Chapter 13
Jim found a good campsite and stopped about two hours before sunset. There was plenty of grass for his horse and a small pond for water. He cared for Sizzle and took a swim, then made his supper. Relaxing alongside his campfire with a cup of coffee he was gazing at Sizzle when the paint looked up and snuffed softly. He stood stock still, his ears pricked forward.
"Someone comin', Siz?" Or is it just a coyote or javelina slinkin' through the brush?" Jim stood up and scanned the horizon in the direction of the horse's gaze.
A moment later, Sizzle nickered a soft welcome.
"Well, whoever it is you're not worried about him. Of course, you're never worried about anything." Jim chuckled.
"Jim, is that you?" A familiar voice called out.
"Smoky. I should've known," Jim muttered in disgust. "Yeah, Smoke, it's me. Ride on in."
Smoky and Eric appeared from behind the thin screen of brush sheltering Jim's campsite. As usual, a cigarette was dangling from Smoky's lips. They reined in their horses and stepped down from their saddles.
"Boy howdy, you led me a chase for fair, Jim," Smoky said trying to hide a grin.
"Yeah, but you found me."
"I reckon that's so," Smoky agreed.
"Who's the kid?"
"This here's Eric Esposito. His folks own the Slash Double E outside of Bartlett. Those were their horses you brought in along with your own. Eric, this ugly galoot is Lieutenant Jim Blawcyzk of the Texas Rangers. We've been ridin' pards for years."
"Pleased to meet you, Lieutenant."
Jim took the boy's hand in a firm grip. "Same here, Eric." He turned back to McCue. "How'd you find me so quick? I didn't tell anyone in Dripping Springs where I was headed, not even the sheriff. Don't tell me Jim Huggins is with you and helped track me down. Cap'n Trumbull said he was puttin' him on this case."
"Huggins isn't with me. He got wounded by a rustler outside San Angelo. Shot in the side. Jim killed the hombre that plugged him. Huggins'll be fine, but he had to go home for some rest."
"So how'd you locate me? No one had any idea where I was headed."
"Those men you brought in knew. It wasn't hard to persuade them to tell me which way you went."
"I should've figured."
"Jim, I reckon you know why I'm here."
"I reckon I do, but why don't you tell me?"
"Cap'n Trumbull wants me to bring you back to Austin. He's mighty angry. Claims you disobeyed orders."
Jim shook his head. "Smoke, why don't you just ride on back to Austin and tell the captain you couldn't find me?"
"You know I can't do that, Jim. Besides, I've got a message for you. Charlie took a turn for the worse after you left. He's got an infection, and maybe blood poisoning."
"Smoke, we've been saddle pards a long time. I know you wouldn't lie to me about my boy. But the last thing Charlie said to me was that he wanted me to find the men who hurt him and his mother, no matter what. What happens to Charlie and Julia is in the Lord's hands. I'm sure hoping He'll let them recover, but that's His will, and nothing I do can change that. But I can hunt down the renegades who attacked my family and make sure they don't hurt anyone else. I won't be turning back until that's done."
"Jim, I can't let you do that."
Smoky laid a hand on Jim's shoulder. Jim whirled and drove a straight right into Smoky's jaw. Smoky staggered backwards. Jim closed in, but Smoky ducked his next punch and sank his right into Jim's belly. He followed that with a left to Jim's chin, then a right to the ribs. Jim dropped to one knee, gasping for breath.
Smoky headed in, intending to knock Jim out with a final blow to the back of his neck. Instead Jim parried the blow and shot a punch to Smoky's liver. Half-paralyzed by the blinding pain Smoky spun around and crumpled.
"Had enough, Smoke?" Jim said.
"Not quite," Smoky rasped. "I'm still gonna take you in, pard."
Jim kicked him in the belly. Smoky collapsed to his face, shuddered once, and lay still.
Jim picked up his Stetson from where it had fallen, stumbled over to the pond, and filled the hat. Weaving with every step, he staggered back to his downed partner and poured the contents of the hat over Smoky's face. Smoky spluttered, shocked back to his senses by the cold liquid.
Jim sat down next to his partner. "You still gonna try'n take me back to Austin, corporal?"
"I reckon not. It'd probably be a better idea to go along and give you a hand, before you get yourself killed by those renegades you're after."
