by Edward Gates
A wide smile found its way to Charlie’s lips. “You dog, you. You’ve been back to see Constance.”
Jack smiled and looked down in embarrassment. “Yeah, I saw her again. We talked about you and I told her what you wanted to do. She knows a lot of those government people and told me right off who you should talk to.”
Charlie didn’t answer. He just continued to stare and smile at Jack.
“Constance said that if you mention her name, the senator will most likely see you right away.”
Charlie finished his coffee. “Well, on behalf of Constance, I guess I shouldn’t keep the senator waiting. I’ll be back to let you all know how it goes.” With that, he left the saloon and headed for the capitol building.
65
Senator
“The senator is a very busy man, Mister Turlock. He won’t be able to see you for at least three days. Would you like to make an appointment for then?”
Charlie stood in the corridor of the state legislative building, staring at the young man seated behind the desk outside Senator Pennbroker’s office. “How do you know the senator is so busy?”
“I keep the senator’s schedule. I know every moment of the senator’s time.”
“Is there someone in the office with the senator now?”
“No. The senator wishes not to be disturbed. He’s working on a speech in support of a bill he has on the floor.”
“How do you know that? He could be in there sleeping,” Charlie said flippantly. The young man didn’t answer. “Look, can’t you just stick your head in the senator’s door and tell him that Sheriff Turlock is here and that Constance wanted me to speak to him?”
“I don’t think the senator…” the young man began.
“Just give it a try, will ya?” Charlie leaned forward and placed his hands on the young man’s desk. “It’s for Constance.”
The young man took a deep breath and glared at Charlie. After a moment he rose and tapped lightly on the large wooden door behind him before he opened it and slipped in through the narrowest of openings. A minute passed before he opened the door and invited Charlie in.
“The senator will see you now.” The young man’s haughtiness was plain to see.
Charlie flashed his best “I-told-you-so” smile as he walked into the senator’s office.
The room was rich with dark walnut paneling from floor to ceiling, its pounded tin ceiling lending it sophistication. The office reeked of cigar smoke. Senator Pennbroker was a large rotund man with wispy white hair, bulbous nose and thick white mutton chops. Besides his desk chair, there were no other chairs in his office; apparently, all visitors had to stand.
The senator waved Charlie over to his desk without looking up from his paperwork. “So, you know Constance?” was more a statement than a question. Charlie didn’t answer. Still without glancing up, the senator asked, “Well, what is it Constance wants you to speak to me about?”
“To be honest, senator, she didn’t send me. She just told me to use her name to get in to see you.”
Senator Pennbroker finally looked at Charlie over the top of his wire-rimmed spectacles. He leaned back in his chair. Still holding his quill pen, he crossed his hands across his barrel chest and studied Charlie. Charlie thought he saw a slight smile break on the corner of the senator’s mouth. “My, my, you sure are resourceful.” He leaned forward and pointed the quill pen at him. “You better be careful with Mister Gruber out there. He might be young and slight, but he’s the best damn adjutant I’ve ever had. You don’t want him as an enemy, cuz then you got me as an enemy.”
“I’ll remember that, sir” Charlie answered.
The senator removed a pocket watch from his vest, opened it and set it on his desk. “Well, you wiggled your way in here, son. Go ahead and tell me what’s on your mind. You have two minutes.”
Charlie told the senator about his quest to be in the Rangers. He talked about his encounter with them in the past and what good work they’d done. He even told him, in a roundabout way, what a pivotal role they could play in the future of Texas. He talked about Texas Jack and Ben Kline and what they were doing now, and what an asset they could be in the formation of the new militia. He then switched the conversation to the senator’s legislation.
Pennbroker appeared intrigued with Charlie and they fell into a long conversation about his bill. They discussed the Frontier Battalion and how the senator planned to use them to start the Texas Rifles State Militia. They discussed his plans for slowly expanding the Rifles and eventually reinstating the Rangers under the noses of the Union Army who currently occupied Texas.
Over an hour had passed before the senator escorted Charlie out of his office. They shook hands and the senator thanked Charlie for coming by. When Pennbroker closed his door, Charlie turned to see the adjutant standing with two larger men in suits and bowlers. They all glared at him, their arms folded across their chests. Charlie’s smile vanished. He felt threatened.
