Ranger Justice

by James J. Griffin

  Jim’s injured muscles stiffened considerably as he rode, forcing him to keep Sam at a walk. It was after ten o’clock by the time he rode into Sanderson. Under the light of the nearly full moon, he had seen several splotches of drying blood in the dust as he neared town. “Appears I was right,” he muttered, “I must’ve nailed him pretty good.”

  As Jim reached the edge of town, a still-damp patch of blood appeared just off the trail. “Looks like our man turned off here, Sam,” he stated. He found the hoofprints of Lewis’ buckskin where they turned off the main trail and around the back of the buildings on Main Street.

  “He sure don’t wanna be seen and have folks askin’ him what happened,” Jim noted. “Appears to be headed for the livery. Probably gonna put up his horse, then head for the doc’s. Well Sam, I reckon you’ll appreciate a nice clean stall too.” A few moments later, Jim was at the back of Murphy’s livery.

  “I was right,” Jim said, spying Lewis’ buckskin in the back corral, with the deputy’s blood-stained saddle partially hidden under some straw in the feed lean-to. “You stand here a minute, Sam,” he ordered his paint. Jim ducked into the corral, speaking soothingly to Lewis’ edgy mount. “Easy Lucky, I just want to see how hard you’ve been ridden.” Jim felt the gelding’s chest and ran a gentle hand down his still-damp shoulders and side.

  “Sure enough, this poor horse’s been ridden hard, and hasn’t been in this corral very long,” Jim murmured. “Reckon that backshootin’ son of a gun wants to get to Doc Sweeney’s before he bleeds to death.” He climbed back out of the corral and led Sam into the barn. Jeff Murphy was nowhere in sight, so Jim stripped the gear from Sam’s back, then led him into his stall and forked a pile of hay into the manger.

  “Sorry bud, but I’ve got to catch up to that hombre before it’s too late,” he apologized to his horse. “I’ll be back to rub you down and grain you quick as I can.” Sam snorted softly as he buried his muzzle in the sweet-smelling hay.

  The moonlight was nearly bright as day, making it a simple matter for Jim to follow the trail of blood and fresh bootprints leading away from the stable. “Like I figured, he’s headin’ for the doc’s,” he muttered, as the trail turned up a side street which led to the physician’s house.

  Jim turned the corner, half-whirling too late at a rustle in the bushes behind him. A gun butt crashed into his head, crushing his Stetson as it smashed into his skull. Jim crumpled silently onto his back.

  Wheezing with the effort, Jim’s attacker dragged him under the ragged shrubs. A long-bladed knife scintillated in the moonlight as Jim’s assailant raised it high, ready to plunge it into the Ranger’s chest. At the sudden furious barking of a dog, he cursed under his breath, then lowered the knife and hurried away.

  “He’s finished anyway. I busted his skull for sure when I bent my gun over his head,” the ambusher grimly chuckled. “Reckon that makes us even.”

  CHAPTER 11

  “Chip, get outta here.” Jim cried out as a dog panted heavily in his face, then ran its long pink tongue along his cheek. “Chip, I said g’wan, get outta here!” As the dog continued to lick his face, Jim called, “Charlie, come get your dad-blasted dog. I’m tryin’ to get some sleep.” Finally, the dog whined in frustration and disappeared. Jim slipped back into peaceful darkness.

  “Kim! Hurry up and get out here! It’s already hot, and I’m ready to go swimmin’,” Adam Alvelo shouted at the top of his lungs from the front steps of Rick Lewis’ family’s house. “What’s holdin’ you up?”

  A young girl stuck her head out of an upstairs window. “Kim’ll be right out, Adam. He just has to finish fillin’ the woodbox before ma’ll let him outside. There’s no need for you to make such a ruckus. Honestly, boys can be so crude!”

  “Oh, just go on with you, Naomi,” Adam retorted to his best friend’s sister. “Why don’t you go play with your baby dolls or somethin’?”

  “I’ll have you know I intend to be able to ride and shoot as well as any man when I grow up,” Naomi Lewis snapped, sticking her tongue out at Adam. “Girls can do anything you boys can, only better.”

  “You’re right. Especially when it comes to cryin’. Girls do that lots better,” Adam shot back.

