Twice bullets ricocheted from boulders an instant after he had passed them or thrown himself across. He didn’t return the fire until he made the level ground where the tumbledown adobe stood. He saw the hardy mountain ponies in the corrals, settled in the rocks and fired.
One of the ponies dropped where it stood. Before it hit the ground, the one next to it reared up, pawing the air, shrilling, and then crashed on to its side, legs kicking feebly. A third joined the others.
‘That only leaves two.’ Enderby called, keeping his head well down. ‘I can make it none, if you like!’
His answer was raking rifle fire, and the thunder of a shotgun. Nothing touched him. He left his hat jammed between two rocks and moved to his right, on his belly, using knees and elbows. He got out of line with the front windows and saw his hat spin away. Someone laughed in the shack.
Then he climbed up on to a high boulder, worked around until he was above the dry brush roof and jumped, aiming for a place three feet to the left of the chimney. He went in with splintering, rotten brush stalks collapsing under his weight. Dust choked and blinded him but he dropped flat on the earthen floor, rolled completely over and began shooting.
Before he had touched the floor he had seen the boy’s form on a ragged bunk along one wall. That meant whoever moved on the floor was an enemy. They spun towards him, shocked.
His rifle was spitting flame and death as he worked lever and trigger and Señors Mantello and Corzo flung up their arms and crashed to the floor, Corzo jamming into a corner and managing to get off one more shot.
Buck Enderby nailed him with another bullet and felt lead burn across his arm, and again run like a drawn hot branding-iron down his left leg. It made his body jump but he twisted and flung the rifle at the shooter, the man crouched under a window. As he ducked, Enderby’s right hand flashed across his body and there was a roaring Colt in his fist.
Temprano started to stand upright but the bullets beat him down and blood ran from a corner of his mouth. There was a brief bout of wracking coughing and he was still, his eyes open and staring blankly.
Enderby pushed upright, leaning his shoulders against the adobe wall, the smoking gun sweeping around and coming to rest pointing at the boy on the bunk.
He was filthy and dishevelled but even so, Buck saw that his dirty clothes had originally been of good quality.
‘Renny Pardoe?’ He examined his wounds but figured they were only superficial. The kid was narrow-faced, smeared with grime. There was a slight fuzz on his jowls. His black hair was matted with dirt and, although he was leery of this man with the gun who had seemingly dropped out of the sky, there was still a tightness about his thin lips.
‘Who … who’re you?’ The voice was a little shaky but still sounded demanding.
‘Name’s Buck Enderby. I’m a Texas Ranger, sent by your father.’
Renny stared, then jerked his head towards Temprano. ‘He said he was from the Senator. That the reward had been doubled.’
‘Not true, kid. I’m here to take you back.’
‘How do I know that? Did you bring me a change of clothes? A weapon? A note from my father…?’
Enderby merely produced his badge and showed it to him. Renny Pardoe wasn’t impressed.
‘Hell, they sell them in the Plaza del Sol in Monterrey, for less than a peso.’ His lip curled.
Enderby put the badge away, began gathering his things. ‘You coming or not?’
Renny stared stubbornly, looking like he was going to throw a tantrum.
‘That shooting will’ve been heard in the village. Someone’ll be out here mighty soon. I’d just as leave not be here when they arrive…. You’re walking money to those peons, kid.’
‘Stop calling me “kid”! What if I don’t want to come?’
Enderby glanced down at the dead men. ‘Guess they won’t be missed but does seem a waste of lead and powder if they didn’t have to die right then. Well, you make up your mind, kid, Renny. I’m leaving. Pronto.’
He kicked open the rear door and started out. Renny hadn’t made a move until the moment Enderby began running towards the boulders. At the same time there were shouts from the slope. He lifted on the bunk and saw, through the open window, a crowd of peons making their way towards the adobe shack. The first drops of rain spattered down.
‘Wait! Wait up, damn you! I’m coming!’
Enderby didn’t slow down, running from rock to rock, and the kid, afraid of the men now coming up the slope, followed, skidding and tumbling several times. Buck had made his way behind the corrals and he snatched a rope halter from the rails, slipped it over the head of a startled dappled pony, then kicked the rails loose and led the animal into the rocks. The men below started shooting.
