Assignment Page 2

  “Sure have. A little more lately than I’d like. He’s up in your neck of the woods, isn’t he?”

  Wes nodded. “And he’s startin’ to work with a renegade Comanche war chief named Four Crows. We’ve given him a couple of surprises, but like you, we generally arrive soon after he’s left.”

  “Which one?”

  “Both of ‘em.”

  “Well,” Ringley said and pointed again. He started walking in the direction of the livery stable.

  Wes fell in alongside him, and Pinchot followed.

  Ringley said, “Down here we think Messina’s probably Sandoval’s main source of white women and girls. We haven’t been able to figure out how he’s movin’ ‘em down here though. Obviously he can’t move ‘em via train, and that’s a long way to come in a wagon, covered or otherwise.”

  Wes frowned. Obviously he can’t move ‘em via train? He glanced around at the train. There were three more stock cars behind the one that had carried Charley. He glanced at Ringley. “You guys check the trains?”

  Ringley shrugged. “Every now and then. We talk to the conductor. Ask if he’s seen anything unusual. You know, women who act like they’re bein’ guarded, and like that.”

  “Ever check the stock cars yourself?”

  Ringley shook his head. “We wanted to. Governor said no. I guess he and the guy who owns the line are buddies or somethin’.”

  Wes only nodded. After a moment, he said, “‘Course, what the governor don’t know won’t hurt him.”

  Ringley stopped walking. He glanced at Pinchot, then back to Wes. Quietly, he said, “The thing is, Captain Garcia—that’s my captain—he’s a personal friend of the governor.” He paused for a second, then said, “So our hands are kind’a tied, if you take my meaning.” They resumed walking.

  Wes nodded, but he couldn’t be sure of Ringley’s meaning. By “our” did he mean the Rangers who were permanently assigned to Brownsville? Or did he mean everybody? Finally he cleared his throat. “‘Course, us new arrivals down here don’t necessarily know about such things.”

  Ringley only nodded. He glanced back at Pinchot, then at Wes again and gestured toward the man coming through the bay door of the livery stable. “Ralph Sampson, this is Ranger Crowley and Ranger Pinchot, down here on assignment to help us out for a while.”

  Sampson was a tiny little man, no taller than 5’1” or 2” and thin as a split rail, but his arms were heavily muscled so he looked almost like a caricature. His blue eyes were stark beneath a thick mop of black hair, greying slightly at the sides.

  He stepped forward, extended his right hand and grinned. “Welcome, Rangers. I won’t remember your names, but I’ll always recognize the badge.” After he shook Pinchot’s hand, he gestured behind him. “Pick your stalls. The horses’ll get all the hay and water they need and a half-bag of oats per day.”

  Wes nodded. “Appreciate it. Charley here gets annoyed when he don’t get his oats.” He grinned.

  After Wes and Pinchot put their horses in stalls and tended to them, they and Ringley started walking again. Both men were carrying their carbines and their saddle bags.

  Wes looked at Ringley. “The Cameron next?”

  Ringley nodded. “It’s only a few blocks, over on Washington. I’ll let you guys get settled, and then we’ll walk over to the station and I’ll introduce you to the captain. By then it’ll be about time for supper.”

  Pinchot said, “Now that sounds good.”

  Wes glanced back at Pinchot. “Starvin’, are’ya?” Then he grinned up at Ringley. “He don’t talk much, but when he does, it matters.”

  Ringley laughed. “Shouldn’t be another hour, we’ll be sittin’ in the dining room of the hotel.”

  *

  The hotel was whitewashed stucco over adobe with a rich brown double door at the entrance and glass panes in the upper half of the doors. The lobby was opulent by Amarillo standards, with dark, polished hardwood floors and what looked like Navajo rugs at each of three sitting areas and a runner in front of the desk on the right. A huge chandelier hung from a high ceiling over the center of the room.

  Wes and Pinchot waited while Ringley went to the desk and talked with the clerk. When he turned away, he waved them over and they all went up the stairs to the second story.

