by Ken Farmer
The hair on Newton’s back rose up as he growled at the two men from deep back in his throat.
“Better corral that mutt, Deputy, ‘fore I plug ‘im…Don’t like dogs anyhoo.”
“Newton, hush…Lay down.”
The Border Collie grumbled, stepped back to the stove and lay down, his brown eyes still on the two.
“Just who are you fellows, anyway?” asked Gomer.
“Well, not that it’s gonna make any difference…We’re the Rudabaugh brothers. He’s Frank an’ I’m Harlan.”
“Rudabaughs…You Henry’s…”
“Yeah, Henry was our baby brother and Flynn kilt him or was responsible for it…We aim to return the favor,” said Frank.
“Just the two of you? Against the sheriff and his wife, Deputy US Marshal Fiona Miller Flynn?…This oughta be interestin’.”
The brothers looked at each other and laughed. “For yer information, boy, we got ten men already scattered about your little town here…Got you shut down an’ locked up tighter’n a jug whilst you were in here playin’ with yer papers,” said Harlan.
“Nobody leaves an’ anybody comin’ in stays or dies…How you like them apples?” commented Frank.
“What about the town marshal?”
Frank chuckled. “As a lawman, he’s useless as tits on a boar hog. Didn’t take him three seconds to see the light an’ pitch in with us.”
“Seems he don’t like the sheriff much, neither,” said Harlan.
“Where’d ya’ll come from? Ain’t never heard ‘bout you ‘round here.”
“Arizona is our normal stompin’ grounds, Deputy. Only heard about his posse killin’ our baby brother last year, a little over a month ago…Took us a while roundin’ up our boys and head thisaway,” said Frank.
“We spent a month gittin’ a mad on, comin’ here, an’ ain’t ‘bout to be trifled with. We’re gonna hang Mason Flynn…an’ probably his wife too, ‘fore we leave,” added Harlan.
“Yeah, but, just so ya’ll know, it wasn’t Sheriff Flynn’s posse…it was a vigilante bunch…Headed up by the brother of the banker the gang kilt durin’ a robbery,” commented Gomer.
“What was his name?” asked Frank.
“Hiram Merkins…but don’t matter none, he got bit in the face by a rattlesnake and died at the same time yore brother got shot.”
“Then who was it that shot him?” inquired Harlan.
“Uh, well, that don’t matter none neither, he don’t work here no more.”
“I asked who the hell was it what shot him? Dammit!” shouted Harlan shoving his gun under Gomer’s chin and lifting him up on his toes.
“Uh…it was a posseman named Slim Parker.”
“An’ just where the hell is this posseman?” asked an increasingly agitated Frank.
“Uh, he works out at a horse ranch southeast of here, the Flyin’ L.…He’s a Chickasaw Freedman.”
“A nigger? A smoke kilt our brother?” Harlan screamed. “Sonofabitch! Then he dies, too…Dammit to hell!”
“Naw, Harlan, let’s don’t hang ‘im,” said Frank.
Harlan turned to his brother. “What’n hell do you mean, Frank?”
“Let’s burn ‘im.”
§§§
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
GAINESVILLE PD
“He just disappeared?” asked an incredulous Inspector Stella Johnson.
Captain St. John nodded. “I turned around to check on the moon rising and when I turned back…he just wasn’t there anymore. Could easily see his imprint in the sand where he was sittin’…but he was just plain gone.”
“Ooh, this is gettin’ creepy…Oh, what about Tyrin?”
“Somebody’s going to have to go out there and take care of him.”
“I’ll go…Actually, Peach and I will just move out there till Padrino and Bone get back…We share an apartment anyway. Can’t leave Tyrin out there alone.”
“Good thinking…What if they, uh…don’t come back?” asked St. John.
“Well, we’ll just stay out there. My gut tells me they will be back, though…sometime.”
“Also, how about the three of us keep callin’ both of them…Hell, the three of them with Loraine.”
Stella giggled. “Still can’t believe they’re married…What if it’s one of Bone’s gags?”
“You can pull the newspaper article from the Gainesville Daily Register, November, 28, 1898, about their wedding up on the net and read it for yourself.”
