Ranger's Revenge (Texas Ranger Jim Blawcyzk Book 7)

by James J. Griffin

  "I doubt it. From what everyone's said, Macklin's got folks around here buffaloed. He's not worried about any lawmen ridin' up on his place."

  Jim paused and grinned.

  "Besides, Macklin and his whole outfit think I'm dead, remember?"

  Smoky gave a rueful chuckle. "If any of 'em get the drop on us before we get in there you will be. Both of us, for that matter. Maybe we'll get lucky and surprise 'em. How many do you think we'll be up against?"

  "Well, if Pete's estimate was right, Macklin had eight men in his outfit, includin' himself. My boy killed one of 'em, and we just downed Clete King. So that should leave six."

  "Unless Macklin's hired more riders in the meantime," Smoky pursed his lips inhaling deeply off his quirly and let the smoke drift out of his nostrils.

  "He most likely has, but there's only one way to find out," Jim answered.

  "I reckon you're right. Well, let's get this over with." Smoky took one last pull on his cigarette, crushed out the butt on his saddlehorn, then tossed it aside.

  "I reckon we'd best leave the horses here and go in the rest of the way on foot," Jim said. He swung out of his saddle and tied Sizzle to a scrubby juniper. Smoky did likewise with Soot.

  Jim pulled his rifle from its scabbard, then dug a peppermint from his hip pocket and gave it to his horse. "You wait here until I get back," he ordered the paint. "And behave yourself."

  Sizzle whickered a soft response.

  "You ready, Smoke?" Jim asked.

  Smoky jacked the lever of his Winchester and spat on the ground. "I thought you'd never ask," he said, a lopsided grin crossing his face.

  Rifles at the ready, crouching low and running, they headed for the confrontation with Reese Macklin and his men. They reached the fence surrounding the buildings unchallenged, and dove to their bellies behind its meager shelter.

  "Looks like they're all in the house," Smoky muttered.

  "No, they sure aren't," Jim replied. "Look!"

  Eight men leading saddled horses emerged from the barn.

  Jim leapt to his feet.

  "Reese Macklin! Texas Rangers! You're all under arrest!"

  "Jim! Are you loco? Get down!" Smoky yelled.

  Macklin and his men stared in disbelief for just one moment, seeing the man they'd thought left dead with a bullet in his back and another in his brain standing there with a leveled rifle.

  "Blawcyzk!" Macklin shouted, then grabbed for his gun.

  "Too late!" Smoky exclaimed. He fired his Winchester, putting a bullet into one outlaw's chest and spinning him to the dirt.

  Jim aimed just above Macklin's belt buckle, but when he fired Macklin's frightened horse pulled him aside. The bullet ripped through the stomach of another of the renegades. The man jackknifed and went down, trampled under the milling, panicked horses. The yard erupted in a maelstrom of flying lead, screaming men, and terrified horses.

  Smoky grunted when a bullet tore along his ribs, but his return shot put a slug through the neck of the man who'd hit him. The outlaw dropped his pistol and grabbed his throat, trying in vain to stem the blood pumping from his severed jugular.

  Jim's second shot punctured the shoulder of one of the three remaining men. Instantly Reese Macklin and Bob Perdue, the only other unwounded man, dropped their guns to the ground and lifted their hands in the air.

  "We've had enough!" Macklin screamed.

  "You might've had enough, but I'm not finished with you yet, Macklin!" Jim spat out the words. "Not after what you did to my wife and kid!"

  Smoky covered Perdue and the wounded man, who lay clutching his bullet-punctured shoulder. "Don't even wiggle or I'll put a slug clean through you," he warned.

  Jim stalked up to Macklin and jabbed the outlaw in his belly with the barrel of his Winchester, then swept Macklin's hat off his head, revealing his thatch of sandy hair. New growth had not yet completely filled in where Julia had ripped a chunk from the outlaw's scalp. Jim dug in his pocket, pulled out the hank of hair and piece of fabric he'd carried for these many days and miles, and threw them at Macklin's feet.

  "I took that hair out of my wife's hand, Macklin! Your hair! You're the one who beat and raped my wife. Don't try and deny it. Now the only decision I have today is how slow I want you to die. But you are gonna die!"

  "I ain't gonna deny it," Macklin replied.

  "That's good, because it wouldn't matter if you did," Jim answered.

