Читать книгу TY HOLT-TEXAS RANGER - Aubrey Smith - Страница 10

It was just past daylight. Dade was up and had the coffee made by the time Ty awoke. “Get a cup, Ty; let’s move out,” Dade said as he booted Matthew. “Get up, boy, let’s ride.”

Dade had no more spoken the words when he grunted and fell. Ty then heard the shot, but Texas Ranger Hubert Dade Peterson never heard the shot that split his head open and spilled his blood all over his nephew. Matthew’s eyes bugged about the time Ty heard the second shot. Matthew spit blood and fell back, dead.

Ty rolled from his bedroll and under a fallen tree limb as a third shot splintered bark next to his head. Scrambling under the limb, he scooted into a clump of thick brush. Ty clawed as fast as he could move toward some sort of protection from the hail of slugs that had just rained death upon Dade and Matthew. He looked for Dog, but he was not to be seen. Blaze was hobbled about twenty yards from where Ty had dug in. The horse twisted then reared, trying to break loose and get out of the way himself. Ty crawled on his stomach, cutting the hobble with his jackknife.

No sense getting you killed, too, Ty thought as he quickly crawled back behind a small live oak. Blaze ran about twenty feet before Ty heard him squeal and watched him stumble. He fell about the same time Ty heard another boom from the sniper’s rifle.

All Ty could do was watch as his horse kicked his hind legs in the dirt three or four times and then lay still. Ty’s rifle, shotgun, and pistol were all beside his bedroll, next to the campfire. Even though it was now good daylight, Ty knew if he were to have any chance of surviving the assassin’s assault, he would somehow have to get to his Winchester.

The shotgun and the Colt are useless at this range, he thought as he rolled, and then ran for the carbine. He scooped the barrel and immediately fell into some scrub brush, just as the stock of the rifle splintered in his hand. He heard the distant roar of another shot. As he fell, Ty saw a puff of black smoke. Now he knew exactly where the sniper was sitting, crouched in some rocks about three hundred yards up the side of a low hill.

“Dang Jonah’s luck,” he said, diving behind a log. Another puff, and bark flew not a half-inch above Ty’s head. With a splintered stock and the sniper having the high ground, Ty figured he might as well be fish in a barrel.

Looking for a place to run, Ty spotted Dade’s .50 caliber Sharps lying next to his body. Ty didn’t even think about it. He spun, grabbed the long gun, and ran as hard as he could into some trees on the other side of the camp. Quickly he checked the gun and found that the tube was fully loaded. He was hunkered under a limb that curled to the ground. It would make a perfect rest for his shots. Ty took two or three breaths and laid the Sharps over the limb, pushing the rifle into a shooting position. As soon as the sights crossed the spot where Ty thought the sniper was hiding, he fired his first round and then levered in a second cartridge. He raised his aim to compensate for distance and fired again. As he raised the line of sight still higher, he saw a rider break over the hill and out of sight.

“Gaw-dad-blame no-good bushwhacker,” Ty screamed at the fleeing villain. He glanced at Dade and Matthew. “How the Sam Hill could anybody murder people like this?”

There was nothing Ty could do for Blaze. As tears pooled, he patted his faithful horse on the head and never looked back as he walked away. He found Dade’s mule and Matthew’s horse tied behind a clump of cedars. It was with shaky hands that he quickly saddled them. After leading them back to camp, he tied Dade and Matthew’s bodies on the horse and then packed up camp. He was mounting the mule when he thought about Dog.

He guessed the Lab would be dead also, but he needed to find him. Ty needed to say goodbye to him too. He recalled that when the shooting started, Dog leaped over a stump and ran for the assassin. Just as he feared, Dog lay about ten yards from the stump. Ty stepped over the stump and walked toward the fallen body. Dog managed to raise his head and looked at Ty. His eyes were filled with fear and pain until he recognized Ty, and then the brown eyes softened with devotion and love for his master. A stream of blood trickled from his mouth. A gaping hole had been torn in his side, but somehow he wagged his tail and tried to get up.

Ty ran to where Dog had fallen when the assassin’s bullet stopped his charge up the hill. He broke down and sobbed as he held Dog in his arms. He had never felt more alone and devastated than he did at this moment. Yesterday his sweetheart had been kidnapped. Today he had lost two of his best friends with the murders of Dade and Blaze. Now he was about to lose his most trusted companion.

Ty wondered, If a man’s so low-down as to shoot animals, what in God’s name has he done to Sarah? His mind was numb from all the death and destruction around him. The only feeling he felt was hate for the sniper.

“I’ll get you yet, you yellow-bellied snake,” Ty swore. “I’m sorry, Dog. This is my fault. I should have thought about that sneak coming back. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.”

