It was close to sunset when they reached Nate’s former home. Already, nature was beginning to reclaim the land. Weeds poked up through the ruins of the burnt-out buildings, and fence posts were tilted at crazy angles or had fallen completely over. Clouds scudding on a brisk north wind cast eerie shadows, making dusk come early. The entire scene was one of desolation and dreariness. Even the horses seemed affected. They slowed to a shuffling walk, their heads hung low.
“Where’s your folks buried, Nate?” Hoot asked.
“Over yonder. Underneath that half-dead cottonwood.”
They rode up to the graves. Hoot stopped his horse a few yards before reaching them. Only the cross on Nate’s mother’s grave still stood. Those on his father’s and brother’s graves had toppled over. Nate dismounted, uprighted those, and set them firmly back in place. Hoot remained in the saddle, respecting Nate’s need for some time alone with his family. Nate pulled off his hat, bowed his head, and silently prayed over the graves for a few minutes. He touched the earth covering each, then turned away. He remounted, pulled Big Red around, and put him into a slow walk.
“You gonna be all right, Nate?” Hoot asked, as he matched Sandy’s pace to Red’s. “You sure you don’t want to spend some more time here? There’s no rush gettin’ to San Saba at this point. We’ll be there tonight no matter what.”
“I’ll be okay,” Nate answered, his voice husky with emotion. “And no, I’ve had enough time for now. Mebbe on the way back we can stay a bit longer. Right now, I want to reach town. First thing I’ll do is stop by the marshal’s office to see if he’s gotten any word on the whereabouts of the men who did this, especially that pale-eyed son of the devil leadin’ ’em. If he has, you can be sure I’ll take to their trail.”
“You’re a probationary Ranger now, Nate. Can’t just take off on your own,” Hoot said. “And goin’ after those men single-handed would be sheer suicide. Heck, you saw how bad they shot us up back in camp, and what they did to the rest of the outfit. You sure can’t handle ’em alone.”
“You can’t stop me,” Nate answered.
“I can try,” Hoot said. “Besides, I have a hunch those men haven’t been seen in these parts since they ambushed us. Their leader seems pretty clever. I’d wager he’s smart enough to realize the Rangers won’t ever quit until they’ve run him to ground. That gang’s probably halfway to Mexico by now. But don’t worry, we’ll find ’em. Mark my words. You just have to be patient.”
“I dunno. I realize what you’re sayin’ makes sense, but knowin’ those men are still out there, probably still robbin’ and murderin’ folks, keeps gnawin’ at my guts.”
“Of course it does. And after what they did to all of us, it gnaws at my guts, and all the rest of the men, too. We want ’em just as bad as you do. And we will find ’em. Meantime, after we stop at the marshal’s, where do you want to head after that? Most of the businesses will be closed, so we won’t be able to do much tonight except get some supper and a good night’s sleep.”
“I’d like to stop at the bank soon as it opens in the morning. I need to talk with Mr. Funston. I want to see if I have enough money to order tombstones for my ma and pa and Jonathan. I don’t want their graves to be just left like they are. In a few years, you won’t even be able to find ’em otherwise.”
“That’s a right fine idea. The stores will open before the bank, so why don’t we order our supplies first, then after that’s done we’ll head for the bank. Once you’re finished there we can mail Captain Quincy’s letters. By the time we’re done gettin’ those off, the supplies should be ready to pick up. And once we’ve done that, we’ll have the rest of the day to ourselves.”
“We’re gonna load the supplies on Walton twice? Seems to me we can’t leave ’em on his back all night,” Nate objected.
Hoot slapped himself on the forehead.
“You’re right, Nate. What was I thinkin’? Must be the thought of two nights in town has addled my brain. We’ll pick up the supplies first thing day after tomorrow, just before we start back to camp.”
***
They reached San Saba just about seven o’clock. Most of the stores had closed for the day, but the streets were still crowded with cowboys in from the surrounding ranches headed to a night of fun in the town’s saloons, gambling parlors, and dance halls. No one gave Nate and Hoot a second glance as they made their way through town, except maybe to wonder if they were brothers or perhaps cousins. Hoot had brown hair and eyes just a shade lighter than Nate’s, and he had the same general build, only a bit taller and huskier. Even his facial features bore a slight resemblance to Nate’s. They stopped at the horse trough in the town square to allow their horses a short drink, then rode across the square and reined up in front of the town marshal’s office.
“Sure hope the marshal’s in,” Nate said, as he swung out of his saddle.
