4

“We’ve got to intercept Patton before he reaches Wimberley, Cody. Let me tell you what we’ll be up against,” Jim explained to the new Ranger. He had left home an hour after receiving the telegram, located Cody, and sworn him into the Rangers. The two had then ridden hard through the rest of the rainy afternoon. The rain had stopped an hour before sunset. Jim and Cody were now camped twenty miles northeast of Bandera.

“Sure, Jim,” Cody replied. “Just let me pour myself some more coffee.”

Cody lifted the pot from the embers to refill his tin mug.

“Webb Patton and his bunch robbed several banks three years back,” Jim began. “They killed four men, including a deputy sheriff. They were caught, tried and convicted. But while they were waitin’ to be hanged, they broke out of jail, killin’ two more men. They managed to escape Texas. The last anyone knew they were hidin’ out up in the Territories.”

“But now Patton’s back in Texas. Why?” Cody asked.

“Quien sabe?” Jim shrugged. “Probably figures if he can make it back to his home grounds his relatives and friends will protect him. He left a gal behind, so mebbe he’s returned for her.”

“Seems like he’s takin’ an awful long chance,” Cody noted.

“Maybe. Maybe not,” Jim answered. “Patton and his men most likely would have made it home without anyone even realizin’ they were back in Texas, if they hadn’t robbed the bank in Mason. The marshal there recognized Patton’s brother, Jobe. Lucky for us he was able to say so before he died from the slug Jobe put through him.”

“Then they hit another bank, in Llano,” Cody said.

“So it appears,” Jim confirmed. “My guess is they’ll now stick to the back country until they reach Blanco. They’ll probably stop there to resupply, mebbe even stage another bank holdup, then head for Wimberley. If they make it before we do, we’ll have a devil of a time gettin’ at ‘em. Too many folks there are willin’ to hide them.”

“Jim, obviously I’m not as familiar with this country as you, but it seems we’re cutting this mighty close.”

“We are. But I’ve got a couple of aces up my sleeve.”

“What are they? Because it seems to me we might need those.”

“First, I know this area every bit as well as Patton. I’ve got a pretty good idea where to find him.”

“What’s the other?”

“I doubt Patton’ll head straight for Wimberley. He’s a cautious man. Even with his friends there, he’ll want to wait a while for things to quiet down. He might send a man ahead to scout things out before he and the rest of his bunch ride into town. No, Patton’ll most likely hole up for a spell, somewhere along the Devil’s Backbone.”

“What in blue blazes is the Devil’s Backbone?” Cody demanded.

“Blue blazes? You’re beginning to talk like a Texan, Cody,” Jim chuckled. “The Devil’s Backbone is a long hogback. It’s a razor-back ridge which twists and turns for almost twenty-five miles between Wimberley and Blanco. There’s plenty of places for a man to disappear in that stretch. Lots of side ridges and canyons. Patton’s used it as a hideout before. I’d imagine he’ll use it again.”

“That makes sense,” Cody conceded. “But why did Captain Trumbull hand this job to you? It seems to me Rangers from Austin could reach Wimberley before us.”

“You’re right,” Jim agreed, “But like I said, I know this country real well, probably better’n any other man in the Rangers. So we’ve got a better chance of findin’ Patton, without gettin’ ambushed and a bullet in our backs, than the rest of the outfit.”

“That’s real comforting,” Cody sarcastically replied. “Exactly how many men will we be up against? Or are you saving that as a surprise?”

“Six for certain. Webb and Jobe. Their cousins, Wade and Matt. Two others, Hank Martin and Ed Torneau. There might be one or two more.”

“Those are long odds.”

“Not for the Rangers. Usually we’re outnumbered six or seven to one, even more. Three to one odds aren’t much.”

“But I haven’t even gotten my feet wet,” Cody objected. “You’re stuck with a raw recruit, Jim. Wouldn’t you prefer having an experienced Ranger riding with you?”

“Someone like Jim Huggins?” Huggins was a veteran sergeant who had ridden with Jim on more than one occasion. “Sure, I’d like to have him sidin’ me. But you’ve got to start somewhere, Cody. And I’m not worried. You’ve got the makin’s of a Ranger. You’ll do fine. I’d bet my hat on it.”

“I appreciate your confidence in me. Sure hope it’s justified.”

