entering an intimidating hallway. She wasn’t there. No one was. He removed his hat by instinct.

  A world unknown to him gave birth as he walked along. It was as if he had been transported to some strange land. Red walls were lined with great scrolls, ornate tapestry, and tall, slender Egyptian vases. A long red runner with gold accents covered the wooden floor. Should I take off my spurs? What is that smell? Incense? His eyes were attracted to a large carving mounted on the wall; the centerpiece was a tree with many animals and birds hovering around it. He decided it was a nice idea. Next was an image of a human female torso with the wings and tail of a bird. An arm was raised in blessing. He shook his head. Maybe Charlie Two-Wolves would understand it. Or his uncle.

  In the dark shadows, he almost stumbled into a large golden dragon statue that guarded the end of the hallway. To his right was a winding staircase. Family portraits followed up the steps. He took a deep breath. At least they looked normal. In the uneven light, he saw Dr. Holden’s portrait among them.

  “Come in, Time. Please. No one will harm you, I promise.” Her voice came from the room straight ahead.

  The nearly black room was cold. Colder than outside, he thought. Tiny shreds of timid light slid through the dark-curtained windows but could give only hints of the room—and of the beautiful woman sitting by herself at a small table in the middle of the empty floor. He would have sworn the walls moved closer as he walked toward her.

  Chinese devil masks studied him from every wall. He thought the rest of the room’s furniture had been shoved against the edges of the room but wasn’t certain. Barely more than shadows. The air in the room was heavy. To his left, on the wall, was a huge moon. A painting, he thought. It was filled with gods, demons, spirits, animals, and men. Below it on a waist-high display was a statue of a man with eight arms and ten ever-smaller heads ascending from the main one. One hand held a crescent moon. Just inside the door to his right was a box inlaid with gold and an oddly shaped statue of a bull stag, a wolf, and a hound, with a stagantlered man sitting among them.

  His gaze returned to his task. She sat with her golden hair unbound and glorious. As far as he could tell, she was alone. He didn’t see a knife, either, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have one—or a gun—in her lap.

 
“There is no one here but me—and the spirits of your mother and father.” Her voice sounded as if it were coming from a cave. “They told me you were badly wounded last winter and were healed by your uncle and a Mexican bandit woman. Does her name have something to do with the Heavens?”

  Carlow shivered, even though he was certain now her information had come from Mallow.

  A long, tapered candle snapped to life at her table. Its glow caressed her hair and slid along her cheeks. She appeared to be without a body. Only a luminous head.

  Gradually the light revealed the rest of her. She was as beautiful as he remembered. Her golden hair was down around her shoulders. Dressed in a crimson silk gown with gold patterns around the neck and wrists, she looked like one of the displays. The bite of incense was embracing the hint of her perfume. Both were flirting with his nostrils. Here, indeed, was the Ghost Queen, he thought.

  “I came to arrest you for murder and rustling,” he heard himself say. “Looks like you’ve changed from your earlier outfit.” It was hard for him to envision her looking like a man.

  Her turquoise eyes glowed and sought his. “I know, but I thought you might first like to hear from your parents. I promised.” Her outstretched arms beckoned him forward. “Please, come and sit with me. I will go with you afterward. I am not dangerous.” Her smile was inviting. “Or are you afraid of me?” Her hands returned to her gown, slid slowly over her breasts, and came to rest on the table. “Or of what the spirits will say?”

  He didn’t respond.

  “You know, the hardest part of dressing like a man is hiding these.” She smiled and cupped her breasts with both hands. “Wrapping them is so hard. I like them better like this, don’t you?”

  “You’re a beautiful woman, Jessie. That’s for sure.”

  “I was afraid you hadn’t noticed.” She let her hands slide to her side.

  For the first time, Carlow realized the candle was placed in a small, strangely shaped bowl in the center of the mahogany table. It was made of brass and appeared quite old. He had never seen anything quite like it. Dragons chasing a moon going through its phases were carved into its curved sides. Inside the bowl, holding the candle upright, was a layer of fine sand. Lying on top of the sand was a large piece of crystal, a small red stone, and a larger black one.