"You'll get in Dutch with Cap'n Trumbull."
"I'll worry about him after we round up those outlaws."
"Now you're sounding more like my pard, Smoke." Jim's attempt at a grin came out as more of a grimace.
Smoky moaned and sat up. He rubbed his swollen jaw, and ran a hand over his battered face.
"That's if either of us is in any shape to ride."
"We've ridden in worse shape," Jim said.
"I guess you're right. And it's too bad the rest of the boys couldn't have seen that fight. They've always wanted to see what'd happen if me and you ever got into it."
"Dunno about you, but I don't aim to let that happen again," Jim said. "This one just about finished me."
"Same here," Smoky agreed. "I guess we'd better try and patch ourselves up, best we can."
"I thought you Rangers were supposed to try and find the men who shot my pa and rustled our horses, not kill each other," said Eric frowning. "There's still three hard days ridin' to Bartlett, but at this rate you'll both be dead before we make another twenty miles."
"The kid's right, Smoke," Jim said. "Pardners again?"
"Pardners again."
"Eric," said Jim, "why don't you start a fire and begin supper while Jim and I clean up? There's food in my saddlebags. Cookin' utensils too."
"Sure thing," Eric answered.
Jim forced himself to his feet and walked to his saddle. He rummaged in his saddlebags until he came up with a bar of harsh yellow soap, a tin of witch hazel, another of salve, and a small towel. While Eric searched for more firewood, Jim and Smoky headed for the pond.
"I reckon there's not much use of holdin' onto what's left of these shirts," Smoky said grinning. Both his and Jim's had been ripped to shreds in their fight.
"I reckon not." Jim laughed.
They peeled off the remnants of the garments and tossed them aside. Then they stretched out on their bellies to duck their battered faces in the cooling water.
The partners washed up thoroughly, scrubbing themselves with the soap, despite its sting on their raw cuts, then rinsing out their wounds with the witch hazel and coating them with salve. Once they had dried off, they retrieved spare shirts from their saddlebags and shrugged into them.
Eric cooked up a mess of bacon and beans, which the trio eagerly devoured, Jim downing more grub despite having previously eaten. Once the meal was finished, they relaxed around the dying fire. Smoky rolled and lit a cigarette.
"Jim, Eric told me the men who stole his horses and wounded his pa were most likely the Macklin bunch. His family's ranch is a day's ride outside of Bartlett. Reese Macklin holes up around there somewhere. Same outfit you're after, if those prisoners back in Jesse Gabbard's cell told me the truth."
"That's who I'm after, all right," Jim said. "Eric, you have any idea where Macklin's hideout might be?"
"Not a clue. Those boys hit real fast, then disappear. No one's ever been able to trail 'em."
"That's about to change. You said we have three days hard ridin' ahead of us before we reach Bartlett?"
"That's about right," Eric said.
"We're gonna make it in two. You figure your horse can keep up?"
"Ol'Blue'll do just fine."
"Good. We'll be ridin' out before sunup. Time to get us some shut-eye."
Eric doused the fire. The men rolled in their blankets. Worn out, they were soon asleep, so exhausted even the pain of their bruises couldn't keep Smoky and Jim from slumber. Jim f
ell asleep before the recitation of his evening prayers was half complete.
Chapter 14
Late in the afternoon two days later, the trio rode into the small town of Bartlett. No one paid any attention to the trail-stained, dust covered riders and their mounts. Unlike most Texas Rangers, who didn't wear badges, Jim and Smoky carried silver star on silver circle emblems they'd hand carved from Mexican ten peso coins. However, they usually kept them out of sight, hidden in their pockets until needed. Jim hadn't shaved, had a haircut, or bathed since he'd left San Leanna, so his blonde hair hung over his collar and blonde whiskers stubbled his jaw. Smoky and Eric didn't look all that much better. Smoky's silver-tipped black hair appeared even frostier than usual under its coating of dust. There was nothing to distinguish them from any other drifting cowpunchers. A few people did stare at the splendid paint gelding between Jim's legs. Even after all the hard miles, Sizzle's hide still gleamed like a newly-minted penny under its layer of dust, and he still stepped along smartly, showing no sign of weariness.
Jim and Smoky's eyes were in constant motion under their pulled-down Stetsons'. Their gazes missing little that went on around them.
