Panhandle raiders, p.14
Panhandle Raiders, page 14
“Yeah,” Rudy confirmed. “With everything that’s happened the past couple of days I plumb forgot to tell you that. He and the men riding with him will be stationed up here until things settle down in these parts. Once they arrive you and Smoky are to head back to Austin.”
“Unless the courts-martial are still goin’ on,” Jim pointed out.
“I reckon that’s so,” Rudy concurred.
“So is everything settled?” Thomas queried.
“Seems to be, Colonel,” Jim answered. “I’ll wire Headquarters in the morning to let Captain Trumbull know we need to remain for the trials. But now I’d really like to get some rest, with your permission. It’s been a rough couple of days.”
“Not quite so fast,” Thomas replied, looking at the faint thin ribbon of red apparent on Blawcyzk’s shirtfront. The Ranger’s wound was still oozing blood, which had seeped through the bandages Jim wore and the spare shirt he had donned back at the site of the train robbery. “I think you should see Doctor Gibson before you head back to your hotel and let him care for your wounds properly.”
“There’s no need for that,” Jim protested. “Smoky did a decent job of patchin’ me up. Once we get back to our room I’ll clean up that cut and rebandage it. I’ll be fine.”
“The colonel’s right, Jim,” Smoky disagreed. “That’s more’n just a cut you’ve got there. You’re darn lucky Saunders didn’t slice you wide open like a gutted catfish. You need to be stitched up.”
“Don’t bother arguing, Lieutenant,” Rudy firmly added, his use of Jim’s rank giving further emphasis to his words. “You’re goin’ to see the doc, and that’s that.” To Thomas he added, “Don’t pay Jim any mind. He’s generally a real easy-goin’ hombre, but he’s got a stubborn streak as wide as the Rio Grande.”
“I can understand that,” Thomas smiled. “So do I. Perhaps, Lieutenant Blawcyzk, that’s the reason you and I didn’t particularly like each other when we first met. But since I can be just as stubborn as you, you will go see Doctor Gibson before you’re allowed off this post. Is that clear?”
“I can see all of you are gangin’ up on me,” Jim grumbled.
“That’s right,” Smoky retorted. “So let’s not waste any more time.”
“You win.” Jim gave in with a sigh.
“Now you’re making sense,” Rudy said.
“Your men are right, and you know that,” Thomas added. “So let Doctor Gibson treat you. Then get that night’s rest, and we can finish our discussion in the morning … say around ten.”
“We’ll see you then, Colonel,” Smoky answered, before Jim could utter further protest. “Good night. C’mon, Jim, let’s go.” He and Rudy each grabbed the recalcitrant Blawcyzk by an arm to hustle him out of the office and across the compound to the post surgeon’s office.
CHAPTER 17
“I’m just about finished with you, Lieutenant,” Doctor David Gibson stated as he took the last stitch in Jim Blawcyzk’s stomach. Jim was lying flat on his back on a table in the post hospital while the Army surgeon thoroughly cleaned out the saber slash across Jim’s upper torso, trimmed away dead flesh from the edges, and was now stitching skin and muscle back together.
“I appreciate everything you’ve done, Doc,” Jim gratefully said, wincing as Gibson spread a stinging salve over the wound, then taped a thick bandage in place.
“That goes for me too, Doc,” Rudy Flores spoke up from his seat opposite the table. At Jim’s insistence, Gibson had treated Rudy’s relatively minor wounds before beginning work on Blawcyzk.
“You’re both welcome,” Gibson replied with a disbelieving shake of his head as he finished bandaging Jim. “And I must say you Rangers are every bit as tough as I’d heard. This saber slash you took would have incapacitated most men, Lieutenant … and I’m including the soldiers of the United States Army.”
“I couldn’t let it stop me, or I would’ve been a goner,” Jim explained. “That major was ready to shove his saber right through my guts. I had to get him first.” He started to sit up.
“Not quite so fast, Lieutenant,” Gibson objected. “I need you to roll over on your belly so I can treat that bullet burn on your back.”
“That’s nothing, Doc,” Jim objected.
“Listen. You just let me be the doctor, and you stick to Rangering. Now roll onto your stomach,” Gibson sternly ordered.
“Listen to the doc, Jim,” Smoky McCue piped up from his chair next to Flores. “You tried to claim that “little” cut on your chest was nothing too … and it took what, thirty-seven stitches, Doc?”
