Lone Star Ranger

by James J. Griffin

  “I’d imagine we will, Joe. In time,” Jeb said. “One of ’em is bound to open up. Then we’ll find out the truth. I just hope, whatever’s stuck in their craws, it blows over. The quicker, the better. They’re both good Rangers, and they’re even better as pardners. I’d hate to see that busted up, over what’s probably some stupid misunderstanding. And two men at odds with each other is never good in an outfit like ours. Not when we have to depend on each other so much. But, there’s nothin’ we can do about it, at least not right now. Let’s go back in and get ready for supper.”

  They took final drags on their quirlies, tossed the butts into the dirt and ground them out under their boot heels, then headed back inside.

  ♦●♦

  Nate got rid of his mud-caked denims. The thick mud had soaked clean through the pants and stained his drawers, so he removed those too. He washed off the remaining dirt still clinging to him. After drying off, he went back to his bunk carrying his dirty clothes. He removed his spare drawers, shirt, and pants from the peg where they hung, and his extra pair of socks from his saddlebags. He redressed, then stretched out on his bunk. A few minutes later, Captain Quincy returned. He had been up at the main house, visiting with Charlie Hennessey. He spotted the bandage around Nate’s head as soon as he stepped into the bunkhouse.

  “Nate. What happened to you, son?” he asked. “Have a run-in with a renegade you came across?”

  “No, nothin’ like that, Cap’n.” Nate shook his head. “Me’n Red got tangled up in a big mud puddle, then when I was cleanin’ him off I must’ve tugged on his tail too hard, because he pinned me against the wall. He gave me a good kick in my belly, too. But Jeb and Joe patched me up. I’ll be all right.”

  “I see.” Quincy rubbed his chin. “Are you certain that’s all that happened? Because if it’s anythin’ more than that, I’ll have to write up a report for Austin.”

  “No, that’s all that happened, Cap’n,” Nate assured him. “It was my fault, not bein’ more careful while I was workin’ on Red.”

  “Then we’ll let it drop, for now,” Quincy answered. “Hoot, you might want to keep a closer eye on your pardner. Keep him out of trouble.”

  “Nate’s a big boy now. He can take care of himself,” Hoot answered.

  “None of us are ever too big we can’t use help from time to time. Don’t forget that, Harrison,” Quincy replied, his voice taut.

  “Yessir, Cap’n,” Hoot said. “I’ll try’n remember.”

  “See that you do,” Quincy said. “I hope George has supper just about ready. I’m starved.” He sniffed. “Whatever he’s got cookin’, it sure smells good.”

  “He said he was gonna make a big batch of chili,” Dan said.

  “Sure. It’s almost ninety degrees, and he makes chili,” Quincy said. “When it was freezin’ outside, he was servin’ cold mutton.”

  “He claims the chili’s so hot it’ll make you feel cool after it wears off,” Dan answered. “I hear tell that’s a Mexican way of thinking. Hot, spicy food helps you cool down. Dunno if that’s true or not, but that’s what I’ve heard. I reckon we’re about to find out. Here comes George now.”

  “Supper’s ready,” the company cook announced, as he emerged from the cook shack. “Come and get it. Couple of you get the coffee and bread on the table.”

  There was a mini-stampede when the men raced for the cook shack. They took tin plates and filled them with the thick, spicy chili. Hoot took the coffee pot, Joe the bread and butter, and placed them on the table. Soon, the men were gulping down their meal. Instead of sitting next to or across from each other, as they always did, Nate and Hoot sat at opposite ends of the table. The other Rangers exchanged glances when they noticed, but said nothing.

  Nate had gotten used to the spicier food served in much of Texas over the past months. However, this chili was extra hot. He felt his face flush, and sweat bead on his forehead, after the first few spoonsful. He noticed the other men all seemed to be having the same reaction. Evidently, George had indeed made this batch extra hot. The crusty bread he’d baked, still warm and slathered with freshly churned butter from the Hennesseys’ larder, took away some of its bite. And, as the first effect wore off, it seemed, to Nate at least, he did feel a bit cooler. Everyone went back for seconds, some even for thirds.

  “George,” Captain Quincy said, once everyone was finished and sitting with last cups of coffee, “I have to say, this was one of the finest meals you’ve come up with in a long time. It was delicious.”

  “Why, thank you kindly, Cap’n,” George answered.

