[Texas Rangers 06] - Jericho's Road (33 page)

Chavez coughed and went limp. Tony folded his uncle’s hands across his chest and pulled his fallen sombrero over the still face. He pushed to his feet, his eyes profoundly sad. “You’d better go, Jericho. I can’t hold Uncle Lupe’s people back very long. I may not be able to hold myself.”

Jericho looked toward Andy. “What about you, Ranger? You got somethin’ to say?”

“
I ain’t a Ranger anymore, but I expect there’ll be Rangers waitin’ for you at the river.” He did not know what the Rangers could do about Jericho, however. His invasion of Mexico had not been a violation of Texas law.

One of Jericho’s men took his boss’s good arm and led him away.

Several of the Chavez men stood over their fallen
jefe
and removed their hats. One made the sign of the cross. Porfirio said something in a low voice. Three men carefully lifted Chavez and carried him toward the house.

Andy walked up to Tony. “I guess you’re the boss here now. What comes next?”

The thought seemed to take Tony by surprise. “I don’t know. I’ll need time to think it through. I wish Uncle Lupe hadn’t made that deal with Jericho. If we don’t kill him now, we’ll have to reckon with him sometime later on.”

“
He took a whippin’ he won’t get over any time soon. And that arm is bleedin’ bad. He might not make it home.”

“
If he does, bein’ crippled may just make him meaner.”

Andy watched Jericho ride away with a few of his followers. The rancher was hunched over, in obvious pain.

Andy said, “This didn’t have to be. It happened because of two hardheaded men. Either one of them could have stopped it years ago.”

Tony said, “No, they couldn’t. It wasn’t just them. It was the Alamo and San Jacinto and the Mexican War. I was able to pick sides, but most people never got a choice. Their side was picked for them the day they were born—American or Mexican.”

“
You’re some of both. Maybe you can help bring all this to some kind of settlement.”

Tony shook his head. “It’ll take a lot of time and a lot of funerals before that happens. I picked the Mexican side. I can’t turn my back on it. I can’t help my belly firin’ up every time I see a gringo push some Mexican around. I want to kill him and all the blue-eyed gringos around him.”

“
What about Big Jim? He put up a good fight on your uncle’s side, and he got himself bloodied for it.”

“
He’s still a gringo. I’d like to forget that, but I can’t. Every time I look at him, I’ll remember what the gringos did to us.”

“
But a lot of Americans took abuse from Mexicans too. Remember Santa Anna? Remember the Alamo and Goliad?”

Tony looked at ground darkened by the blood of Guadalupe Chavez. “We remember what we want to remember, and we forget whatever makes us ashamed. There won’t be peace on the river until no one is left who remembers these times.”

Jericho Jackson’s arm was afire. The pain brought blinding tears to his eyes. He turned his head, trying not to let Jesse Wilkes see them.

Wilkes said, “We better stop and do somethin’. You’re bleedin’ plumb to death.”

Jericho felt drained of strength, but he did not want to stop before they crossed the river. He realized he stood a good chance of not reaching it at all. “Tie it off so it won’t bleed so much,” he said. “It’s way too far to a doctor, but I know where there’s a
curandero.
He’ll fix me up till I can get to somebody better.”

Wilkes tore a sleeve from his own shirt and wrapped it tightly above the wound. “Maybe that’ll slow it down a little. In the war I seen doctors saw off arms that didn’t look as bad as yours.”

Jericho grunted. Wilkes was almost as pessimistic as Burt Hatton had always been. “Got any idea what happened to Burt?”

Jericho could see that Wilkes wanted to speak but was hesitant. He demanded, “Tell me somethin’.”

Grudgingly Wilkes said, “I hate to say this, but I seen Burt turn his horse around and run for the river right after the first shots was fired. He wasn’t in favor of this raid in the first place.”

