Tennessee Renegade

by Hank J. Kirby

  ‘Yeah, so do I.’ There was bitterness in Enderby and he let it show. To hell with Cord Brewster, the lying son of a bitch! ‘Well, what happens now? Am I free to go?’

  ‘Well, guess I’ll have to keep you around until the official parole is fixed, but you’ll have to serve out the rest of your time in the Rangers, too—’

  ‘Hell, I figured you’d be able to fix something to get me out of that.’

  Brewster was suspicious of the way Buck said it, was he inferring something? That maybe he would like to get rid of Buck out of the Rangers right now?

  ‘Listen, Pardoe’s behind you in this. Why, it’s his business, he’s fixed it for you to be released into his custody. You’ll be on his ranch outside of Painted Rock in Concho County for the next three months and I know damn well if that’s what Pardoe wants, it’s what he’ll get. He’ll fix it somehow, no idea what he wants with you, but I’ve gotta keep on the right side of the Senator. Could make it an assignment, I suppose, your last one in the Rangers, although you’ll still have time to serve after the parole. Take some juggling, but you’ve had some bad luck and a raw deal, Buck, and we were pards for a long time. Least I can do I reckon. Interested?’

  Enderby sighed. ‘Well, I don’t much like the sound of what Pardoe’s got in mind, seems to me he wants me to nursemaid that damn kid, but if it has to be, I guess it has to be. Better than that jail, anyway.’

  Brewster smiled the warm smile, stood up and offered his hand. Buck took it after a few seconds. Their eyes met across the desk.

  ‘I’ll look after things, Buck. Meantime, you’re confined to these here barracks, just till the parole becomes official, so just take it easy for now. I’ll get a sawbones in to take a look at you, and Cooky can whip up some decent grub, sound OK?’

  Enderby nodded, still looking into Brewster’s smiling face. ‘Sounds good, about a thousand bucks’ worth of consideration, I’d reckon….’

  The smile faded slowly from Brewster’s face.

  Buck Enderby was not really surprised to find the Senator himself waiting at the ranch in the hills behind Painted Rock. Pardoe looked upon it as a ‘small’ holding, but it was one of the biggest spreads Buck had seen.

  And it suited him, he needed some wide open spaces for a while, give him a chance to shake off that damn claustrophobic feeling left over from the jail.

  The Senator’s welcome was effusive but Buck figured much of it was put on, the man seemed restless, impatient with just about everything and everyone. He led the way into a small room obviously used as the ranch office. As well as a desk and a wooden filing cabinet and stacks of old newspapers and back-east magazines scattered around, there was saddle gear and some spare workclothes, torn ponchos and old boots, likely abandoned by men long departed from the ranch, now available for any of the hands who were in need of such things. The spread was called the R Bar P, which Enderby correctly surmised was meant to be ‘Renny Pardoe’ with the bar linking the initials.

  It looked like the spread was going to belong to the kid one day, could be the Senator had set it up in an effort to bring Renny to heel, get him to stick around, show some real responsibility. But those things were really the father’s job, Buck thought, and no ranch or anything else could do it for the parent.

  But he was going to have to try.

  The Senator got right down to tin-tacks and told him the kid had spoken with something like affection about Enderby and he thought it would do Renny good to have a few months under Buck’s guidance.

  ‘Still got something like six months or more for your term in the Rangers, Buck, three of which at least you’ll spend here, see what you can do with him.’

  Enderby was uncomfortable. ‘You sure the kid’ll go along with that arrangement?’

  The Senator’s mouth tightened. ‘He will! Or I’ll know the reason why—’

  ‘Well, there’s a problem right at the start. If Renny’s not willing to make a try at pulling himself together, I’m not going to get very far. He’s likely to tell me to go to hell and light out for the hills.’

  Pardoe banged a fist down on the edge of the desk, shoulders hunching as he leaned forward. ‘No! There’ll be none of that. You’ll be in charge and he’ll obey, or he’ll answer to me.’ He quietened down abruptly and said, ‘Look, you brought him home safely from Mexico and however you did it, it made an impression on him. He might not admit it but it’s true. Just use the same kind of thing now.’

  Buck smiled thinly. ‘I was looking after my own hide then, too, and I couldn’t afford any tantrums that might’ve gotten us both killed. I was a little rough at times.’