  The room itself was about what Wes expected. Dark hardwood floors again, two single beds with iron headboards and footboards and a braided rug between them. There were also two small wardrobes and a washstand with two small white towels draped over a bar across the back. The north wall had a window that looked out over Washington Street.

  As Wes and Pinchot claimed their beds by dropping their saddle bags on them, Ringley walked over to the window. When the two Amarillo Rangers moved up beside him, he pointed at an angle to the right. “The station’s right over there, across the street and down four or five doors. Everything you should need is here on Washington with the exception of the livery stable.”

  He pointed to the left. “To orient you, it’s back that way, to the west, and then up a couple of blocks.” He looked at Wes. “And you know where the train station is from there.”

  “How long’ll the train be in town?”

  “Today it’ll pull out again within the hour. Every other trip—that’s every other day—it sets overnight.”

  Wes only nodded and stepped back from the window so Pinchot could see.

  A moment later, Ringley stepped back too. “Let’s go get the introductions over and get some supper. We could skip the intro, but I’m pretty sure the captain wants to meet you, and he’s plannin’ on buyin’ your first supper.”

  Chapter 3

  Corporal Ringley stepped up on the boardwalk with Wes and Pinchot following. He opened the door, then stepped aside and followed them in.

  Wes looked around. Something didn’t feel right, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

  The “station” was similar to the Company D headquarters in Amarillo, with a long table and several chairs at the left end of the room. A large map of Texas graced the wall above the table.

  Along the back wall was a gun cabinet fashioned similarly to a wardrobe. In the top was an open rack of several standing rifles and carbines with a flat black iron bar locked across the front of them. Below the rack of long guns was a wide drawer, then two separate cabinet doors below that, probably with shelves behind them.

  To the right of the door along the front wall was a potbellied stove with a coffee pot sitting on it. On the wall above it were several cups and mugs. A layer of dust covered all of them.

  And it hit him. There was no one else in the room. Where were all the other Rangers?

  Well, probably out on one patrol or another. Did they run patrols down here like they did in Amarillo? Wes wasn’t even sure of how much territory the Brownsville office had to cover.

  In the right corner, the captain looked up and smiled from behind a broad desk, then pushed his chair back from the desk. “Well, hello there.” As he stood, he said, “You men are down from Amarillo, is that right?”

  Corporal Ringley said, “Yes sir. This is Wes Crowley and—” He looked at Pinchot. “Jeremy, was it?”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Jeremy Pinchot.” He looked at Wes and Pinchot as he gestured toward the captain. “Gents, this is my captain, Ignacio Garcia.”

  Garcia came around the desk, his right hand extended. He was clean-shaven and his black hair was grey at the temples. At around 5’9” he was stocky, with broad shoulders and a barrel chest. He was wearing black boots and trousers, his badge pinned to a white long-sleeved shirt.

  As he and Wes shook hands, he said, “Welcome, Ranger Crowley. Your boss thinks highly of you.”

  “It’s reciprocal, sir.”

  As he shook Pinchot’s hand, he said, “And I understand Ranger Crowley specifically selected you to come with him although you’re new. Why?”

  Pinchot shrugged, a grin tugging at one corner of his mouth. “Prob’ly ‘cause I can outshoot him, sir.”

  The captain laughed. “Is that right? And does that hold true when someone is shooting back?”

  Wes said, “I guess we’ll find out, Captain. When do we head out?”

  The captain looked at his corporal.

  Ringley said, “There are only seven of us right now.” He glanced at the captain, then back to Wes. “With the captain’s permission, we’ll go poke around a little tomorrow morning right after breakfast. Get you guys used to the territory.”

  The captain said, “Are you gentlemen hungry?”

  Both men nodded. Wes said, “Yes sir, we could eat.”

  The captain glanced at the clock on the wall. It read 5:38. “I planned supper for 6 p.m., but I don’t think they’ll kick us out for showing up a little early.” He glanced down at Wes’ Winchester. “You can leave your carbines here if you want to.”

  Wes said, “We’ll put ‘em in our rooms, sir, since we’ll be right there in the hotel. We’ll need ‘em in the morning.”

