For the next three hours, they worked on moves, both offensive and defensive, and these maneuvers became more automatic and instinctual to Red the more they practiced. Then they sat around the campfire, discussing the art of knife fighting and how Astengo had gotten the scar on his face. Although he knew he would never be the expert that Astengo was, by the time Red was heading off to bed, thinking about all that he had learned today, he felt better prepared to handle himself in a knife fight, because he would not make the same rookie mistakes he had made in Twisted Gulch.

  Chapter Eleven

  It had been raining three days straight when Major John B. Jones arrived at the camp B again. He called Red and Thornton over to his tent after he was settled in and had received an update on goings-on in the area from Captain Barnes.

  “Come on in,” the Ranger commander said as the two men removed their rain slickers. “And don’t shake those overcoats out in here. Leave them over by the entry.” Jones waited as they shook the rain off. “Take a seat,” he told them once they were ready. “Now, Red, I want to tell you that I’ve spoken with Captain Barnes, and he tells me you’re a real asset to the battalion. I was pleased to hear that. And in light of what he’s told me, I’m sending you out on a job with Thornton. Orders from Austin.”

  Red smiled, happy to spend some time with Al again and not just riding between the camps. But Thornton got a sour look on his face and groaned under his breath.

  “Major, whenever you tell me you’ve got a job for me, I feel saddle sores starting to form.”

  The officer pulled a cigar out from a small wooden box on his desk and struck a match. After a few puffs, he nodded. “Well, Al, you’re right. Plenty of riding is involved. But when isn’t it in this work.”

  “Never, sir.”

  “This job involves transporting a prisoner,” the major informed them. “You know most of the men are out scouting. So I need you two to do it. You’ll pick him up, and then he’ll be sent down to Houston to stand trial for murder and a number of train and stage robberies.”

  “And just where is this fellow now?” Al Thornton asked.

  “He’s at Fort . . .”

  But Thornton didn’t let him finish. “On the Brazos? That trip will take us right smack into the Injuns. That’s a long trip . . . two, three weeks.”

  “Stop complaining, Al,” Red said. “The trip will do you good. Help you work off some of that extra waist padding you’re carrying.” In reality it would have been hard to find a single ounce of fat on Ranger Al Thornton.

  “Major, this young wiseass here may not finish the trip. I might just shoot him myself,” Al said sarcastically.

  “You could try,” Red said. “Major, who exactly is this hombre we’re to bring back?”

  Jones shuffled through some papers before he answered. When he found the one he was looking for, he glanced up at the two men while he read. ‘‘Frank Lannigan. Believed to be in his early to mid-thirties, brown hair. Wanted for a series of stage robberies and . . .”

  “Lannigan?” Al interrupted Jones. “Isn’t he the one who killed that woman down around Houston?”

  “Same one. Seems he robbed a stagecoach as it was pulling into town . . . which was pretty brazen. Something happened to his horse. The mayor’s wife was leaving town in a buckboard, and she was alone. Lannigan jumped into her vehicle and used her as cover to get away.”

  “I remember now,” Al Thornton said grimly. “They later found the buckboard and the mayor’s wife . . . dead.”

  “That’s right,” Major Jones said, shaking his head in disgust. “Did some awful things to her before unhitching the horse and taking off. He just left her there to die. Son of a bitch discarded her. Stole a fresh horse and saddle from a ranch north of town. Then nobody saw him hide nor hair of him.”

  “How’d he get caught?” Red asked the major.

  “He was attempting to rob another stage with a couple other men. Would have made a clean go of it, but the guard started firing at them. Downed Lannigan’s horse. The throw knocked him unconscious, and then after the two scoundrels with him rode off, the driver and guard tied Lannigan up and took him to the fort along with the passengers.”

  “Seems like he don’t have particularly good luck with horses,” Thornton remarked. The major ignored the comment.

  “So why was he taken to a fort?” Red asked. “These weren’t military crimes.”

