by Edward Gates
When Jack came back, Charlie said, “I’m gonna need your help, Jack.”
“If you mean with Caleb, I ain’t gonna be much good to ya with only one arm.”
“No, not Caleb. I need to outfit myself. I think I’m fixed for clothes. Spending a winter on a freight wagon forced me to get some good trail clothes. But all I got is this old revolver. I don’t have anything else. I suppose I need to upgrade my arsenal, but, mostly, I need your help with a horse. I don’t know anything about getting a good one.”
Jack thought for a moment. “Your revolver will be fine. But you’re gonna need a long gun. Get a Henry. And if you can, git ya a coach gun. You won’t be sorry.”
“Okay. I know about the Henry rifle. But a coach gun?”
Jack walked to the end of the bar and brought back Ben’s cutoff shotgun. He held it up for Charlie to see. “This is a coach gun but get one with a full stock… not one cut off like this.”
Charlie nodded. “Coach gun. Okay, I got it.”
“As far as a horse goes, I wouldn’t get one around here. You need a gelding, around five years old. A good strong bay or roan. Army rides Morgans, but I don’t know where you could find one. Traders around here won’t have anything like that. At least none that they’ll part with. When you plannin’ on leavin’?”
“I don’t have a set time. Next couple of days, I guess. Why?”
“There’s a coach goes to Dallas day after tomorrow. You take that coach. When ya git to Dallas, find a fella named Warren Dickey. He owns a big spread just outside Dallas on the way to Fort Worth. Tell him I sent you up there and he’ll git ya a good mount.”
“Warren Dickey. Thanks. I’ll remember that.”
Charlie finished his beer and thought about having another but decided against it. If he truly was on Caleb’s hitlist, he’d better just head back to the hotel and stay off the streets. He said goodbye to Jack and walked over to where Ben and Brisco were seated. He interrupted their conversation to ask Brisco about Caleb and whether he should be worried.
“Oh, I don’t know, Sheriff,” Brisco said. “He gets upset easy, but then calms down after a spell.”
Charlie let out a sigh of relief. “I was hopin’ you’d say something like that.”
“Just the same, though, I’d keep my eyes open. I’ve seen him do some crazy stuff over the years. There’s no tellin’.”
“Great,” Charlie murmured. He turned and headed out the door. The streets were dark except for an occasional oil lamp hanging from a sidewalk support post or the light spilling out onto the street from the doors and windows of still-open businesses. He unhooked the hammer strap of his holster and chose to walk up the middle of the street, staying off the sidewalk and away from alleys. As he went up Congress Street his eyes darted from one dark shadow to another looking for any figure or sudden movement. His ears strained to hear anything out of the ordinary.
When he approached the intersection of Congress and Houston Streets a figure emerged from between the buildings on his right. He stopped in the street. A cold sweat broke out all over his body. He couldn’t see his face in the darkness, but from the silhouette he knew it was Caleb Moynihan.
“You make a pretty good target, walkin’ up the street like you are, Sheriff. I coulda killed you a half dozen times.” Caleb stepped out into the street and stood a few yards away from him.
Charlie froze. He couldn’t remember ever being so scared. Caleb’s hands were empty, but Charlie could see a knife in its sheath hanging from the left side of the man’s belt. Charlie had never practiced any quick draws. He knew Caleb would have his knife in the air before he could pull his gun.
“But you didn’t kill me, Caleb. I figured since you like to hang out in alleys, I wanted to put a little distance between you and me.” Charlie took a step to his right.
“Smart. You’re a smart man, Sheriff.” Caleb dropped his right hand down and rested it on the handle of his knife.
Charlie remembered how Caleb had thrown his knife at him while he sat on the ground in the alley. He could picture the fluid throwing motion from left to right. If he could make a quick move to his right when Caleb first began his throw, he might just avoid the knife.
“What do you want, Caleb?” Charlie slowly moved his hand to his gun.
“You pointed a gun at me and were about to shoot,” Caleb shouted. “Not too many people have done that and lived.”