  "Why deny it? I enjoyed havin' her too much." Macklin taunted. "I just wish I'd known you were still alive that day. I would have let you watch."

  Furious, Jim reversed his Winchester and drove the butt into the pit of Macklin's stomach. The outlaw doubled over in pain, defiance still blazing in his pale blue eyes.

  "Go ahead and kill me," Macklin said gasping for breath. "But I guarantee you'll regret it."

  Jim aimed his rifle just below Macklin's belt buckle and levered a shell into the chamber.

  "Don't do it, Jim," Smoky said. "If you kill him, you'll be just as bad as he is. You don't want that. It's not worth throwin' away everything you've stood for on the likes of Macklin."

  "That doesn't matter, Smoke. Not after what he did to Julia."

  "It does, Jim." Smoky reached out and touched his pardner on the arm. "You'd better think of Julia and Charlie. No matter what these sidewinders did to them, they sure wouldn't want you to turn into a cold-blooded murderer on their account. Think what that would do to them. Especially if you ended up gettin' yourself hung for killin' this sorry s.o.b."

  Jim stood there for a long moment, conflicting emotions etched on his face. He still held the rifle aimed at Macklin's belly, but the Winchester's barrel was shaking. Finally, Jim lowered the rifle.

  "All right. You're talkin' sense, Smoke. I can't just gun him down. So I guess we'll have to make this a fair fight, man to man. Besides, I'll get a lot more satisfaction takin' him apart with my fists."

  He laid his Winchester aside, then unbuckled his gunbelt and dropped it next to the rifle. "Smoke, you stay out of this," he ordered.

  "It's your play, pardner."

  "Same goes for you," Smoky said to Perdue and the wounded man.

  "I'm done with this, Ranger," Perdue replied.

  "And I'm hurtin' too much," said the wounded man.

  "Okay, Macklin, I'm givin' you a chance," Jim said, his eyes like ice. He drove his fist into Macklin's stomach.

  Macklin gasped, took a step back, and slammed a punch of his own into Jim's chest, staggering him. Macklin's following blow took Jim on the chin, spinning him to the ground.

  Jim rolled onto his back. Macklin dove at him, and Jim sank both feet into Macklin's belly, flipping him over his head. Before Macklin could recover, Jim pounced on him, both men rolling over and over in the dirt. Macklin tossed Jim off, sprang to his feet, grabbed Jim's shirtfront, and pulled him upright. The shirt tore open at the chest, the right sleeve ripping off at the shoulder. Macklin smashed Jim in the mouth, then hard in the belly. Jim ducked his next punch to slam a solid left into Macklin's ribs.

  The two men fought as only the bitterest of enemies could fight. There was nothing civilized about this battle. The combatants stood toe to toe, slugging it out. Rock-hard fists slammed into bellies, ribs, and jaws, blood splattering with each blow to the face.

  Jim groaned when Macklin drove a knee into his crotch. He grabbed Macklin's neckerchief as he crumpled, dragging him down and half-choking him. Macklin tried to pull away, but Jim had a firm grip on the outlaw's bandanna and shirt. The shirt ripped apart as Macklin tried to break free.

  Jim fought off the agony pulsing through his groin and lower belly. Hat on his back, he smashed several short, sharp blows into Macklin's gut. Macklin grunted, all the air driven out of his lungs. He rolled and forced himself to his hands and knees.

  Jim struggled to his feet, standing with fist cocked over the stunned outlaw. Macklin had no strength left to rise. He held one hand to the back of his throbbing head. Both men gulped in great draught
s of air.

  "Had enough, Macklin?" Jim said spitting blood.

  "Not quite," Macklin rasped. "I'm still gonna finish you, Ranger."

  The outlaw attempted to push himself to his feet. Jim kicked him hard in the belly, flipping him onto his back. Macklin wrapped his arms around his middle, groaning.

  "You've got that backwards, Macklin. I'm the one who's gonna finish you, once and for all."

  "You... you ain't gonna kill me." Macklin gasped and tried to cover his bloody face.

  "I can't think of one reason why I shouldn't," Jim said.

  "I can. I'm the one man who can tell you who was really behind the raid on your ranch."

  "Nice try, Macklin but you're just lyin' to save your sorry hide. Besides, what about your pardners over there? If there is such a person, one of them could tell me."

  "Perdue and Haycroft don't know who ordered that attack. Only me and Clete King met with that hombre. I ain't lyin', Ranger. Kill me and you'll never know who wanted you dead, your wife's and boy's lives ruined."