“He most likely is,” Hoot answered. “Most town marshals don’t start makin’ their rounds until a bit later, once things liven up in the saloons.” He dismounted and looped Sandy’s reins over the rail. As soon as Nate had Big Red secured, they headed inside the office. Marshal Jock Holmes was seated at his desk. He looked up when they entered.
“Can I help you boys?” he started to ask. “Wait a minute. Nate! Nate Stewart. You’re the boy whose family was killed over by Wallace Creek. I thought you went back East.”
“Nah, my plans changed. Ranger Rollins offered me a chance to join the Rangers as a camp helper, mebbe become a full-fledged Ranger later on. I decided to take him up on it. This here’s my partner, Hoot Harrison.”
“Marshal,” Hoot said.
“Ranger,” Holmes answered, nodding. To Nate he continued, “That’s good news, son. Seems to me you’ll do just fine. Now, what brings you boys to San Saba?”
“Our company’s short on supplies, so we came into town to pick some up,” Hoot answered. “We’ve also got to send some reports off to Austin for Cap’n Quincy. We’ll only be in town for two nights.”
“The reason we stopped here first, Marshal, is to see if you had any word about the men who attacked my family,” Nate said.
“They also set up a trap for us Rangers,” Hoot hastened to add. “Ambushed our camp while most of the men were out on patrol. Hit them too, and shot ’em up pretty bad. But if it hadn’t been for Nate, here, everyone of us still in camp would be six feet under right now.”
“I see,” Holmes answered. He nodded at Nate. “Good work, son.”
“I just was in the right place,” Nate said. “Sure hope those men doubled back here, so we can get after ’em.”
“I’m afraid you’re out of luck,” Holmes said. “There hasn’t been a sign of those sidewinders since the day they murdered your family. I’m sorry, son.”
“I told Nate they probably left for other parts,” Hoot answered. “But the Rangers’ll track ’em down, no matter how long it takes. They won’t get away with what they did to us.”
“I’m certain they won’t,” Holmes said. “I wish I could have been more help. Now, what’re you boys plannin’ on doin’ tonight?”
“I’m obliged, Marshal,” Nate answered. “Far as our plans, just puttin’ up our horses, then gettin’ supper and a room at the hotel. It’s been a rough few days, so we’re only lookin’ for a good night’s sleep.”
“I can understand that,” Holmes said. “I was just heading out to get my own supper, over to the Coffee Cup Cafe. Why don’t you both join me?”
“Sure, Marshal,” Hoot answered. “Just give us time to get our horses settled.”
“I’ll go to the livery stable with you,” Holmes offered. “I’ll tell Colin to put up your horses no charge, since you’re Rangers.”
“There’s no need for that,” Hoot objected.
“Don’t worry about it. It’s the least San Saba can offer you.”
“Then we’re obliged.”
***
Hoot and Nate downed a supper of thick steaks, boiled potatoes, beans, and bread and butter, with apple pie for dessert. Now, they were lying in a soft bed in their room at the San Saba Hotel. Like almost all frontier hotels, it had no rooms with more than one bed, so they were forced to share. At that it was more comfortable than for a bunch of cowboys just in off the trail. With hotel rooms always in short supply when a full crew from a ranch or a trail drive rode into town, quite often men or women slept four or sometimes even six to a bed, lying sideways across the mattress.
“Hoot,” Nate said. “Got a question for you.”
“What’s that, Nate?”
“How’d you get your nickname?”
“How’d I come to be called Hoot? It’s because when I was a young boy, my laugh sounded like an owl hootin’. Didn’t grow out of that until a couple of years ago. So I got stuck with the name. Does that answer your question?”
“I guess. Although now that I think on it, I don’t know why I asked. I realized I don’t really give a Hoot!”
The next thing Nate felt was a pillow being smashed across his face. He retaliated with his, catching Hoot on the side of the head. In less than ten seconds, they were embroiled in a full-blown pillow fight, laughing hysterically as they swung away at each other, until the pillows broke open and feathers filled the room, the breeze from the open window blowing them around thick as snowflakes in a blizzard. Nate and Hoot fell back on the mattress, gasping for breath and soaked with sweat. They kept laughing until they finally fell asleep.
***
Nate and Hoot overslept the next morning. They didn’t awaken until well after the sun rose, in fact it was almost nine o’clock. They hurriedly washed, dressed, and had a quick breakfast at the Coffee Cup. By that time the San Saba County Bank had opened, so they decided to go there first, then afterward, to the general store. Miriam, the teller who had brought out the Stewart family accounts when Nate and Jeb came to the bank after the murders of Nate’s family, was on duty in the first teller’s cage. She recognized Nate when they walked in.