Jim dumped the dregs from his mug.

“Time we turned in. I want to reach Blanco by tomorrow night. That means a full day of hard ridin’. We’ll pull out an hour before sunup.”

“Why Blanco?”

“Just playin’ a hunch. With luck, we’ll get there before Patton. If not, we’ll trail him down into the Devil’s Backbone.”

“What if you’re wrong, and he’s headed straight to Wimberley?”

“Then we’ll have two choices. First, try and find him there. That’d be real difficult, since hardly anyone in town would help us. Most likely they’d shoot us instead.”

“What’s the other option? Any better chance of us finding Patton with that one, and not getting ourselves killed?”

“Yeah. We’d have no trouble at all findin’ Patton. In fact, he’d come lookin’ for us.”

“Why?” Cody asked.

“Because I’m the man who rounded up Patton and his bunch. He vowed to kill me, if he ever got the chance.”

“So that’s the real reason he’s back in Texas,” Cody said.

“I’d imagine. And if we don’t stop him before he reaches Wimberley, he’ll stay there a few days, then head for Bandera.”

“Where he’d find you…along with Julia and Charlie,” Cody answered.

“That’s right. So we’ve gotta stop Patton before he gets anywhere near my family.”

^^^^^^^^^^^^^

The Rangers found Blanco with an empty bank vault and dead deputy sheriff, the result of a robbery two days previous. While the outlaws had been masked, the head teller was certain it was Wade Patton’s gang which had looted the bank. He also confirmed the robbers had headed in the direction of the Devil’s Backbone. Jim and Cody remained in town to rest themselves and their horses overnight. They were again on the trail at the first light of false dawn.

“We don’t have a chance of catchin’ up with ‘em before they reach town if they ride straight for Wimberley, do we, Jim?” Cody questioned. They were keeping Sam and Yankee at a ground-eating lope.

“Not a prayer,” Jim confirmed. “But my gut’s still tellin’ me they’ll hole up for a few days first, mebbe even longer. They’ve stirred up quite a hornet’s nest, and if Jobe suspects that marshal talked before he died, they’ll know the Rangers’ll be after ‘em. They’ll wait until things settle down a bit. Webb’ll send one of his men into town, with word where they’ll be. Then, once any lawmen show up in Wimberley, don’t find Webb or his men, and leave, one of Webb’s kinfolk will ride to their hideout and tell Webb it’s safe. That’s when he’ll finally head for Wimberley.”

 

“Couldn’t that lawman kind of hang around outside town, watch for that messenger, then follow him?” Cody asked.

“You’re startin’ to think like a Ranger,” Jim praised. “Yeah, he could, but most likely he’d lose that rider. Either that, or the hombre would bushwhack him. There’s not too many lawmen fool enough to ride alone into the Devil’s Backbone.”

“But I reckon we’re two of ‘em who are,” Cody ruefully chuckled.

“I reckon,” Jim agreed. “How you feelin’, pardner? Scared at all?”

“Scared? Not a bit,” Cody scoffed. “Except for the churning in my guts, the pounding in my head, and my heart racin’ a hundred miles an hour, I’m not nervous at all!”

“That’s good,” Jim replied. “I’d be worried if you weren’t scared. Any man facin’ a bunch of killers who claims he isn’t nervous is either lyin’ or loco, or both. And that’s the man who’ll make a mistake which gets him or his pardner killed.”

“Jim, if there’s so many hiding places around here, how’ll we ever find Patton’s bunch?”

“A little bit of skill and a lot of luck. I’ve got a good idea where to start lookin’. We should come on their tracks sometime today, unless I miss my guess. While

there’s plenty of hidin’ places, there’s not that many trails which go clear through to Wimberley. The main one runs right along the ridge top. Patton won’t use that one if he can help it. Too hard on the horses, and too many spots where he could be skylined.

“Skylined? What’s that?”

“Gotta keep remindin’ myself you’re still a new recruit,” Jim laughed. “A man skylines himself when he’s ridin’ or standin’ on a ridge or the rim of a canyon, with the sky behind him. Makes a real easy target for a drygulcher down below.”

“That makes sense,” Cody agreed. “Except it seems to me that works both ways. A man up high could spot someone down below real easy.”

“You’re learnin’, Cody.”