“You shouldn’t go throwin’ your knife around like you do. People get the wrong idea. They think you might be attacking them.” As Charlie took another step to his right, Caleb countered by taking a step to his right. Charlie put his thumb on the hammer. “Why don’t you just go home, Caleb? There’s no need for this.”
“There is for me.” In one quick motion, Caleb pulled his knife and let it fly. Charlie jumped to his right and pulled his gun. It wasn’t fast enough. Caleb’s knife hit his left shoulder, slicing the upper arm right at the shoulder joint. He wobbled from the impact but stayed on his feet. Caleb came at him on a full run. Charlie leveled his gun and fired. Caleb spun from the impact of the bullet and fell to the street. Blood ran down Charlie’s arm and was soaked up by his shirtsleeve.
He walked over to where Caleb lay. A crowd of onlookers rushed to them. Charlie looked at the crowd. “Get the marshal and somebody find a doctor!”
Caleb was lying face down in the street. Charlie could see a bloodstain on the right side of his back. He rolled Caleb over. There was a dark bloodstain on the right side of his torso just below his chest. He was alive. “Caleb. Caleb! Look at me.” Caleb opened his eyes and grimaced from the pain. “Hang in there, I sent for the doctor.”
“Ya killed me, Sheriff.”
‘No. No, Caleb. Looks like the bullet went clean through ya. Stay with me, here. Doctor’s on his way. He’ll get you patched up.”
The crowd began to swell. Charlie heard someone holler, “Okay, folks. Move back away. Go on, move out.” The crowd parted a bit and the tall marshal with whom Charlie had the altercation a while back came through the crowd. He looked at Charlie kneeling in the dirt. “Well, I’ll be damned. You again. What do we have here, Sheriff?”
Charlie stood while the marshal checked Caleb over. He stood and faced Charlie. “I’ll have that sidearm. You’re under arrest. Looks like you just gunned down an unarmed man.”
“Wait a minute, Marshal. That unarmed man threw a knife at me and damn near cut my arm off. I didn’t have much choice.”
“Just the same, I’ll be havin’ your gun.”
Someone in the crowd close to the marshal said, “It happened just like he said, Marshal. The sheriff here tried to talk this fella down. He shot him after this man throwed his knife.”
Ben and Tom Brisco arrived on the scene. Tom saw Caleb on the ground and knelt close to him. “Aw, damn it, Caleb. Look what you did. You got yourself shot, anyhow.” Caleb turned his head away from Brisco.
Ben talked to the marshal. “You might want to rethink this, Marshal. There’s a lot of people here that heard Caleb make threats against Charlie.”
Brisco rose and joined Ben. “He’s right, Marshal. Besides, Senator Pennbroker is takin’ a personal interest in this man. I guarantee you Charlie will be out of your jail tomorrow and there won’t be any trial.”
The marshal took a deep breath and stepped up to Charlie. “Okay, you can go. But, as I told you before, I want you out of Austin. And I want you out tomorrow.”
Charlie nodded. “I’ll be taking the Dallas coach day after next.”
“Just make sure you’re on it. Any more trouble outta you and you’ll be dealing with me… personally. And I won’t care who started it or who has an interest in you.” The marshal turned and headed back toward his office.
The doctor had arrived while the marshal was talking with Charlie. He took a quick look at Caleb and enlisted four men from the crowd to carry him to his office. After the marshal left, the doctor looked at Charlie and his blood-soaked shirt and ordered him to come al
ong as well. Ben went back to his saloon and Brisco walked alongside Charlie as they followed the doctor.
“All the years I’ve known Caleb, I’ve never seen anybody best him. How’d you do it?” Brisco asked.
“Lucky, I guess. I remembered how he threw his knife at me in the alleyway. He pulled the knife with his right hand and threw it in a sort of sidearm fashion as he drew his arm across his body. Brilliant tactic. I figured the knife would have a right-to-left movement on it, so if I moved to my right I might avoid it. Obviously, I wasn’t quick enough.”
Brisco chuckled. “The fact that you’re walkin’ and talkin’ proves you were.” He laughed again.