“Mr. Stewart. Hello,” she said. “I thought you went home to Delaware. This is certainly a pleasant surprise.”
“Good morning. My plans changed, ma’am,” Nate said. “And I’m just plain Nate. This here’s Hoot Harrison.”
“Ma’am.” Hoot touched two fingers to the brim of his hat in greeting.
“Mr. Harrison.”
“Could I see Mr. Funston for just a few minutes?” Nate requested. “I promise I won’t take up much of his time. We’re only going to be in town until tomorrow morning.”
“Of course,” Miriam answered. “He’s not with another customer at the moment. Follow me, please.”
She beckoned them around the end of the counter, then knocked on the closed door to the bank president’s office. She opened it slightly.
“Mr. Funston?”
“Yes, Miriam?”
“Nathaniel Stewart is here. You’ll recall his family was murdered by those raiders some time back, and you’re acting as his conservator. He’d like to meet with you if it’s possible, for just a few minutes.”
“Of course, of course. Send him right in.”
“Go on in, boys,” Miriam said.
Homer Funston was standing behind his desk when they entered his office.
“Nathaniel. I thought you were back East,” he said. He shook Nate’s hand warmly. “I’m certainly glad to see you.”
“I guess word didn’t get back to you I decided to stay in Texas,” Nate answered. “I’ve been put on as a probationary Texas Ranger. This is my partner, Hoot Harrison.”
“I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. Harrison,” Funston said, as he and Hoot shook hands.
“You also, sir,” Hoot answered.
“Mr. Funston, I don’t want to take up any more of your time than necessary,” Nate said.
“Wait. Before we start discussing business, would either of you like a cup of coffee, or perhaps a cigar?” Funston offered.
“None for me, thank you,” Nate said. “We just had breakfast.”
“No coffee for me, but I’d be obliged for the smoke,” Hoot said.
“Fine, fine.” Funston opened the rosewood humidor on his desk, chose two cigars, and passed one to Hoot, along with a match. They both lit their cigars and took several puffs.
“Mr. Funston, this is a fine cigar,” Hoot said. “Nate, you’ve really got to try smokin’ one of these days. You don’t know what you’re missin’. A fine cigar like this gives a man a lot of pleasure.”
“Maybe, but right now I’d like to get down to business,” Nate said.
“I’ll agree with you there,” Funston answered. “In fact, I’m very glad to see you, Nathaniel. I was about to send a letter to the address in Wilmington you provided. You see, Todd Sparks, who owns the neighboring ranch to your place, is interested in either purchasing your land, or possibly leasing the grazing rights. The letter was to inquire if you were interested in either of those arrangements. Now that you’re here, we can discuss it face to face. It would be a great opportunity for the land to provide you some income, rather than lying fallow and unused. What do you think, Nathaniel?”
“I’m not certain. I’d like to discuss it with you, but I have another question first,” Nate replied.
“Of course. What is it?”
“I’d like to know if there is enough money in my account to purchase tombstones for my parents’ and brother’s graves. Hoot and I stopped by on our way in. The wooden markers on the graves are in poor shape. In fact, my father’s and brother’s had fallen over. I put them back up, but I’m afraid they won’t remain standing for long. So I’d like to arrange to have stones carved and placed over my folks.”
“I don’t even have to look at your accounts to let you know that. Yes, there are more than sufficient funds to accommodate your request. How large a stone are you thinking about?”
“Nothing too large, and nothing too fancy, Mr. Funston. Just something that will last a long time, so my folks aren’t forgotten.”
“They never will be, as long as you keep them alive in your memory, Nathaniel. Now, about your mother’s and father’s markers. Do you want two separate stones, or one large one with both names on it? That’s what most folks do.”
“One large one would be fine. I believe my ma and pa would like that best. And, of course, one for Jonathan.”
“Good. That’s what I’d do if it were my family. What would you like carved on them?”
“I think just the names and dates of birth. And the date they died, of course.”
“What about how they died? Some people put that on the stone, especially under the circumstances your family died.”
“I don’t think so,” Nate said. “There’s no need.”
“Of course. I understand. Do you want anything else on the stones? Any images?”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” Nate admitted.
“How about an angel for your ma?” Hoot suggested.
“That’s a good idea,” Nate said. “Ma’d like that. And maybe the word ‘Cowboy’ on Jonathan’s marker.”