Ty knew what he had to do. He rubbed Dog’s head, and then told him, “So long, buddy.” He stood and placed the Sharps against Dog’s head and closed his eyes. Ty took a deep breath and then another as he tried to steady his grip. Finally, he opened his eyes when he felt the rifle moving in his hands. Dog was licking the barrel.

“I can’t do this,” Ty said and picked up Dog. He carried him back to the camp and began to wash the dog’s wounds. The rest of the morning, he did the best he could to save the dog. At noon, he told Dog goodbye and rode off. He had done all he knew to do. Now it was up to Dog. Ty had left food and water next to the animal, but he was certain the dog wouldn’t make it. He looked back and said a silent prayer for him. Dog whimpered, attempting to get up and follow. Ty jerked around before his heart broke and spurred the mule north.

He was only five or six miles from the Barrows’ cabin, but he knew he had no choice but to cut east toward Medina. He needed to get Dade and Matthew’s bodies to their families as soon as he could. He had already spent the morning doctoring Dog. In the summer heat, time was running out. Ty felt he should still be chasing the man he knew only as Deek, but his spirit was broken for now. All he wanted to do was to get Dade home.

The sun had set. The darkness brought a stillness that shrouded Ty’s misery as he rode into Medina, Texas, population forty-three. He had never been to Dade’s house, but he didn’t worry about finding it, even in the dark. He just let the mule have his head. As soon as they passed the post office, the animal turned to the left, walking up to a small rock and plaster house. A candle was burning in the window.

“I hate what I have to do now more than anything,” Ty mumbled to himself. “I don’t know Dade’s wife or children, but I knew Dade, and he was a good Christian man.” Ty remembered that when he and Dade were hot on some outlaw’s trail and had to camp a few days, Dade would always be talking about how he missed Imma. He recalled that when they had taken two sure-nuff bad sonsabucks to Huntsville for hanging, Dade was like a lovesick puppy until he got back home. “Dad-blame-it, this sure isn’t going to be a picnic.”

Ty pulled his gold pocket watch from his shirt by its braided leather strap. He popped the cover, and tilted it toward the light from the window. It was eight-thirty when he tied the mule and Matthew’s horse to a hitching post. His spurs dragged across the rock porch floor as he stepped up to knock at the door.

“Who’s there?” a female voice asked. It was the voice of a young woman. Ty guessed it was one of Dade’s two daughters.

“Texas Ranger Ty Holt.”

It was only a second or two before a tall, skinny girl about fifteen or so opened the front door. She had her daddy’s features. The girl held a chimney lamp in front of her.

“You got a badge or something?” she asked.

“Get out of the man’s way, Cindy,” a small, plain woman told the girl. “You Ty Holt?” she asked.

“I am.”

“Then get in here and have some supper,” the woman said. “I’m Imma; this-here girl is Cindy. I reckon you can tell right off she Dade’s daughter.”

“Yes ma’am, I surely can.”

“Dade ain’t here,” Imma said. “He’s running down some Indians that went through here a couple of days ago. He took our nephew Matthew with him. I don’t rightly know when they’ll be back. To tell you the truth, I thought they would have been back already. Get on in here. Let me warm you some stew and fresh corn on the cob.”

Another girl stood next to the table. She was smaller and younger, with darker hair in braids that hung down on both sides of her head.

“The other one is Rebecca,” Imma said. “Come on in. Don’t be bashful.”

Ty stepped into the house. There was the one room and a loft. It smelled good inside. The door swung closed with a clatter behind Ty. He stood with his hat in his hand, looking at the floor. When he glanced up, Imma’s eyes met his, straight on.

“What’s happened?” she asked.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” Ty finally answered, a lump in his throat choking his words.

“Is he dead?”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Peterson. I brought him home.”

Imma Peterson looked as if she might faint. Ty reached to steady her but she suddenly sat on the floor and started to sob. The girls ran to her like chicks to a hen, and all three of them cried. Ty felt like crying himself, but he was already cried out.

After the women had time to let out some of their emotions, Ty asked, “Do you have some kin or neighbors close by that I can get for you?”

Imma forced herself to get up. She told Ty that Dade’s mother and a brother lived next door. Ty went next door. Now he had to go through the agony of telling Dade’s mother that her son was dead. Dade’s brother, another lanky sort, went with Ty to get the bodies. When he saw them hanging over the horse, he said, “I’ll go hitch the wagon. We can go ahead and lay them in the back. We’re going to have to put them in the ground first thing in the morning.”

The brother, who Ty later learned was a bachelor named O’Dell, went for the wagon. Ty hoped Imma and the girls wouldn’t come outside before he could get the bodies off the horse. They didn’t, and it wasn’t long before O’Dell brought a hay wagon pulled by two mules from behind the house. Ty had already untied the ropes, and he and O’Dell lifted the bodies from the horse and laid them in the wagon. They were limp and heavy, and smelled. At times, even weeks later, Ty could still smell the stench of death that came from Dade and Matthew’s decaying bodies. All through the night people came. Most brought food. Ty told O’Dell the details of how Dade and Matthew were killed. O’Dell had the unfortunate duty of telling the story over and over to those who came.