Jim pulled Sam down to a walk.

“We’ll rest the horses for half an hour, once we reach that creek just ahead,” he ordered. “After that it’ll be slower goin’. I’ll start lookin’ for signs of Patton.”

“All right.”

The two men rested for thirty minutes, while the horses had a short drink and cropped at the grass bordering the stream. Once they were back in the saddle, Jim kept their pace alternating between a walk and slow jogtrot, while he searched the ground for any marks of

the outlaws’ passing. They were now riding along the Devil’s Backbone.

It was late that morning when Jim found the first sign. The hoof prints of several horses emerged from a side arroyo. He pulled Sam to a halt.

“Blast it! Hold up a minute, Cody. You see those?”

He pointed at the tracks.

“I sure do,” Cody confirmed. “Patton’s outfit?”

“I’d bet my hat on it,” Jim answered. “That’s how he fooled the sheriff and posse, just like he fooled me. I plumb forgot about that old Indian track which runs from the Pedernales south through here. Patton circled north out of town, picked up that trail, and took it. That’s why we haven’t seen any sign until now.”

“But wouldn’t circling take longer?”

“Not in this case. That Indian trail does a lot less windin’ around and doublin’ back on itself than the one we’ve been followin’. Patton’s gained at least half a day on us.”

“That doesn’t mean we’ve lost him?”

Jim spat in the dirt.

“Not a chance. And now that we’ve picked up Patton’s trail, there’s no way he’ll shake us off.”

“Even if he tries to cover his trail?”

“It’s just too hard to hide the signs of eight horses from an experienced tracker,” Jim explained. “I might lose them for a bit, but I’ll find ‘em again. Don’t worry about that. Just worry about what we’re gonna do when we catch up with ‘em.”

“How soon’ll that be?”

“Tomorrow, or the day after for certain, unless I’m wrong and they are headin’ right to Wimberley. In that case, all bets are off. Let’s go.”

Jim heeled Sam into a lope, Cody and Yankee on their heels.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^

They rode until darkness made it impossible to follow the trail any longer. Jim chose a campsite near a small spring. After he was unsaddled, Sam, as always, nuzzled Jim’s hip pocket for an ever-present peppermint.

“Sure, you can have one, you ol’ beggar,” Jim laughed. He slipped Sam a candy, which the paint eagerly took.

“Cody, you want one for your horse?”

“Why not?” Cody answered.

“All right. But once your bronc gets a taste for these, he’ll always be lookin’ for ‘em,” Jim warned.

“I suppose. It doesn’t matter. Yank’s as spoiled as your horse,” Cody admitted, as he gave Yankee a peppermint.

“I’m not so sure,” Jim disagreed. “But I make no apologies for the way I care for Sam. He’s more of a friend than most men.”

“I’ve gotta agree with you,” Cody said. “Probably smarter, too. Yankee sure is.”

Another thing the two had in common was their affection for horses. After caring for their mounts, they made a cold camp.

“A fire’d stand out for miles around here. It’d be just like a signal beacon,” Jim explained to Cody. “We can’t chance someone spottin’ it, so we’ll have settle for jerky, leftover biscuits, and water.”

Jim dug the meager meal out of his saddlebags. The two men ate silently, then rolled in their blankets. Jim, as always, said his evening prayers. He noted Cody did the same.

Jim was almost asleep when Cody called him.

“Jim, you asleep?”

“Not quite. Why?”

“I’m just wonderin’. How soon do you think we’ll find Patton?” Cody asked.

“If our luck holds out, sooner than you’d imagine,” Jim answered. “I’ve got a pretty good idea where he’s at.”

“Where?”

“There’s an abandoned homestead about a half day’s ride from here. It’s pretty well hidden, behind a ridge then up a canyon. It’s been used by Patton before.”

“Is that where you trailed him last time?”

“Not exactly. He’d been there, but already ridden on by the time I discovered the place. I caught up with him a week later.”

“Do you really believe he’ll go back to the same place, since he must realize you know about it?”

“I’d bet a hat he will. The cabin’s pretty large, and in decent shape. There’s good water and grazin’, and lots of game for meat. Plus the place is well-hidden, and there’s plenty of spots in there to hide and pick off anyone snoopin’ around.”

“That’s a real comforting thought,” Cody said.

