Renegades Read online

  “I thought I detected a hint of Virginia in your voice, sir,” Frank said.

  “Were you in the war?”

  “I was . . . but that was a long time ago.”

  Tolliver clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Indeed it was. After supper, I’ll break out a bottle of brandy I’ve been savin’, and we’ll drink to old times. They weren’t the best of times, but they made us what we are.”

  “I reckon that’s true enough,” Frank agreed. Almost three decades had passed since the end of the war, but it remained the single biggest event in most men’s lives.

  A man couldn’t spend all his time looking backward, though. As the women left Frank, Tolliver, and Ben in the parlor, Frank steered the conversation back to the here and now by saying, “I suppose you’ve had your hands riding patrol at night, trying to stop the rustling.”

  Tolliver nodded. “Damn right I have. All it’s gotten me is one puncher shot dead and another laid up with a bullet-busted shoulder.”

  “So the rustlers don’t hesitate to shoot?”

  “Not at all. Anyway, this is a big spread. It’d take an army to cover all of it at night.” The frustration was easy to hear in Tolliver’s voice. “But I can’t just call in my men and throw the ranch wide open to the damn wide-loopers.”

  Frank shook his head. “No, you can’t do that,” he agreed.

  “If you have any ideas, Mr. Morgan,” Ben said, “we’d be glad to hear ’em.”

  Tolliver got a cigar from a box on a table next to a heavy divan and jabbed it toward Frank. “What I ought to do is hire some gunmen and ride across the Rio to wipe out Almanzar. I’ll bet our rustlin’ troubles would stop then!”

  Ben frowned darkly, and Frank got the feeling that the young man didn’t care for his father’s idea at all. Ben wasn’t the only one. Pegeen had come back into the room with her sister in time to hear her husband’s angry pronouncement, and she said, “You’ll do no such thing, Cecil Tolliver! You can’t take the law into your own hands, and besides, you don’t know that Don Felipe is behind the rustling.”

  Tolliver stuck the cigar in his mouth and chewed savagely on it for a moment before he said, “When we first come out here, Peg, there wasn’t no law but what a man could carry in his own fist. We did all right in those days.”

  “We all nearly got killed more than once, fighting off Comanches and outlaws,” she snapped. “You leave such things to the Rangers.”

  Tolliver just made a sound of disgust. He took another cigar from the box and offered it to Frank, who slipped it into his shirt pocket. “I’ll save it for later, with that brandy,” he said.

  “Good idea. I got to gnaw on this one now, though, to keep from sayin’ things I hadn’t ought to say.” Tolliver crossed his arms and glared at the world in general.

  His wife dared his wrath by saying, “I still need those supplies. Come morning, Cecil, you’ll have to go back to town to replace the ones you lost.”

  “All right, all right,” Tolliver muttered around the cigar. “But I’m takin’ more of the boys with me next time, and if Almanzar sends his gun wolves after us again, they’ll get even more of a fight than they got this time!”

  Debra and Jessie came out of the kitchen carrying trays with cups and saucers on them. Steam lifted from the coffee in the cups, and Frank smiled in appreciation of the delicious aroma.

  The coffee tasted as good as it smelled. Frank sat in a comfortable armchair and sipped from his cup. A time or two, he caught Roanne watching him with undisguised interest. He wondered if she was married or a widow or had never been hitched. An unmarried woman of her age was considered an old maid out here, but there was nothing old about her. To be honest, the boldness of her gaze wasn’t very maidenly, either. Frank returned her looks with an interest of his own. She was a mighty attractive lady.

  They hadn’t been sitting around the parlor for very long when a sudden rataplan of hoofbeats welled up outside. A large group of riders was approaching the ranch. Tolliver and Ben set their cups aside and stood up quickly. So did Frank. No shouts of alarm had sounded from the ranch hands, but these days, no one was taking a chance. With his hand on the butt of the Colt at his hip, Tolliver strode to the front door. Ben and Frank were right behind him.

  As the three men stepped out onto the porch, they saw a group of about twenty-five men entering the ranch yard. The rider in the lead was a big, barrel-chested man with a rawboned, hawklike face and a shock of white hair under a black Stetson. The last of the fading light revealed a badge pinned to his coat. Frank recognized it as a star set inside a circle, the emblem of the Texas Rangers.

