Tennessee Renegade

by Hank J. Kirby

  He half-smiled. ‘Got as far as a place called Segundo, counted up my money and decided that a thousand bucks wasn’t enough for my stake in this place.’

  ‘You’d be working! I keep saying, you don’t need money!’

  ‘I say I do. Anyway, there was this new saloon in Segundo. Had a big section set aside, just for gambling—’ He felt her grip tighten on his arm. ‘Roulette, keno, faro, poker, any dice game you liked—’

  ‘Don’t tell me!’

  He nodded grimly. ‘Yeah. Figured I could beat the house, build that thousand into something worthwhile. Didn’t take me long to realize the game was fixed and I called out the houseman—’ He spread his hands and indicated his bandaged side. ‘Turned out the sheriff owned a share in the saloon so I had to light out fast before I could see a sawbones.’

  Kim sighed, shaking her head. ‘You and your stupid damn pride!’

  It was three weeks before Buck Enderby was riding again and able to draw and shoot the pip out of an ace-of-spades in the blink of an eye. He ruined a whole deck of cards, sticking each one into a crack on top of a corral post. Kim was really impressed when he shot two in half – edge-on.

  ‘That’s just showing-off,’ he said, reloading deftly. ‘See how long it took me to line up the sights and steady my hand? I’d’ve been dead long before I could pull the trigger.’

  ‘It must have impressed Renny.’

  He lifted his gaze slowly. ‘Never showed him, I didn’t think I’d made that good a man out of him. Didn’t want him to fix on to the fast draw at all. Just wanted to teach him competence with firearms and how to handle them safely. He took to guns like a duck takes to water.’

  ‘You sound … worried.’

  He shrugged. ‘Depends if his father can hold him in check.’

  ‘You … think he might … use what you’ve taught him, the wrong way?’

  Buck smiled crookedly. ‘Be more than surprised if he doesn’t try.’

  ‘Then why? Why did you teach him at all!’

  ‘Because if he went on swaggering around the way he was, knowing nothing, but thinking he knew it all, he’d be dead in a week.’

  She smiled and squeezed his arm. But her smile faded when he prised her fingers loose and turned so she could grasp his left side. ‘Never hold my gun arm, Kim.’

  Surprised, she swept an arm around the ranchyard with two cowhands working down by the barn, cattle grazing in the pastures, the wrangler leading some of the remuda down to the river to drink. A peaceful Western scene.

  ‘Out here?’

  ‘Anywhere, Kim, just never cramp my gun arm.’

  As he walked away towards the tool shed she frowned: she didn’t really know this man she was going to marry at all, she thought.

  And it scared her.

  It was in the middle of Fall when Buck Enderby rode in from the range one day and saw the strange horses hitched to the corral rails.

  He had been thinking of the coming wedding, now set for 15 November, and he had to wrench his mind back to the present. The weeks had passed pleasantly. He was enjoying the ranch work and had slowly been worn down by Kim so that he agreed to name a wedding day. He still felt he should be contributing cash towards this, all his life he had worked for what he had and had never accepted anything he didn’t feel he had earned one way or another.

  Kim Preece had inherited this ranch from her father and she had lost a brother in the War, he felt awkward about just walking in and being given fifty percent of it simply because he was marrying her.

  But as he dismounted and saw the two men in the shade on the porch all thought about weddings and ranch shares fled his mind.

  One man was Bud Brosnan, the other Cord Brewster.

  He walked across slowly, carrying his rifle. Bud Brosnan lifted a hand but Brewster merely sat there nursing a cup of coffee, cigarette slanting from his lips. Badges glinted on both men’s shirts.

  ‘Long time no see, Buck,’ Brewster said as Enderby reached the porch steps. He lifted his cup. ‘Your woman makes fine coffee.’

  ‘How’d you find me, Cord?’

  ‘Little bit of askin’ around, little bit of deduction, lot of hard ridin’.’ Brewster smiled thinly.

  Enderby didn’t take his eyes off him. ‘Which leaves me to ask “why”.’

  ‘Yeah, little trouble, Buck, the senator’s been shot.’

  ‘Hell, is he dead?’