  “Are you two arguin’ again?” Kim Lewis laughed as he pushed through the front door. “Gettin’ practice for when you’re married? Oof!” Kim grunted as Adam punched him in his belly. “What’d you do that for, Adam?”

  “For you sayin’ I’m gonna marry your sister,” Adam answered.

  “You don’t have to worry about that, Adam Alvelo,” Naomi sniffed. “I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last man on Earth.”

  “Reckon that makes us even, since I’d rather be captured and tortured by Comanches than be married to you,” Adam retorted. “C’mon Kim, let’s get goin’. Roger and Sean are probably already at the swimmin’ hole.”

  “Sure. Just let me call Bear.” Kim whistled loudly, then yelled “Bear!” In answer to his call, a large, heavy-coated mixed-breed dog ran from in back of the house, barking and wagging. “You ready to go swimmin’, boy?” The dog yelped happily in response.

  As the two boys, barefoot and kicking up dust, headed toward the alley which ran parallel to Main Street, Bear ran ahead of them then raced back, barking urgently.

  “What’s wrong with your dog, Kim?” Adam asked. “Somethin’ sure seems to be botherin’ him.”

  “Dunno,” Kim answered, “He was barkin’ somethin’ fierce last night, and he wouldn’t quiet down. Mom finally let him out, and he was gone for quite a while. When he came back he still wouldn’t quiet down, so she had to shut him in the pantry. He probably spotted a coyote or smelled a skunk and it’s still got him riled up, that’s all.”

  “Well, he looks pretty upset,” Adam observed, as Bear once again raced ahead of them and returned, yelping frantically.

  “Bear, that’s enough. What’s gotten into you?” Kim demanded. The dog barked once, then dashed around the corner, letting out an unearthly howl.

  “Somethin’s wrong!” Adam shouted, breaking into a run.

  “Wait for me!” Kim called, right at his friend’s heels.

  As they rounded the corner, the boys stopped short, eyes wide. Bear was dragging an unconscious figure by his shirt collar from under some bushes. When the boys reached him, the dog let loose of the shirt and began to frantically whine and yelp, while licking the man’s face. The only response the comatose man gave was a soft moan.

  “That hombre’s drunk,” Adam stated in disgust.

  “No, he’s not,” Kim disagreed. “I know who he is. I’ve seen him at the sheriff’s office. That’s the Ranger, and he’s hurt bad. Look at all the blood on his head. Stay with him while I go for help. Bear, you stay with Adam until I get back.”

  “I’ll keep an eye on him,” Adam promised, “But you’d better hurry, Kim. He’s in a bad way.”

  “Ranger, wake up. C’mon, Lieutenant, get them eyes opened!” Jim Blawcyzk became aware of a voice pleading with him to awaken, someone shaking his shoulder, and the coolness of a damp cloth across his forehead. With a groan, he shifted slightly as his eyes flickered open. Dimly, he saw an unfamiliar ceiling, and an attractive dark-haired woman with distinctly Oriental features gazing worriedly at him. Alongside her was Deputy Sheriff Rick Lewis.

  “Rick, I believe your friend is coming around,” the woman softly stated.

  “Where…where am I?” Jim stuttered. As he attempted to sit up, Lewis placed a restraining hand on his shoulder and urged him, “Just lie still a few minutes, Jim. Someone gave you a nasty bump on your head.”

  “Rick?” Jim puzzled.

  “Yeah, it’s me,” Lewis assured him, “You’re in my house.”

  “Your house?” Jim repeated. “Yeah, reckon I am.” His senses returning, Jim realized he was lying on a horsehair sofa, his head cradled by a thick pillow. Someone
had removed his boots and bandanna and unbuttoned his shirt. The deep cut on his scalp and the scrapes he’d gotten in his plunge from the ledge had been dressed and neatly bandaged. “How’d I get here?”

  “Me and Adam found you…and Bear.” When Kim excitedly broke in, a large thick-coated dog planted his huge front paws squarely on Jim’s chest as he excitedly licked the Ranger’s face.

  “Bear, get down!” Lewis ordered. “Jim, reckon I’d better explain. This is my son Kim and his best friend, Adam Alvelo. They found you down the street.” Jim glanced across the room and grinned at the two boys.