  Pardoe’s mouth tightened again but he nodded resignedly and flapped a hand. ‘OK, I’ve thought maybe I should have been a bit … rougher with him, too, but truth is, Buck, I was too involved with my career and I left it to whoever was handy to bring him up. I’m paying for that neglect of him now and I can savvy how he feels. But you straighten him out and I reckon he’ll come around.’

  Enderby didn’t want any part of this, but he knew he was beholden to Senator Pardoe, being instrumental in getting him the parole, and he felt mighty uncomfortable about his lack of enthusiasm. ‘You ever tried it before? Had someone else take him in hand?’

  ‘Sure, got a man with him now, Lane Magill. Seemed OK, decent type, worked on my big ranch. Sent him down here to take Renny in hand—’ He shook his head. ‘Didn’t work. He’ll be fired. Now I’m putting my faith in you, Buck.’

  ‘Why the hell you think I can do anything? I was youngest of five kids. The others brought me up. I dunno anything about bringing up kids like Renny—’

  ‘A spoiled brat, you mean? Thing is, Buck, you people in the Smokies, Tennesseeans, Kentuckians – well, we call you hillbillies, but I’ve toured those places, with the Reconstruction right after the war. I’ve seen families and how they act. You folk might not be too worldly, but you seem to know how to bring out the best in other human beings, ’specially kin, show respect for their elders and so on.’

  He paused, looking embarrassed. ‘Guess I sound kind of stupid, but fact is, Buck, if I go on to become Governor here, and that’s my ultimate ambition, then folk are more likely to vote for me if they see I have the support of my own son. Wife’s long dead, daughter’s up north in our home State of Pennsylvania, respectably married with a growing family, but too far away to really do my career a lot of good.’ He frowned, looking at Buck Enderby now. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘You’re doing this for Renny or your career?’

  Pardoe actually flushed. ‘Well, both, damnit! I want a son to back me, stand at my side, show his respect for me in public, but I want it for him too! I want him to be a decent kind of human being.’ Suddenly, he seemed to realize he was baring his soul too much, pulled the parole notice across to him abruptly and reached for a pen, dipping it into the glass well. ‘Now, you want to help me out or not?’

  The pen poised above the space that needed the Senator’s signature to make the parole official.

  Enderby figured he had done some mighty foolish things during his life, but he wasn’t that big a fool that he would refuse to take on this chore. Even if it killed him.

  And it damn near did.

  CHAPTER 6

  WALK TALL

  Lane Magill met Enderby when he rode out to the line camp above the main ranch, on a grassy bench halfway up the mountain.

  He was a tall man, muscle-padded, with suspicious eyes and a hard face. He was also a man with a gun.

  The rifle he held was cocked and he had a finger already resting on the trigger guard as he stepped down from the line shack’s stoop to the uneven ground and watched Buck dismount lazily at the pole corral which held a half-dozen horses as a small remuda.

  ‘You got a name, stranger?’ Magill called.

  ‘Buck Enderby.’

  Magill nodded, and the rifle swung down and around, casually pointing at the newcomer. ‘Here to see the kid, huh?’

  Buck walked
up slowly, tugging on his work gloves. He had picked up a proper curl-brimmed hat at the R-Bar-P house and he carried the big cap-and-ball Dragoon pistol rammed into his belt. ‘Mind not pointing that gun at me?’

  ‘Yeah, I mind, I ain’t about to make you welcome, Enderby. You’re takin’ over my job … I heard all about you and the Senator arrangin’ for your parole.’

  ‘Then you know it’s Renny I came to see, not you. So, one more time, point the gun somewhere else.’

  Magill bared his teeth, tightening his grip on the rifle. ‘Say “please”.’

  Buck sighed, looked down to tug his left glove tighter, and then his right hand blurred the few extra inches to the Dragoon and the mountainside shook to the thunder of the big powder charge. Lane Magill yelped and jumped back both hands tingling as the heavy ball tore the rifle from his grip.

  ‘Judas priest!’ he gasped, eyes widening. He looked down at the Winchester which had come to rest against one of the wooden stumps under a corner of the shack. The action’s brass cover plate was mangled and heavily dented, the lever jammed partly open. ‘You bust my gun!’

  ‘Should’ve busted your head. Where’s Renny?’