At daylight, several of the men walked to the small cemetery on the north end of town. They dug two graves. Ty helped. By nine o’clock, a Church of Christ preacher named Johnson spoke the words and dirt was shoveled over Dade and Matthew. Ty walked several yards behind Imma and Dade’s mother back to the house. When he got a chance to talk with Imma, he asked her if he could use Dade’s riding mule for a few days.

“I’ll get him home as soon as I can,” he promised.

Imma allowed him to take the mule, and Ty rode for Bandera and a telegraph. After he wired Ranger Captain Richarz, Ty headed back to Vanderpool. He wanted to try and pick up the shooter’s trail once again.

This time, I’ll be ready, he vowed.

Ty skirted Medina and camped near a spring. He didn’t want to see anyone, not tonight. As the sun drew down and dark returned, he ate cold corn cakes that Imma had prepared and tried to reason out all that had happened in the past week. Later, when he tried to sleep, he was tormented. He saw Dade’s head explode, Matthew’s eyes bug, and Blaze kicking. He was dreaming of Dog when he awoke in a cold sweat. He was up and saddled long before daylight.

Ty was eight miles west of Medina when the sun broke across the horizon. He found himself following a deer trail through rock formations that rose on either side of a long canyon that ran from Medina, halfway to Vanderpool. Suddenly Ty reined the mule to a stop. In the distance he could hear the rhythmic ring of several hoof beats along a rocky ledge above him. The sounds indicated that there were two riders moving fast and coming directly toward him. He dropped the reins and jumped from the mule. The mule stood its ground as Ty quickly grabbed his short-barreled shotgun and then ran up a rocky jag. There, he found a place to hide just above the ledge.

With the sun behind him and the limestone bluff above his head, Ty was in a perfect spot for an ambush. If he were lucky, the approaching riders would turn out to be the kidnapper and Sarah. He shifted his weight on his haunches and tried to move farther back along a narrow crag. A westerly wind whipped at his leather chaps.

The blue steel of the shotgun felt as if it were glued to his hands. Shimmers of heat danced on the canyon floor as the summer sun began to scorch the ground. Ty’s senses quickened. The gusting wind whistling around a nearby boulder and echoing off the steep limestone walls would squelch any opportunity Ty might have to hear the riders coming. About twenty yards below, he spotted a rabbit feeding on grass along the narrow trail. When the rabbit threw his ears back and quickly disappeared back into the brush, Ty knew the riders were close. He eased the hammers of the shotgun back and waited. His mind raced with anticipation. He dropped to one knee behind the boulders and fixed his eyes on the first of the riders as they rounded the bend.

It was Matt and Ben Franklin! After he was sure it was them, Ty stood up and hollered. Matt, who was in the lead, almost jerked his horse over trying to stop, frantically fumbling for a gun.

“Hold on, it’s me, Holt,” Ty shouted and stepped out into the trail in front of Matt.

“Gawdomighty, Ranger Holt, you almost scared us to death,” Matt said as he stuck his pistol back into a hip holster. “We’ve been on your trail for two days. What the Sam Hill happened back there? We found your horse shot. There was blood everywhere, and you were nowhere around. When I saw them buzzards, I told Ben something was going to be bad wrong. What happened, and where’s Dog?”

“Dead too,” Ty answered, “and Ranger Peterson and his nephew, Matthew.”

“Holy cow,” Matt muttered.

Ty told the boys to follow him back to where he had left Dade’s mule. When they reached level ground, he filled them in on all that had happened.

For a minute, Ben looked as if he might be sick. He glanced around anxiously. Finally he spoke. “Ranger Holt, me and my brother have done what we set out to do. That was to find you. We got work back home that we need to be doing. I’m sure you can understand that,” he said, looking at the ground. “We ain’t no law dogs and we got to get on back so we can let everyone know what’s happened.”

Matt looked at Ben as if he had lost his wits, but he said nothing. Ty nodded, asking the brothers if one of them would ride over to his ranch and let Aunt Izzy know he was all right.

“Yes, sir, we sure will,” Matt answered. “I think we should stay and help you, though.” The “I” was heavily emphasized.

“I appreciate that Matt, but Ben is right. You two have work to do and this-here outlaw is my business.”

With that, Ty mounted the mule. He turned in the saddle and asked, “What’s the date?”

Ben answered, “August second or third, I think. I know it’s Sunday.”

Ty thanked the boys once more for their help then kicked the mule due west toward the Barrow place.