She shook her head and her long blond tresses, tied back in a low ponytail, swung back and forth. “I told Peach, I thought they were in love…but, didn’t know it or weren’t willin’ to admit it…but, you could see the chemistry a mile off.” Stella giggled again. “Do you know if Padrino went to the same time period?”
“Don’t have a clue, but maybe we’ll get through eventually on the phone to one of them,” said St. John.
“And maybe Lucy will pop in soon in one of her holograms like she has before.”
St. John looked at her. “Yeah, maybe.”
JACK COUNTY
Padrino pulled rein at a southeast to northwest wagon road. “Bet a nickel this is the Jacksboro to Fort Worth road.” He chuckled. “Be interesting if the folks today knew this would be called the Highway to Hell in the ‘50s, with all the gambling halls and bars that will be built…What say we swing by and pick up some supplies, and maybe get some lunch, horse?”
The blue roan turned his head and looked back at Padrino with his limpid brown eyes.
“Thought you’d agree. It’s only a couple of miles out of the way to Rosston.”
He squeezed the gelding up into a road trot to the northwest, the blood bay gelding tracking behind on his lead.
Padrino came into sight of Jacksboro a couple of miles up the road and noticed the crumbling remains, off to the west of the road a little, of what was once the largest military installation in the nation with 666 officers and enlisted personnel during the Indian wars. It had been abandoned in 1878.
“Pity,” muttered Padrino. “Glad the Texas Parks and Wildlife Department took it over in 1968, salvaged many of the buildings, and turned it into a state park.”
He saw what appeared to be travelers camped in the ruins with three wagons parked nearby. “Hmm, that’s interesting. Wonder why they don’t go on into town?…Let’s go see, shall we, boy?”
Padrino reined to his left and trotted into the former parade grounds. Several children that had been playing in the open, disappeared.
Three men stepped out of the shadows of one of the dilapidated barracks, each held a Winchester, pointed in his direction.
He held up his right hand. “Hold on there, boys, no call for guns. I’m just passin’ through.”
“Step down off’n that hoss, mister, an’ keep your hands where we kin see ‘em,” said one of the men, bringing the rifle to his shoulder.
“You shore are dressed funny,” said the man.
“I’m…uh, from up north. Toward Chicago way.”
“Yankee,” said the second man.
“What’s this about?” asked Padrino as he dismounted.
“You with that bunch in town?” the same man asked.
“What bunch?”
The three men exchanged glances.
“There’s a gang what’s taken over the town…Nobody can leave an’ ‘nybody what goes in…stays.”
“You mean they’re holding the town hostage?” asked Padrino.
“That’s the long an’ the short of it…Takin’ yer life in yer hands, goin’ in there.”
“My boy an’ his boy…” The man nodded at the other farmer type next to him. “…went in this mornin’ to git some supplies…bacon an’ flour an’ sech, fer us. We’re headin’ to New Mexico…They ain’t come out.”
The second man spoke up. “Some youngsters snuck out from the side of town an’ slipped into this here abandoned fort. Tol’ us what it was that was goin’ on…They’s afraid to go back in.”
&nbs
p; “What about the law?”
“Said the sheriff’s outta town…They’s only one deputy an’ they got him locked up in his own jail…Them outlaws, bunch of real hardcases, is wantin’ to kill the sheriff when he gits back,” said the first man.
“You don’t say?”
“Yep, what the youngsters said.”
“Wonder when the sheriff is due back? Any idea?” asked Padrino.
“Them boys said he’s expected tomorra…meby the next day,” said the second man.
“Well, I think I’ll just keep on travelin’. Don’t cotton to any trouble,” commented Padrino.
“Sorry if’n we was a mite testy.”
“It’s all right. I fully understand…Don’t blame you a bit.”
He remounted and turned the roan back to the northeast and trotted off. Need to get to Lucy’s by tonight, Bone and them don’t need to be riding into that situation, unawares, he thought as he crossed the road that led into town. Can switch off on these mounts and should make it by tonight. Probably about thirty miles…as the crow flies.