67
Getting Outfitted
The pain from Charlie’s sutured shoulder kept him awake most of the night. He recalled his showdown with Caleb, unable to recover from the fact that he not only shot someone, but possibly took a life… a life he had no business taking. He wondered when history recorded the actual death of Caleb Moynihan. He prayed it wasn’t last night on a dusty street in Austin. If Caleb died at the hands of Charlie, it could alter Caleb’s historical timeline and possibly the future.
Charlie had to find out whether Caleb lived through the night… just to put his mind at rest. He knew he didn’t belong here and that his actions might impact the future. From now on, he would have to be very careful about any altercations he may get involved in.
Getting dressed was a challenge with his arm in a sling. A smile crossed his lips as he remembered how irritated the doctor had gotten when he’d insisted that the instruments be boiled before using them. Charlie knew the primitive sterilization process would reduce the chance of infection, but he couldn’t explain it to the doctor. He’d have to let history take its course.
Before heading to Ben’s saloon, Charlie stopped at the doctor’s office and asked about Caleb’s condition.
“Ya put a hell of a hole in him. But he should make it. Just so long as he takes it easy and doesn’t open up them wounds again,” the doctor said. Charlie nodded an acknowledgment and felt relief. “He’s still in the back if’n ya want to see him.”
Charlie shook his head. “No. I don’t think I want to see him. And I’m pretty sure Caleb wouldn’t be too thrilled to see me, either.”
“How’s that shoulder feeling?”
“It’s pretty sore. You did a good job sewing it up, though. Thanks.”
“What was all that about boiling the water?”
“Let’s just say that hot water is better for cleaning than cold water.” Charlie smiled at the doctor and then opened the front door. “I’m glad Caleb’s gonna be okay. You can tell him I came by to check on him.” Then he left the office.
As Charlie walked to Ben’s saloon, all he could think about was getting out of Austin and on to Dallas. Since he got here, he’d been beat up, made an enemy of the marshal, and damn-near killed. There was nothing keeping him here other than waiting for the Dallas coach the next day. Instead of a two-day coach ride, he decided he’d jump to Dallas. But that would have to be his last jump for a while. From Dallas on, he’d be on horseback.
Charlie met Ben outside the saloon sweeping off the sidewalk. “Morning, Ben.”
Ben turned to him. “How you doing this morning? How’s the arm?” He escorted Charlie inside.
“Shoulder’s sore, but it’ll be okay.”
Ben sat Charlie at a table and brought over mugs of coffee for the two of them. “That was really something last night. Folks are still talking about how you bested Caleb Moynihan.”
“I didn’t best Caleb. His knife hit me first. I got lucky, Ben, that’s all. We were both lucky that neither one of us got killed.”
“Well, maybe so, but it was still really something.”
Charlie drank from his mug and sat for a moment. “Ben, I’m a little confused about my trip. The senator’s letter says I need to meet up with someone named Captain Bennett. I don’t know where I’m supposed to go. Do you have any idea?”
Ben thought for a moment. “Probably Concho. You ever been out to west Texas?”
“I took a freight wagon through the Panhandle in sixty-two. What’s Concho?”
“Camp Concho is the central camp for the Frontier Battalion.” Ben took a drink of coffee. “There’s nothing else there. There ain’t no towns out that way, a few military forts, maybe a trading post here and there, but that’s all.”
“If nothing is there but forts, why are the Rangers there?”
“Protect the settlers that are out that way. Most of them folks got land grants from Mexico years ago and settled in that wilderness. Other newcomers are trying to set down some roots. Some are sodbusters, but most are ranchers running cattle or horses. Those are the folks the Indians go after. That’s why the Rangers are there. They stop those attacks and hunt down the Indian raiding parties.”
Charlie sipped his coffee. “Sounds like this Captain Bennett might be pretty hard to find.”
“If he ain’t at Concho, the military should have a pretty good idea where to find him.”
“How do I get out to this Camp Concho?”
Ben leaned back in his chair and called for Jack to join them. He looked back to Charlie. “It’s been too many years for me. Jack will have a better idea.”
Jack stared off for a moment seemingly collecting his thoughts, and then nodded. “Once you get a horse and all your gear, you’ll want to head to Fort Worth.”