  "Smoky, throw me my Colt," said Jim.

  Smoky picked up Jim's Peacemaker and tossed it to him. Jim aimed the pistol directly at Macklin's middle.

  "There are six bullets in this gun. Talk fast, Macklin. And if I don't like what you have to say I'll put all six slugs through your lousy guts."

  "I said I'd tell. You recall a few years back there was a bad deal up in the Panhandle, involving the Texas Pacific Railroad?"

  "You mean that scheme to wreck the railroad?"

  "Yeah. The plan you and your pardners stopped."

  "The men behind that are all dead or in prison," Jim said.

  "They are. But Thaddeus Cox, that state senator you killed, had a brother, Justin. He's the man who wanted you dead for what you did to his kin. He's been bidin' his time all these years waitin' to get even."

  "That doesn't make sense," said Smoky. "I've heard of Justin Cox. He's a wealthy man and a big wheel in state politics. He even has the governor's ear, from what I hear tell. Why would he risk all that to kill Jim?"

  Macklin wiped the blood trickling from the corners of his mouth. "That's right. Cox is a powerful man over in east Texas. He's a commissioner in Leon County, and just about runs it. But hate's a powerful motive. You should know that, Ranger." Macklin shrugged his shoulders. "Me, I was just doin' what I was paid to do. There wasn't anythin' personal in it, except my natural dislike for all lawmen, so I was glad for the chance to kill one and get paid for it. But Cox's feelin's for Blawcyzk are pure poison."

  "All right Macklin, suppose I believe your story," Jim said. "You've bought yourself some time, but you're still under arrest and headed for jail and probably the hangman's rope."

  "You might put me in jail, but I won't stay there," Macklin said. "Cox'll spring me before long. That was part of our deal if anything went wrong. If you don't believe me check the top drawer in my desk inside the house. Everything's in writing. I made sure of that." The beaten outlaw started to sit up.

  "Don't move, Macklin," Jim said. "Far as your boss goes, he won't be able to get you out if he's dead or in prison himself, which he will be once I'm done with him."

  "I'm not worried about that." Macklin growled out an ugly laugh. "You'll never get to Cox. Besides his political influence, he has a small army of bodyguards. His chief man's a big feller, name of Mike Buckley. And his place outside of Leona is a fortress. You'll be dead before you get within a hundred yards of Cox."

  "I wouldn't count on that," Jim answered. "I've got a friend in Leon County myself. Another Ranger, Jim Huggins. And he'll pull in one or two more Rangers if I ask him. I'm not worried, but Cox should be."

  "We'll see. But once you're lyin' dead and I'm turned loose, maybe I'll go visit your widow again. That'd sure give me pleasure."

  Enraged, Jim drove the toe of his boot into Macklin's groin. The outlaw screeched in anguish. "I might not kill you, Macklin, but that doesn't mean I can't fix you so you'll never again go near another woman," Jim ground his boot heel into Macklin's groin. Macklin curled up on his side, clutching his crotch and whimpering. Tears of pain streaked his cheeks.

  "Easy, Jim, he's had enough," Smoky said.

  "I reckon you're right, Smoke," Jim answered. "Besides, we'd better try and get to Cox before word gets back to him about what happened here."

  "Not to mention, since I haven't reported in, Cap'n Trumbull's gotta have half the Rangers in Texas lookin' for both of us right now, so we'd better finish our business before one of 'em finds us." Smoky scratched his jaw. "What're we gonna do with these hombres?"

  "We'll put 'em in the county jail at Cameron. I'm sure the sheriff there'll be glad to finally see them behind bars. We'll load up the bodies of the others and leave them with the sheriff too."

  "I can't ride a horse. It'd just about kill me," Macklin whined.

  "You'd best plan on it, unless you'd rather be roped belly-down over a saddle like your dead pards, or maybe you'd prefer walkin' or bein' dragged along by a rope," Jim said.

  Smoky whirled at a sudden flicker of movement behind one of the house windows. He put a bullet through the top pane, shattering the glass. "Whoever's left in there, throw out your guns and come out with your hands up," he ordered.

  The door opened, and two scantily clad women emerged from the house. One of them was weeping, the other cursing the Rangers. This one charged Smoky, and beat her fists on his chest. Jim shifted his gun from the pain paralyzed Macklin to cover Perdue and Haycroft.