CENTRAL TEXAS
The Gulf and Colorado train was slowing down for its scheduled stop in Waco. The locomotive blew off steam as she eased to a stop at the depot for passengers, coal and water.
“What say we get out and stretch our legs while we’re stopped?” mentioned Mason.
“Works for me…Maybe we can get some sandwiches,” said Bone as he got to his feet and held out his hand to Loraine. “You coming, Pard?”
“I certainly am,” she replied as she stepped out to the aisleway.
“I’ll go in and send a telegram to Bodie, tellin’ him what time the train is supposed to get in,” said Mason.
“I’ll go with you, dear,” commented Fiona.
The four stepped down the steel steps to the platform and headed toward the depot. They passed an apparent law officer with a rough-looking man in front of him in shackles.
“Looks like someone is heading north for a trial,” commented Fiona.
“Or a hangin’,” added Mason.
“I wouldn’t trust that guy a far as I could throw him,” said Loraine. “If it were me, I’d have him in ankle shackles, too.”
“Agreed,” responded Mason.
Bone nodded at the man wearing a deputy sheriff’s badge. “Officer.”
The deputy nodded back. The prisoner wheeled around when his captor turned to nod at Bone and whipped his shackled hands over the deputy’s head, jerking the chain between the cuffs against his throat.
“Everbody back, or he dies.”
He pulled back on the chain, lifting the deputy back on his heels, grabbing at the prisoner’s hands. It was obvious the chain had his windpipe shut off as his struggles weakened and his eyes began to bug out.
Bone shot his massive hand out, slamming it down on the top of the prisoner’s head, flattening his already battered fedora and began to squeeze.
Almost instantly the man’s pull against the deputy’s throat lessened as he cried out, “Ahhh.”
Bone towered over the pair as he exerted more pressure with his fingers on both sides of the prisoner’s head. “Turn him loose or I’ll pop your noggin’ like a grape…Do it…Do it now,” he calmly said.
The man’s knees buckled as his eyes rolled back in his head. The deputy was able to grab the prisoner’s hands and lift them back over his head.
Bone continued his crushing grip and simultaneously pushing the outlaw down to his knees until he finally went limp and collapsed like a wet newspaper, out cold.
The deputy looked up at Bone in awe. “Ain’t never in all my borned days seen anythin’ like that,” he muttered. “Much obliged, mister.”
He finally noticed the badges the four were wearing. “Dangnation, shore glad ya’ll was on that train. Thought I was a goner fer shore…That man’s a killer. Kilt a whole family in cold blood up in Ardmore. Man and his wife an’ seven kids…He escaped durin’ the sentencin’. The Rangers caught him over to Gatesville…I’m takin’ him back to hang.”
“Who was the original arresting officer up in Ardmore?” asked Mason.
“Deputy US Marshal Jack McGann.”
They all laughed.
The deputy looked puzzled.
“It’s a wonder he survived to make it to trial. Jack doesn’t put up with any guff,” said Fiona.
“Ya’ll know him?” the deputy asked.
They all exchanged glances and grins.
“We do…We do indeed,” said Mason.
“Your prisoner’s lucky Bone here didn’t kill him. He doesn’t tolerated ‘guff’ either,” said Loraine.
“Say, who are ya’ll, anyhoo?”
“I’m Sheriff Mason Flynn from Jack County, this is my wife, Deputy US Marshal Fiona Miller Flynn.” He nodded at Loraine and Bone. “That’s Inspector Loraine Bone and man mountain there is her husband, Detective Darrell Bone…We’ve been on our honeymoons.”
“Lord a mercy…Heard ‘bout ya’ll from Marshals McGann and Lindsey…Lord, Lord, Lord.” He continue to look in awe. “Ya’ll headin’ north, are ye?”
“Gainesville,” replied Fiona.
“Shore ‘nuff glad to hear that. Sheriff Colcord shoulda sent at least two of us to git this killer.”
“Always a good idea,” said Mason.
“I’d put ankle shackles on him and shackle his hands behind him, not in front,” said Fiona.
“Good idea, Marshal…Uh, what happens if he has to drain his lizzard?”
“Use your imagination,” said Bone.