  “No place nearby to lock him up,” Major Jones said. “The army’s agreed to hold him for us.”

  “Nice of them to help out,” Al remarked sarcastically. “Don’t suppose they could have spared a detail to escort him back to Houston so we wouldn’t have to make the trip?”

  “No such luck,” the major said. “Apparently, the fort’s shorthanded, as it is with recent trouble with the Indians. Once we get Lannigan here, we’ll have to get him down to Houston.”

  Ranger Thornton groaned. “Can we at least wait till the rain lets up?”

  The major shook his head. “You leave as soon as you can be ready. And that better be fast. You won’t have to take an extra horse. You can get one at the fort.”

  The two left the tent, Thornton complaining the whole time they walked to their tents. Within an hour, they were loading supplies onto their horses and heading out.

  * * * * *

  It was five days of hard riding before the rain let up. Red had never been bothered by rain and found constantly complaining about it didn’t make it better. He had learned long ago that nature was not under man’s control, and you just had to wait it out, because eventually it would change. On the upside, after a couple years of drought, they wouldn’t have to worry about finding water.

  Thornton, on the other hand, felt no compunction about railing against the elements. “I’ll bet the major did this to us on purpose,” he groused. “Probably volunteered us for this stupid mission to get Lannigan once he knew the rain was coming.”

  “Yeah, like he can really predict the weather,” Red said, grinning. “And since when is bringing in a murderer a stupid mission?”

  Al brushed the rain from his beard, shifted his hat, dislodging the water that had settled in its brim. “Well, you know what I mean,” he replied sheepishly.

  “Don’t worry, pardner, it’s letting up,” Red observed as he studied the clouds up ahead.

  “Oh, so now you can predict the weather, too?” Al sneered.

  “I’ve got eyes, Al,” Red replied. “Look up ahead. The clouds are breaking up, and the sky’s brightening.”

  “Yeah, maybe, but . . .” the old Ranger stopped mid-sentence and stood up in his stirrups, peering at the hills ahead. He squinted as he leaned forward.

  “What is it, Al?” Red asked. He saw the concern in the set of Al’s jaw, and he knew from riding patrol with him never to doubt his riding companion’s abilities on the trail.

  “Maybe these old eyes ain’t what they used to be, but looks to me like there’s riders topping the hill.”

  Red studied the area where Al was pointing. His expression became grim. “Al, I think it would be wise to seek cover. And quick. We’re out in the open here.”

  The pair rode hard and fast toward a nearby gully that was deep enough to provide cover for themselves and their animals. They made it to the gully without being seen and tethered the animals to a small stand of scrub brush. The pair pulled their rifles from the saddle scabbards and positioned themselves belly down along the gully’s incline.

  “You bring the eyeglass, Red?” Al asked.

  “Don’t need it,” Red replied. “It’s a party of Kiowas.”

  “Hunting?” Al asked, even though he was already reasonably sure of the answer.

  Red shook his head. “Doubt it. It’s a war party if I ever saw one.”

  “Am I imagining things or are they coming from the general direction of the fort?” Al said.

  “Seems like it to me,” Red replied, quietly studying the band. “They’re gonna pass us pretty far out.”

  Al scratched his beard and shook his head. “Not like them to go near soldiers if they can avoid it.”

  “You know, Al, I was thinking the same thing. It does seem a mite strange.”

  “Strange or not, I don’t like it. They don’t pay us enough to go up against those kinds of numbers.”

  Red didn’t believe his friend for a moment. He wondered what had been bothering Al of late, because since he had met him, Al had changed and become quite the complainer. Still, Red had never known anyone with as much grit as Al Thornton, unless of course it was Tom Harrison.

  “Nope, they don’t,” Red agreed. “But they pay us to do a job, and that’s what we’re gonna do.”

  “You mean you still want to go on even after seeing that?”

  “That’s our job, Al.”

  “You know, Red, you are one stubborn little cayuse.”