“Thank you for your assistance, Mister Gruber.” Charlie nodded to the three men, turned and quickly walked down the stairs and out onto the surrounding grounds before he stopped and looked around him. No one was following. He smiled ruefully at his own paranoia.
Charlie could hardly contain his excitement. His vision of being a Texas Ranger was closer to being realized. He couldn’t wait to get back to Kline’s Saloon to tell them about his encounter with the senator. As he headed down Congress Street, he was so caught up in his exhilaration that he barely saw the arm reach out from an alleyway. He tried to duck, but it was too late. One of the men that he’d seen outside the senator’s office grabbed him and pulled him into the alley. He was a large, clean-shaven man with good features. The second man, thin and bearded, was waiting for him as well.
The large man threw Charlie against the building and a pain shot down his side. He reached for his pistol, but the second man threw a punch into his stomach that caused him to double over and fall to his knees. He was lifted to his feet and pinned against the building. Charlie tried to throw a punch at one of the men but missed. The large man countered with a punch of his own that cut Charlie’s lip. Momentarily he saw stars and slumped to the ground. The second man pulled Charlie’s gun from its holster. Still wearing their bowlers, both men stood over him.
“Looky here at this smart-talkin’ sheriff. Where you a sheriff, boy?”
Charlie rubbed the pain in his side and spit out a mixture of blood and saliva. “Fort Smith,” he mumbled.
“Fort Smith, ya say.” The thin man stooped down near Charlie. “Well, boy, ya gotta know better than to come down here treatin’ our officials like you did. Maybe next time you’ll show some respect.” He stood and placed his boot on Charlie’s shoulder and pressed him farther down to the ground. “Mister Gruber is a friend of ours. We take care of our friends.”
“Next time I’ll surely remember that,” Charlie said. Once released from the pressure of the man’s boot, he pulled himself to the side of the building and leaned up against it. He noticed that his gun was missing from its holster.
“You lookin’ for this, sheriff?” The thin man held out Charlie’s handgun. “Looks like all your caps are missin’, boy. Don’t ya know ya can’t shoot nothin’ with no caps?” He tossed the gun to the ground next to Charlie. Six small percussion caps lay in the dirt at the man’s feet.
Charlie glared at the man but didn’t pick up his gun. “I’m only gonna need one cap.”
The thin man who had held Charlie’s gun made a lightning-fast move. Something glinted in the sunlight and a large knife slammed into the wall of the building just inches from Charlie’s head. Charlie gasped and froze. The thin man quickly stepped up close to him, dislodged his knife from the wall and pointed it in Charlie’s face. “Don’t you go sassin’ me, boy. I’ll cut you up and scatter you to the coyotes.”
The larger man pulled the second one away from Charlie. “See? Now that’s exactly what we’ve been talking about. Disrespect. Fella gives you bac
k your gun and you threaten him like that.” He knelt down on one knee and looked Charlie in the eye. “You ain’t exactly in a position to be makin’ threats, sheriff. I’d be careful, if I were you. Ol’ Caleb here fights better with a knife than most men do with a gun. Indians were afraid of Caleb. Called him Hotamémȧsėhao'o.” He picked up Charlie’s gun and handed it to him. “Means Crazy Dog. We’ll be on our way, now. I think you got our message pretty good.” He stood and took a step down the alley.
“Who are you guys?” Charlie asked.
They stopped and turned. The first man took a couple steps back toward Charlie, who was still sitting on the ground against the building.
“Name’s Tom Brisco and this here is Caleb Moynihan. For the moment, you can call us capitol police. We watch out for the people in the capitol building.”
“For the moment? What are you when you’re not capitol police?”
“Before that, we was Rangers. We was both in the Frontier Battalion ‘til a couple years ago. Me ‘n’ Caleb was in Company B, fought the Indians in west Texas. They pulled me off to war in sixty-two. But, as soon as Senator Pennbroker’s bill gets passed, we’re going to be in the first division of the Texas Rifles.”