“Oh…right,” answered the deputy as he helped the groggy man to his feet and shoved him toward the car. “Thanks again…Move along, jackanape.”
Bone jerked like a rabbit had run across his grave. “Padrino?”
§§§
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
COOKE COUNTY
WILSON RANCH
The sun had just ducked behind the horizon and gloaming was in full effect when Padrino rode up to the entrance to the ranch. The first stars were just beginning to twinkle into view to the east in the darkening skies of the coming nightfall.
He could see the white, L-shaped ranch house a little over three hundred yards in the distance. Smoke was curling up from the native rock kitchen chimney and also from the one in the parlor.
“Doesn’t look much different, except for the drill stem pipe front entrance and gate Bone and I put in and the galvanized roof instead of our new green one.” He nudged the blood bay through the cedar post entry, with the iron Box W brand hanging from the center of the crosspiece, and toward the house. The blue roan on the lead, trotted behind them.
Five minutes later he reined up outside the white picket fence. He recognized a young Lucy with her familiar pixie hairstyle sitting on the porch steps, apparently waiting on him.
She got to her feet and ran to the spring-loaded front gate with Garin right beside her and came outside to greet him.
“Welcome, Padrino.” Lucy had a big grin on her cherubic face.
He stepped down from the gelding and wrapped his reins around the hitching rail, leaned over and hugged the diminutive alien.
Padrino stepped back. “Sure am glad to see you, Annuna…or I guess I should say, Lucy.”
“And I, you…for the first time…You got here sooner than I expected.”
He nodded. “Had two horses, I…uh, acquired south of Jacksboro. A couple of brigands decided they didn’t need them anymore…at least not where they went.”
She smiled again. “I know. I kept tabs on you during your trip. I can’t tell you how surprised I was when I sensed you last night…Of course I only know of you and your image from Bone’s memories of our time in your yearly count of 2014 when you and he helped me get rescued by my people.”
Padrino looked down at Garin. “Great guns, he looks almost exactly like my…or your Tyrin you left with us in my time.”
She grinned. “Yes, I love his color of blond and white. That’s why I will adopt Tyrin fr
om Noah’s Ark Rescue in 2010, according to Bone…because he looked so much like Garin here.”
Padrino knelt and rubbed Garin’s ears. “I’m still having a little trouble getting my head around all of this, especially how Bone and Loraine came to this particular time…and then I did.”
“I know, my Chickasaw Shaman friend, Anompoli Lawa, explained it…actually much better than I could.”
“Oh?”
“He said it was written in the timeline that Bone and Loraine would come to perform certain tasks, one, being to save the life of his own great grandmother, Deputy US Marshal Fiona Miller Flynn. He took a bullet meant for her and actually died for a few moments.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No, I got there just in time and with the help of Fiona’s life energy, we were able to bring him back.”
“Nothing in the papers about that.”
Lucy nodded. “I’m not surprised. We didn’t tell anyone…And shortly after that he and Loraine were part of a group that saved the future president of the United States, Theodore Roosevelt…”
“Ah, the hunting trip to the Kiamichis.”
“Yes. Both Anompoli Lawa and I were along.”
“The newspaper article I discovered in my time didn’t mention everyone that was along on the trip.”
“Anomopli Lawa is also known as Doctor Winchester Ashalatubbi of the Chickasaw Nation. He’s a medical doctor as well as a doctor of divinity and the tribal Shaman.”
“Interesting.”
“Maybe you’ll get to meet him while you’re here. He’s an amazingly brilliant man…He said…and this is so simple that it more than makes sense once you understand the space and time continuum…‘If you travel to the past, then you are part of the past…and always have been.’”
“But…”
“Yes, I know. When we meet in 2014, I will already know of you because you had come back to this time, but I felt it would not be proper to tell you then…”
“Ah…Then I was right when I told Captain St. John I had already been back here. I suppose it’s like the Temporal Prime Directive stating that history must not be changed or tampered with and the timeline must be protected…plus the standard Prime Directive from the TV show and movies in my time, Star Trek, of prohibiting interference with other world’s cultures…” said Padrino. “It just wasn’t the right time for us to know that we would be traveling back in time.”