Renny covered his head with his hands and sobbed in fear as he ran to where Enderby was now swinging into the saddle of his chestnut. He held out the rope on the pony as Renny staggered up, breathless. Rain drenched them both now.
‘Get on.’
‘There … there’s no saddle!’
‘You want one, go back for it – me, I’m moving out.’
Renny whined as Enderby dropped the halter rope and rowelled the chestnut, swinging it up the slope. Bullets kicked mud around the boy’s feet and he gave a cry of alarm and flung himself across the pony’s back, arms and head on one side, flailing legs on the other. The startled animal took off, and followed Enderby’s chestnut up the slope.
Renny Pardoe kicked and cussed and actually cried in frustration but by the time they topped out on the crest and began to skid and slide down the other side, he had managed to struggle upright on the pony.
He groaned as the animal’s bony ridge of spine pounded his buttocks. Rain lashed and lightning flared, both horses snorting and fighting the reins. But they made it out of town and into the hills and then through a series of dry washes, now half-flooded, into a narrow pass, and came out on the banks of a muddy creek. Enderby, allowing his chestnut a short drink, told Renny not to let the panting pony draw too much water into his belly.
‘I don’t take orders from you!’
Enderby slapped him. Not too hard, but a blow across the face that so startled the kid that he stumbled to one knee and his mouth sagged open as he stared up, wide-eyed at Buck. He rubbed his cheek which was reddening beneath the layer of grime. The rain had washed some of it off but there was still a stubborn, ingrained layer. ‘You … you hit me!’
‘And I’ll do it again if you don’t pay me mind, if you want to get out of here, you do what I say, and you do it pronto. Next time, I’ll not only hit you, I’ll leave you. I can use the reward, but I don’t aim to get myself killed on account of a spoiled brat like you.’
Renny’s thin chest was heaving wildly now. His mouth worked but he couldn’t find enough breath to speak at first.
After they had crossed the creek and were riding through thorny brush, he snarled: ‘Maybe I’ll tell the Senator just how you treated me! See if you collect any reward then!’
Enderby didn’t even look at him.
‘You’re a lousy bully!’ the kid practically screamed. ‘I’m only half your size and you … you think you can push me around.’ There were tears of self-pity now, meandering through the remaining dirt on his face. ‘The Senator’ll fix you, mister!’
Enderby halted and Renny quickly wrenched his mount aside, blood draining from his face. He was obviously afraid Buck was going to hit him again, but Enderby turned and pointed to the distant grey line of the cordillera, showing in a flash of sizzling lightning.
‘See that range? We’ve got to cross it by sundown tomorrow if we’re going to have a fairly good run to the Rio. And the storm’ll be over and there’ll be plenty of mud for us to leave tracks in, so we’ll ride all night.’
‘I can’t! Damn you! I need my rest! You’ve got a bedroll on your horse. Find us a cave and we’ll rest up tonight. We can start early.’
‘We ride, or you stay and I’ll ride. Them’s your options, ki
d.’
Pardoe’s lips bunched up like a wrinkled strawberry. ‘I’ll never forget you, mister! Never! The Senator’ll see to you, just you wait! We’ll see who has the last laugh!’
CHAPTER 4
UNO MACHO HOMBRE
‘And who did have the last laugh?’ asked Kim when she brought in fresh coffee. They sat on the edge of the bed sipping from their cups, steam rising about their faces.
‘Hard to say, the Senator seemed happy enough to get the kid back but Renny shrugged him off as quick as he could, threw me one more look that could’ve nailed me to the barn wall, and left the room….’
‘Afraid the boy’s manners could do with improvement, Ranger.’
Senator Pardoe was a man in his fifties, enough steel grey at his temples and streaking his thick waves to give him a distinguished look. His face was a little flabby and his eyes could be disconcerting to some people, although they didn’t bother Enderby.
‘Having that chip on his shoulder likely helped him get through,’ Buck said.
Pardoe frowned. ‘You really think he has a chip on his shoulder?’
‘Hell, yeah! ’Cause he’s used to having his own way, that’s obvious, and when he doesn’t get it he thinks that throwing a tantrum will get it for him.’