“
Damned coward.” Jericho tried to spit, but his mouth was too dry. “I’ve always suspicioned that he didn’t put up much fight the time Lupe Chavez’s bandits killed my wife’s nephew. I wouldn’t be surprised if he turned and ran then just like he did today.”

Wilkes seemed to be summoning courage. Reluctantly he said, “Burt lied to you about that fight. He said he’d kill any of us who ever told you the straight of it.”

“
He ain’t here now. Tell me.”

Stumbling over the words, Wilkes managed to say, “It wasn’t none of Chavez’s men. What happened was, we came onto three travelers, and Burt wanted their horses. Thought they might be carryin’ money too. Said we could rob them on the quiet and lay the blame on Mexican bandits. And we wouldn’t have to divvy up any of it with you. He figured on jumpin’ them after dark and takin’ them by surprise. They surprised us instead. We didn’t know it then, but it turned out they was Rangers.”

A building anger almost made Jericho forget the pain. “He told it a lot different.”

“
He didn’t know but what you might shoot him—and maybe us too—if you found out he got the boy killed on a fool stunt like that. It was a lot easier to drop the blame on Lupe Chavez.”

Jericho slammed the palm of his good hand against his leg. “The lyin’ son of a bitch! The main reason for this raid was to get even with Lupe for killin’ that boy. And now you tell me it wasn’t even his bunch that done it.”

Wilkes hung his head. “I ought to’ve told you a long time ago.”

“
Yes, you should. But get me back to the ranch. If Burt is there, it’ll pleasure me to shoot him between the eyes.”

Approaching the river, he saw strangers waiting on the north bank. They were Rangers, he guessed, and they appeared to have taken several of his men into custody.

Jericho said, “I can’t see clear enough to tell if Burt Hatton is amongst them.”

“
I don’t think he is.”

“
Maybe he went upriver and crossed where there ain’t no Rangers. We’ll do the same.”

Wilkes argued, “Them Rangers might be able to do somethin’ about your bad arm.”

“
To hell with the arm. We’re goin’ after Burt. If I start to fall off, you grab me. I ain’t stoppin’ till I catch him.”

Burt Hatton reined up and studied the Jericho headquarters. The place looked deserted. All able-bodied men who could handle a gun had gone on the raid. He had known as soon as the opening volleys were fired that the expedition was a failure. The surprise Jericho had counted on had gone sour somehow. Chavez had been ready with a lethal defense.

The early fire cut down several men on either side of him. Hatton quickly decided he did not intend to join them and die for someone else’s folly. Jericho had allowed his hatred for Chavez to trump his judgment. Hatton had turned his horse around and quirted it most of the way through the brush and the sand to the river. Just in time he spotted a party of men waiting on the other side and guessed that they were Rangers. He rode farther west and crossed at another shallow point.

Now he surveyed the Jericho headquarters. He did not know if Jericho had survived, but chances were that he had. The boss had always enjoyed better luck than any two men were entitled to. Hatton sometimes suspected he had made a pact with the devil.

Well, Jericho would not put Burt Hatton in harm’s way ever again. Hatton intended to gather up what belonged to him, plus some that didn’t but should, and hunt for greener grass. The farther from Jericho, the better.

If he was lucky, he thought, no one would be in the house except Jericho’s citified wife. Hatton had always resented her because Jericho thought she was too good to associate with the common hands. That old black maid of hers would probably be there too, but she was harmless. She was likely to do nothing except holler. The two might give him a little sass, but he did not expect them to offer any physical resistance. Chances were they would cower in a corner and cry.

He tied his horse outside. He started to push through the outside door into Jericho’s office, but he changed his mind. That was the way he had always entered because Jericho did not want him venturing into the rest of the house where that pampered woman might have to look at him. This time Jericho was not here to make him go in like a servant. By God, he would go in the front like white folks should.