“What about your father?” Funston asked.
“I’m not sure. How about just ‘My Pa’? And ‘My Brother’, along with ‘Cowboy’ on Jonathan’s. And ‘My Mother’ on my ma’s.”
“I think that’s perfect,” Funston said.
“So do I,” Hoot added.
“All right. Mr. Funston, I’ll only be in town until tomorrow. Will you arrange to order the stones for me, and have them put in place? Also, I’d like to have a rose bush planted on my ma’s grave. She loved roses.”
“I appreciate your sentiment, son, but planting a rose bush would just be a waste of time. Roses need a lot of tending, plus this isn’t a good climate for them. Even with the best of care, maintaining a rose bush is difficult. I’m afraid if you had one planted on your mother’s grave it would just die before long.”
“But my ma loved flowers,” Nate insisted. “I want some on her grave.”
“Let me think,” Funston answered. “Wait, I believe I have the solution. How about a prickly pear cactus? They bloom real pretty every spring. Usually big yellow flowers, sometimes pink. And they’re tough. Practically impossible to kill. Only thing that seems to do them in is too much water, which certainly isn’t a problem in these parts.”
“Mr. Funston’s right,” Hoot said. “There’s hardly anythin’ prettier’n a big prickly pear in full bloom, less’n mebbe it’s bluebonnets. Mebbe you could have some of them planted on your ma’s grave too. They’re not as tough as prickly pear, but they’re still pretty hardy.”
“I think those’ll be all right,” Nate said. “Mr. Funston, go ahead and have some prickly pear and bluebonnets planted. And I’d be obliged if you could order the stones as quickly as possible.”
“Of course. I’ll get to that immediately. Do you need any money from your accounts before you leave?”
“I hadn’t thought of that, but a few dollars might come in handy,” Nate said. “Say thirty. I might want to buy a few things before we head back. We can also eat a little better than I planned, with some extra cash.”
“Fine. We’ll get that as soon as we’re finished here. I hate to pressure you, Nathaniel; however, I do need a decision about your land. Don’t forget, taxes will be due annually on it. You need a source of income to pay those. Of course, if you sell, you won’t have to worry about it at all.”
“I don’t believe I want to sell it. After all, my folks are buried there. We didn’t live there long, but there are lots of memories, plus that ranch is the only thing I have left of my family.”
“I understand,” Funston said. “How about leasing it then? You’ll still own the property, but it will provide you a steady source of income.”
“That could work, I suppose. I don’t know much about Mr. Sparks. I only met him a few times. What can you tell me about him?”
“Todd Sparks? He’s an honest, hardworking rancher. Has a bunch of kids, and a fine wife. He’ll offer you a fair deal.”
“Good. Let’s do that, on one condition. My family’s graves are to be fenced off, so no cattle can wander over ’em and make a mess of ’em.”
“That’s certainly reasonable. I’ll make fencing off the graves at Sparks’s expense, as well as his maintaining the fence, one of the conditions of the lease.”
“Thank you, Mr. Funston. I’ll leave everything up to you,” Nate said. “Now, Hoot and I really have got to get moving. We have a lot of things to get done before tonight.”
“I understand,” Funston answered. “Let me arrange your withdrawal. Give me the full names and dates to be carved on the tombstones, then you can be on your way.”
***
After leaving the bank, Nate and Hoot’s next stop was the San Saba General Store and Mercantile Emporium. When they entered, Nate stopped short. Two elderly men were seated at an overturned, empty cracker barrel next to the counter. They were playing checkers. Intent on their game, they looked up at the newcomers, nodded, then turned their attention back to the board. Nate’s eyes welled up. He turned and fled the store. Hoot chased after him as he disappeared into the alley alongside the building. He grabbed Nate by the shoulder and spun him around. Tears streaked Nate’s cheeks.
“Nate. What’s wrong?”
“Just leave me alone, Hoot.” Nate turned away from him and headed up the alley, running. Hoot caught up to him and spun him around again.
“Nate, you gotta tell me. What’s wrong?”
“I said, just leave me alone, Hoot!” Nate slugged him in the belly. Completely unprepared for the blow, Hoot lost all the air in his lungs. He doubled up, collapsed, and curled up on his side, clutching his middle and gagging as he struggled for breath.
“Hoot!” Nate dropped to his knees alongside his friend. “Hoot! Are you all right? I’m sure sorry. I didn’t mean to hit you.”
“I… I think… I’ll be… okay,” Hoot gasped. “Soon’s I… catch… my breath.”