  “Of course. Suit yourself.” He turned, took his hat off a peg on the wall and put it on. Like his boots, the hat was black. It looked more like something a banker would wear, with a flat crown and the edge of the brim curled slightly upward all the way around. The hat band was black leather studded with small silver conchos. He gestured toward the door. “Lead the way, Jason.”

  “Yes sir.” Corporal Ringley turned, opened the door and held it as the others filed through, then closed it behind him.

  In the dining room of the Cameron, which was to the left from the lobby, four other Rangers were already seated at one end of a group of two tables that had been pushed together.

  Wes nodded as they approached the table.

  The captain took a seat next to one of the
men who was already seated. Corporal Ringley sat on his right. Wes and Pinchot moved around the table and took seats across from them.

  The captain indicated the man next to him. “Wes Crowley and Jeremy Pinchot, these two men are down from San Antonio. Rafe Elkins—” and Elkins raised a hand, “and Quincy Longstreet.” The captain pointed with the index finger of his right hand, which was curled into a light fist on the table, toward the man next to Pinchot. “That is Budreaux Garcón.” He looked at Pinchot. “You’re originally from Louisiana, is that right?”

  Pinchot nodded. “Yes sir.”

  “Well, Budreaux here is from your neck of the woods, over at Beaumont.” The captain paused, then indicated the fourth man. “And this is Pete Simkins. He came over from Laredo.” He looked at Wes. “We’re still hoping to get a couple men down from Fort Worth and maybe a couple from Abilene, but maybe not.”

  Wes frowned. Apparently not all the captains had provided the support the governor ordered. “So only one man from Laredo and one from Beaumont, sir?”

  The captain nodded. “All they could spare right now.”

  The waiter came up to take their orders.

  The captain glanced around the table. “Steak and potatoes good with everybody?”

  Everyone nodded, and the captain looked at the waiter. “Steak and potatoes times eight, and water and coffee. And have ‘em put it on my tab.”

  The waiter nodded. “Yes sir.”

  As he moved away, Rafe Elkins, a lean, rawboned redhead with freckles, tousled hair and an easy-going, affable smile, said, “We gonna wait any longer, Cap, or we gonna get started in the mornin’?”

  The captain looked at Wes, a slight frown on his face. “Did your train pass through Abilene?”

  Wes nodded. “Yes sir. Lubbock, then Abilene, then San Antone, then Laredo, then here. Those were the high spots.” He grinned.

  Elkins looked at Wes. “Man that’s a long way to come. We came down a few days ago. Got here day before yesterday.”

  Pete, his blond hair almost touching his collar and wearing a few days’ growth of whiskers, leaned back and looked past Garcón and Pinchot at Wes. “Us too. Me and Garcón both got in yesterday, me from one direction and him from the other.”

  Wes nodded. The man’s eyes were ice blue. He felt as if they were boring through him.

  The waiter came back to the table with a large serving tray laden with cups of coffee and glasses of water. After he’d served each man, he hurried away.

  The captain looked at Ringley. “Well, we might as well give up on Abilene I guess. Might still get a couple from Fort Worth though.”

  “Yes sir.” Then Ringley looked at Elkins. “We’ll ride out in the morning. Breakfast first—let’s make that 6 a.m.—then we’ll get over to the livery stable and head out.”

  Elkins nodded. “Sounds good.”

  Wes frowned. Give up on Abilene? But hadn’t the governor mandated that all companies had to send two men? But he decided to keep his silence. In a new place, it was better to get the lay of the land before offering an opinion or asking too many questions.

  Trying to fit in, Pinchot glanced around the table, then looked at Corporal Ringley. “Will any of your Rangers be joining us in the morning, Corporal Ringley?”

  Ringley looked up and shook his head sharply.

  Pinchot grinned. “Out on patrols, eh?”

  The four men who’d been in town a little longer focused on their plates.

  Ringley exchanged a quick look with the captain, then looked at Pinchot again. Quietly, he said, “We’ll talk about all that later.”