  Brewster shook his head. ‘No, in a coma, though, and the kid’s missin’.’

  CHAPTER 9

  RIDE TO THE RIO

  Buck Enderby knew what a chance he was taking going back to Mexico, they had long memories down there and although the politicians might have done some sort of a deal and agreed to allow his parole, it didn’t mean the men of the Border Patrol felt the same way.

  He held back in rough country until dark, rode the few miles down to the river, but again halted amongst some rocks. Badly wanting a smoke, he put the urge from him, sat and waited with mosquitoes and his horse stamping irritably every so often as the bugs bit hard. Straining to see, for there was only starlight, no moon yet, he watched the sluggish water and its vague reflections.

  Two hours passed and there was no sign of a patrol. He knew this area from a time when he and some others rustled a bunch of horses after hearing the Mexicans were paying up to forty US dollars per head, right after the war ended. It proved to be a myth, they got only fifteen dollars a horse, but they made a little extra by waylaying a pay-train bound for an army post and found two places to cross the Rio in virtual safety from detection by the patrols. This was one of them.

  The night was full of sounds, but only those he would expect to hear. So, rifle in hand, hammer cocked and a cartridge in the breech, he rode out of the boulders. The river was chest-deep on the horse here, except for a short distance in the middle when the animal had to swim hard.

  Buck was looking around constantly, becoming slightly dizzy, in fact, from so much head movement, but they made it safely across. He wasted no time. Even as the horse heaved up out of the Rio on to the bank with a panting grunt, he touched the spurs to its flanks, tugged the reins left and rode into a draw whose entrance was invisible from the river.

  He dismounted, trouser legs wet, the horse shaking droplets over him in some kind of protest. He automatically reached for tobacco and papers, squatted down and rolled a smoke, wondering if he had been stupid to make this ride down here.

  Brewster hadn’t gone into a lot of detail about the Senator’s shooting. But there was enough to make it pretty clear that Renny had done it.

  ‘Seems the Senator riled him somehow,’ Brewster said. ‘There were strips of paper scattered all over the room and when we put ’em together, it turned out to be some kind of sketch of the Senator. Torn up by someone feelin’ mighty mad, I reckon.’

  ‘The kid drew it in charcoal,’ Buck told him. Kim had joined the group and Chip Riley and a Ranger known as ‘Trapper’ came up from the barn with another man named Conner. Buck was surrounded by Rangers. ‘Kid wants to learn to be an artist, I told him he’d have to ask the Senator himself about it. Maybe he did and Pardoe said “no”.’

  ‘Why would the Senator want to refuse him to develop a talent he already has?’ asked Kim.

  ‘Senator has other plans, aims to be Governor. Wants the kid to manage the cattle business for him so he can get on with his political career.’

  ‘That’s selfish!’

  Buck shrugged and Brewster said, ‘Well, looks like Pardoe might’ve got the kid well and truly riled-up by tearing up the sketch. Kid must’ve gone plumb loco and shot him, then lit a shuck.’

  He looked expectantly at Enderby who frowned and seemed dubious.

  ‘He’s a spoilt brat, ain’t he?’ put in Brosnan. ‘It’s the way a kid like him would react if he didn’t get his own way.’

  Buck saw Kim watching him closely and he shook his head slightly. ‘I dunno. He’s got a pretty short fuse but I thought he was learning a bit of
control.’

  ‘Maybe with you,’ Brewster said. ‘He likely knew if he didn’t go along with what you were s’posed to be teachin’ him you’d slap him down.’

  ‘I didn’t slap him around for the hell of it. Fact, I hardly laid a hand on him. He knew how far he could push me, but I felt he was learning.’

  ‘Likely panicked,’ Brewster said and Buck had to agree it could happen.

  Renny was volatile and he would have had to work himself up to find the courage to ask the Senator about sending him back East for a college course in art. He could well have been at breaking point, just with tension, and thrown a tantrum. Only this time he had thrown a gun, too.

  And Buck had taught him how.

  ‘Is there anything to say it was Renny who shot the Senator?’