  “Bear really found him, Dad,” Kim insisted. “That must’ve been why he was barkin’ and ran off last night. He knew the Ranger was out there.”

  “Let me finish, son,” Lewis gently chided. “Anyway, Jim, it seems like you must’ve been out there quite awhile. My wife had a devil of a time tryin’ to bring you ‘round. We were beginnin’ to really get worried about you. What in blue blazes happened to you?”

  Jim started to form a reply, then hesitated, as memory of the previous day’s events in Gypsum Creek Canyon returned. “I’m not really sure,” he stated. “I was on my way back to the hotel when someone clobbered me. Reckon mebbe it was a robbery, or else one of Jeffers’ men. And I guess Bear must’ve been out there last night and found me, like Kim says. That’d explain the dream I had that my son’s collie was lickin’ my face.”

  “See Mr. Lewis, Kim was right,” Adam exclaimed. “Bear wasn’t just chasin’ a coyote last night.”

  “Well, I’m grateful to both of you, and to you, Bear,” Jim answered. At the mention of his name, Bear thumped his tail heavily on the floor. “I figure I owe you boys some licorice, and Bear a nice big beef bone.”

  “But Mom and I did all the nursing, well, most of it anyway,” a girl’s voice interrupted.

  “Jim, I reckon I’d better introduce you to all of my brood,” Lewis chuckled. “This rather outspoken young lady is my daughter, Naomi. And this is my wife, Annette.”

  “Well, then I’m grateful to all of you,” Jim smiled.

  “I’m just happy to see you are recovering, Lieutenant,” Annette softly responded.

  “Two beautiful nurses like you and Naomi gives a man powerful reason to recover,” Jim praised.

  “Jim, are you sure you don’t recollect anythin’ else about last night?” Lewis insisted.

  “Lemme sit up, so I can think more clearly,” Jim responded, slowly swinging his feet to the floor. As he did, he lifted his Colt from the holster and gunbelt still buckled around his waist and leveled it at the deputy’s belt buckle.

  “As a matter of fact, I do,” Jim snapped. “Raise your hands over your head, Rick. Slow and easy. Don’t try anythin’. Make sure you keep your hands away from that skinnin’ knife on your belt. I’d hate to plug you in front of your wife and kids, but I will if I have to.”

  Lewis complied with Blawcyzk’s order, as his wife, children, and Adam looked on in stunned silence. “Ranger, you gone plumb loco?” the deputy questioned. “You must’ve got hit over your head harder’n I thought.”

  “Not at all,” Jim coolly replied, “Richard Lewis, I’m placin’ you under arrest for tryin’ to drygulch me yesterday, and for attemptin’ to cave in my head last night. I’m pretty sure I’ll be addin’ some conspiracy and murder charges to go along with those.”

  “What the devil are you talkin’ about?” Lewis demanded.

  “I’m sure you know, but let me refresh your memory,” Blawcyzk answered. “The night before last, someone threw a knife at me behind the hotel. I understand you’re pretty good with a knife…almost as good as most Mexicans. Then yesterday someone tried to plug me in the back out at Gypsum Creek Canyon. He was firin’ his rifle real quick-like.”

  “Lots of men can fire a rifle fast,” Lewis retorted.

  “Not like that hombre,” Jim insisted. “Anyway, I managed to wing him before he could nail me. He rode away on your horse, deputy. And I found your rifle where it was dropped. Your initials are even carved into the butt. And there’s a fresh gouge in the stock where my slug hit it.”

  Annette spoke up, softly but firmly, despite the tears glistening on her cheeks. “Lieutenant, my husband was here with me all last night. In fact, he came home from the office just after breakfast yesterday. Since then he’s never left the house at all, because he’s been ill.”

  “Annette’s right,” Lewis added. “I had a wicked bellyache all day long. My head was poundin’, too. Finally puked my guts out last night before I started feelin’ better. That’s why I’m late gettin’ started this mornin’. I’m still a little queasy, or I would already have been makin’ my mornin’ rounds.”

  “I can’t buy that,” Jim insisted. “Not with your Lightning tied onto my saddle over at Murphy’s livery. And I also trailed your horse right to Murphy’s. He’d been ridden hard and put away still wet. I can’t abide an hombre who’d treat a horse that way. And your saddle was there, covered with blood. Any bellyache you had probably came from my bullet in your ribs.”

