Chapter Fifteen
“Edward Cope, be damned to ye for a scoundrel,” Sir Richard Owen said. “You tried to drive me away from my dinosaur, but you failed, and now the law will deal with you.”
“If there’s a scoundrel here, it’s you,” Cope said. “The lizard is not yours, it belongs to the world. What a pity a man so talented as you should be so dastardly and odious.”
“And a pity that you are such a vile schemer, a disgrace to the British Museum that funds your shameful deeds,” Owen said.
“If you boys don’t simmer down right quick, the law will deal with both of you,” Texas Ranger Tim Adams said. He pointed to the others in Owen’s party. “Were you all shooting?”
“I must confess that we all were,” a tall, overweight man with an impressive beard said.
“Identify yourself,” Adams said.
“My name is Professor Othniel Charles Marsh of Yale.” He turned to the man on his right. “And this is Professor Edwin Harcourt, also of Yale.”
“And you, ma’am?” Adams said to the handsome woman.
At that moment Red Ryan decided that her eyebrows were just fine, her abundant, glossy chestnut hair finer, and the beautifully sculpted curves of her body finest of all.
“My name is Blanche Carter,” the woman said.
The ranger smiled. “Of Yale?”
“No, of New York City.”
“Are you mixed up in this Bone War, Miss Carter?” Owen said.
“No, she’s not! A woman doesn’t have the mental capacity to be a paleontologist,” Owen said. “The profession hasn’t sunk quite that low.” He glared at Cope. “Yet.”
“I drive Aurora, the land ship,” Blanche said, ignoring the man’s remark. “The army was to meet my father, the inventor, and I in Fredericksburg to do some test runs but postponed until next month. Then Papa took ill and is confined to bed. Sir Richard asked if he and his colleagues could rent the ship for a trip north. I readily agreed, because Aurora needs her engine tested and Professor Owen’s terms were most generous.”
“But you took part in the shooting,” Adams said.
“Of course, Miss Carter took part in the shooting,” Hannah Huckabee said. She stood beside Blanche, her hands on her hips and a frown on her pretty face. “Desperate men were firing at her and she had the right to defend herself.” She gave her name to Blanche and then said, “Would you teach me how to drive Aurora? She’s the Roman goddess of the dawn, isn’t she?”
“Yes, because the land ship marks the dawn of modern, steam-powered transportation . . . and of course I’ll teach you to drive her.”
Hannah let out a little squeal of delight and said, “Oh, thank you. How fast do you think she can go?”
“I haven’t given her full throttle yet, but I think on level ground Aurora will be as speedy as a cannonballing locomotive,” Blanche said.
“Then we must give her full throttle,” Hannah said. “And soon.”
“After we find and catalog the terrible dinosaur, not before,” Owen said.
“You won’t find it,” Cope said. “I’ll find it and I’ll find all the other lizards in Texas and be damned to ye for a fraud and a trickster.”
“Dinosaurs. Damn you, Cope, I gave them a name. A giant lizard is now and ever will be a dinosaur . . . dinosaur . . . dinosaur,” Owen said.
“Lizard!”
“Dinosaur!”
“Hold on there!” Buttons Muldoon strode between the warring professors and said to Ranger Adams, “I can’t wait here any longer. I want to reach Ira Kline’s station before dark.”
Red Ryan said, “Adams, you already got two prisoners in the coach . . .”
“And a coward,” Buttons said.
“Do you plan on adding eight more?” Red said. “If not, what are you going to do with them?”
“If I leave them here, they might start shooting again, and the prairie could be littered with dead professors,” Adams said. The ranger fell silent and after a few moments Buttons said, “Well?”
“I’m studying on it,” Adams said. Then, “All right, all of you consider yourself under arrest until we reach Kline’s Station. I’ll see if I can sort things out there. Miss Carter, fire up that tin can and follow us with Professor Owen and his party. Professor Cope, you and your friends ride ahead of the stage.”
“And no funny stuff,” Buttons said. “I’m primed and ready to cut loose.”
“Miss Huckabee, do you want to ride with me?” Blanche said. “There’s a spare seat.”
“I’d be delighted,” Hannah said, her face glowing. “This will be an adventure indeed.”
Owens and his companions stashed their rifles in the land ship and Red Ryan figured that things had finally settled down . . .
. . . but then one of the Mexican prisoners decided to make a run for it and everything went downhill fast.
* * *
His name was Juan Perez. He was twenty-five years old, married with three children, and a curandero, or healer, by trade. He had failed to bring the good-luck Madonna to his village and she now rode in disgrace at the rear of the godless gringo stage. From the window of the coach, he’d heard shooting and then watched graybeards in black frock coats gather in heated discussion. Juan, who spoke no English, knew it was about him . . . whether to execute him or not. Men in black frock coats always meant trouble, and he knew now that stealing a Madonna from a church was a serious offense, one that even God might have a problem forgiving.