The Senator watched Buck shrewdly. ‘Didn’t work with you though, did it?’
Enderby shrugged. ‘Does this affect payment of the reward?’
Pardoe’s face straightened. ‘I see, strictly business, eh?’
Buck shrugged again. ‘I need that money, Senator.’
‘Well, you did a good job, Ranger and I won’t forget it.’ He stood, a tall man, but a little stooped. ‘I may even use you again sometime. Come with me and you’ll get your money.’
Kim frowned when Enderby paused and seemed as if he wasn’t going to say any more.
‘You haven’t mentioned bringing home any money, as I recall,’ she said tentatively. ‘You’ve been away for just about a year …’ She waited for some explanation.
He flicked his pale blue gaze to her face. ‘No money, fact is, I was in jail for some of the time, and when I got out—’
‘My God! You didn’t mention that, either!’ Her face tightened. ‘You play your cards too damn close to your chest at times, Buck Enderby…!’
‘Habit I’ve got, but it’s saved my life on more’n one occasion—’
Kim drew in a deep breath. ‘How did you end up in jail? I thought you were in the Rangers.’
‘Was the Rangers put me there,’ he told her with a crooked grin….
The paper that Buck Enderby had signed was for a twelve month stint in the Texas Rangers and Brewster wouldn’t allow him to just move on after finishing the Pardoe assignment so successfully.
‘Hell, Buck, I’d be loco to let you go now! You did a helluva fine job, but one thing I’ve been meaning to ask: how did you know those three caballeros were gonna sell-out the kid?’
‘Easy enough. They’d been in that adobe for some weeks, expenses paid by the Senator. Learned in a cantina in Gallatera that they had whores out there on a regular basis. Bought a couple of the ladies some drinks and they both mentioned the trio were planning to sell Renny to Don Balboa..’
‘And Temprano?’
‘Dunno, opportunist, I think. But he was trying to kill me, so I shot first, no questions asked.’
Brewster smiled crookedly. ‘No wonder you were so damn good on patrol during the war. You always did get your preparation done well,’ he sighed, shaking his head. ‘But I still can’t turn you loose, Buck. You signed on for one year minimum, with option for further service. You’re stuck for another ten months.’
That didn’t sit well with Enderby but he was philosophical about it. His next assignment was straightforward: clear up one of the rustling gangs on the Staked Plains.
Before he set off, he left his thousand dollars with Brewster to put in the big office safe. He had never used a bank in his life, there were none in Nathan County simply because no one trusted them. A loose brick under the hearth was more in favour.
The rustlers gave him and his three companions a hell of a lot of trouble, including a long chase right down to the Rio. There was a running gunfight that ended in the Rio’s muddy waters itself, all three of Buck’s sidekicks down and nursing wounds. He swam the river, his rifle slung on a rope over his shoulders and climbed a tree. He picked off the four rustlers as they heaved their mounts up out of the water on the Mexican side.
A Mexican border patrol arrived and the teniente was mad as a hornet with smoke in its nest.
‘A matter of jurisdiction, señor,’ he insisted, a sourfaced man in his late thirties, with hard little eyes and a ragged black moustache. ‘You and your Rangers show too little regard for our borders. I am under instruction to make an example out of the next gringo who violates our frontera.’ He smiled without humour. ‘Unfortunately, it seems to be you.’
‘Turn your back for a minute, teniente, and when you look again, I’ll be gone. Think of all that paperwork you’ll save.’
The Lieutenant was offended. ‘You think to bribe me, gringo! You think I am corruptible!’
Buck sighed. ‘No – just look the other way. If I hadn’t come across and nailed those bad hombres you’d have had four more fugitivos to deal with. Save everyone some trouble, just admire the scenery for a couple of minutes.’
But the teniente was furious and shouted and reached for his sabre. Buck didn’t waste any more time. He brought the butt of his Winchester around quickly, and sent the lieutenant hurtling from the saddle into the shallows, now stained with the dead rustlers’ blood. Buck swung back, the rifle shooting over the heads of the six-man patrol. The Mexicans froze, slow to react because of the shock of seeing their officer knocked out of the saddle. Slowly, they raised their hands shoulder high. Buck made them toss their weapons way out into the river.
