[Texas Rangers 06] - Jericho's Road (14 page)

“
Ranger, ain’t you strayed a long ways from where you belong?”

“
Rangers go anywhere they want to.”

“
Anyplace but my ranch. You lookin’ for somebody?”

“
Maybe. Who you got?” Len’s voice had an insolent tone, one Andy was sure he had to work at. It was not his normal style. It would have been Farley’s.

Andy recognized two of the riders. They had been with the men the Mexicans had chased back across the river. One leaned to Jericho and said something Andy could not hear.

Jericho said, “Seems like you’ve already made the acquaintance of my boys. They say you took somethin’ that belongs to them.”

Len said, “The guns? If they’ll stop at that little gyp joint of a store they can get their property back.”

Jericho switched his attention again to Andy. “You look like you been run through a coffee grinder, boy. You a Ranger too?”

“
Private Andy Pickard. My horse drug me a ways.”

“
Probably because you took him where you and him wasn’t supposed to be.” Jericho leaned forward, his manner challenging. “You Rangers are always pokin’ into my business, comin’ on my land without so much as a by-your-leave. But when you’re needed you ain’t nowhere around.”

Len said, “When did you ever need us?”

“
Mexican outlaws murdered my wife’s nephew. Never gave him a chance. It was one time we could’ve used your help, and you wasn’t there.”

Len and Andy looked at each other. Andy said, “That’s the first we’ve heard about it.”

“
It won’t be the last. I’m sendin’ a protest to Austin.”

Len said sarcastically, “They’ll be tickled to hear from you.”

“
He was an orphan boy. My poor wife set a lot of store by him. I’ll see that Lupe Chavez pays for what they done. When I do, you Rangers had better stay out of my way.”

Andy said, “We can’t, not if you break the law.”

“
It’s a damned poor law that says you can’t kill a Mexican when he needs it. As far as I’m concerned it’s open season the year around on every saddle-colored son of a bitch this side of the river.”

Jericho’s red mustache seemed to bristle. Studying him, Andy was reminded of a book he had read about pirates. He seemed to remember that the character’s name was Red Beard, or something like that. The longer Andy looked at Jericho, the larger he seemed to get. He doubted that he and Len could handle him in a fistfight even if the three cowboys stayed out of it.

Jericho’s voice deepened. “You men are trespassin’. By rights I could shoot both of you.”

Andy said, “Those who try to keep the Rangers away have usually got somethin’ they don’t want us to see.”

Jericho glowered. “You-all are startin’ to aggravate me. People with any sense are careful not to get my blood stirred up. Next time, stay off of Jericho’s road.” He looked past the two Rangers. “We been watchin’ some smoke yonder. Know anything about it?”

Len turned to see. “We noticed it too. Grass fire, more than likely. You ought to caution your boys not to be careless with their smokin’. They could burn up the whole country.”

Rusty had once said Len could talk the devil into joining the church.

Jericho pointed eastward. His manner was stern. “That’s the shortest way off of my land.”

Len pointed south. His manner was stubborn. “We’re headed back to the river.” He started, and Andy followed.

Jericho shouted after them, but Len did not acknowledge him. Softly he told Andy, “Act like you don’t even hear him. He’s a land grabber and a thief, but he’s too much of a man to shoot us in the back.”

They rode about a mile. Len abruptly turned to the east. Andy said, “Thought we were goin’ to the river.”

“
That was just to show Jericho we wasn’t afraid of him. It’s a long way back to Ranger camp. You’ve got some bad cuts, and them wasp bites need attention. I’m takin’ you over to the McCawleys’. Like Jericho said, you look like you been run through a coffee grinder.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

A
ndy was uneasy about baring his upper body to the McCawley women, but they brooked no argument. He had bathed in a stock tank to wash off the dirt, grass, and other debris left by the dragging. He had also rinsed his clothing. His shirt and the upper part of his long underwear had been shredded beyond repair, but they still covered enough to meet the requirements of modesty.

The older woman dug out several thorns with a needle, then rubbed him with alcohol that set him afire. He ground his teeth and tried not to groan.

She said, “The more it burns, the more good it does. You lost some hide.”

Andy feared the alcohol was burning away whatever skin the dragging had left him. He drew his arms in tightly against his ribs and squeezed his eyes shut until the worst had passed.

Juana McCawley said, “You have more thorns, but they are in too deep. They’ll have to fester out in their own good time.”

He was glad she did not intend to poke around anymore with the needle. He said, “I’m obliged to you, ma’am.”

The daughter, Teresa, rubbed a soothing salve over the wasp stings. He enjoyed the careful touch of her fingers, a contrast to her mother’s less than gentle treatment with the needle and disinfectant.

Big Jim McCawley fetched him a shirt and a suit of underwear. “Our Tony left these behind. They’ll fit you better than mine would.”

“
Many thanks.”

McCawley said, “Len tells me you talked to Jericho.”

“
Mostly it was him that did the talkin’.”

“
That’s his way. He’s not interested in what anybody else says. He’ll either scare you to death or make you mad enough to chew up a horseshoe and spit it at him.”

Andy could understand that Jericho’s physical size would intimidate many, but he doubted that McCawley had any fear of him. McCawley was about as large as Jericho, and like Jericho he was all muscle. Either man looked capable of wrestling a bull to a standstill. If they ever came to blows they might tear up enough ground to plant a garden.