“As long as you ain’t dumb enough to step in front of a bullet, you’ve got nothin’ to worry about,” Jim laughed. “Now, if you’re done with your questions, I’m plumb tired. Good night.”

“’Night.”

^^^^^^^^^^^^^

It was about two the next afternoon when Jim reined up at the almost invisible entrance to a narrow side canyon. Thick brush made the opening nearly impossible to spot.

Patton and his men had made some effort to cover their trail, but to an experienced tracker like Jim their sign was still plain. Jim leaned from his saddle to pluck a strand of sorrel horsehair from a mesquite branch.

“This is it, Cody,” Jim said. “Patton’s ridin’ a sorrel. They turned in here.”

“I never would’ve found it,” Cody admitted. “You’ve got some eyesight.”

“You’ll learn,” Jim answered. “Just takes practice. Let’s go. But be careful. And quiet. Does Yank like to call out to other horses?”

“No. He’s not the talkative kind,” Cody replied.

“Good. Otherwise you’ll have to tie your bandanna over his muzzle.”

Sam snorted a protest when Jim pushed him through the thorny brush. Once they had gone fifty yards, the trail widened. The prints of eight horses were plainly visible in the sandy soil.

“Eight horses went in, none came out. They’re in here all right,” Jim stated. “And not even botherin’ to hide their tracks. They must figure no one’d notice that entrance. Time to check our guns.”

They checked the actions of their guns, and put a bullet into the empty chambers of their Colts. Jim also removed his Ranger badge from his shirt pocket. He pinned the silver star on silver circle to his vest.

“All right. That shack’s about two miles in. Let’s move. Keep a sharp lookout,” Jim warned.

They put their horses into a walk, easing them as quietly as possible up the winding path.

About half a mile before the cabin, they rounded a bend and came upon an approaching rider.

“Blawcyzk!” he shouted, recognizing the Ranger. He clawed for his sixgun. Jim pulled his own Peacemaker just as the rider cleared leather, and knocked him from the saddle with a bullet in the chest. The rider pitched to the dirt, rolled onto his face, shuddered, and lay unmoving. His horse trotted a short distance away, then dropped its head to pull at a clump of bunch grass.

Jim swung from his saddle and knelt alongside the dead outlaw. He rolled him onto his back. Cody remained mounted, staring at the body.

“It’s Wade Patton,” Jim said.

“Is he dead?” Cody asked. His voice shook slightly.

“He sure is,” Jim confirmed.

“That’s one less to deal with. Only seven of ‘em left, Jim.”

“Except the rest’ll have heard that shot. That’ll bring ‘em ridin’ down on us, unless they figure Wade here was takin’ a pot shot at a rabbit.”

“So what do we do now?”

Jim gazed at the body of Wade Patton. The dead outlaw was about his size, with blonde hair only slightly darker.

“I’ve got an idea. Get off your horse and give me a hand,” he ordered, then started peeling off his shirt.

Cody dismounted.

“Get the clothes off that hombre,” Jim continued. “I’m gonna take his place.”

“What?”

“I’m switchin’ clothes and horses with him. I’ll toss him over Sam’s back. With any luck, that’ll fool ‘em into thinkin’ I’m Wade, and that I’ve just downed an intruder. That might even lure ‘em out of the cabin, which’d be a heckuva lot easier than tryin’ to blast ‘em out of there.”

“Wouldn’t it be simpler just for me to play dead, with you masquerading as Patton?” Cody questioned. “That way, you wouldn’t have to put your clothes on him and load him on your horse.”

“It would, except that would put both of us in the line of fire if anything goes wrong. I’d rather keep you hidden, then surprise those renegades when you pop out of the brush. You’ll stay behind me, out of sight until I get up to that cabin.”

“That won’t trick them once you get close enough to be recognized,” Cody objected.

“I don’t need long, just enough to get a bit of advantage. And don’t kid yourself. Patton’s not gonna surrender, knowin’ he’s facing a hangnoose. We’re in for a fight. Hurry up and get those duds off.”

While Jim swiftly undressed, Cody opened Patton’s shirt. He gagged at the sight of the bullet hole in his chest.

“You all right?” Jim asked him.

“I’m a bit queasy,” Cody admitted. “First time I’ve seen a man shot and killed.”