Then he jerked his head to the teniente who was lying face down in the river. ‘Best get him out of there.’ When they obeyed, and while they dragged their officer up the bank, he fired several shots under their mounts’ feet, grabbed one’s bridle, swung into the saddle and swam it back across the Rio to where his wounded companions waited.
‘Judas,’ said Buddy Brosnan nursing a bloody shoulder. ‘You’ve sure done it now, Buck! That lieutenant gets pissed at you – and I can’t see why he wouldn’t – we could have an international incident on our hands.’
Brosnan was right and Brewster fumed and stormed about his office as he cussed-out Buck Enderby.
‘You goddamn hillbilly! You can’t go trespassing over to Mexico whenever you like and then gunwhip one of their border patrol!’ As he said ‘gunwhip’ his left hand involuntarily touched the deep scar on his own face. His eyes clouded. ‘Seem to have a fancy for gunwhipping, don’t you?’
Enderby was a little surprised at the amount of hatred Brewster let show, wondering just how much he had been supressing while he had been acting ‘friendly’.
Brewster shook his head. ‘God almighty, Buck! This isn’t going to blow over. It’s gonna be official and you could be in a lot of trouble—’
‘I’m no stranger to that, hell, Cord, I nailed the rustlers, got all my pards back alive. Rangers ought to back me.’
Brewster sat down, fingers tapping one arm of his chair as he frowned. ‘Ye-ah, they might. But they won’t risk any kind of a political situation that’ll make the Mexes mad enough to take it to Washington.’
That jarred Buck. ‘Washington!’
‘Hell, yeah! We’ve been in a fair bit of trouble lately, violating their sovereignty as they call it. They want to be taken seriously as a nation and they’re mighty touchy. You lay low for a spell. I’ll put you on some chores around here, helping the wrangler, or something, but I’m gonna have to take this higher.’
Enderby enjoyed breaking in horses and helping the wrangler to catch mustangs up in the hills. A couple of weeks passed and he figured the trouble with the teniente had
blown over. He was wrong, it had just been decided.
And he didn’t like the decision at all.
‘Looks like you’re a scapegoat, Buck, old pard,’ Brewster told him after calling him to his office. He didn’t sound too concerned about the obvious bad news he was about to impart. ‘The Mexes will back off, providing we discipline you.’
‘Which means—?’ Enderby asked warily.
He was sure Brewster covered a crooked smile as he shuffled some papers and said, ‘Looks like you’ll do six months in San Antonio Stockade….’
Enderby couldn’t believe it. He didn’t know what he had been expecting but it sure wasn’t that.
Brewster rang his handbell on his desk as he finished speaking and two Rangers entered, carrying carbines, not meeting Buck’s eyes.
‘Turn him over to the escort,’ Brewster said, signing something, folding the paper, and slipping it into a long brown envelope which he sealed and handed to the closest Ranger. It was Buddy Brosnan and as he reached past Enderby to take the envelope he murmured,
‘Sorry, Buck.’
As they started out, Enderby, disarmed now and walking between the other two, Brewster said, ‘Don’t worry about your guns, or your money, Buck. We’ll keep ’em safe for you.’
Buck Enderby had never been confined for more than a day in his life. Sheriff Asa Hunsecker had hauled him in with his brothers one time and had tried to coerce him into admitting that the Enderbys had a still hidden somewhere on their property. When that failed, Hunsecker had turned nasty and tried threats but pulled up short of physical violence. He gave up and turned Buck loose that afternoon, though he had kept Cole and Jared for a couple of days, claiming they had caused some damage in a brawl at the saloon.
Confined spaces – when there was no possibility of a way out – bothered Buck Enderby. The jail wasn’t all that bad, he admitted, they worked the quarry or on roads with a chain gang, felled timber for railroad ties and rough-sawn planks for ranch buildings, all in the open air. But it was night time when he was chained to a communal iron bar running the length of the hard pine platform where the prisoners slept side by side, with barely room to turn over, that bothered him most. It was no fun with the anklets on: a man had to kind of twist his feet and cramps added to the discomfort. The cuffs rubbed skin raw, too, which stung with perspiration or became infected from working ankle deep in mud in the thickets.
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