“I didn’t mean it, Hoot. Just wasn’t thinkin’.”
“Don’t matter whether… you… meant it or… not, my gut still hurts… like the… devil. What the heck’s… gotten into you… anyway?”
“It was the two old men playin’ checkers,” Nate explained. “Me and Jonathan and our pa used to play checkers almost every night. When I saw those men at their checkerboard, it brought back a whole lotta memories. Too many all at once. I just couldn’t handle ’em. Here, lemme help you up.”
“All right.”
Nate slid his hands under Hoot’s shoulders and lifted him to his feet. Hoot stood there, hunched over, until he was able to breathe freely again.
“I’m okay now,” he said.
“I’m really sorry about hittin’ you,” Nate answered. “You want to slug me? I wouldn’t blame you if you did.”
“Nah. You were outta your head, pardner. I would appreciate you not doin’ it again, though.”
“I promise you that.”
“Good. You ready to go back to the store now? You gonna be able to handle it?”
“Yeah. I’ll manage.”
“All right. Let’s get those supplies ordered.”
Nate dried his face before they went back. When they headed back inside the store, to their relief no one questioned why they had run out a few moments previously. The clerk on duty greeted them warmly.
“Howdy, gents. I’m Chet Thomas, one of the partners in this fine establishment. We have everything the working cowboy needs. What can I do for you this morning?”
“Hoot Harrison, and Nate Stewart,” Hoot answered. “We’re with a company of Texas Rangers camped some miles west of here. We came in to get some supplies. Here’s what we’ll need.”
Hoot handed Thomas a list. The clerk looked it over.
“We should be able to supply you with all your needs,” he said. “However, it will take a while to put this order together. Can you come back for it in a couple of hours?”
“That’s okay,” Hoot said. “We’re not leaving until tomorrow morning anyway. We’ll pick it up first thing, soon as you open.”
“That will be just fine. We open for business at eight o’clock.”
“We’ll see you then. Nate, is there anything you need before we leave?”
“I don’t think so,” Nate said. “But didn’t you want some tobacco?”
“That’s right, I plumb forgot,” Hoot answered. “Mr. Thomas, I’ll need three sacks of Bull Durham, and some extra papers.”
“Coming right up.”
Once Hoot paid for his tobacco, he and Nate next went to the post office. They mailed Captain Quincy’s reports, then stopped by the Western Union office to see if there were any telegrams from Headquarters.
“Got several for you right here,” the telegrapher said, in response to their inquiry. He took several sealed papers from a pigeonhole and handed those to Hoot.
“Much obliged,” Hoot said.
“What’re we gonna do now?” Nate asked, once they left the office.
“Just kill time. Enjoy this chance to relax and do nothin’ while we’ve got it, Nate,” Hoot answered. “You won’t get many times like this in the Rangers.”
With nothing to do for the rest of the morning, they went to a barber shop for haircuts and baths, Hoot also having his thin beard shaved. After that, they found two chairs in front of the hotel, and settled in them to watch the citizens of San Saba go about their business. Hoot rolled and lit a cigarette.
“Nate,” he said. “’Bout time you tried a smoke. Lemme show you how to build a quirly.”
“All right,” Nate agreed. “Reckon I’ve put off tryin’ one long enough. And I can see you ain’t gonna let me rest until I do.”
“Good. You’re not really a full-growed man until you’ve learned how to smoke,” Hoot answered.
“I’ve heard that about some other things, too,” Nate said, with a grin.
“Yeah, I reckon you’re right,” Hoot agreed. “Mebbe we can also try a couple of those before we leave town. Meantime, you can begin by learnin’ how to roll a smoke. Watch.”
Hoot took one of his cigarette papers and laid it in his right hand. He sprinkled tobacco from his sack of Bull Durham onto the paper, then rolled it shut. He pinched the ends, and licked the paper to seal it.
“See. Nothin’ to it. You won’t be able to roll a smoke with one hand like I can until you’ve practiced some, but a few times and you’ll be able to put together a quirly with no trouble. Here.”
Hoot handed the cigarette to Nate, who stuck it between his lips.
“Now, light it.” Hoot struck a match to life, and handed it to Nate. Nate touched it to the end of the cigarette, then tossed the match in the dirt.
“Good. Now, take a long pull.”
Nate sucked smoke into his lungs. He immediately burst into a fit of coughing. He yanked the cigarette from between his lips.
“Thought… thought you said… this’d taste… good, Hoot.”