From what he had heard of Lupe Chavez, Andy thought he must be a large man too. He had to be if he lived up to the stories.

Neither Andy nor Len mentioned seeing McCawley’s stepson with the Mexicans who had crossed the river in hot pursuit of Jericho’s raiders. They had decided it might upset his mother and sister to know he was putting himself in harm’s way.

Teresa asked Andy, “Where is the other Ranger, the one who was with you last time?”

“
Farley Brackett? He broke off from us to follow a different set of tracks.”

Self-consciously she said, “He seemed rather nice.”

Andy blinked. “You sure you haven’t got him mixed up with somebody else?”
Nice
was not a term he had ever considered in relation to Farley.

She said, “He’s not exactly handsome, but he’s not ugly either, even with that scar on his face. How did he get it?”

“
He brought it home from the war. Somebody told me it came from a Yankee saber. I never asked him.” Farley would probably have turned on him like a biting dog and told him to mind his own business.

She said, “I think he is a lonely man.”

For good reason, Andy thought. Farley never let anybody get close to him.

She asked, “Has he ever been married?”

“
I doubt he ever considered it.”

She suggested, “Maybe he never met the right woman. Or maybe he doesn’t like women.” She phrased that more like a question than a statement.

Andy knew Farley liked women, though on his own terms. He had bought and paid for commercial affection in San Antonio, but this was not something Teresa would want to hear. Andy said, “He’s just been too busy bein’ a Ranger.”

“
Most Rangers do not remain Rangers forever, do they?”

Sooner or later Farley was sure to provoke the wrath of some officer and find himself dismissed from the force. But she would not want to hear that either. “Who knows what any of us are liable to do?”

She said, “I’ve never seen a really
old
Ranger.”

That would be easy to explain, though he did not. Most eventually became too stove up, or they wearied of endless horseback travel and wanted to settle in one place. Or, as occasionally happened, they died in the line of duty.

He said, “I’ll tell him you asked about him.”

She reddened. “Oh no. Please don’t do that.” She left her chair and hurried from the room.

Her mother watched her go, then said, “It is not seemly for a young lady to express interest in a man.”

Embarrassed, Andy said, “I was just tryin’ to help. Ain’t had much experience in matters such as this.” Perhaps a good woman might smooth Farley’s rough edges and make him easier to get along with. The Lord knew he needed help of some kind. On the other hand, any woman who would give Farley more than a minute’s consideration was probably not in her right mind.

Mrs. McCawley smiled. “Some things you must leave alone. They will work themselves out if the Lord wishes them to.”

Because it was late in the day, the McCawleys had little difficulty in persuading Andy and Len to spend the night before they started back to camp. Andy looked forward to a couple of kitchen-cooked meals. And he found it easy to look at Teresa McCawley, though the memory of Farley’s sister Bethel intruded, giving him a disquieting sense of guilt.

After supper the three men sat on the front porch of the rock house. McCawley smoked a pipe in silence. Silence was one thing Len could not long abide. He asked, “How come you and Jericho to get crossways in the first place?”

McCawley took the pipe from his mouth and stared at its glowing bowl. “There was a time long before the big war that me and him rode together. We didn’t have nothin’. We were both ambitious, wantin’ to make somethin’ of ourselves. But Jericho had a different notion of how to go about it. He saw people pushin’ Mexicans off of their land and decided he could too. It was easy to say it was a patriotic thing to do since there’d been two wars with Mexico.

“
I’d gone to work for Don Cipriano Chavez. He treated me good, and I took a likin’ to him. Jericho tried to run him off and grab his property like he’d done with some others, but the old man fought back. So Jericho had him killed. Juana’s first husband too. He hounded the son, Lupe, till Lupe took refuge in Mexico. That’s when I married Juana. Puttin’ an American name on the land kept Jericho from pullin’ his shenanigans at the courthouse. He’s been a thorn in my side ever since. And me in his.”

Andy said, “Looks like the law ought to do somethin’.”

McCawley nodded. “It does. For the most part it looks away, or it sides with Jericho and them that think like him. It doesn’t pay to lose a war, and the Mexicans have lost two.”

Andy asked, “What about the Mexicans that were livin’ here in Texas? Did they take a hand in the wars?”

“
Maybe not directly, but most of them sympathized with Mexico. A lot of Americans claim that justifies takin’ away their property. Many Mexicans still claim that everything south of the Nueces River belongs to Mexico. That makes Americans and their property fair game. People like Lupe Chavez figure they’re only takin’ back what belonged to them in the first place. Both sides believe they’re in the right. Those of us who try to sit on the fence take fire from both directions.”

Andy asked, “Do you see any answer?”

“
Maybe someday, but wars last a long time. They’re not over just because the cannons quit. They’re over when nobody is left who remembers what the trouble was all about.”

The bullet sounded like an angry wasp as it passed between Andy and Len. The crack of a rifle shot followed in an instant. By instinct Andy ducked low on his horse’s left side, opposite the source of the fire. Len shouted and set his mount into a hard run toward a little puff of white smoke rising behind a bush. Andy spurred hard to catch up with him.

They caught a Mexican trying desperately to reload a rifle. Andy leaped from the saddle and knocked him off his feet. The shooter fought, struggling to bring the rifle into position. Its bolt was jammed open. Andy wrested the weapon from his hands and hurled it away.