  “Nah, a cayuse’d have more sense,” Red joked, trying to make light of their situation. “Looks like the band didn’t see us.”

  “And iffen there’s another band right behind ’em?” Al asked.

  “Well, then it’ll be like the story of two men being chased by the bear,” Red replied. “One’s just gotta be a faster runner than his pard.”

  “I’m the other man, I suppose,” Al said, smiling, before getting serious again. “I think those Kiowas are far enough out for us to go. Let’s hope that’s the last of them until we get to the fort.”

  For the remainder of the trip, they stuck to their trail routine, but they were more alert for any sign of Indians than they had been before, forsaking even a small fire when they camped at night. Al rode out ahead while Red fanned out behind, zigzagging east and west as a lookout to the rear.

  Chapter Twelve

  In the afternoon of the sixteenth day, the fort appeared in the distance. Both men instinctively checked their guns. Something didn’t feel right to them.

  “It’s awful quiet,” Al commented.

  Red pointed out some unshod horse tracks. “This doesn’t look right to me.”

  “Me neither,” Al replied, shaking his head. “You’d think you’d see some activity around the place.” The fort was a combination of stone and wood buildings, but there wasn’t a single sign of occupation.

  “Let’s go on in, but we’d better be cautious,” Red recommended.

  “Hell, I was born cautious, son,” Al said grimly. “Let’s ride.”

  As the pair approached the main building, someone from inside yelled: “Who goes there? Advance and be recognized.”

  “Hell’s bells, soldier boy, we’re already right here. How the hell are you gonna recognize us iffen we never met before? We’re Rangers with the frontier battalion. Now let us in!”

  A voice from behind the sentry called out: “Let them in, Sergeant. I think we can handle them.”

  Inside, they were escorted to the post commander. As they were led, they noticed a number of soldiers had been wounded and were wrapped in dirty bandages. Both men wondered if they had battled with the party of Indians they had seen on the ride in.

  A stocky but wan-looking man stood on the wooden steps leading up to his quarters. The Rangers dismounted and tied their horses to the nearby hitching rail.

  Introductions were exchanged.

  “So what happened, Captain Jensen?” Thornton asked.

  “Kiowa attacks. We fought them on and off for two days before they retreated. It’s been a hard time. We’ve been low on men and ammunition for over a month now. This didn’t help.”

  “Any fatalities?” Thornton asked.

  “We were lucky,” Jensen replied, his hands shaky as he gestured for them to step up onto the porch.

  To Red, Jensen smelled like he’d been drinking as he moved past him.

  “We can stick around for the rest of the day, if that will put your mind at ease,” Thornton said, having sensed the man’s nervousness. “Besides, our horses could use a rest. We’ll be needing some supplies and a horse for Lannigan. We’re to take him back with us.”

  “Lannigan,” the captain said gruffly.

  At the mention of Lannigan’s name, several of the nearby soldiers cocked their rifles.

  “Hey, what is this?” Red asked, alarmed by how jumpy the soldiers appeared to be. “I thought we were all on the same side here.”

  “Seems strange to us that so many lawmen would be coming for the same prisoner is all,” the captain replied suspiciously.

  “There’s only two of us,” Al said, puzzled.

  “Now, yes,” the captain replied. “But sixteen, seventeen days ago, two US marshals and three guards showed up to take custody of Lannigan. He’s long gone. Good riddance to bad rubbish, I say.”

  “Wait a minute,” Red said, glancing at Thornton. “We had specific orders that originated in Houston and then were sent on to Austin and the Rangers. No one else was called in, or at least none that we were made aware of. Something isn’t right here, Captain.”

  “Just who were these marshals?” Al asked.

  “Never saw them before, but they identified themselves as US marshals, had badges, the right credentials as far as I was concerned,” Jensen replied defensively.

  Thornton let out a loud breath. “US marshals, my eye,” he said, exasperated by what the captain was telling them.

  “I beg your pardon?” the fort commander said.

