[Texas Rangers 06] - Jericho's Road (9 page)

What he called the big house was modest in size and far from new. The stones that constituted its walls were of varied sizes and hues. The building had been constructed for utility rather than for beauty. It reminded Andy of houses he had seen in San Antonio.

McCawley said, “I’ve promised my wife, Juana, a new house for years, but we’re land-rich and cash-poor. If we could stop the raidin’ and thievin’, maybe I could lay aside enough money to build what she deserves.”

The place might be old, but evidently McCawley’s wife was making the best of it. A well-tended flower bed reached across the entire front, broken only by the doorway. It held roses, brilliant crepe myrtles, and several other colorful and eye-pleasing plants Andy could not identify.

The three Rangers removed their hats as they stepped over the threshold, past a heavy wooden door carved with cattle brands and horse figures. A heavyset, middle-aged Mexican woman spoke to them in Spanish, took their hats and placed them on a rack in the nearest corner. Andy assumed at first that she was McCawley’s wife, then realized she was a servant.

McCawley said, “Juana’s in the kitchen. You-all come on back.” He led them into a room dominated by a large fireplace where the cooking was done. Andy remembered that Rusty Shannon had bought an iron stove for Alice. Maybe McCawley was waiting for that new house before he installed so modern a convenience. Through a window he saw an outdoor Mexican-style baking oven in an open patio.

The room smelled of fresh bread, reminding Andy that he had eaten nothing since breakfast but a strip of jerky.

A slender, black-haired woman was bent over a table, slicing strips from a hindquarter of beef. McCawley said, “Juana, we have company.”

She turned. Andy saw that she was no longer young, but she still had smooth olive skin and large, expressive brown eyes so dark that they looked black. She smelled faintly of lilac perfume. Or maybe it was the flowers in pots scattered not only in the parlor but in the kitchen.

“
My wife,” McCawley said.

Andy felt awkward, not sure he should speak English to her. But he knew no Spanish. He bowed from the waist. “How do, ma’am? I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Len said, “Howdy, Miz McCawley.”

Farley grunted something unintelligible.

She said, “Welcome to our home, gentlemen. If you would like to wash up, you will find water and soap and fresh towels in the patio. Supper will be ready in a little while.”

McCawley said, “These men are Rangers.”

She smiled, skin crinkling at the corners of her eyes. “Then you are doubly welcome. Our house is your house.”

The Spanish-style patio sat in the center of the house. Flowers of many hues had survived summer’s heat beneath the edge of the overhanging roof.

Len commented in a loud whisper, “She talks English purt near as good as me and you, don’t she? I’ll bet she was somethin’ to look at when she was twenty years younger.”

Andy said, “She still is.” For a moment a vague image came into his mind’s eye, a faint recollection of his mother. She had been killed by Indians when he was a small boy. He had no clear memory of her face, but sometimes he imagined he could hear her voice. He thought he heard an echo of it in Mrs. McCawley’s. “She seems like a real pleasant woman.”

Farley said, “But she’s a Mexican.”

Andy hoped McCawley had not overheard, but he had. The rancher said, “Yes, she’s Mexican. There was a time when her family owned all this land.” He made a sweeping motion with his hand. “Don Cipriano Chavez, her father, fought beside Sam Houston against Santa Anna. But that didn’t help him when Americans decided they wanted his land. They killed him and Juana’s first husband, and they tried to take away the property he had on this side of the river.”

Len asked, “Then how come you to have this ranch?”

“
After I married Juana, most of the land grabbers left this place alone. They knew I was a Texian, and I proved I would fight them. Some people called it a marriage of convenience, to save what her father left to her. But it was a lot more than that.” McCawley looked back toward the door, his expression softening. “I was just a wanderer. I had no real aim in life except to survive. She gave me purpose. The land is in my name now, but it’ll always be hers. And the children’s.”

Andy asked, “How many children?”

“
I have a daughter and a stepson. Our daughter, Teresa, will be here in time for supper. She teaches the ranch children in a schoolhouse we built here.”

“
And the stepson?”

McCawley frowned. “Tony is away, with his uncle.” His expression indicated that he did not want to dwell on this topic. Andy did not press him on it. He said, “You said bandits hit you pretty often.”

“
White renegades feel like this ranch is Mexican because of my wife. Mexican bandits feel like it’s an American outfit because of me. We’re fair game for all of them. Especially Jericho’s bunch.”

“
Can’t the Rangers stop him?”

Andy saw Len shake his head.

McCawley said, “Some of them don’t want to. Jericho never lets himself get caught at anything he could go to jail for. He’s like a general who runs an army from the rear and never goes out on the battlefield. And because he concentrates most of his attention on ranches in Mexico, a lot of the Rangers look the other way. They’ve never forgotten the Alamo and Goliad.”

Andy said, “I thought McNelly stopped most of the bandits, white
and
Mexican.”

“
For a while. But he’s gone.”

Mrs. McCawley stepped out into the patio. “Teresa’s here, and supper is ready.”

McCawley motioned toward the door. “After you-all.”

Andy waited for Len but not for Farley. His attention went immediately to a pretty girl with long black hair. McCawley introduced her as his daughter, but Andy had realized that the moment he saw her. She had the same dark brown eyes as her mother. They looked at Len and Andy, then dwelled for a moment on Farley before shyly cutting away. She waited for the men to sit. Farley did, but Andy and Len stood until she decided to seat herself. Andy was surprised at Len’s sudden good manners.

Mrs. McCawley was last to the table. Light from the window revealed strands of gray hair that Andy had not noticed at first. She bowed her head and recited a prayer in Spanish. She crossed herself at the end of it, as did her daughter.

McCawley said, “Eat hearty. One thing we’ve got plenty of is beef. There ain’t enough bandits to take it all.”