“You’ll never get used to it,” Jim told the young Ranger. “First time I shot a man I puked my guts out. You don’t have time for that now. Get sick later.”

“Any particular time?” Cody retorted.

“I guess that was a bit harsh. Sorry, pard. I’ll give you a hand.”

The clothes were stripped off the dead outlaw. Jim redressed in Patton’s outfit, then dressed the body in his own clothes. He switched Patton’s six-gun with his own Peacemaker.

“Help me get him on Sam,” he told Cody.

“Sure.”

Patton’s body was lifted from the ground. Sam snorted a mild protest when the dead outlaw was draped belly-down over his withers.

“Easy, bud. You’ve done this before,” Jim soothed the gelding. He took Sam’s reins and led him to where Patton’s bay waited. The bay shied at the scent of blood, but before it could trot off Jim grabbed its reins. His soft voice soon calmed the nervous animal. He exchanged Patton’s Winchester for his own, then climbed into Patton’s saddle. The Ranger pulled Patton’s hat down low, obscuring most of his face.

“How do I look, Cody?”

“Not bad, except for that blood on the shirt.”

“Can’t do much about that. I hid it as best I could with my bandanna. I just hope none of my blood joins it.”

“I have to agree with you there,” Cody grinned.

“Appreciate that. Now let’s move, before the rest of ‘em come up on us.”

“One question. How will I know when to come out of the brush?”

“When the shootin’ starts,” Jim laughed. “No, seriously. You’ll know when. You’ve got good instincts, Cody. I’m trustin’ ‘em.”

“I hope you’re right,” Cody replied.

With Cody trailing behind, Jim started for the cabin. After a short distance, Wade’s fractious bay refused to go any further, dancing sideways and crowhopping.

“Teach this obstinate cuss a lesson, will you, Sam?” Jim asked his horse.

Sam snorted, pinned his ears, and bit the bay viciously on the rump. The gelding squealed in fear of the big paint. Sam nipped him again.

“That’s enough, Sam,” Jim ordered. He heeled the now-willing bay into a walk once again.

In a short time, Jim came upon the cabin. Hank Martin and Matt Patton were sitting on the porch, while Jobe Patton and Ed Torneau were saddling horses. They looked up at Jim’s approach.

“Hey Wade,” Martin called. “We heard a shot. Jobe and Ed were just gettin’ ready to check on you. Guess there’s no need. Who’s that you plugged?”

“Ranger,” Jim grunted.

“A Ranger! Webb, get out here,” Martin shouted. “Wade just killed himself a Texas Ranger.”

Jim edged nearer the shack. Webb Patton, along with two men Jim recognized as Steve Sloan and Hal Mellon, both wanted killers, emerged from the cabin.

“What’s that? There was a Ranger snoopin’ around? You plugged him, Wade?” Webb called.

“Yeah.” Jim grunted again, and nodded toward Patton’s body.

“That’s not Wade!” Webb yelled, as he recognized the Ranger. “That’s Jim Blawcyzk! He must’ve plugged Wade!” Instantly, the outlaws went for their guns.

Jim grabbed his rifle and rolled from the saddle. He fired one quick shot as he dove behind some brush. The bullet tore through Sloan’s thigh, dropping him to a knee. Webb and Mellon jumped back inside the shack. Matt followed them, then slammed the door shut.

“Get outta here, Sam!” Jim ordered his horse. The big paint raced for safety. Wade Patton’s body tumbled from Sam’s back when the horse swerved around the corral.

Bullets were tearing through Jim’s meager cover, searching him out. One took the hat from his head.

“Where the devil’s Cody?” he muttered. “I sure can’t stay here.”

Sloan was still on the porch, propped against a post and firing in Jim’s direction. Jim rose to one knee and fired. His bullet tore into Sloan’s stomach, driving him back. Sloan sagged against the cabin wall, slid to a seated position, and slumped against a chair. Sloan’s chin dropped to his chest with his final breaths. Jim rolled back into the brush, then crawled toward a pile of firewood. There was a clearing of some fifty feet between the brush and the wood. Jim halted at the edge of the bushes, waiting his chance.