Charlie turned to the man called Caleb. “You fought Indians in the Panhandle?”
Caleb didn’t answer. He just stared at Charlie.
“You know a Texas Jack Cable?”
Caleb’s eyes widened. “What do you know about Texas Jack? Heard he got himself killed in Shiloh.”
Charlie shook his head. “Naw, he‘s alive. Lost an arm, but he’s alive. He’s here in Austin workin’ at Kline’s Saloon.”
“Kline? Ben Kline?”
Charlie nodded.
Caleb took a step closer to him. “You tryin’ to tell me Ben Kline owns a saloon here in Austin and Texas Jack is workin’ there?”
Charlie nodded and pushed himself up into a standing position, still leaning against the wall. “I was heading there when you two gorillas waylaid me.” He stared at them. “Why don’t you go down and see for yourself? It’s just a few blocks down on Congress Street.”
Tom Brisco picked up Charlie’s hat and handed it to him. “Maybe we’ll just do that. You know, you look a might peaked.”
“Well, you delivered a pretty hefty message. How else am I supposed to look?”
“Well, then you’ll be remembering this.” After a moment he added, “You sure ain’t much of a fighter. Are all you Arkansas lawmen such weak fighters?”
“I imagine most can handle their own. Hand-to-hand combat is a skill I have yet to acquire. I guess I’d better do it pretty soon, though.”
The two men laughed. “You tell Jack we’re in town and we’ll be by to see him later on,” Brisco said. They turned, headed down the alley and disappeared around a corner.
Charlie managed to get back on the sidewalk and walked the few blocks to Kline’s Saloon. The midday crowd was thinning out. Jack was tending bar while Ben cleared dishes and glasses from the tables.
“You got a wet towel back there?”
Jack tossed a damp rag to Charlie, who sat at one of the vacant tables and wiped the dirt and blood from his hands and face.
“What the hell happened to you?” Ben asked.
Charlie smiled. “A couple of your old friends had a message for me and decided to introduce themselves.”
Ben stopped and stared back at Charlie. “My old friends? What are you talkin’ about?”
“There’s these two ex-Rangers named Caleb Moynihan and Tom Brisco working as capitol police. They didn’t think I was polite enough to the senator’s boy, so they decided to teach me some manners.”
“Tom Brisco?” Ben sat down at the table he was cleaning. “I ain’t seen Brisco since he went off and joined the army. What’d you say the other fella’s name was?”
“Crazy Caleb Moynihan.” Jack said from behind the bar. “And he’s as crazy as his name says. After a battle, he’d take Indian scalps, then he’d cut their eyes out so they couldn’t find their way to their promised land after death. He was a crazy son-of-a-bitch.”
“Sounds like you knew him pretty well,” Charlie said.
“Yeah, I did. But, we ain’t exactly friends,” Jack replied. “Everybody tried to stay away from him. One thing for sure, though, you never wanted to get him riled. Ya just never knew what he might do.”
“Well, they said they’d be by to pay you all a visit.”
Ben walked behind the bar and checked the loads in a cut-off shotgun. He set it back on the shelf under the bar and turned to Jack. “If you an’ him ain’t on friendly terms, I won’t let him start a ruckus here.” Jack smiled and nodded. Charlie replaced the percussion caps on his pistol and joined them at the bar.
“Never could figure Brisco out,” Ben began. “Tall, good-lookin’ fella. Could read and write like the best of ‘em. Talked real fine, too. Says he went to a college back east. Yet, here he was, ridin’ a range between camps and fighting Indians. Didn’t make sense.”
“Sounds like he was trying to run away or hide from something,” Charlie interjected. He listened while Ben and Jack talked about the two ex-Rangers. He caught a sudden movement out of the corner of his eye. A large knife sailed across the room and banged into a wooden pillar of the backbar. Charlie jumped, drew his pistol, cocked the hammer and leveled it at the figure in the doorway. He was about to fire when he heard Jack yell, “No, Charlie! Hold it!”
Charlie paused and looked back at Jack.
“Put the gun away, Charlie. This is how Caleb says hello. If he’d a wanted to kill me, that knife’d be stuck in me, not the pillar. It’s okay.”