  “It surely was,” Jeb added. The other men murmured their assent.

  “I appreciate that,” George said. “Of course, I can do a lot more here, where I’ve got a real stove to work with, than on the trail. But I’m glad you boys enjoyed this supper. Did any of you happen to enjoy it enough to help me clean up?”

  “I’ll give you a hand,” Nate offered.

  “I’d be obliged,” George said, “But you’d better try’n rest up from those hurts, son.”

  “He’s right, Nate,” Jeb agreed. “George, I’ll help with the dishes.”

  “Then, that’s settled. Thanks, Jeb.”

  While George and Jeb cleaned up, the other men drifted back to their bunks, or sat at the table, talking or playing cards. Nate got out his gun cleaning kit to clean and oil his mud-clogged pistol, then, once that was finished and the gun reassembled, crawled into bed. He lay on his back, staring at the ceiling for nearly an hour before sleep finally claimed him.

  ♦●♦

  The next day, after checking on Rig Bed, Nate hung around outside the bunkhouse, sitting in the sun and letting it warm his face. He tried to visit with Consuela, but she was occupied with helping make a dress for Claire. He did have the chance to give her a quick explanation of why he sported a bandage around his head, and had a cut-open chin. She promised to meet him that evening, once her work was done.

  Around mid-afternoon, Hoot came outside. He’d spent the day mending his gunbelt. He started to walk past Nate.

  “Hoot,” Nate called after him. “We’ve gotta talk.”

  “We’ve got nothin’ to talk about,” Hoot answered.

  “I’m sorry, but we sure do,” Nate said. “What you saw yesterday wasn’t what you thought it was. I didn’t start anythin’. It was Clarissa. I was just tryin’ to clean up, when she snuck up behind me and wrapped her arms around me. I had soap in my eyes, and didn’t even know she was there. Next thing I know, she’s huggin’ on me, and tryin’ to kiss me.”

  “That’s a dirty lie,” Hoot snapped.

  “It’s the truth,” Nate insisted. “I tried to make her stop. Told her she was your girl, but she said she wasn’t any man’s girl. Said she’d kiss whoever she wanted, whenever she wanted. That’s what happened, Hoot. I dunno if you’ll believe me or not, but that’s exactly what happened.”

  “Nate, I thought you were a good man, and my best friend,” Hoot answered. “Now, instead of owning up to what you pulled, you go’n dirty the name of a fine gal like Clarissa. She told me what really happened, that she was walkin’ past, then you grabbed her and forced yourself on her. I ought to gut-shoot you where you stand for that. And if I ever see you near her again, I will.”

  “She’s lyin’ to you, Hoot,” Nate said. “I can’t make you believe that, but she is. I didn’t do anythin’ to her, in fact, I tried to push her off. But if you don’t want to listen, there’s nothin’ else I can say.”

  “There sure ain’t,” Hoot answered. “The only thing you can do is stay away from me.”

  He stalked off, leaving Nate slumped miserably in his chair.

  ♦●♦

  That evening, as she’d promised, Consuela met Nate. They sat side by side in rockers on the main house’s front porch, holding hands while they talked. Nate explained to her the whole sorry incident with Clarissa and Hoot. Consuela sighed before answering.

  “I was afraid this would happen,” she s
aid. “I had hoped Hoot would not be hurt by Clarissa, but I am not surprised. I wish he had taken up with her sister, Claire. She’s a much nicer girl. I hate to use such language, but in my country, Clarissa would be called a puta. She is not a good woman for any man, let alone one as fine and honorable as your friend seems to be.”

  “A puta? What’s that?” Nate asked.

  Consuela thought for a moment.

  “How can I put this to you politely, Nate? In terms that a decent woman would use? She’s a girl who, shall we say, throws herself at men. She’s a desvergonzada…a hussy.”

  “I’d seen her with a couple of the cowboys,” Nate said, “but I never really gave it much thought. I figured she was just bein’ friendly. And I sure couldn’t say anythin’ about it to Hoot. He’d never have believed me. Heck, look what he did to me when he found me’n her. I think he’d have killed me if Clarissa hadn’t stopped him. I tried to tell him what happened, but he won’t listen. I’ve gotta try’n figure out how to make him realize I’m tellin’ the truth.”