  Magill tightened his mouth childishly, eyes blazing as he rubbed his hands. Then Buck heard the clatter of hoofs up-slope and he flicked his gaze there, seeing Renny Pardoe work his horse deftly down the slope through the timber. The kid rode in, hauling rein, taking in the situation swiftly. He gave a crooked smile and dismounted, walking across to stand between Magill and Enderby, looking at the latter.

  ‘Might’ve known you’d arrived. Still throwing your weight around, I see.’

  Enderby nodded gently and looked steadily at Magill who was scowling and angry. ‘The Senator said to send you on down and you can draw your time.’

  ‘I don’t take orders from you!’ Magill looked hard at Renny. ‘You really want this son of a bitch to take over? Wipin’ your nose for you, runnin’ your errands, pickin’ up after you?’ The hard eyes swung to Enderby, mocking. ‘’Cause that’s what you’ll be doin’, hillbilly. This here is the champeen spoiled brat of the whole blamed southwest.’

  ‘That’s about to change,’ Buck said easily and ignored the tightening of Renny’s face and the narrowing of his eyes as the kid straightened. He started to protest but Enderby walked up to Lane who held his ground. ‘No one calls me a son of a bitch.’

  ‘I just did!’

  ‘Uh-huh, well, I guess that’s because you ain’t got any manners. When I cussed, my Ma used to wash my mouth out with soap and water.’

  He stepped forward quickly, planting a boot on the startled Magill’s instep, pinning his foot to the ground, while he drove the muzzle of the big Dragoon Colt into the man’s midriff. Lane made a sick sound, grabbed at his middle, his legs sagging. By then, Enderby had rammed his gun into his belt, grabbed Magill by the shirt collar and dragged the floundering man across to the narrow washbench. A bowl of scummy, cloudy water stood there with a sodden rag hanging over the edge. A piece of worn-down lye soap rested on the bowl’s slanting edge.

  Enderby grabbed it and the rag while Magill clawed groggily at the bench edge, trying to make his legs strong enough to hold his weight as he gagged for air. Buck rubbed soap into the filthy rag.

  He twisted fingers in Lane’s curly brown hair, yanked his head back. Magill’s mouth was wide open, still sucking air, when Buck shoved the soapy rag in deep and scrubbed briefly, before pushing the man roughly. Magill fell to his knees, gagging and choking, clawing at the rag. When it came free he hawked and retched.

  Buck turned to the bug-eyed Renny. ‘Get his war bag and things and toss ’em out here. Then saddle his mount for him.’

  Renny started to obey, then stopped and looked back belligerently. ‘I’m not his slave! Nor yours!’

  ‘You’re just helping out, kid, not slaving. Now do it, or maybe you’d like your mouth washed out, too—’

  Muttering, Renny Pardoe stomped inside and by the time he came out, Lane was rinsing his mouth at the well, glaring hatred at Buck Enderby. He jumped when his war bag thudded at his feet, gave Renny a menacing stare, then looked back to Enderby. The kid walked over to saddle Magill’s horse.

  ‘I won’t forget you, Enderby! By God, I won’t!’

  ‘Where I come from, we’re courteous to all strangers, until we figure ’em out, leastways. Your own fault, Lane. Now get on down to the house. The Senator’s waiting.’

  Shakily, still spitting occasionally, Magill mounted, lifted the reins, and as he turned his mount’s head, spoke to Renny:

  ‘I was tired of nursemaidin’ you, anyway. You’re always gonna be a pain in the ass, kid, always!’ He raked his gaze across Enderby and rode on out.

  Buck pushed his hat back on his head. ‘Well, kid, just you and me now. Looks like the start of a beautiful friendship.’

  Renny snapped his head around. ‘You think so? Well, no matter what they told you, I don’t want you here, Enderby! But I’m stuck with you for a while, so to start with, don’t call me kid! I told you that once before!’

  Renny turned back into the shack, slamming the door. Buck smiled thinly, went back to his horse, off-saddled and turned the animal into the corral, hanging his rig over the top rail. He shouldered his war bag and carried his sheathed rifle in his other hand as he walked back towards the shack. There was movement at the window, which was a glassless square, covered only by a wooden flap, now propped outwards by a stick.