  ‘Well, seems the blacksmith was shoeing a horse at his forge, which is a fair way from the house, the other hands were on round-up on the range. He thought he heard a shot but couldn’t be sure, what with his hammering and the forge roaring. Then next he saw the kid storming out of the house with his war bag and rifle, headed for the corrals. He watched him ride out, called to ask where he was going but the kid didn’t answer.’

  ‘Did he say how Renny looked?’

  Brewster hesitated briefly, nodded. ‘Wild, he said. Riled and wild, near gutted his horse spurrin’ away—’

  Enderby’s mouth tightened. ‘Damn! Sounds like Renny’s reaction … leastways, how he used to react.’

  ‘You weren’t there to keep him under control, Buck,’ Kim said quietly and he nodded. ‘You can’t possibly blame yourself for this!’

  She knew she was wasting her time, it’s exactly what he was doing. And he would go looking for Renny Pardoe! Even though the wedding was only three weeks away.

  ‘I thought I’d taught him better,’ Buck said, only half-aloud, flicking his gaze towards Brewster. ‘Why’d you come here, Cord?’

  ‘Two reasons: figured you’d like to know for one, thought it just possible the kid might run to you, for two.’

  ‘He didn’t know where to find me.’

  ‘Mentioned you said you had a woman waiting in the Tularosa,’ Brewster pointed out. ‘It’s what gave us a starting point when I decided to come check.’

  ‘Well, I did say that, I guess, but he hasn’t been here. And I don’t think he’d come anyway. He’d be smart enough to know you might look up this way.’

  Bud Brosnan stood impatiently. ‘Well, where’s he gonna go? You’re the nearest thing to a friend he has—’

  Enderby said nothing and Kim, giving him a sober look, said, straightfaced, ‘I’ll go make the supper.’

  When she had gone inside, Enderby sat down on the porch steps and rolled a cigarette. Brewster came and sat beside him.

  ‘You got an idea where he’s gone, ain’t you?’

  ‘Not much, he could be anywhere. You say this happened a week ago?’

  ‘Eight days, and no one’s seen the kid.’ When Buck didn’t make any comment, Brewster went on, ‘There was a third reason I came to see you, you know the Senator kinda fixed things so you didn’t have to serve out those last four months in the Rangers…? Well, it was given the unofficial OK, but Pardoe has a lot of enemies and those who want to disband the Rangers saw it as favouritism and they’ve reneged now he’s out of action.’

  Buck snapped his head around. ‘What—?’

  Brewster smiled thinly. ‘Sorry, Buck, old pard, but you gotta work out that four months service or it’s back to the San Antonio stockade.’

  Enderby’s eyes were hard and pinched down. ‘You’re enforcing it, Cord?’

  Brewster lifted both hands in a helpless spread. ‘Hey, I just do what I’m told. I’m a Captain of Troop, but like I told you, it don’t mean much. There’s plenty over me, I thought you’d want to help anyway, Buck.’

  ‘Maybe … I had hoped I was rid of that kid.’

  Brewster laughed. ‘The hell you were! You’d’ve been checkin’ on him, see what kinda job you’d done with him. Well, now looks like he needs your help again. Only this time it’s more serious.’

  Buck stood and walked into the house without saying anything. Brosnan frowned at Brewster.

  ‘Think he’ll help?’

  Brewster nodded, looking grim. ‘He’d better!’

  Brewster and his three men found room in the bunkhouse for the night. When they had left the house after supper, Kim, who had been very quiet during the meal, watched Enderby smoking over his coffee and said quietly.

  ‘You’re going to look for Renny, aren’t you?’

  ‘Have to. I guess you can say I made him what he is, so I’m responsible for his actions.’

  ‘How stupid can you be, Buck!’ She almost stamped her foot she was so angry. ‘You didn’t make him anything! What he is now is because of whatever happened to him between the time he was born and the moment he … shot his father. If he did—’ He snapped his head up at that but said nothing. ‘You aren’t to blame! You don’t need to go!’

  He sighed, told her about the rescinding of the decision that he didn’t have to serve out his time in the Rangers.

  ‘You believe that?’ she snapped.

  ‘Yeah, why wouldn’t I?’