  “It couldn’t have been Lucky,” Lewis protested. “No one rides him but me or my kids.”

  “Then how do you explain your rifle? There aren’t any other Lightnings around here, are there?”

  “No,” Lewis conceded. “But it’s always with me.”

  “You sayin’ that even with it in my possession?” Jim angrily demanded.

  “If you hadn’t interrupted me, I was gonna say it’s always with me, except for yesterday,” Lewis replied. “My gut was hurtin’ so bad I was doubled over with my arms wrapped around my middle. I could barely walk, let alone carry a gun, so I left my rifle on the rack at the office. Mebbe somebody took it from there. It’d be easy enough. Besides, I can prove it wasn’t me who tried to bushwhack you.”

  “How?” Jim asked. The deputy’s protestations of innocence seemed too sincere not to be genuine. The Ranger was beginning to believe Lewis might not have been the drygulcher after all.

  “You said you winged whoever ambushed you. You see any bullet wounds on me?”

  “Like I said, I drilled that hombre in his side. You’re wearin’ a clean shirt. That’d hide any bandages.”

  “You want me to show you?” Lewis insisted. “Here.” He ripped off his shirt, revealing an upper torso devoid of any bandages, showing no signs of a fresh wound, only a faded knife scar across the deputy’s left breast. “What do you have to say now?”

  Jim exhaled in a long breath, lowered his gun, then softly answered. “I reckon I was wrong. I sure apologize, Rick, to you and your family.”

  “Like doubting Thomas,” Annette whispered.

  “What?” Jim asked.

  “Like in the Gospel, Lieutenant,” Annette explained. “You remember that Thomas wouldn’t believe Jesus had been resurrected until he was able to put his hands in the Lord’s side and probe the nail marks in His hands with his fingers.”

  “And I just did the same thing,” Jim muttered in disgust with himself. “Guess I just proved even a Ranger can jump to the wrong conclusion and make a darn fool out of himself. Dunno what I can say, except to repeat I’m sorry.”

  “Let’s not worry about that now. Apology accepted,” Lewis replied, as he shrugged back into his shirt. “Right now we’d best get you to the doc’s.”

  “I don’t feel all that bad,” Jim protested, buttoning his shirt. “Annette, you did a fine job of patchin’ me up. I’m grateful. Now, if someone’ll just come up with my hat, I’d like to try and track down whoever tried to kill me and frame you for it, Rick.”

  “Here’s your hat, sir.” Naomi handed Jim his crushed, stained Stetson. “I cleaned it as best I could.”

  “Thanks, Naomi,” Jim replied as he pushed the hat back into shape. “You did a fine job, considerin’. And my name’s Jim, not sir. That goes for Adam and Kim, too. I haven’t bee
n called sir in years.” He jammed the hat on his head as he concluded. “Rick, let’s get movin’.”

  “Not so fast,” Lewis objected.

  “My husband is right, Lieutenant,” Annette disagreed, “I did the best I could, but I’m certainly not a physician. You’ve received a hard blow to your head, and it’s cut your scalp open. I’m sure that wound will require stitches. You really need to have Doctor Sweeney examine you.”

  “But the trail’s gettin’ cold,” Jim objected.

  “You’re goin’ to the doc’s, Jim. No more arguments,” Rick ordered.

  “Yeah, you’re right.” Blawcyzk suddenly gave in. “I’d best get to the doc’s.”

  CHAPTER 12

  Over Lewis’ strenuous protests, Jim insisted on stopping at Murphy’s stable to check on his horse and retrieve the deputy’s Colt Lightning before heading to the doctor’s office. He and the deputy found Jeff Murphy hauling Lewis’ blood-stained saddle from the lean-to.

  “Ranger, I was just comin’ to look for you,” Murphy exclaimed. “Your horse is in his stall where you must’ve left him last night, and he’s been fed and watered. But Rick, I found your buckskin coated with dried sweat in the corral, so I rubbed him down and fed him, and I just discovered your saddle under the hay pile. It seems to have dried blood on it, so I thought somethin’d happened to you. What’s goin’ on around here?”