“That’s right, thirty-seven,” Gibson confirmed.
“So stop being such a stubborn cuss and do as Doc Gibson says,” Smoky concluded.
“All right.” Reluctantly Jim complied, flipping onto his belly.
“This won’t take long at all,” Gibson noted with satisfaction as he studied the shallow gash across Jim’s lower back. “Some medication and a bandage will do just fine. It won’t need any stitches.” Efficiently he dressed and bandaged the injury.
“There. You’re all set for now, Lieutenant,” the physician stated as he finished. “You can get redressed.”
“You mean I can finally get out of here and get some sleep?” Jim answered.
“You can indeed, in fact I’d highly recommend it,” Gibson answered as Jim swung his legs over the edge of the table, swaying only slightly as he came to his feet, then shrugged into his shirt. As Jim buckled his gun-belt back on, Gibson continued, “Now, you will need to come back in about ten days to have those stitches removed. And of course if you feel light-headed or feverish, get back here immediately. And don’t plan on doing any riding or other strenuous activity for at least two or three weeks.”
“Jim’s always been kind of dizzy, so he’ll have a hard time tellin’ if he’s light-headed, Doc.” Smoky chortled.
“And he’s already light-headed with that tow hair of his,” Rudy added.
“Enough!” Gibson shouted. “Out of here, all of you.”
“We’re on our way,” Jim answered as he tugged on his Stetson. “Good-bye, Doc.”
“I’m gonna check on Sam once more before I head back to the hotel,” Jim told his partners as they left the post and began the short walk back to town. Smoky started to object but kept quiet, knowing he could never win an argument with Blawcyzk when it came to his horse.
“I reckon we’ll come along with you and check our horses too,” Rudy agreed. His palomino gelding Solana had been placed in a boxcar to be with his rider when Flores had boarded the train at Mineral Wells, and was now stabled at the only livery barn in Fort Griffin, along with Jim and Smoky’s mounts.
“Suit yourselves, although I would think you’d have better things to do” Jim shrugged, not quite willing to admit he was actually grateful for the company.
As they reached what passed for the center of Fort Griffin, a shrill female voice rang out.
“Smoky! Smoky McCue!”
“Quick, hide me,” Smoky pleaded in desperation at the sound of Cindy Lou’s call. “Jim, Rudy … please.” He looked around frantically for a storefront or alleyway to duck into and disappear.
“It’s too late, pardner. She’s got you cornered,” Jim laughed as a very indignant Cindy Lou crossed the dusty street and stalked up to the trio of Rangers.
“Cindy Lou, darlin’…” Smoky weakly began.
“Don’t you dare Cindy Lou me, Smoky McCue,” the saloon girl huffed. “You told me you’d see me the night after we were together, and then you ride out without so much as a bye-your-leave.”
“Cindy Lou. I had to. Duty called. You know I’m a Ranger. We had to leave town in a hurry,” Smoky stammered. He shuffled awkwardly, glancing around at anywhere but Cindy’s eyes. Jim and Rudy had never seen their partner quite so nervous.
“That’s no excuse,” Cindy insisted. “You could have stopped by for just a minute, and let me know. You … you …”. Cindy’s outburst was cut short as Smoky suddenly took her in his arms and crushed her lips to his. Even the jaded passersby of Fort Griffin stopped to stare at them.
“C’mon, Rudy,” Jim chuckled. “Let’s check on the horses, then I think I’d like to get a couple of drinks before turnin’ in. These two need to be alone. See you in the mornin’, Smoke.” McCue didn’t even appear to notice as his partners ambled off.
“Smoky?”
“Yes, Cindy honey?” The smoke-eyed Ranger sat on the edge of Cindy Lou’s soft feather bed, his gunbelt off and lying on a chair, his Stetson, neckerchief, and shirt already shed. Cindy Lou was kneeling on the mattress behind him as she gently massaged his shoulders.
“I asked you the last time we were together what your real name is.” Her nimble fingers deftly kneaded the nape of his neck, then her hands wandered lower as she began massaging the muscles of his back.
“And I told you then I don’t tell that to anyone … for anything,” Smoky gruffly replied.
“But you’ll tell your Cindy Lou, won’t you, Smoky?” she huskily purred. Her fingers worked their way over his ribs as she reached around to begin stroking his chest.