“It will, once you get used to it,” Hoot answered. “Go ahead, take another pull.”
“I dunno.” Nate shook his head, but took another puff. Once again, he coughed harshly. This time, he tossed the quirly into the road.
“Hey!” Hoot shouted.
“Sorry, Hoot. I reckon I’ll go without bein’ a real man, if that means I have to smoke. Or mebbe I’ll try one of those other things instead.”
“Mebbe you’ll try smokin’ again later,” Hoot said.
“Mebbe not,” Nate retorted.
Hoot finished his smoke, then they both tilted back their chairs, lowered their Stetsons over their eyes, put their feet on the rail, and dozed until almost noon.
“Time to get some dinner,” Nate said. “How about we try that place across from the bank?”
“Maria’s Café? Sounds good to me,” Hoot answered. “Let’s go.”
The café was only three blocks distant. Hoot and Nate had almost reached it when Nate suddenly stopped.
“Hoot.”
“Yeah, Nate?”
“Take a look across the street, at those two men in front of the bank. Somethin’ look wrong to you?”
“Those two hombres? Yeah, somethin’s suspicious about them, all right. I don’t like the way they’re lookin’ around.”
“Think they’re gonna rob the bank?”
“I wouldn’t bet against it. Let’s keep an eye on them.”
A minute later, the two men approached the doors of the bank. They pulled bandannas over their faces, lifted their guns from their holsters, and hurried inside.
“They are robbin’ the bank,” Nate exclaimed. “We’ve gotta stop ’em.”
“Yeah, but we can’t just bust in on ’em,” Hoot cautioned. “There’s liable to be shootin’ if we do, and innocent folks might catch a stray bullet.”
“They might start shootin’ people anyway,” Nate objected.
“That’s true, but let’s hope not,” Hoot answered. “Unless we hear gunshots, we don’t want to take a chance. Tell you what. Follow my lead.”
Hoot and Nate rushed across the street.
“Get their horses,” Hoot ordered, once they were in front of the bank. The robbers’ horses were untied and led into the alley alongside the bank.
Nate and Hoot hurried back, guns at the ready. They positioned themselves in the middle of the street, in front of the bank, knowing they wouldn’t have long to wait. A moment later, the holdup men backed out of the bank, guns still covering those inside. Each carried a canvas sack stuffed with cash. They turned, then stood dumbfounded.
“Where’s our horses?” one of them shouted, adding a curse.
“Toss down your guns, drop those money bags and raise your hands, boys,” Hoot ordered. “Texas Rangers. You’re under arrest.” The click of the hammer of his Colt being thumbed back added emphasis to his words.
Both men cursed, started to pull back the triggers of their six-guns, then stopped. Hoot and Nate had their guns aimed straight at their chests. Pulling those triggers would be sheer suicide. They tossed the guns and moneybags in the dirt and raised their arms over their heads.
“You’ve got us, Rangers,” one said. The other took a closer look at their captors.
“Hank, those are just a coupl’a kids. They can’t be Rangers.”
“Mebbe so, Jerry, but they’ve got the drop on us,” his partner said. “Don’t matter how old or young the person who puts a bullet in you is. You’ll end up just as dead no matter what. And I ain’t takin’ that chance.”
“That’s right, we do,” Hoot said. “And we are honest to gosh Texas Rangers. Got our papers to prove it. Now, you just stand nice and hitched. One false move, and you’ll get bullets through your bellies for your trouble.”
Marshal Jock Holmes, alerted to what was happening, came rushing up. He carried a Winchester, ready to use at the least provocation.
“What’s goin’ on here?” he demanded.
“These two hombres just robbed the bank,” Hoot said. “We stopped ’em.”
Homer Funston burst out of the bank. He started to yell “Robbery!” but stopped short when he spotted the holdup men standing stock still, their hands in the air, with three men holding guns on them.
“Marshal Holmes,” he said. “I see I don’t need to find you. These men just attempted to hold up the bank. You’ve got the situation well in hand. Good work.”
“Thanks, Homer, but it wasn’t me who captured these men. It was the two Rangers, here.”
“Nathaniel? You and your partner captured these men?” Funston asked.
“It was more Hoot than me,” Nate answered.
“It doesn’t matter which. You’ve saved the bank quite a bit of money. Those men took enough cash that it could have bankrupted most of the depositors, and perhaps even ruined the bank. I’m most grateful. Also, there’s a standing thousand dollar reward for the capture of anyone who robs or attempts to rob the San Saba County Bank. You and Mr. Harrison will split that reward.”