"There's the sheriff's office just ahead," Jim said. "Reckon we'd better check in with him before we settle our broncs for the night."
"You sure, Jim?" Smoky asked. "We usually don't do that right off."
"I know but Eric's known in this town. 'Sides, it doesn't really matter. I'd just as soon those renegades know I'm comin' after 'em.
They reined up in front of the ramshackle building holding the office and jail. When they did, a youngster of about six leveled a toy wooden six-gun at them from his perch on the hitchrail. He had a paper sheriff's badge pinned to his shirtfront.
"Hands up, outlaws, or I'll shoot you right in your bellies," he ordered.
"Reckon he's got the drop on us, men." Jim chuckled. "Better listen to him before he drills us."
He raised his hands shoulder high. Smoky and Eric followed suit.
"All right, you've got us. We'll go peaceable-like," Jim said. "What's your name, Sheriff?"
"It's Tommy. Tommy Pascale Kergaravat," the boy answered.
"That's quite a mouthful," Smoky said. "A man could get shot before he spit that whole handle out."
"You keep quiet, Mister. Now step off those horses."
Sizzle stretched out his neck, nuzzled the boy's chest, then licked his face. Unprepared for the gelding's huge pink tongue swiping across his face, Tommy tumbled backward onto the boardwalk.
Jim swung out of his saddle and hurried to the fallen youngster. He pulled the boy to his feet. "Are you all right, son?"
"Sure. I'm fine." Tommy sniffled. "Why'd your horse do that?"
"He was just sayin' hello. Sometimes Sizzle's too friendly for his own good."
Sizzle again nuzzled Tommy's chest.
"See, now he's sayin' he's sorry."
Tommy patted the horse's velvety muzzle.
"You still gonna arrest us, Sheriff?" Smoky asked from atop Soot.
"I reckon not," Tommy replied. "But how about I watch your cayuses for you? There's plenty of horse thieves in these parts."
"Sure," Jim agreed. "How much to keep your eye on 'em?"
"Four bits?"
"The horse thieves ain't the only crooks around here," Smoky said grumbling in jest.
"That's for all three broncs, right Tommy?" Jim asked.
"Yessir."
"Then that's fine." Jim dug in his pocket, came up with two quarters, and handed them to the boy. "Make sure no one comes near them now," he warned.
"You can count on me!" Tommy answered.
Smoky and Eric dismounted. All three men tied their horses, then stepped inside the sheriff's office.
A middle-aged man wearing a sheriff's star on his cowhide vest looked up from behind his newspaper as they entered the office. "Help you gents?" he began, then came to his feet when he recognized the boy. "Eric! You made it back. Your ma'll sure be glad to see you. Your pa's doin' right well. Did you get your horses back? And who're these fellers you're with?"
"Easy sheriff, one question at a time," Eric said. "Thanks for lettin' me know about Pa. I'll be back home at the ranch tomorrow night. Far as these men, they're Texas Rangers. The tall one found my horses. They're in Dripping Springs right now, in state custody. Now these Rangers are after the men who shot pa and stole 'em."
The sheriff eyed Smoky and Jim. "Rangers, huh?"
"That's right," Jim answered. "I'm Lieutenant Jim Blawcyzk, and this is my pardner, Corporal Smoky McCue."
"I'm sure glad to see some Rangers in town," the lawman answered. "I'm Lee Pierce." He shook both men's hands with a firm grip-Pierce was tall and stocky, his somewhat thick jowls framed by a silver beard and mustache. "You said your name was Blah...?"
"Bluh-zhick," Jim explained. "It's Polish. Easier to just call me Jim."
"And I'm Smoky," McCue added, looking up from the quirly he was rolling.
"Then I'm Lee," the sheriff responded. "I take it you boys are on the trail of Reese Macklin and his bunch."
"You're right," Jim said. "We're gonna rest up here for the night, get Eric back home, then light out on their trail. You wouldn't have any idea where we can find them, would you?"
"That's an easy question," Pierce replied. "Those boys don't bother to hide their tracks on their own stompin' grounds. There's a little town called Buckholts about eighteen miles northeast of here. Macklin's place is just beyond that. He pretty much runs things in Buckholts. And before you ask, he's never done a thing against the law in Bell, Williamson, or Milam counties. So none of us county sheriffs have any reason to go after him."