“Not even you, darlin’,” Smoky gulped.
“Are you certain?” she leaned closer to whisper in his ear.
“I’m positive,” Smoky insisted.
“Then you won’t get another thing from me, Ranger McCue,” Cindy firmly stated, pulling back from him.
“Cindy Lou, please,” Smoky pleaded.
“I mean it, Mister,” Cindy repeated, her eyes flashing angrily.
Smoky hesitated, his determination to maintain the secret he’d kept for years battling his desire for the attractive saloon woman. His blood was racing, pulse pounding, muscles tense with anticipation. Sweat glistened on his body as it oozed from every pore.
“Cindy,” he entreated once more.
“Nothing, Smoky.” To bedevil the Ranger further she ran a hand ever so slowly across his belly, just above his beltline. “Not unless you tell me your real name.”
A soft groan escaped Smoky’s lips. At that moment he would have preferred being smeared with honey and staked out on an ant hill by Comanches to being in this spot.
“You win,” he finally conceded as his face flushed with embarrassment, “It’s … Barnabas,” he grudgingly admitted.
“Barnabas?” Cindy Lou drew back, her eyes filled with mirth and a delighted smile playing across her lips.
Smoky nodded glumly. “That’s it. Barnabas. Now are you satisfied?”
“Why that’s a lovely name,” Cindy Lou declared with conviction, “And I promise never to call you Barney, you big ol’ lug.”
“Never mind about that,” Smoky dejectedly answered. “Just promise me never, and I mean never, to tell anyone else … especially Jim. He’d never let me live it down.”
“Jim!” Cindy Lou snorted disdainfully. “He’s just an old stick in the mud who won’t even drink with a lady. But I won’t tell him, I promise … Barnabas”
“Please, can’t you just keep callin’ me Smoky, Cindy Lou?” McCue begged.
“In another minute, you won’t care what I call you, Ranger,” Cindy Lou retorted, as she wrapped her arms around him.
CHAPTER 18
Captain Trumbull readily gave his permission for Blawcyzk, McCue, and Flores to remain at Fort Griffin and testify at the courts-martial of the surviving members of Major Saunders’ renegade band of cavalry soldiers. In addition, the captain further ordered them to remain in Fort Griffin until the arrival of Sergeant Jim Huggins and his group of hand-picked Rangers from Company C.
Smoky and Rudy went out on some routine patrols while waiting for the Army trials to begin, and in the course of those made several arrests. Jim, unable to ride due to his wounds, spent the time caring for Sam or lazing in a chair in front of the hotel, soaking up the sunshine, chafing with impatience and becoming more frustrated at being laid up with each passing day. By the time the courts-martial began, Jim was champing at the bit to be back in the saddle.
With the testimony of the Rangers, Detective Wehner of the Texas Northern Railroad and Marshal Wood of Graham, along with that of several of the passengers from the last attempted train robbery, the outcome of the trials was a foregone conclusion.
Under oath, Corporal Sam Grestini related Major Thaddeus Saunders’ reason for turning outlaw.
“The major needed lots of money because he wanted to stake a big claim down along the Mexican border,” the cleanshaven young corporal explained to the spectators in the hushed chamber, as he sat with his back ramrod straight and his eyes staring straight ahead. “He said there’d be a place for each of us, and a good-sized share of some real big profits.”
“Profits from what?” Captain Robert Steele, the prosecutor from the judge advocate general’s office, queried.
“Running guns, moving stolen cattle, smuggling all sorts of contraband across the border .in both directions,” Grestini clarified. “Our jobs would be to guard and hold this ford across the Rio Grande which the major had scouted out. He said it was the best crossing for a hundred miles in all directions, and it was right in line with a hidden pass up into the Balcones. He claimed the spot was made to order for smuggling, and there’d be plenty of money in it for all of us.”
Colonel Thomas looked across the courtroom from where he sat behind a table, idly turning a stub of pencil in his hands. When he caught Blawcyzk’s gaze, he shook his head slightly as he pursed his lips. Almost imperceptibly Jim nodded at Thomas. He and the colonel evidently had the same thought, that it was far more likely once Major Saunders had amassed sufficient wealth he would have disposed of most, if not all, of the men he’d duped into following him and disappear into Mexico, or perhaps even somewhere in South America. Obviously Saunders had never had any intention of retiring on the small income a government pension would provide.