Cody burst out of the scrub, his horse at a dead run. While Yankee pounded across the yard, Cody

swept the corral with bullets. One hit Torneau in the chest, slamming him to the dirt. Jobe Patton screeched in mortal agony when another of Cody’s slugs ripped through his belly. Jobe clawed frantically at his bullet- ripped gut, jackknifed, and crumpled. Cody reached the end of the yard, whirled Yankee around, and emptied his rifle at the cabin. One of his shots hit Hank Martin in the neck. Martin clutched his throat, attempting in vain to stem the blood spurting from his severed jugular. He staggered off the porch and pitched to his face. Cody leapt from his saddle and dove behind the well. Yankee scrambled for cover.

While Cody kept the outlaws busy, Jim raced for the firewood. He dove to his belly and slid behind the stacked logs, gasping for breath.

“How many’s left, Jim?” Cody called. He pulled out his Colt.

“Three of ‘em. They’re all inside the shack.”

Jim fired the last bullet in his Winchester through one of the front windows. The shot was answered by a volley of gunfire.

“ Jim Blawcyzk,” Webb called. “Let’s talk!”

“There’s nothin’ to talk about, unless you’re givin’ yourselves up,” Jim answered. He put down his rifle to lift his Colt from its holster.

“Don’t be stupid, Ranger,” Webb replied. “You’ll never be able to get at us, long as we’re in here. You know that. Why don’t you and your pardner just get on your horses and ride away? I promise we’ll let you go, long as you don’t cause us any more trouble.”

“Your promise ain’t worth a plugged nickel, Patton,” Jim shot back. “You’d shoot us in the back before we made fifty feet. Far as you gettin’ away, I wouldn’t bet a hat on it. Five of you are already dead. You wanna join them?”

“The only ones who are gonna join them are you and your pardner,” Patton retorted. “You had your chance. Now we’re gonna cut you to ribbons.”

The three remaining renegades opened fire, pinning the Rangers down.

Jim waved to Cody, signaling that he was going to attempt to flank the cabin and reach the barn, from which he would have a better angle to shoot through the cabin’s windows. He pointed toward the porch, indicating that, once he reached the barn, he wanted Cody to try and make the front of the cabin under Jim’s covering fire. Cody nodded his understanding.

Jim leapt from his cover and zigzagged toward the barn. Matt Patton opened the door and fired at the Ranger’s back. It was a fatal mistake. His bullet missed, whistling past Jim’s side. Jim’s return snap shot struck Matt square in the chest. Matt fell across the doorsill.

While Jim and Matt exchanged gunshots, Webb Patton took careful aim at the Ranger and fired. His bullet struck Jim high in the left side of the chest. Jim dropped in his tracks.

“They got Jim!” Cody exclaimed. Overcome with anger and grief, he rose from his shelter, grimacing when an outlaw’s bullet burned along his ribs. Cody recklessly raced for the cabin, Colt blazing, ignoring the bullets seeking him out. One of his bullets shattered a windowpane, then struck Hal Mellon between the eyes. The slug buried itself deep in his brain.

Cody hurdled the body of Matt Patton, dove into the cabin, and rolled to his knees. As Webb Patton turned to face him, Cody aimed his Colt at Webb’s chest, thumbed back the hammer, and squeezed the trigger. It fell on an empty chamber.

Webb laughed harshly. He aimed his gun just above Cody’s belt buckle.

“All right, Ranger. I don’t know your name, but that don’t matter. I’m gonna put a slug in your lousy guts. You’re about to die, just like your pardner lyin’ out there.”

Webb started to thumb back the hammer of his .44 Remington. He hesitated.

“Figure I’ll let you think about dyin’ for a minute first,” he sneered, letting the gun drop to cover Cody’s groin. A wicked grin crossed his face.

“I reckon I’ll nail you where it hurts a man most, then gut-shoot you,” he concluded.

Cody sprang to his feet, pulled the knife from its sheath on his belt, and lunged at the outlaw. He slashed at Webb’s forearm, the razor-sharp blade slicing through muscle and tendons. Webb dropped the gun from his paralyzed hand. Cody thrust the Bowie deep into Webb’s belly, ripping upward through intestines and stomach. Webb folded over Cody’s fist. Cody yanked his knife from the outlaw’s gut. A gurgle rose in Webb’s throat. He dropped to his hands and knees, then collapsed to his face.

“Like Jim taught me, never relax, Patton,” Cody muttered. “It can get a man killed.”