  Pinchot said, “Yes sir. Sorry, I—”

  The captain said, “It’s all right, Ranger.” He gestured with his fork. “Enjoy your steak.”

  *

  Later, in the room, Pinchot said, “I hope I didn’t annoy the captain.” He paused. “You know, asking about his men.”

  “Well, don’t worry about it. I noticed that too. Other than the captain and the corporal, the only Rangers we’ve seen since we’ve been here are on loan like us. And I doubt they’re out on patrol.”

  “Why d’you say that?”

  “I’m not sure. Somethin’ just doesn’t feel right. But they’ll tell us what’s goin’ on when it’s time. Just remember what I told you back in Amarillo about always bein’ ready.”

  “For what?”

  “Well, for anything. Things you don’t expect. All those men we met downstairs were Rangers, but we don’t know ‘em. Just be careful, that’s all.”

  “Yes sir.”

  Chapter 4

  Only the captain was missing from breakfast the following morning. After a leisurely breakfast of eggs and bacon or ham for the other six men and biscuits and gravy for Wes, he, Ringley and Pinchot walked toward the livery stable. The other men went in the other direction to retrieve their carbines from the headquarters.

  Wes said, “So your other men aren’t out on patrol, are they?”

  Ringley only shook his head. “The fact is, at the moment the captain and I are it for Brownsville.”

  Pinchot frowned. “Just the two of you?”

  Wes said, “And the captain stays back to keep up appearances, that right?”

  “That’s about the size of it.” Ringley paused. “Two months ago we were healthy.” He paused again. “Well, as healthy as any company I guess. We were still undermanned, but we had nine Rangers other than me and the captain.” He took a deep breath and released it.

  “Then we lost three men to an ambush in some rocks just south of Matamoros. They hadn’t ought’a been down there anyway. That was Sandoval. Raised some hell here in town, then led ‘em straight through those rocks. Maybe two weeks after that, we lost two more. But you prob’ly heard about the train wreck.”

  Wes shook his head.

  “About twelve miles south of town, some banditos intentionally wrecked a train carryin’ a carload of Mexican silver. Around sixty thousand dollars’ worth according to the train people. Anyway, we had assigned two men to ride shotgun on the shipment along with a couple of Pinkerton types. They were all killed in the wreck. I suspect that was Sandoval too.

  “We figured he might quit after that, or at least settle down some.” He looked at Wes. “I mean, all that money?” He shrugged. “And we didn’t hear anything out of him for a while. We were down to four men, plus me and the captain. That’s when the captain arranged the meeting with the governor in Austin.” He glanced over at Wes. “The one where we all first met.”

  Wes nodded.

  “But while the captain and I were at that stupid meeting, Sandoval and some of his men rode straight into town. They lit a few fires and generally shot the place up. Our guys came runnin’ out, but apparently Rangers were the target. The rest was just a diversion. As the last Ranger came out of the station, some of Sandoval’s men opened up on ‘em with shotguns and carbines. Took out all four.

  “So by the time the captain and I got back from Austin, we were down to just me and him. So trust me, we’re really glad you’re both here.” He looked past Wes at Pinchot. “If you don’t mind some advice, Ranger Pinchot, you bein’ new and all, don’t ever take anything at face value. All my men were seasoned Rangers. The two we lost on the train was just a bad accident. But three of them rode slam into an ambush, and four more rushed outside. If those seven had been more careful and took time to think about what they were doin’, they’d still be here.”

  Pinchot nodded. “Yes sir. I understand. Thanks.”

  *

  Just as Ringley, Wes and Pinchot led their horses out of the livery stable, the other four men came walking up. At about 5'8", trim but solid and with a slight paunch, Quincy Longstreet was in the lead. He looked at Ringley. “We’ll be ready in just a minute, Corporal. Sorry for the delay.” He glanced at Wes, then back at Ringley. “Reckon from now on we’ll keep our carbines in our rooms.”

  Ringley said, “Good idea.”

  Longstreet nodded, but as he started into the livery stable, Ringley said, “Hold on a second.”

  Longstreet stopped and looked at him.