  “Captain Wedge!” Tolliver called out as the newcomers reined in, confirming the guess Frank had just made. “Good to see you and your boys. Could have used you around a little while ago.”

  The Ranger captain swung down from his saddle and curtly motioned for his men to dismount as well. “Why’s that, Tolliver?” he asked as he turned to face the rancher.

  “Because my boy an’ me were jumped by a gang o’ Almanzar’s gunmen from across the border. If it wasn’t for Frank Morgan here, Ben an’ me would probably be buzzard bait by now.”

  Captain Wedge turned his dark eyes toward Morgan and repeated the name. “Frank Morgan, eh?”

  Frank knew there was no point in denying anything. It came as no surprise to him that a lawman had recognized his name. He said, “That’s right.”

  “Heard of you,” Wedge said with a curt nod. “Don’t think there’s any paper out on you right now, though.”

  “There never has been except on trumped-up charges that were proven false,” Frank said.

  Wedge nodded again. “Pretty much what I figured. Heard, too, that you’ve given the Rangers a hand now and then.”

  “I’m a law-abiding man,” Frank explained. “I do what I can to help, when I’m called on.”

  “Good to know.” Wedge turned back to Cecil Tolliver. “What’s this about you and the boy being attacked by Almanzar’s riders?”

  “They jumped us while we were comin’ back to the ranch from San Rosa,” Tolliver said. “We’d been to town to pick up some supplies. A whole bunch of ’em came on us suddenlike, yellin’ and shootin’. We tried to get away and make a fight of it at the same time, but our buckboard turned over. Then Mr. Morgan rode up and took a hand in the game. We knocked down enough of the bastards so that the rest of ’em turned tail.”

  “Sounds like you’re lucky to be alive,” Wedge said.

  “That’s the way I figure it, too.”

  The Ranger captain frowned. “How do you know the men who jumped you work for Almanzar?”

  “Who else would have it in for me?” Tolliver demanded. “Almanzar and me been crossways with each other for a long time.”

  “What about the Black Scorpion?”

  Tolliver looked surprised at Wedge’s question. “What about him?”

  “Could the men who attacked you have been part of the Scorpion’s gang?”

  Ben put in, “That thought crossed my mind, too, even though I’m not sure I believe in the Black Scorpion.”

  “He’s real enough,” Wedge said.

  Tolliver shook his head stubbornly. “I didn’t see no sign of any masked man leadin’ the gang. They were just a bunch of border toughs, the sort of hard cases Almanzar hires to make life miserable for me.”

  “The reason I ask is, the men and I have been trailing the Black Scorpion since yesterday. He and his gang raided a ranch on the other side of San Rosa. They were coming in this direction and it seems logical to me that they could have run into you and your son.”

  “Nope. Those gunnies worked for Almanzar.”

  Frank read the skepticism on Captain Wedge’s face, and to tell the truth, he was beginning to have his doubts about Tolliver’s belief, too. From the looks of things, Tolliver’s hatred of Don Felipe Almanzar was so deep-seated that the cattleman was quick to blame Almanzar for everything bad that happened, whether Almanzar had anything to do wi
th it or not.

  It appeared that Wedge might have argued the matter further, but at that moment the women came out of the house onto the porch. The light was behind them and shone on their hair. Wedge took his hat off and nodded politely to them, saying, “Ladies. After a long day on the trail, you are sure a sight for sore eyes, if I may be so bold as to say so.”

  “You may,” Pegeen Tolliver told him with a smile. “Hello, Captain. Will you and your men be staying to supper?”

  “That sounds mighty nice, ma’am, but we’re on the trail of some badmen—”

  “You can’t follow a trail very well at night,” Tolliver put in. “Join us for supper, Captain. Your men can eat in the bunkhouse with the hands.”

  Wedge chuckled. “That Chinaman who cooks for you probably won’t be very happy about having that many extra mouths to feed.”

  “He’ll survive. There’s plenty of room for your men to bunk in the barn, too, and we’ll find a bed for you in the house.”