Charlie looked at Caleb standing in the doorway of the saloon. All of Dave’s shooting instructions flashed through his memory. He saw Caleb as a single target, and when he looked down at his gun, he saw that it was pointed right at Caleb’s midsection. He smiled as a new level of confidence came over him. Looked like Dave knew what he was talking about.
“You sure were anxious to get that gun out, sheriff. You gonna let us in?” Caleb asked with a bit of a laugh.
“That’s up to Ben. I just want you to know I got my caps back.”
The smile on Caleb’s face faded. His eyes narrowed and grew cold as he stared at Charlie.
Ben stood behind the bar with his right hand under the bar. Charlie guessed he was tightly holding the cocked and ready shotgun.
“All right. Let’s all settle down,” Jack said as he walked out from behind the bar. “Sure, Caleb. You can come in.” He looked at Charlie, who slowly returned his gun to its holster. Caleb and Tom met Jack just inside the door and the three sat down at a table.
Charlie walked behind the bar and removed the knife from the pillar. He handed it to Ben and walked to the table where the three men were sitting. He looked at Brisco and then at Caleb. “I just want you two to know that Jack and Ben are my friends. I take care of my friends.”
Charlie started to walk away when Tom Brisco stood, reached inside his coat, and hollered, “Wait a minute.” Charlie quickly drew his gun.
“Whoa, whoa, Sheriff,” Brisco said. “No need for that.”
“You take your hand out of that coat real slow and easy or you won’t see nightfall,” Charlie threatened.
“Just got a paper for you, is all.” Brisco slowly removed a folded sheet of paper from under his coat and held it out to Charlie. “Senator wanted us to give this to you.”
Charlie kept his gun on Brisco as he slowly reached out and took the paper from him. With one free hand, he shook the paper open and began reading.
“What is it, Charlie?”
Charlie looked up at Ben and grinned. He could feel goosebumps forming all over him. “It’s… it’s a senatorial appointment to the Frontier Battalion.” He went back to reading. “It’s for me.” He choked back a tear.
66
Caleb
That evening, Charlie sat in his room at the Pyramid Hotel re-reading the senator’s let
ter of appointment to the Frontier Battalion of the Texas Rangers. His mind raced with things he had to do before he left to begin his duty. Each Ranger was responsible for supplying his own weapons, gear and horse. He had a lot of shopping to do. He decided to ask Jack for help and advice, especially in finding him a good horse.
From his window, he could see that Miss Kate’s Palace was well lit and doing a brisk business. He wanted to go share his news with Kate, Constance and Bonnie, but they’d be too busy working to spend much time with him. His news would have to wait until tomorrow. He was too excited to sleep. He ate dinner at a café near the hotel and then walked to Kline’s saloon for a nightcap.
The saloon was busy, but not crowded. Tom Brisco was seated at a table with Ben. They were laughing and appeared to be having a good time reminiscing and exchanging stories. Jack was behind the bar. Caleb Moynihan was nowhere to be seen.
“How about a cold beer?” Charlie said as he stepped into a vacant spot at the bar.
“How ‘bout just a beer?” Jack replied with a smile.
Charlie nodded and returned Jack’s smile. “I forgot. You don’t have cold here in Austin.”
Jack set a bottle of beer in front of Charlie, who took a long drink and smacked his lips. “Not bad for a warm beer.”
“Charlie. I gotta tell ya. Ol’ Caleb didn’t take too kindly to you this afternoon.”
“Well, believe me, the feeling’s mutual.” He took another sip from his beer.
“You don’t understand, Charlie. The man’s off his rocker. You don’t want to be on his bad side.”
Charlie could see the severity of the warning in Jack’s eyes. A sudden chill crept up his spine. “So, what do you want me to do? Hide away? The guy didn’t do too much to endear himself to me.”
“Just watch your back, is all I’m sayin’. If he don’t like ya, there’s no tellin’ what he might do.” Jack walked off to wait on another customer.
Charlie was concerned. He had witnessed first-hand Caleb’s prowess with a knife and his catlike agility. It would be sheer luck if he got a glimpse of Caleb before he struck.