“We were merely doin’ our job, Mr. Funston,” Hoot said.
“That doesn’t matter. It’s legal for peace officers in the state of Texas to collect posted rewards, even if the capture is made during the course of said peace officers’ duties. The reward is yours.”
“Then Nate’n I are most grateful. Much obliged,” Hoot said.
“Yeah. Thanks, Mr. Funston,” Nate added.
“This is all well and good, but it’s high time to stop palaverin’ and get these two hombres in jail,” Holmes said. “Besides, I’d imagine their arms are gettin’ mighty sore. They’ve gotta be tired of holdin’ ’em up over their heads by now. Nate, Hoot, if you would pick up those money bags and haul ’em down to my office, I’d be grateful. These men’s guns, also. You’re the arresting officers, so you have to make the formal complaint and file the charges anyway. Mr. Funston, the sacks and the money they hold are evidence. I’ll need to keep ’em in my safe until the trial’s over.”
“I understand, Marshal.”
“All right, you two, march on down to my office,” Holmes ordered the robbers. “Looks like a cell will be your new home for quite a spell.” He stopped and chuckled. “Hey, that rhymes. Now I’m a doggone poet.” To the crowd which had gathered, he continued, “All right, folks. Break it up. The show’s over, so go on about your business.”
The crowd slowly dispersed, the captives taken to Holmes’s office.
“Take those two chairs,” he ordered, once they were inside.
“Uh, Marshal…” Nate began.
“Yeah, Nate? Are you all right? You’re lookin’ kinda pale,” Holmes said.
“Dunno. Where’s the privy? I need to use it, and I mean right now,” Nate said.
“Just outside the back door, across the alley, a hundred feet behind the buildin’.”
“Thanks, Marshal.” Nate headed out of the office at a trot. He slammed open the door and dashed outside.
“Don’t seem as if that young’n’s gonna make it as a Ranger,” the outlaw named Jerry said, with a sneer. “Appears to me he’s scared shi…”
Hoot cut him off.
“Nate’ll be just fine. Don’t you worry about him. He’s already shot a couple of men. You might want to keep that in mind, mister,” he said.
“You might want to be concerned about your own selves, rather’n that boy,” Holmes advised. “Whatever is ailin’ him, he’ll be over it shortly, while you two hombres are lookin’ at a long stretch behind bars. You might want to think on that. We’ll just wait for him to return before I start processin’ the paperwork.”
The prisoners glowered at Holmes and Hoot, but sat silently until Nate returned, twenty minutes later.
“You all right, son?” Holmes questioned.
“I am now,” Nate answered. “Sorry.”
“No need to be sorry. When a man’s gotta go, a man’s gotta go,” Holmes said. “And speakin’ of paperwork, we’re at the part of the job every lawman hates… the paperwork. Time to get that done so we can settle these two in a nice, tight cell. Gentlemen, give me your names, if you would be so kind.”
“What if we don’t?” the outlaw called Hank snapped.
“Then I’ll just hold you as John Does,” Holmes replied. “Don’t make no never mind to me.”
“I’d be Jerry Holcomb,” the other outlaw said. “And he’s Hank Renshaw. Hank, there’s no point in makin’ these lawmen any madder than they already are. We got caught, and they can make things a lot harder on us if they’re so inclined.”
“That’s good advice,” Holmes said. “Now, since Hoot and Nate, here, are Texas Rangers, and they’re the ones who caught you robbin’ the bank, redhanded I might add, they’ll be the ones requesting the warrant, and filing the formal charges. Rangers, I’m assuming those charges will be robbery of a bank, threatening, and perhaps assault. Was anyone hurt?”
“Not that anyone said,” Hoot answered.
“We didn’t hurt a fly… just pointed our pistols at the tellers,” Holcomb said.
“Is that a confession?” Holmes asked.
“You might want to keep your mouth shut, Jerry,” Renshaw pointed out. “No, Marshal, he’s not makin’ a confession. Reckon neither one of us is gonna say another word.”
“All right. No assault or attempted murder charges. How about resisting arrest?”
“Nope. They didn’t fight us at all,” Nate said.
“That’s right. Soon’s they saw we had the drop on ’em, they threw down their guns and stood there meek as lambs,” Hoot said.
“Would’ve been different if our horses hadn’t wandered off,” Renshaw said. “Told you we needed to tie ’em tighter, Jerry.”
“Thought you weren’t sayin’ another word, Hank,” Jerry said.
Holmes laughed.