“Thank you, Corporal. That will be all,” Steele softly answered as Grestini concluded his testimony.
With the overwhelming evidence against them, none of the convicted men chose to appeal the guilty verdicts they received. Due to the enormity of their crimes, the judges of the military tribunal who had conducted the courts-martial sentenced each man to death by firing squad. One week after the trial, under a steady rain that turned Fort Griffin’s parade ground into a muddy quagmire, the sentences were carried out.
CHAPTER 19
Three days after the trial, a wire from Captain Trumbull at Ranger Headquarters was received at the fort’s telegraph office. Colonel Thomas himself brought it to the Rangers at their hotel. He found the three lawmen relaxing in tipped-back chairs in front of the building, their booted feet up on the hitchrail. Jim was dozing, his Stetson pulled low over his eyes, while Smoky was puffing on one of his endless quirlies and Rudy was munching on some jerky and leftover biscuits.
“Good morning, men,” Thomas cordially greeted them.
“Mornin’, Colonel,” Jim replied for all three as he thumbed back his hat and dropped his feet to the boardwalk. “What brings you by on this fine, sunny day?” After several days of thick humidity and off and on thunderstorms, the morning had finally dawned bright and clear, with a refreshing northerly breeze.
“A telegram arrived for you sometime overnight,” Thomas explained. “I thought I would deliver it to you personally, since if the message is what I suspect this may well be my last chance to visit with you.” He handed the yellow message flimsy to Jim, who quickly perused its contents.
“Well Jim, what’s it say?” Smoky impatiently demanded.
“Jim Huggins and five men from Company C will be arriving here at Fort Griffin within the next couple of days. They’ll be patrolling this entire section of the state for the next several months,” Jim answered.
“It must say more than that, Jim,” Rudy insisted.
“It does,” Jim conceded. “Once Huggins gets here Smoky and I will be riding out.”
“I think perhaps your partner would like to know where you’re headed, Lieutenant,” Colonel Thomas pointed out.
“The colonel’s right, Jim,” Smoky confirmed. “So stop dawdling. Where are we goin’?”
Jim grinned broadly as he answered, “We’ll be heading back to Austin for now. It looks like we’ll be getting a few days to spend at home, then we’ll receive orders.”
“That’s the best news I’ve heard in a month of Sundays,” Smoky whooped. “There’s a little gal I met at the Silver Star who .on second thought, never mind,” he concluded.
“Well, since you’ll be here at Fort Griffin for at least a few more days after all, I’d like to take this opportunity to invite you to the post for a farewell supper before you leave, gentlemen,” Colonel Thomas invited. “Would tomorrow evening be suitable?”
“Gee, I dunno.” Jim thoughtfully rubbed his jaw. “All those fancy drinks and rich food, extravagant pastries for dessert, all set on fine china and clean linens. And no bacon and beans …”
“We accept with pleasure, Colonel,” Smoky broke in as he thumped Jim on the arm. “Kindly ignore my thick-headed partner here.”
“Of course,” Thomas chuckled. “Tomorrow evening at eight. Good day, men.” He touched the brim of his campaign hat in a brief salute, then turned on his heels, mounted his tall bay gelding, and trotted the horse briskly out of town.
CHAPTER 20
“Well, it’s gonna be a shame havin’ to eat Jim’s cooking after that fine meal Colonel Thomas put on for us last night,” Smoky remarked as late the next morning they left the Fort Griffin General Store. He and Blaw-cyzk had stopped at the mercantile to resupply for their long journey back to Austin. Jim had as usual cleaned out the entire stock of peppermints to make sure he would not run short of Sam’s favorite treat on the trail, while Smoky had purchased enough tobacco and cigarette papers to assure he would have sufficient smokes until they reached their destination. Uncharacteristically, all three of the Rangers had slept until mid-morning, tired from the late hour at which the farewell banquet had concluded and the tremendous amount of food they’d consumed. In addition, Smoky and Rudy were still slightly the worse for wear from the rounds of whiskey and liqueurs they’d imbibed. To add to their feeling of indolence, a heavy rainfall that had begun while they were at supper settled into a steady light drizzle which had continued all night, so the morning had dawned dank and gloomy. The sun was just now burning through the low clouds.