  “Captain, about six months ago two marshals were ambushed over near the Arkansas border. When the bodies were discovered, their badges were missing. It stands to reason the men you met were impostors . . . probably the perpetrators of the killings. They must have been working with Lannigan and used those badges to get him out of here.”

  “You sure about that?” Jensen asked, suddenly looking concerned.

  “I haven’t heard of any marshal working up around here,” Al Thornton assured him. “Why would two marshals just show up?”

  “How do I know you aren’t the ones posing as lawmen?” the captain asked.

  “Does it matter? Lannigan’s already gone, or have you forgotten?” Thornton said angrily, annoyed with the commander. “Didn’t we just tell you about the two marshals that were killed? If we were outlaws, why would we tell you that?”

  The commander cleared his throat. “Yes . . . um, that does make sense. Well, I’m sorry you men had to come all this way. I know it’s a long trip.”

  “Captain,” Red said, “our journey has just begun. And besides having a two-week head start, we now have . . . what? . . . Six outlaws to track down. So, with or without your permission, we’ll stay the night, rest our horses, resupply, and if those Kiowas come back, we’ll be here to help. But then we’ll head out and finish the job we set out to do.”

  * * * * *

  By ten the following morning, Thornton and Red prepared to ride out in pursuit of Frank Lannigan and the five men with him. They gathered as much information as they could from those in the fort regarding descriptions of the outlaws and the direction they had taken when they left, even though they knew it wouldn’t be that hard to track six men once they were on their trail.

  Right before the Rangers left, one of the lieutenants drew them aside.

  “The Kiowas have never been exactly friendly, but until this recent siege, they’ve kept away from the fort here. Seems like something must have stirred them up, and it all started after the release of that man Lannigan. Think there might be a connection?”

  “It’s sure something to consider,” Thornton replied. “Much obliged, Lieutenant. Stay safe. And thanks for the information.”

  The young officer saluted as the two Rangers rode out.

  * * * * *

  After three hours of hard riding, Al slowed his horse. “You know, Red, we’ve done everything the major asked of us. We went to the fort, and it sure wasn’t any fault of our own if Lannigan wasn’t there. We maybe should head back and let them know about Lannigan, the attack on the fort, and that band we saw heading into the interior.”

  Red shook his head. “The way I see it, Al, the major’s instructions were pretty clear. We have to go after this Lannigan and bring him in. Besides, I’m sure our men out scouting will come across that band . . . probably sooner than we could get back to camp.”

  Al leaned back in his saddle. “Have you stopped to consider what we’re getting into? They’ve got a couple of weeks lead on us . . . six of them heading who knows where.”

  “I can’t believe you’re worried about your topknot?” Red said, once again wondering what was going on in Thornton’s head to make him reluctant.

  “I’m not,” Thornton snapped.

  “I’m as aggravated as you, Al,” Red said, trying to ease the tension he sensed was growing between them. “We can lay this problem at Jensen’s feet. The fort’s run poorly, the grounds were a mess, the men looked slovenly, and I know I smelled liquor on Jensen. It’s too bad Lannigan was taken there, but he was. Now it’s our job to rectify the error.” Red paused before going on: “At least we have a lead on Lannigan, and it’s a lot easier to find six men than one loner out here. Might find a fairly good trail to follow.”

  “Good trail? With you along, I can’t imagine not finding their trail.”

  “Thank the Old Man for that, he was always teaching me something from the time I could walk and talk,” Red commented.

  “I do believe I would have liked to have met that old geezer,” Al said after they had ridden for a while.

  Red laughed. “I think you two would have gotten on real well.”

  “Maybe so. Maybe so,” Al mused.

  * * * * *

  After a few days on the trail of Lannigan and his gang, Red couldn’t help but notice how the two had settled into a rhythm on the trail, sensing what the other was thinking and watching out for each other. After picking up the gang’s trail, he stopped worrying about Al and quit reminding himself that Al’s skills out on the trail were as good or perhaps even better than his own.

 

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