“Boy, you two scatterbrains just prove once again that most criminals are dumber’n spit. I’d bet dollars to doughnuts your horses didn’t just wander away. I reckon these two boys, as you call ’em, saw you gettin’ ready to rob the bank, and as soon as you went inside they untied your broncs, led ’em off, and hid ’em. Ain’t that right?”
“Sure is,” Hoot said. “It wasn’t too bright pullin’ up your neckerchiefs over your faces and yankin’ out your six-guns in front of the bank in broad daylight. Heck, Nate, here’s, only a probationary Ranger, and even he spotted what you were up to. In fact, he figured it out first.”
Both of the would-be bank robbers let out a string of curses.
“That’s enough out of the two of you,” Holmes ordered. “Gettin’ all the papers in order takes long enough as it is, then they’ve got to get to Judge Blanding over at the county court to be signed all proper and legal-like. Rangers, that chore will be up to you. Now, let’s get this finished.”
***
As Holmes had said, processing the papers charging Holcomb and Renshaw with bank robbery was a long, tedious procedure. It was nearly two hours before the entire process was completed, and the two men behind bars, held on high bail. Once they were, Nate and Hoot decided to go back to their hotel room for a short nap. Even though they had missed their noonday meal, they weren’t hungry. The excitement and danger of stopping the robbery of the San Saba County Bank had robbed both of them of their appetites.
“You sure you’re all right, Nate?” Hoot asked, as he sat on the edge of the bed. “You do look kinda white, almost as if you’d seen a ghost.”
Nate had already pulled off his boots and Stetson and was in bed, lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling.
“I’ll be okay, Hoot,” he answered. “There’s just been a lot happenin’ the past few days. I reckon it’s all catchin’ up to me. A little rest and I’ll be just fine.”
“If you say so. But listen, it seems to me your nerves are a bit jangled. That’s certainly understandable,” Hoot said. “After all, it was your first time facin’ a pair of bank robbers. You’ll get used to it, but why don’t you try another cigarette? That’ll help things settle, and calm your nerves.”
“Not right now, Hoot,” Nate answered. “I just want to get some sleep.”
“If you say so,” Hoot said. “Long as you don’t mind me havin’ a smoke.” He rolled and lit a cigarette. Once he finished his quirly, he pulled off his boots and hat, stretched out on the bed, and was quickly asleep. Sleep escaped Nate, however. He lay there, quivering slightly, staring up at the ceiling.
Mebbe I can’t cut it as a Ranger, he thought. I was certainly scared stiff out there in the street today. There’s no denyin’ it. I wasn’t sure what I’d have done if those men had decided to start shootin’. Sure, I shot one of the men who killed my brother, and when the Rangers got ambushed back in camp I tried to drill that pasty-skinned, pale-eyed son of Satan leadin’ the bunch right through his lousy, no-good guts. But I was actin’ on instinct back then. I was bein’ shot at, so I just naturally shot back. And I wasn’t lookin’ right at the men I was aimin’ for. Today, when we were facin’ those bank robbers, Renshaw’s eyes seemed to bore right through me. That made my blood run cold, and I felt a chill clear down to my guts. Wanted to throw up right on the spot, I was so scared. Good thing I was able to hold that down, and to keep my bowels under control until we got to the marshal’s office. It was darn close, though. Never could have lived that down if I hadn’t made it to the privy in time. Lucky I just made it.
Nate sighed.
Bein’ a Ranger sure ain’t the same as playin’ cowboys, like I did with my friends back home in Delaware. Heck, I got shot and killed probably a thousand times or more playin’ cowboys. But I also gunned down a lotta my friends at least that many times, probably more. We’d just lay there for a couple of minutes, pretendin’ we were dead, then pop right back up and start blazin’ away at each other again. Sure ain’t like that when you’re facin’ a man carryin’ a real gun, loaded with real bullets, who’s bound and determined to kill you. He shoots you, you ain’t never gonna get back up again. And if you don’t want to take a bullet in your guts or chest or between your eyes, you’ve gotta shoot him first. Sure wish I could be positive I’ll be able to plug a man lookin’ right at me when the time comes. And if I stick with the Rangers, that time will come, no question about it.
Nate sighed again. There was no way to know exactly what he would do when he and another man faced each other over leveled six-guns until the time came. He had two choices: He could wait until the inevitable showdown happened, and hope that he was up to the task, or he could quit the Texas Rangers and head home to Delaware with his tail between his legs. There was no way that was going to happen. He’d make it as a Ranger, or die trying.