  Smoky grabbed the woman's wrists. "Whoa. Easy, honey!" he said.

  "What have you done? You killed my man!" she screeched, then again hurled oaths at the lawmen.

  "Settle down or I'll hogtie you and haul you to jail," said Smoky.

  "You'd better listen to him, Lillie," the other woman said still sobbing.

  "Linda Mae, they shot Monk," Lillie screamed. "Now what will I do?"

  "I imagine you'll just keep on workin' at what you've been doin'," Smoky said still holding Lillie by both wrists.

  "You'd best take your friend's advice and quiet down," Jim warned the woman. "I don't much care what you've been up to, or what you intend to do now. We'll leave you a couple of horses, so my advice is you ride back to town, since there's no reason for you to stay here."

  "He's right, Lillie. There's nothing left for us here," Linda Mae said. "These Rangers could have made us walk back to town. At least they're not doing that. We'll survive like we always have."

  "I guess you're right. They're not giving us a choice," Lillie replied. "All right, Ranger, you can let me go. We'll get out of your way."

  Smoky released the woman. Lillie cursed both men ferociously, but headed for the barn along with her companion.

  "I don't think they like us, Jim," Smoky said chuckling.

  "I think that's an understatement," Jim answered. "Let's get movin'."

  Leaving Smoky to guard the captives, Jim picked up the piece of Macklin's hair and shirt and headed to the house. It only took a moment for him to find the papers Macklin had indicated. He quickly scanned them, and then shoved them inside his shirt. "Well, these prove he wasn't lyin'," he muttered, "and they should give me enough evidence to have Justin Cox put away for a long time, maybe the rest of his life."

  Macklin, Perdue, and Haycroft were tied; Haycroft's wound bandaged. They were left waiting while the bodies of the other men were tied over their horses. Once that was completed, Smoky retrieved the Rangers' mounts. Sizzle whinnied when he spotted Jim, trotted up to him, and dropped his nose to Jim's hip pocket.

  "Peppermint." Jim laughed and gave the horse his treat.

  Smoky saddled the three remaining horses and led them to the waiting prisoners. "Mount up," he ordered the men.

  Perdue climbed into the saddle of his roan. Smoky tied his wrists to the saddlehorn and ankles to the stirrups.

  "I'm gonna need some help," Haycroft said.

  Smoky helped the wounded man into the saddle and tied him in place. />
  Jim hauled Macklin to his feet and shoved him onto his horse. Macklin yelped, cringing in pain when he hit the saddle.

  "I can't ride. Hurts too much," he choked out.

  Jim rapped Macklin's temple with the butt of his Colt. Macklin moaned and slumped unconscious over his horse's neck.

  "Won't hurt now," Jim said. He tied Macklin to his horse, and picked up the reins.

  Jim climbed into his own saddle. Smoky had already mounted. Jim glanced at the blood staining the side of his partner's shirt. You need patchin' up?" he questioned.

  "No. That slug just clipped me. The bleeding's already stopped. I'll take care of myself when we get to Cameron," Smoky answered.

  "Then let's go." Jim heeled Sizzle into a lope.

  Chapter 18

  The Rangers stopped in Cameron long enough to drop off their prisoners and the dead outlaws, grab a quick bite, and rest and grain their horses. Since the town had a Western Union, Jim considered sending a telegram to Austin for delivery to his wife, care of Dr. Vender. If Julia had regained consciousness, the wire would let her know Jim was all right and thinking about her. But he rejected the idea, realizing the message would also provide his present location. He had no intention of making Captain Trumbull's hunt for him any easier. Once he had taken care of Justin Cox, it would be time enough to face the wrath of his commanding officer.

  Three days steady riding after leaving Cameron found them approaching Leon County. They had stopped alongside the banks of the Navasota River, the boundary between Robertson and Leon Counties, to let their tired horses drink and graze. While Sizzle and Soot cropped the thick grass next to the stream, their riders sat in the shade and relaxed. Smoky had as usual rolled himself a cigarette. He took a deep pull on the smoke.

  "You got any particular ideas in mind about how to go after this Cox character?" he asked Jim.

  "Not yet," Jim answered, "although I'm workin' on a couple. But first I want to ride into Centerville. That's where Jim Huggins lives, and with any luck he'll still be home recuperatin'. Since these are his stompin' grounds, I figure he might have some thoughts on what to do."