He shoved the door open and waited a moment, letting his eyes adjust from sunlight to the darkened interior. Hearing a gasp, he turned. Jericho’s wife stared at him, her mouth open in surprise. Hatton had never studied her closely before. He found her skinny and frail-looking. He wondered what Jericho had ever seen in her. He could buy the favors of better-looking women in any town for the change in his pocket.

She demanded, “What are you doing here? Where is my husband?”

“
Maybe in heaven, maybe in hell.”

Her hands were clasped at her flat breasts. “He’s dead?”

“
A bunch of them are. I don’t know about him. Things was a lot worse than we expected, so I lit a shuck.”

Her face tightened in anger. “You are a coward, sir.”

“
If I wasn’t, I’d be gettin’ dirt shoveled in my face. Them Meskins are damned good shots.” He made his way from the parlor to Jericho’s office at the end of a corridor. He knelt in front of the safe and exercised his fingers.

He had never opened the safe before. Jericho allowed no one to touch it. But he had watched Jericho many times, and he had made a mental note of the combination in case a situation like this might arise.

Mrs. Jackson followed him, the black maid just behind her. She demanded, “What are you doing at that safe?”

“
I’m fixin’ to open it.”

“
Why?”

“
It’s got money in it. I ain’t leavin’ here with my pockets empty. I’ve spent too much of my life that way.”

He turned the knob one way and the other, trying to remember the sequence of numbers. He missed once, but on his second try he swung the door open. Inside was a metal box in which he had watched Jericho place large sums of money from time to time. He did not bother to count. He could do that later, when he was well away from here. He rifled through the papers and ledgers to be sure he was not overlooking any currency. Satisfied, he tucked the box under his arm and rose to his feet.

Mrs. Jackson gripped a pistol with both hands. It was a big Navy Colt, heavy enough that she had trouble holding it steady. “You are not going to rob my husband,” she said. “Put that back.”

Instead, he threw the box at her and jumped aside as she pulled the trigger. The explosion shook the room. Smoke blossomed around her. Before she could thumb the hammer back he grabbed the warm barrel and twisted the weapon from her small hands. He raised it and swung it down hard, striking the top of her head and slanting down the side of her face. She dropped like a sack of corn.

The black woman screamed and came at him with a poker from the fireplace. He deflected the blow with his left arm and pointed the pistol into her face. “Back away, Mammy, or you’ll be a dead nigger.”

The maid dropped to her knees beside the unconscious woman. “Miz Jackson. Wake up, Miz Jackson.”

Hatton retrieved the metal box and backed toward the door, still carrying the Navy Colt. He said, “When she wakes up, tell her I didn’t come here to do that. But I don’t stand for anybody pointin’ a gun at me—man, woman, or child.”

He tied the box to his saddle, patted it as he might a dog, then mounted and rode north in an easy trot. He whistled an old tune he had heard in a San Antonio dance hall.

A day that had gotten off to a miserable start had completely changed complexion. It looked now like a sunny day in spring. All it needed was a rainbow.

Jericho’s arm hung stiffly at his side. Every heartbeat sent pain drumming through his body as he rode up to his stone house. Jesse Wilkes had been obliged several times to hold him and keep him from falling. His head ached, and he felt fever rising. Before long he was going to be sick as a calf with the yellow scours.

“
Help me into the house, Jesse. I don’t want to fall down in front of her.”

He had always tried to let his wife see nothing but strength and purpose from him. He hated the thought of her seeing him in this deplorable condition. He had sent one of his riders to fetch a
curandero,
but it would be a couple of hours at best before the healer could get here. Tomorrow he would have Wilkes start with him to San Antonio, where an honest-to-God medical doctor could tend to that arm.

Wilkes opened the door, then supported Jericho as he crossed the threshold. They stopped abruptly just inside. Jericho’s wife lay on a divan. A cloth covered most of her face, but not so completely that he did not see a deep bruise across her jaw.

“
What the hell? Did she fall?”

The maid burst into tears. “It was a man done it, that man you call Hatton. He was takin’ money out of your safe, and she tried to stop him.”