Conversation lagged at first. Andy was too hungry to talk until he had emptied his plate. He was slower eating the second helping. He noticed that Teresa kept taking quick glances at Farley. He supposed she might be fascinated by his scar. It made him look a bit dangerous. Andy had been told that many women were drawn to men who looked dangerous.

To McCawley he said, “You’ve mentioned havin’ trouble with Jericho. What about Guadalupe Chavez?”

A look passed between McCawley and his wife, and McCawley considered before he answered. “Some of Lupe’s countrymen run off stock from time to time, but he leaves us alone.”

Andy noticed that McCawley used the familiar form of the name, Lupe instead of Guadalupe.

Mrs. McCawley said, “My father was Cipriano Chavez. Lupe Chavez is my brother.”

Andy stared at the girl. Her gaze was studiously fixed on her plate, though she had stopped eating. He thought she looked too innocent to be kin to a bandit whose name was known up and down the border. He remembered something the hole-in-the-wall cook in San Antonio had said, that very few innocent people lived on either side along the Rio Grande.

He remembered something else. McCawley had said his stepson was with an uncle. That uncle must be Guadalupe Chavez, Andy thought.

He had a feeling that whether or not his service on the river was pleasant, it should at least be almighty interesting.

After supper McCawley led the Rangers out onto the broad front porch, where he lighted a pipe while Len and Farley smoked cigarettes. He said, “You-all heard enough in there to raise a lot of questions. I feel like I owe you some answers.”

Andy said, “You don’t owe us nothin’.”

“
I want you to understand how things are. I was poor as a whippoor-will when I first came to this part of the country. That was back in the fifties. Jobs were scarce. I served a little while with the Rangers, but half the time the state couldn’t afford to pay me. Old Don Cipriano had land on both sides of the river, and he put me to work as a vaquero. By that time Americans were movin’ into this part of the country in considerable numbers. They wanted land. They found that most of it was owned by Mexicans, so they started pushin’ them out. The old man thought they’d leave him alone because he’d fought for Texas independence.

“
Some of those Johnny-come-latelys hadn’t fought for Texas, but they thought they had a right to whatever part of it they wanted. They took control of the courthouse and ruled that the old man’s land grant wasn’t legal anymore. When he fought back, they ambushed him and Juana’s husband. Lupe hunted down the leaders and left them layin’ dead as a skinned mule. Then he took a fast horse and went to Mexico.”

Len said, “And after that you married Mrs. McCawley?”

“
When a respectable time had passed. I was in love from the first time I saw her. Besides, I was grateful to the old man and wanted to save his land for her if I could. I had to face up to some hard men. I even had Jericho in my sights once. I ought to’ve killed him, but I let him go because there was a time when we used to be friends.” McCawley looked regretful. “He’s hated me ever since. I guess he figures he’s beholden to me, and it grates on his soul to owe anybody.”

Andy said, “At least you’ve given Lupe Chavez a reason to like you, marryin’ his sister and savin’ her land.”

“
No, Lupe doesn’t like me. To him I’m just another gringo, and he hates them all. He’d be glad to come to my funeral if he didn’t have to kill me himself. He leaves me alone on account of his sister.”

Farley asked, “But you’re American. Ain’t it tough, standin’ up against your own kind?”

“
People like Jericho aren’t my kind.”

Andy thought he understood. “For a long time I thought of myself as Comanche. But there were some Comanches I had no use for.” He explained to McCawley about the years he spent with the Indians.

McCawley said, “Then maybe you can understand the position I’m in. Sometimes I feel like I belong to both sides, and other times I don’t belong to either one.”

After dark the Rangers unrolled their blankets in the yard. Len lay on his back, looking up at the stars. He asked Andy, “What color would you say Teresa’s eyes are?”

Andy said, “Brown. Dark brown.”

“
But they’re not brown like anybody else’s. They’re different. They’re …” He considered for a moment. “Damned if I can say just what color they are. But they’re the prettiest eyes ever I seen.”

Andy said, “Sounds to me like you’re in love. But as I remember it, you’ve been in love lots of times before.”

“
Not like this.”

Farley said, “She’s Mexican.”

Len’s voice was defensive. “Half of her is white.”

Farley gave the matter some thought. “I’ll admit, I kind of liked lookin’ at her.”

After breakfast McCawley led them back out to the corrals. A dozen horses stirred in a single pen, warily watching the men who entered the gate. He said, “Take your pick, Farley.”

Andy had always known that despite his faults Farley was a good judge of horses. He strode among them, making them walk, watching how they moved. He soon made his choice. “I like that stockin’-legged red.” He had always shown a partiality to sorrels.

McCawley said, “You’ve got a good eye. He’ll take you there and bring you back.”

The Rangers saddled up. Andy shook McCawley’s hand. “Please tell the womenfolks again how much we enjoyed their good cookin’.”

“
And you-all watch out that the next time you run into bandits, it’s of your own choice and not theirs.”

The Ranger camp was similar to one Andy had known on the San Saba River. It was a row of pyramid-shaped canvas tents and a set of crude but effective corrals built of tree branches tied together with rawhide. The tents could be moved on short notice as the need arose and the corrals quickly put together at the new site with whatever materials happened to be at hand.

A broad-shouldered man emerged from a tent and stood with big hands placed solidly on his hips as he watched the three riders approach. He gave Andy and Farley a critical study, then shifted his attention to Len. He said, “Look what the north wind just blowed in. I figured you liked San Antonio so much that you wasn’t comin’ back.”

Andy could not be sure whether the man was joking or not. He sounded serious, even disappointed that Len
had
come back.

Len took no offense. “I left as quick as I could, Sergeant. Brought you two men.”

“
Prisoners?”

“
No, Rangers.”