Juan told his fears to his friend Roberto, the carpenter, and said they must make a run for it while the frock coats were still talking. But Roberto was feeling ill, and he was very afraid of the ranger with his pistol and rifle and said he would not go and he said that Juan should not go either but remain in the coach.
But Juan did not listen. The gringo in the coach and the strange little yellow man did not understand what had been said, but the Apache girl did, and she held Juan’s arm and tried to hold him back, uttering some kind of warning in her own tongue. But Juan knew now was the time to make a run for it, and he broke free of the girl’s hand and opened the door. He leaped onto grass that was warm under his feet and ran.
* * *
“Alto, o disparare!” Texas Ranger Tim Adams yelled, his blue, long-barreled Colt up and ready.
Halt, or I’ll shoot!
Juan Perez kept running, the sound of his breathing in his ears, his eyes on the bouncing horizon where the way back to his village and freedom lay.
“Alto!”
Adams had leveled his revolver, holding it in both hands for a shot at distance.
But Juan kept on going. He was a fine runner, the fastest runner in his village . . . and he was seconds from death.
Red Ryan saw the danger and pushed a startled professor aside. He jerked the reins from the man’s hand and mounted his horse. Red kicked the surprised animal into a gallop and went after the fleeing Mexican.
“Adams, no!” he yelled. “Don’t shoot!”
Red swung himself between the ranger and the running Mexican, half expecting a bullet in the back. It never came. As Juan Perez faltered, Red’s mount, a leggy American mare, hit her stride. The big horse closed the distance rapidly, and when Red judged the timing was right, he threw himself out of the flat English saddle and landed squarely on top of the fugitive. Both men hit the grass hard and, after the initial shock of their collision wore off, sprang to their feet.
Juan Perez was small and thin, but he was game.
The Mexican swung a looping right at Red’s chin. Wrong move. Red Ryan had spent his early years as a traveling booth fighter, taking on all comers, and he’d learned the pugilist’s trade well. He slipped the wild right, stepped inside, and unloaded a left to Juan’s chin, followed by a straight right. The little man dropped to the ground, moaned once, and lay still.
Red looked down at the unconscious Mexican, shook his head, and said, “Better dusting your pants than getting shot, I reckon.”
Ranger Adams stepped to Red’s side, holding a plug hat. “Here, this is yours,” he said. “It blew off.”
Red turned the hat around in his hands and smiled. “No holes. I guess you didn’t shoot it off, huh?”
“I could’ve blown your fool head off, Ryan, not your hat,” Adams said. “That was a dangerous play. Don’t ever pull a prank like that again, you hear?”
“The Mexican is your prisoner, but he’s also a passenger of the Abe Patterson and Son Stage and Express Company, and I am its representative,” Red said. “It is therefore my duty to ensure this man’s safety and well-being until he reaches the depot in Austin.”
He kneeled beside the Mexican and slapped him lightly on the cheek. “Wake up,” he said. He looked up at Adams. “Would you have shot him?”
“Yes, after a fair warning I would’ve killed him as a fleeing felon,” Adams said.
“Hard, ranger, almighty hard,” Red said.
“I’m in a hard business,” Adams said.
Hannah Huckabee looked down at Perez, her face concerned. “How is he?” she said.
“He’s a little groggy, but he’s coming to and he’ll be fine,” Red said. “I didn’t hit him too hard.”
“You did a noble thing, Red,” Hannah said.
Red smiled. “Nice to hear you say it.”
Hannah frowned at Adams. “You had no need to shoot him.”
“I didn’t shoot him,” the ranger said.
“But not for the want of trying,” Hannah said.
“Adams has a job to do, Hannah,” Red said. Then echoing the ranger’s own words, “He’s in a hard, unforgiving business.”
He helped the dizzy Mexican to his feet, and the ranger grabbed the man’s hands. Both were bruised. “Slipped his cuffs,” he said. He shook his head. “Big wrists but small hands. I should’ve noticed that.”
Adams returned the Mexican to the stage, and Buttons, in the highest state of agitation, was waiting for him. “Can we leave now?” he said to the ranger. “Or are you and my shotgun guard planning on a few more grandstand plays?”
“As soon as I tighten this man’s manacles, we can leave,” Adams said. He tossed Perez into the stage and chained him up again. He looked at John Latimer and said, “You could have stopped him.”
“I was about to warn him not to make a run for it, but the Apache girl did it for me,” Latimer said.
“You might have stopped him. You didn’t even try,” Adams said.
Mr. Chang said, “Mexican man very fast. Surprise us all.”
“And besides, it wasn’t our job,” Latimer said.
“From what I’ve heard, it seems you think that nothing is your job, mister,” Ranger Adams said.