  ‘Brewster’s using you! Anyone can see he’s that kind of a man! He’s in a bind, can’t find Renny. He thinks you either know where the kid would go or you can make a much better informed guess than he can!’

  ‘Well, don’t matter which, Kim, I’m going to look for Renny.’

  She was pale, her face tight. ‘You think you know where he might be?’ He nodded but, although she waited, he did not tell her his thoughts. ‘Buck, our wedding is in three weeks. Three weeks! For God’s sake, doesn’t that mean anything to you?’

  ‘Of course it does, Kim, I might be able to get back by the fifteenth, with a little luck. I’ll sure try.’

  She stood, small fists clenched down at her sides. ‘Buck, if you go now, don’t bother coming back! I mean it. This is the last straw! For years I’ve put up with your restlessness and your uncertainty about whether you want to get married or not. Now … now when everything is arranged, you’re riding out again and you damn well don’t need to!’

  ‘You know I do, Kim.’ He stood and started towards her but she shook her head, eyes glistening, backing away, a hand stretched out in front as if she would push him back. ‘Kim, please try to understand—’

  ‘I do understand, Buck, I finally do understand! You don’t really want to get married at all. You just want a place you can come back to after you’ve finished your wanderings. Well, from now on, it’s out of bounds to you! Do you understand that? There’s no ready-made home for you here anymore! Pack your things and take them with you. You’ll have no reason to come back here then—’

  ‘I will, you’ll be here.’

  She paused with the door partly open, tears coursing down her face now. ‘No. I won’t be here, Buck, not for you! There’ll be nothing here for you!’

  The door closing sounded like a dull gunshot.

  And here he was in Mexico, following a hunch that he wasn’t even sure would produce results.

  But he had to be here. Had to find the kid before he went overboard and got himself killed.

  There had been a kind of trail leading him here.

  Riding south from Tularosa, making for the part of the Rio he hoped to cross without being discovered, he had pulled into a town called Chaco Flats, just over the line in Texas. He needed supplies and wanted to get some portable oats for the horse for later.

  In the saloon bar, while having a couple of beers before hitting the trail again, there was a lot of talk about a gunfight that had taken place a week earlier. Seemed this kid had ridden in, and Buck had no doubt it was Renny from the description, had let it be known that he would pay for information or even a guide to help him cross into Mexico without the authorities knowing.

  It was a dangerous thing to do openly, letting folk know you had money to throw
around and, of course, some of the hard boys set the kid up. One man called Boone said he was in with a smuggling gang who could get Renny across for a couple of hundred dollars. The kid had agreed and foolishly made a rendezvous with Boone on the outskirts of town after dark.

  Boone had two companions, a breed calling himself ‘Romano’ and another blocky whiteman named Gannon. They surrounded the kid when he dismounted and demanded all his money.

  The kid told them he had it in a bank and could draw it only by Bank Draft when needed. He only had a hundred dollars on him – the down-payment for his passage to the Rio. He would pay the other hundred just before they crossed into Mexico. At least that was the deal, he thought.

  Boone was the one who called him a liar and made the mistake of lunging for him. So Boone was the first to die.

  Renny’s gun blazed and punched Boone back a yard-and-a-half as two bullets slammed into the smuggler. He dropped to one knee and Romano’s lead passed over his head. Renny fanned the gun hammer, slapping off all four remaining shots. Romano caught one in the belly and one in the hip and lay there screaming as Gannon turned and made a run for it but was smashed off his feet by Renny’s last bullets.

  The gunfire brought people running but by that time the kid had faded into the night. Romano lived long enough to tell what had happened, asking for a priest so he could confess all of his sins. He died before the priest reached him.

  In El Paso, Buck had picked up a trace of Renny again.

  The kid had taken on a few beers and someone had slipped him something in the last glass. He had realized what had happened when nausea and dizziness sent him reeling. He thrust his fingers down his throat and made himself vomit. It didn’t rid his body of all the drug, but it left him enough good sense to climb on his horse and make a run for it. Two saloon men came after him. He rode one down, breaking the man’s leg and four ribs, shot the other from the saddle, smashing his collar bone.