  “If Hoot is that blind about Clarissa, nothing you can say to him will change his mind,” Consuela said. “He’s going to have to find out for himself. And when he does discover the truth, I’m afraid he’s going to be hurt, very badly. Now, enough talk of them. You are here, with me. That’s what matters. Let’s just enjoy this beautiful evening.”

  The weather had cooled considerably, with a light breeze out of the north, and a nearly full moon hung in the sky. Consuela leaned her head on Nate’s shoulder. He placed an arm around her. He wanted to do more, but his battered ribs refused to allow it. Even the kiss he attempted to sneak was painful, due to the cut on his chin and bruised jaw. He settled for just sitting with her, enjoying her company, and thinking about what the future might bring.

  6

  The next day, Nate was watching as several cowboys drove in a small herd of horses, which were to be broken for the summer’s work. As they drew nearer, he shook his head and smiled. The four men working the herd were the youngest hands on the Circle Dot E. Two of them were the sandy-haired young cowboys, Zack Ellesio and Justin Bendlak. The third was dark-haired Nicolas Pearson, and the fourth was lanky Kyle Newton. They moved the forty or so horses effortlessly, keeping them at a steady trot, easily turning back any stragglers. It didn’t take long before they had run the entire herd into a corral and shut them in.

  Kids sure grow up a lot faster out here than back home, Nate thought, as he watched the boys dismount. All four were in full cowboy gear, including six guns at their hips, and Kyle had a huge chaw of tobacco bulging out his cheek. In Wilmington, boys this age would generally be in school; or, on days classes were out, playing with their friends or just lazing around. Of course, some of his friends did help out in their parents’ stores, but those were the exception. True, there were those kids, from poorer families, who had to work long hours in some of the factories, hustle newspapers, shine shoes, or find some other means of bringing in cash to help put food on the table, but not in Nate’s comfortable former world. Here, in Texas, things were different. Almost every boy over ten or twelve seemed to have a job of some kind, mostly as ranch hands. Heck, he’d even seen girls, including the Hennessey daughters, help drive cattle, or doctor an injured calf. Life was hard on the frontier, and it took every member of a family, working together, to survive.

  Nate glanced up at a smudge of dust which appeared on the horizon. The dust soon materialized into a group of oncoming horsemen. When they drew nearer, he recognized them as another of the patrols Captain Quincy had sent out, now returning. This one was led by Lieutenant Bob Berkeley. Riding with him were the company’s Tonkawa scout, Percy Leaping Buck, Diego Sandoval, Tom Tomlinson, and Morey Carson. Nate walked over to meet them as they rode up to the barn and dismounted.

  “Take care of your horses, men, then we’ll see if George has anythin’ keepin’ warm on the stove,” Berkeley ordered. “Howdy, Nate. Things quiet around here?”

  “Howdy, Bob,” Nate said. “Yeah, I’d say they are. Cap’n Quincy’s just waitin’ for all the boys to ride in, and on word from Austin as to where we’re headed next.”

  “Well, that might be about to change,” Berkeley said. “Do me a favor, Nate. Let Dave know I need to speak with him, as soon as I get my horse settled. Also, tell him I’d like any of the other men who are around to be there, too.”

  “Sure. Be glad to,” Nate answered.

  “Much obliged,” Berkeley said. “Tell him I’ll be with him in about half an hour.”

  “All right, Bob.”

  Nate walked up to the bunkhouse. He found Captain Quincy in his office, working on reports. The captain looked up when Nate knocked at his door.

  “Nate. C’mon in,” he said. “Anythin’ I can do for you?”

  “Yeah, Cap’n. Lieutenant Bob and his men just rode in,” Nate said. “The lieutenant says he has somethin’ important to tell you. Says he’ll be here in here in half an hour, once he takes care of his horse. He wants all the men here.”

  “Okay, Nate. Thanks for lettin’ me know. Bob didn’t give you any idea what he wanted to talk about?”

  “No, sir, Cap’n Dave, he didn’t. Just said he needed to speak with you.”

  “All right, Nate. We’ll just have to wait to see what he has to say. Gather all the others, will you?”

  “Sure, Cap’n. See you in a bit.”

  Most of the men were resting in the bunkhouse. Nate told those there would be a meeting shortly, then went to find the others. Jeb and Dan were at the smithy, re-shoeing their horses. Nate sent them to the bunkhouse, then set out to find Hoot. He located him at the main house, sitting on a bench in the back yard, with Clarissa at his side. She blushed slightly at Nate’s approach.