"County lines mean nothing to the Texas Rangers," Smoky said. "We'll get those renegades, sheriff."
"Well, I don't envy you havin' to take on that bunch," Pierce replied.
"Meantime," said Jim, "that growlin' you hear ain't a bear. It's my belly remindin' me it's been far too long since I had a good meal. Where's the best place for grub in this town?"
"A young fella just opened up a new place coupla' months back, called Jersey Marc's. That's Marc with a c when you're lookin' for the sign. It's two blocks south of here. He serves up the best chuck this side of Texarkana."
"Lee, how about a place to cut some of the dust from our gullets?" Smoky asked.
"That'd be the Frog Rock Saloon, a block past Marc's place. You can't miss it. It's got a big boulder shaped like a frog out front. Bill Handy, who owns the place, even painted that rock green and with frog's eyes."
Pierce glanced at the calendar on the opposite wall. "You boys are in real luck," he added. "Therese Marchitto's entertainin' at the Frog Rock tonight. You won't want to miss her show. Sure wish I could be there, but my wife Cathy'll skin me alive if I don't get home on time for once."
"We'll be turnin' in early, Lee," Jim said.
"You do look a mite tired, Jim. But I'd recommend you stay for at least the first show," Pierce said. "I guarantee if you do you'll have sweet dreams all night long."
"Maybe we'll take your advice then," Jim answered.
"We're going to," Smoky added.
"Glad to hear that," Pierce responded. "How about a room for the night."
"We're gonna see if we can bunk in the loft at the livery stable. That's always cheaper than a hotel, plus a lot of times it's cleaner. And it's convenient to have our horses handy."
"I can't argue with you there," Pierce said. "Anything else I can do for you?"
"Maybe you can," Jim answered. "Be right back." He headed outside where Tommy was still standing guard over the horses. "I see you're still on the job," Jim said.
"That's right, Mister," Tommy answered.
Jim retrieved the piece of fabric, strands of hair, and ruined Stetson and shirt from his saddlebags. He returned to the office and passed them to Pierce for his scrutiny. "You recognize any of these, Lee?"
"I'm not sure. That Stetson resembles one Clete King wears. The shirt
's about his size too. He's been rumored to ride with the Macklin gang. Used to have a small horse ranch just outside of town here, but the bank took it and he hasn't been seen since. And that sandy-colored hair is a match for Macklin's."
"That just might be a big help. Thanks, sheriff. Now I reckon we'll settle our broncs and get supper."
"Since you'll be headin' out early, if I don't see you, good luck."
"Appreciate that," Jim said. "And thanks for your help."
"Anytime."
The Rangers and Eric stepped outside to find Tommy stroking Sizzle's nose.
"I see you didn't let any horse thieves get our mounts." Jim grinned.
"That's right. I sure didn't. But here comes one now."
Tommy stiffened and yanked the toy pistol from his belt. He leveled it at an approaching figure.
"You're not stealin' any horses I'm watchin', Rog," he shouted. "Bang! Gotcha, ya lowdown varmint. Plugged ya dead center."
Tommy's target, an older boy who bore a strong resemblance to him, clutched his chest, screeched, and pitched to his face.
"Told ya I'd keep your horses safe," Tommy said to the Rangers. "I shot that no-good horse thief for you. He's done for."
"Thomas, what are you doing? " a pleasant featured woman called. Alongside her was a ruggedly handsome man, next to him a pretty young girl. "And Roger, get up out of that road," she ordered.
"All right, Mom." The "dead" young horse thief pushed himself to his feet.
The woman hurried up to where the Rangers and Eric stood smiling. "I hope my boy hasn't been troubling you gentlemen," she said.
"Not at all, ma'am," Jim replied, grinning. "Tommy's been watching our horses for us. And he's done a fine job. Just killed himself a horse thief."
"I'm no horse thief," Roger protested.
"Yes, you are!" Tommy dug out his toy gun and shoved the barrel into Roger's belly. "Blam! Nailed ya right in your guts. You're dead for sure this time."
Roger grabbed his middle and crumpled to the sidewalk.
"Ya killed me all right," he groaned.
Ranger's Revenge (Texas Ranger Jim Blawcyzk Book 7) Page 9