  The captain returned his black Stetson to his head. “I’m much obliged, Tolliver, and on behalf of my men, I accept.” He turned and said to his troop of Rangers, “Light for a spell, boys. We’re spending the night here on the Rocking T.”

  A grin creased Tolliver’s leathery face. “I’d like to see Almanzar’s nighthawks come a-raidin’ now, with a couple dozen Rangers on the place! They’d get a mighty warm welcome if they did!”

  4

  The Rangers dismounted and tended to their mounts, unsaddling the horses and turning them into one of the corrals by the barns. Frank had already noticed that the buckboard was gone, and when he asked about Stormy, Tolliver told him that some of the hands had cared for the Appaloosa when the team was unhitched.

  “No offense, but I’ll look in on him myself,” Frank said.

  Tolliver nodded. “Don’t blame you a bit. That’s a fine horse, and if he was mine, I’d want to be sure that he was properly taken care of, too.”

  Frank walked out to the barns, trailed by Dog, and one of the ranch hands directed him to the stall where Stormy was. Having assured himself that the Appaloosa had been rubbed down and had plenty of grain and water, Frank headed back to the house.

  Before he got there, a big work wagon rattled into the yard, pulled by a team of heavy draft horses. Darrell Forrest and Nick Holmes were on the wagon seat, with Darrell handling the reins. Three punchers on horseback trailed the wagon.

  Frank recalled Tolliver’s orders to his sons-in-law to go out and recover the bodies of the outlaws who had been killed. Even though the last of the twilight had faded, enough illumination came from the doors and windows of the ranch house for Frank to be able to see that the uncovered back of the wagon was empty.

  “What happened?” he asked as he stepped up to the wagon when Darrell had brought it to a stop in front of the house.

  “Those bodies weren’t there,” Darrell said.

  That answer took Frank by surprise. He had checked each of the fallen men himself and was certain they had all been dead, including the one who had died while Frank was looking at him. None of them could have gotten up and moseyed off by themselves.

  “Pa!” Nick called as he and Darrell climbed down from the wagon.

  Tolliver hustled out of the house, along with Ben and Captain Wedge. “What is it?” he asked. His eyes widened as he looked at the empty wagon. “Where the hell are those outlaw carcasses?”

  “You’ll have to tell us, Pa,” Darrell replied grimly. “We drove pert near all the way to San Rosa looking for them, just in case you were a little off target about where they fell, and there’s no sign of them anywhere up and down the road!”

  Tolliver pounded his right fist into his left palm. “The rest of the skunks came back for ’em!” he said. “That’s the only explanation that makes any sense. That damn Almanzar! He must’ve give orders that if any of his gunnies bit the dust, the rest were to recover the bodies, so they couldn’t be traced back to him!”

  A frown creased Frank’s forehead. Tolliver’s theory certainly wasn’t impossible, but it struck Frank as a little far-fetched and a good example of Tolliver’s determination to blame everything on Almanzar, whether there was any proof for it or not.

  On the other hand, somebody had spirited those bodies away, and there must have been a reason for it. The most likely explanation was that the rest of the gang had returned for their fallen comrades. Why was a question that Frank couldn’t answer at the moment.

  His curiosity was aroused, however, and this mystery made him even more inclined to remain in the area until it had been cleared up.

  “I was hoping to get a look at those bodies,” Wedge said. “Thought there might be some of them I’d recognize.”

  “We can ride out in the mornin’ and I’ll show you where the fight happened,” Tolliver offered. “Maybe you can pick up the trail of the rest o’ the gang.”

  Wedge nodded, frowning in thought.

  The ranch hands took care of the wagon and the team, while Frank, Wedge, and the members of the Tolliver family went inside. As Frank hung up his hat he smelled delicious aromas in the air, to go along with the lingering fragrance of the coffee from earlier.