“Wait a second. Let me write this down.” Charlie took a pencil from his vest, turned the senator’s letter over and began writing the destinations as Jack dictated them. When finished, he repeated them back to his friends. “From Fort Worth I go to Weatherford, then on to Fort Phantom Hill, then to Fort Chadbourne, and then on to Camp Concho.”
Jack and Ben nodded.
Charlie thanked them, finished his coffee and stood to leave. He looked at the other men, paused and swallowed. “Well, I guess I won’t see you again for quite a while.”
Ben shook his hand. “Oh, you’ll be back this way. All them Rangers come back through here eventually. We’ll see you again. You take care, Charlie. It was a real pleasure to know you.”
Charlie shook Jack’s hand and held on to it a little longer. “I sure wish you were coming with me.”
Jack chuckled. “I kinda wish I was, too. But it’s better this way. I wouldn’t be much use to you or the Rangers. I’ll see ya again, Charlie. You can bet on it.”
Charlie smiled at them for another moment, then walked out of the saloon. An empty feeling came over him when he left. He hated leaving friends. That warm feeling of friendship that lights up one’s life would be gone for a while. Once again, he’d be on his own.
He went back to his hotel, settled his bill with the clerk and went up to his room. He packed his valise and strapped on the time belt. He switched it on and plotted the coordinates for an area just to the west of Dallas. He set the time for two days later, just before sunrise.
“Goodbye, Austin. Hello, Dallas.” Charlie initiated the jump.
He woke on a dark prairie. It was dead quiet. Apparently, his arrival hadn’t caused any ruckus. He removed the time belt and stashed it in the valise. He sat on the ground, trying to get his bearings. The road between Fort Worth and Dallas should be just north of him. But which way was north? He sat for a while until the sky in the east began to lighten from the approaching sunrise. He nodded and smiled. “There’s east. North must be this way.” He grabbed his valise and started walking north. When he found the road, he followed it toward Dallas.
After walking for a bit, Charlie saw a wagon approach with a string of four horses tied to the back. The wagon stopped nearby.
“You goin’ to Dallas?” the driver asked.
“Yes, sir. I sure am.”
“Well, I’m headin’ that way. Seein’s how ya got a bad arm, why don’t ya hop on up and ride along with me.”
“I sure appreciate it.” Charlie tossed his valise in the back of the wagon and climbed
up alongside the driver. “Name’s Charlie Turlock, out of Fort Smith.”
The driver offered his hand and stared at the badge on Charlie’s vest. “Deputy sheriff, huh? Well welcome aboard, Deputy Turlock. Pleasure to meet ya.” He snapped his reins and the wagon lurched forward toward Dallas.
The driver was an elderly man, thin and unshaven. His skin was akin to leather and deeply tanned from the sun. He kept an unlit pipe clenched in his teeth. They rode in silence for a while before Charlie asked, “Those your horses?”
“Not mine. Gonna deliver them to Jacob’s Livery in Dallas. Fella’s comin’ in on the stage later today to pick ‘em up.”
“You sell horses?”
The old man laughed. “No, not me. I just deliver ‘em or pick ‘em up. I work for a fella named Dickey. He’s got a spread out Fort Worth way, runs about three thousand head. He buys and sells horses, even supplies the cavalry out this way.”
“Dickey? Warren Dickey?”
“Yep. That’s him. You know Mister Dickey?”
“No, I don’t. But I was told to see him about getting a horse.”
The driver cackled a laugh again. “Well, he’d be the one to see.”
Charlie thought this was a stroke of luck. The buildings of Dallas came into view on the horizon silhouetted by the rising sun. Within a few minutes, they were in the city. When they reached the livery, Charlie grabbed his valise and shook the driver’s hand.
“I really appreciate the lift. I don’t believe I got your name.”
“Name’s Horace. Just Horace.”
“Thanks again, Horace. Can you recommend a hotel for the night?”
Horace thought a moment. “Well, the Castle Hotel is a nice one. Good food. It’s just up the road a bit on your right.”
“Thanks again.” Charlie turned to leave and then stopped. “Would you be heading back to Mister Dickey’s ranch today?”
“I got to pick up some supplies at the hardware store and again at the mercantile. I’ll be headin’ back later today.”