  Renny was waiting for him when he came through the door. The kid held a shotgun he had obviously taken down from a set of wall pegs.

  ‘You better not try to slap me around again!’ he hissed.

  ‘I won’t, if you don’t do anything to deserve a slapping-round.’

  ‘By hell, I mean it, Enderby! You touch me and—’

  Buck heaved his war bag into Renny while he was still speaking and the kid staggerered back, struck a chair and floundered wildly, the shotgun waving about. Enderby had the weapon in his own hands in a flash, broke the breech and smiled when he saw it wasn’t even loaded.

  ‘Never bluff. kid … er … Renny. You point a gun at someone you better be ready to use it. It don’t only have to be loaded, you have to be willing to pull the trigger. Lesson Number One, OK?’

  Renny climbed to his feet slowly, ignoring the hand offered by Enderby. He dusted himself off, watching the other warily. ‘Don’t think I’m scared of you!’ he said in a trembling voice.

  Buck replaced the shotgun on the wall pegs. ‘Don’t want you scared of me. Want you to listen to me when I speak, do the things I tell you.’

  Renny curled a lip. ‘You want to boss me around like everyone else, in other words!’

  ‘Well, let’s just see how it goes for a couple or three days, huh?’

  The kid thinned-out his lips, picked up his hat which had fallen and sat down on the edge of a bunk, Buck guessed it was the one Renny used up here.

  ‘Sun’s going down, best get the fire going.’ Enderby pointed to the potbelly stove against one wall. ‘Don’t look to be much wood.’

  Renny glared.

  Buck shrugged, went outside and returned with an axe. The kid was lounging full length on his bunk now and he stiffened when the other approached, his eyes on the tool. He jumped, yelling, as the axe blade thudded into the frame of the bunk near his head, the whole shebang juddering and shaking. Enderby squatted in front of the stove, began tearing up newspapers.

  ‘By the time I set the kindling, I’ll be ready for the first lot of wood,’ he said.

  Renny stared a moment longer, then Buck looked up and nodded at the axe. ‘Almost ready….’

  The kid ran a tongue over his lips, kept his gaze on Buck as he swung his legs slowly over the side of the bunk, freed the axe, and then backed out of the door, looking worried.

  Buck struck a vesta and applied it to the kindling. As the flames began licking at the paper and twigs, the axe out in the yard began a rhythmic thudding sound.

&nbs
p; Enderby smiled. ‘Lesson Number Two,’ he breathed.

  ‘Listen, I know how to eat my grub without putting most of it in my lap!’ complained Renny bitterly at breakfast. ‘I can drink my coffee without slurping. I can blow my nose and wipe my own ass … I don’t need a goddam nursemaid! This is the Old Man’s idea, not mine.’

  ‘He’s just thinking of your best interests,’ Enderby said, forking up some bacon, eggs and beans which he had cooked earlier. The coffee pot was bubbling now and he pointed to it with his fork. ‘Get that, will you?’

  ‘No!’ Renny made his mouth small and unsmiling, folded his arms across his chest.

  Enderby set down his utensils went to the stove, poured himself a cup of coffee, set back the pot to one side of the hotplate and took the coffee back to the table. He blew on it, sipped, and smacked his lips, obviously enjoying it. When he looked up he saw Renny frowning. ‘Help yourself to a cup—’

  ‘You coulda brought me one back!’

  ‘Could’ve, or you could’ve gotten a cup for both of us. Worked out different, that’s all, but sooner you realize you ain’t going to be waited on hand and foot the better.’

  ‘Yeah, well, Lane used to bring my grub and coffee into the bunk.’

  ‘Then Lane was a fool and not doing the job he was hired for. You slip him an extra dollar or two?’

  The kid flushed and Buck knew he was right.

  He finished his meal, drank his coffee and smoked a cigarette. All that time the kid just sat there, sulking, his food growing cold. When he had smoked his cigarette, Enderby collected his own plate and cup, went to the bench outside and washed them up, propping them to dry in the early sun. It was cool and brisk, the day promising to be fine and warm later.

  ‘Come on, let’s get started.’

  ‘Too damn cold yet, I’ll wait a while.’

  ‘Renny, you can skip breakfast and go hungry for all I care, but we’ve got work to do, you and me. I’m ready, so you’re ready too, like it or not.’