  The women had done quite a job on short notice, perhaps helped out by that Chinese cook Wedge had mentioned. The long hardwood table in the dining room was loaded down with platters of food. Frank saw fried chicken, ham, boiled potatoes, corn on the cob, black-eyed peas, yams, greens, and biscuits. The sight and smell of the food made him acutely aware that it had been a long time since he had eaten lunch, and that had been just a few pieces of jerky gnawed while he was in the saddle. Everyone moved to the table. Tolliver held a chair for Pegeen while Darrell and Nick did likewise for their wives. Roanne didn’t have a husband here, though, so being the gentleman he was, Frank moved to perform the gesture for her. Unfortunately, Captain Wedge had had the same idea and started forward, and there was an awkward moment when both men hesitated. Then Wedge stepped back slightly and gave a half wave, indicating to Frank that he should go ahead.

  “Thank you,” Roanne said graciously as Frank slid the chair under her while she sat down. She looked up at him and added, “Why don’t you sit here beside me, Mr. Morgan?”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” Frank said with a smile. “It would be my pleasure.”

  “You don’t have to call me ma’am,” she said as he settled down on the chair next to her.

  “Well, I haven’t heard your last name. . . .”

  “That’s right, you haven’t. It’s Williamson.”

  “I’ll call you Miss Williamson, then.”

  She didn’t correct him on the “Miss” part, leading Frank to think that he was probably right about her having never been married. But she did say, “Why don’t you just call me Roanne?”

  “All right. That’s a mighty pretty name.” Frank didn’t add that it went with a mighty pretty lady. He didn’t want to be too forward, considering that he had only met her an hour or so earlier. But from the way she smiled, he figured that she got the idea.

  “We’ll say grace,” Tolliver announced gruffly. Frank bowed his head, as did everyone else at the table, and the rancher continued. “Heavenly Father, thank you for this food and all the other blessin’s you’ve bestowed on us. We ask that you watch over us and protect us from the trials and travails o’ this world and help us follow your teachin’s, so’s we’ll be prepared for the next world. And if it pleases you, cast your wrath down on any no-good skunks from below the border—”

  “Cecil!” Pegeen hissed.

  Tolliver drew a deep breath. “Anyway, Lord, bless us and keep us under your watchful eye. Amen.”

  “Amen,” Frank and the others murmured. He tried not to grin as he saw that Pegeen was still glaring at her husband for daring to intrude his own personal grudges into the prayer.

  Everyone dug in, passing around the platters of food and eating heartily. Despite the near-tragedy that had occurred earlier in the day, there was a conside
rable amount of talk and laughter. Frank knew that a similar scene, albeit probably more raucous and profane, would be going on in the bunkhouse as the rest of the Ranger troop broke bread with the Rocking T ranch hands.

  Wedge was seated across the table from Frank. The captain said to him, “Not meaning to pry, Morgan, but what brings you to the border country?”

  “I’m just drifting, Captain.”

  “Hence the name by which some people know you?”

  Frank shrugged. “I’ve always been a mite fiddle-footed by inclination, and circumstances have often been such that it was best to ride on.”

  “You mean that you’ve run into a lot of trouble over the years because of your reputation.” Wedge’s words were a statement, not a question.

  “As a lawman, you must know there are a lot of hotheads who fancy themselves as fast guns.”

  “And you probably bump up against them just about everywhere you go.”

  “It happens more often than I’d like,” Frank answered flatly.

  “You could hang up your gun,” Wedge suggested.

  Nick Holmes joined the conversation by saying, “You can’t be serious, Captain. If Mr. Morgan did that, he’d probably be dead within a week. There must be dozens of men who’d try to come after him if word ever got out that he’d put away his gun.”

  “Probably more like hundreds,” Ben added.

  Frank would have preferred that the conversation hadn’t taken this turn, but since it had, he wasn’t going to duck the issue. “It wouldn’t be safe,” he agreed. “I’ve made more than my share of enemies.”

  “The West is settling down,” Wedge argued. “There’s law and order now.”

  Tolliver snorted. “I didn’t see any out on the road this afternoon when those gunnies were doin’ their best to ventilate us!”

  Wedge flushed, and Frank thought Tolliver had touched a sore spot. “The Rangers can’t be everywhere at once,” Wedge said, “and it’s my judgment that the Black Scorpion and his gang represent the biggest threat around here, not Don Felipe Almanzar. And I’m still not convinced it wasn’t the Scorpion’s gang that jumped you.”