“Jim!” Cody’s voice caught. A lump rose in his throat. Eyes moist, he left the cabin and headed for his downed partner.

Cody found Sam had returned. The gelding was nuzzling Jim’s shoulder, attempting to rouse his rider. When Cody approached, the big paint pinned his ears and whickered a warning.

“Easy, Sam,” Cody told the horse. “Let me try’n help your friend.”

Sam edged away, still eyeing Cody suspiciously. Cody knelt alongside Jim and rolled him onto his back. Fresh blood was spreading over the shirt he wore. Jim still held his Colt in a death grip.

“Jim,” Cody murmured.

Jim’s eyes flickered open.

“Cody. What happened to Webb?”

“He’s dead. They all are.”

“Good. You did a fine job, pardner.”

“How bad are you hit, Jim?”

“Bad enough. You’ll have to…” Jim stopped speaking, lifted his Colt, and fired. Jobe Patton gave a strangled gasp when Jim’s bullet punched another hole through his gut. The renegade dropped his gun and crumpled to the dirt. This time, he wouldn’t get back up.

“Jobe! He wasn’t…”

“Dead,” Jim concluded for Cody. “You didn’t check those hombres, did you?”

“No,” Cody admitted, “I was too worried about you.”

“That nearly got you a bullet in the back,” Jim said. “Go check those men. Make sure they’re dead. And kick their guns away from ‘em, just in case.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll be fine until you’re finished. Then you’re gonna have to dig this slug outta my chest.”

“What? I don’t think I can handle that,” Cody objected.

“You’ve got to. Otherwise, I won’t live long enough to make it to a doctor. Now stop wastin’ time.”

“All right.”

Cody checked the bodies, then returned.

“They’re all done for, Jim. I made sure.”

“Fine.”

“What now?”

“This bullet has to come out. Open my saddlebags. You’ll find a small flask of whiskey and a sack of tobacco. There’s also a spare bandanna, and some cloths I use for bandages. Get those. Sam, you let Cody get that stuff,” Jim ordered his horse.

“I thought you didn’t smoke or drink.”

“I don’t. They’re for treatin’ bullet wounds.”

Sam pinned his ears at Cody when he approached, but when Jim chided him again, the gelding allowed Cody to open Jim’s saddlebags and retrieve the supplies.

“I’ve got ‘em, Jim. Now what?”

“Open my shirt, so you can spot the bullet hole.”

“All right.” Cody unbuttoned the shirt. He choked slightly at the sight of the bullet hole in Jim’s chest, high on the left side.

“You’ve gotta do this, Cody,” Jim urged. “Or else I’m a dead man.”

“I’ll get through it,” Cody promised. “What now?”

“Take that bandanna and tie a knot in it. I’ll need somethin’ to bite down on while you dig for that bullet.”

Cody complied.

“There. What’s next?”

“Take my knife and douse it real good with that redeye.”

“Okay.”

Cody opened the flask and poured half of its contents over the blade.

“It’s soaked, Jim.”

“Good. Now comes the hard part. You’ve gotta take that knife, stick it in my chest, and probe for the slug. You should be able to feel it once you hit it, although it can be tough to tell the difference between a slug and bone. I don’t need to tell what’ll happen if you’re not careful.”

“No, you sure don’t. You might want to say a prayer before I start.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Jim agreed. Both men took a moment to ask the Lord’s help and mercy.

“I’m ready,” Cody said, once he’d concluded his prayer.

“Good. First, take some of that whiskey and pour it over my chest and into the bullet hole.”

“Won’t that hurt?”

“Like the blazes. That’s the reason for the bandanna. But it’ll help stop infection.”

“You want the bandanna in your mouth now?”

“Yeah.”

Cody slid the knotted kerchief between Jim’s teeth.

“You ready?”

Jim nodded. When Cody poured the raw liquor into the wound, Jim grimaced with pain, biting down hard.

“I’m goin’ after that bullet now,” Cody said.

Again, Jim nodded. Carefully, Cody slid the knife blade into the bullet hole.

Sweat broke out on Jim’s forehead while Cody probed for the slug. He clamped down on the bandanna.

“I’m bein’ as gentle as I can, Jim,” Cody assured him.

“Just get that slug outta me,” Jim muttered through clenched teeth.