  “Get outta here, Nate,” Hoot snapped, the minute he saw him. “I warned you to stay away from me, and especially Clarissa.”

  “Sorry, Hoot. I don’t mean to bother you, but this can’t be helped. Lieutenant Bob’s patrol just came in.”

  “Yeah, I saw ’em,” Hoot said. “What’s that got to do with you comin’ up here?”

  “Bob’s asked Cap’n Dave to have a meetin’ with all of us. It’s in about twenty minutes from now. I just came to let you know.”

  “Well, you have, so get outta here,” Hoot said. “Tell Cap’n Dave I’ll be right along.”

  “Okay, Hoot. Hoot—”

  “What?”

  “Oh, never mind.”

  ♦●♦

  Thirty minutes later, the Rangers were gathered in the bunkhouse. Captain Quincy called for quiet.

  “Men, Lieutenant Berkeley’s got somethin’ he needs to share with us, so listen up.”

  The room fell silent.

  “Thanks, boys. I’m gonna make this short and sweet,” Berkeley began. “We’ve been patrollin’ a bit south of here, along the Rio. We didn’t have much luck, but did find out somethin’ that’s gonna mean real trouble. Black Dog and his bunch are back in Texas, raidin’ all up and down the river. We got word they’re headin’ this way. For you new men, Black Dog’s a Comanche who jumped the reservation, up in the Territories, a couple of years back, with about thirty other braves. He made his way into Mexico, and has been raisin’ all sorts of Cain down there. Evidently, he’s decided to see if the pickin’s on this side of the border are easier. He’s hit three ranches already. This one could well be next.”

  “We think he’ll strike sometime within the next three days,” Percy continued. “Because he hasn’t been challenged since he came back into Texas, he’s gotten bolder. Each place he’s hit has been bigger than the last.”

  “How about sendin’ some men out after him?” Joe asked.

  Berkeley shook his head. “It wouldn’t work. Black Dog would just fade away into the hills. We’ve been lookin’ for sign of him. As you all know, Percy’s one of the best trackers in the Rangers, and even he lost Black Dog’s trail. And Diego grew up in these parts. He knows this territory as well as any man, better�
�n most, and he couldn’t find any sign of Black Dog, either. Since there’s no other spreads between the Cross M, where he struck last, and here, we figure the Circle Dot E’s his next target. We’ll just have to let him ride on in, and be ready for him when he comes. That means men on guard, day and night. We’ll put our horses inside the stable. We can’t chance havin’ those Comanch’ runnin’ ’em off, leavin’ us no way to pursue ’em, if they make good on their raid.”

  “I thought Indians didn’t attack at night,” Nate said. “Only in the daytime.”

  “Nate, get that darn fool notion about Indians attacking only at night out of your head right now, or you’re liable to catch a Comanche or Apache arrow in your gut,” Jeb retorted. “Some Indians might prefer to fight only durin’ the day, but most of ’em’ll attack whenever it suits their fancy.”

  “Jeb’s right, Nate,” Percy said. “And there’s gonna be a full Comanche moon tomorrow night. From what I know of Black Hawk, he’ll make his move then. Another reason I’m positive he’ll hit this ranch is that herd of horses in the corral. It’s a mighty tempting prize for any Comanche. If Black Dog can steal those horses, it’ll be a real honor for him. His status as a warrior will rise considerably.”

  “Which means all of you pull double duty tomorrow,” Captain Quincy said. “Bob, Percy, come with me, and we’ll get things set. The rest of you, wait here, until you get your assignments.”

  The captain, Berkeley, and Percy went back to his office. The other men discussed the new revelation while they waited.

  “Jeb, what’s a Comanche moon?” Nate asked.

  “It’s a full moon, most usually called that durin’ the spring and summer,” Jeb explained. “The Comanch’ like to raid under a ‘Comanche’ moon, since it’s so bright. Like Percy said, I’d bet my life Black Dog will hit us sometime in the next two nights.”

  “Your life is exactly what you’ll be bettin’, if Black Dog hits us at full strength,” Diego said. “He’s cunning, smart, tough, and vicious. It’ll take everythin’ we’ve got to beat him. And a lot of luck besides.” He crossed himself.