Cody kept probing for the slug. Finally, he felt the blade hit something solid.

“I’ve got it.”

“Good. Now maneuver it outta there. Real carefully.”

Cody nodded. He gently manipulated the knife until he was able to get at the slug and remove it.”

“It’s out.” Cody breathed a sigh of relief. “But you’re bleedin’ more.”

Jim pulled the bandanna from his mouth.

“That’s all right. It’ll help flush the wound.”

“What do I do now?”

“Open that sack of tobacco. Pour it right into that hole.”

“Tobacco?” Cody was skeptical.

“Yeah. It’ll plug the hole, slow the bleedin’, and believe it or not helps prevent blood poisoning. Once you’ve got the hole packed, pour more whiskey over it, then bandage it.”

“All right.”

Cody did as ordered.

“That’s the best I can do,” he said, as he tied the last strip of cloth in place.

“You did just fine, Cody,” Jim assured him. “Now you’d better take care of yourself.”

“You mean this bullet burn along my ribs? It’s not much.”

“It’s not much, but it could kill you if it gets infected. You’d better wash it out, put some whiskey on it, and bandage it. After all, I promised Julia I’d bring you back in one piece. She’d never forgive me if I didn’t, since she still plans on hitchin’ you up with Sarah Wysocki. I wouldn’t want to face those two if you’d gotten yourself killed. In that case, you’d be better off than me,” Jim laughed.

“I’m not so sure about that,” Cody chuckled. He quickly treated the bullet gash along his side.

“I’m finished.”

“Good. I’ve gotta ask you to do some more work before you can rest, Cody. I can’t be much help,” Jim apologized.

“Don’t worry about that,” Cody replied. “What needs to be done?”

“First, check inside that cabin. You should find the money from those robberies. Those renegades didn’t have a chance to spend it.”

“All right. Then what?”

“Get my clothes off Wade. I’m gonna want my own duds. He’s also wearin’ my vest. My badge is still pinned to that. I need it back.”

“What about the bodies?” Cody asked.

“Not much we can do about them. We’ll head back to Blanco, since that’s the nearest place to find a doc. I’ll have the sheriff return for the bodies. You can drag ‘em inside the shack and cover ‘em. Even with that the coyotes might still get at ‘em. Oh, and turn the horses loose, too. They can fend for themselves until the sheriff gets here. Except Wade’s. His is already saddled, so we’ll use it to carry the money sacks. And fill our canteens.”

“Won’t we be stayin’ here for the night, at least?” Cody questioned. “You need to rest.”

“I need to get to a doc more. There’s still a couple hours of daylight left. Soon as you’re done, we’ll be ridin’.”

“Whatever you say.” Cody started for the cabin, then turned back to Jim, chuckling.

“What’s so funny, Cody?” Jim asked.

“Remember what you told me about not bein’ dumb, and steppin’ in front of a bullet, Jim?”

“Yeah.”

“Next time maybe you’d better take your own advice.”

“Havlicek, you’d better.” Jim growled, smiling.

Jim fell asleep once Cody left him. He dozed until Cody shook his shoulder.

“Jim?”

“Yeah, Cody?”

“Everything’s set. I found the money, and it’s tied to Wade’s saddle. The bodies are inside, and the horses are turned out. I’ve got your clothes, too.”

“That’s fine. Let me have them.”

Jim grinned when he picked up his shirt.

“Now it’s my turn,” Cody said, “Something strikes you funny, Jim?”

“Yeah. For once my shirt didn’t get ruined when I got shot. Switchin’ clothes with Wade paid off.”

“You might think so, but speakin’ for myself I’d rather not get shot at all,” Cody retorted.

“I guess you’re right,” Jim conceded.

With some effort, Jim slid out of Wade Patton’s clothes and back into his own.

“I’m ready, Cody. You’re gonna have to help me onto Sam’s back.”

“Sure.”

Cody helped Jim to his feet, then boosted him into the saddle.

“Will you be able to stay up there?” Cody asked.

“I should. If not, you can tie me in the saddle. Now let’s get movin’. We’re wastin’ daylight.”

Cody swung onto Yankee’s back. Jim grinned broadly, leaned over from Sam’s back, and shook Cody’s hand.

“Cody,” he said. “Welcome to the Texas Rangers.”