Chapter Nineteen
“Then we must turn back, Mr. Ryan,” Sir Robert Owen said. “I am not lacking in courage, and neither are my colleagues, but we’re hardly of an age to fight bandits and gunmen.”
“I’m aware of that,” Red Ryan said. “And as a representative of the Abe Patterson and Son Stage and Express Company, I am duty bound to do all I can to safeguard my driver and my passengers.”
“Then what do you suggest?” Owen said. He seemed tense.
“I need to think this through,” Red said. “I was going to keep this to myself for a while, but you all might as well know. The way I read the tracks, a bunch of riders chased the stage and shot Tim Adams out of the saddle. They probably caught up with Buttons south of here, and he and the passengers are captives.”
“Or dead,” Owens said.
“Depending on who did the chasing, that’s a real possibility,” Red said.
“What about Aurora?” Blanche Carter said. “She’s fast, and we can use her to track down the attackers, whoever they were.”
“If it is Winter and his bunch, they’d hear that pile of metal coming from a mile away and light a shuck,” Red said. “And they might kill Buttons and the passengers out of spite before they left.”
“They’ll have Dahteste,” Hannah said. “I don’t want any harm to come to her.”
Red didn’t even pretend to be optimistic. “If it’s Winter, then she’s fallen in with a bad crowd,” he said. Hannah’s stricken face said it all, and he added quickly, “I think she’ll be all right.”
Hannah knew it was threadbare consolation, and she said nothing.
Red took himself off, hunkered down, and built a cigarette. He smoked that one and another and then spoke into the uneasy silence that surrounded Owen and his professors.
“Come sundown, I’ll scout ahead in the dark and see what I can see,” he said. “There’s a chance that the bandits, whoever they were, are camped close by and we can attempt a rescue. But if I’m not back by first light, all of you pile into that there heap of scrap iron and head back to Ira Kline’s place.”
“No, that’s not going to happen,” Hannah said. “If you’re not back by dawn, we’ll come looking for you.”
“Count me in on that, Red,” Blanche said.
“If the ladies are so determined, then I suppose that goes for the rest of us,” Owen said. He turned to his colleagues. “Does that set well with you gentlemen?”
“I doubt that I’ll do much good, but count me in, Sir Richard,” Professor Harcourt said.
“Professor Marsh?” Owen said.
“I’m a bit too old for all these adventures, but I’ll join you,” Marsh said, looking unhappy. “I suppose we owe it to Professor Cope and his colleagues to find them.”
“Rescue them, you mean, Professor Marsh,” Owen said.
“Yes, of course, liberate them from their captors. That’s what I meant,” Marsh said.
“Then it’s decided,” Hannah said. “We’ll wait here until dawn.”
“No one asked me,” John Latimer said.
“No, John, no one did,” Hannah said. She turned her back on him on the pretense of watching Blanche Carter tinker with the steam engine.
Red stepped into the silence that followed and helped the distressed Latimer save face. “I’m sure grateful to every one of you for your help,” he said. “Just don’t take any undue risks. As I said already, at the first sign of trouble, hightail it for the Kline place.” He dropped his voice, making sure they knew the gravity of the situation. “Dave Winter and his gunmen are not the kind of rannies you want to face off against. And Hannah, that also goes for you.”
The woman said, “The wind is from the north. I wish I had my balloon and a few bombs.”
Red grinned. “If I know Winter, he’d shoot you out of the sky, and besides, one of your bombs might blow up the stage and everyone in it.”
Hannah made a face. “Please, take care.”
Red nodded. “On this ride, I plan to be nothing but careful.”
* * *
Red Ryan rode into a glowering dusk. From horizon to horizon the sky looked like a sheet of lead and to the south lightning shimmered. There was a sharpness to the smell of the air, an ozone tang that heralded the thunderstorm to come, and here on the plains it would come with sledgehammers. Red’s slicker was stashed in the coach, as was his shotgun, and he berated himself for a considerable lack of foresight.
His eyes on the empty land ahead of him, the Colt on Red’s hip gave him little reassurance. If he accidentally rode in on Dave Winter and his boys, they’d chop him into little pieces and feed him to the coyotes.
The trouble was that he had no plan of action, just a vague notion to scout the outlaw location, study on it for a spell, and then come up with something brilliant.
But Red knew that wasn’t about to happen. He was smart enough, sure, but wasn’t known for his brilliance. After he reported back to the others, maybe those Yale professors would hatch a foolproof plan. They were clever, right? Must be if they worked in a university.
Lulled somewhat by that thought and the steady fall of the American mare’s hooves on the grass, Red took his eyes off the menacing sky and thought about Blanche Carter. She was a fine-looking woman and no mistake, she’d slept with him. Well, slept beside him, which was almost the same thing. Maybe when they got to Fredericksburg they might . . .
What the hell was that?
It sounded like a groan, and it came from ahead of him.
Red drew rein, suddenly worried that in the darkness he’d been riding around in circles. But as Hannah had said, the wind was out of the north, and he’d kept his back to its chill, so he reassured himself that he was still heading south. The sky flashed a dazzling blue, and distant thunder banged as Red swung out of the saddle and drew his Colt.
There it was again, the sound of a man in considerable hurt. Maybe he was trying to get to his feet and the effort pained him. Maybe he was one of Winter’s men. Maybe he . . .
The hell with maybes.
“Who’s there?” Red said, two homely words dropping into the immensity of a vast wilderness. Then, “I’m with fifty Texas Rangers here, all well-armed and determined men.”
For a moment there was silence.
Then an answering voice came out of the gloom, each halting word rasped with the effort it took to speak.
“Y’all are Red Ryan, the shotgun guard. And ah kinda figured you didn’t have a lick of sense. Right about now there probably ain’t fifty rangers in the whole of Texas.”
The Texan accent was unmistakable, and so was the voice of the man saying it.
“Ranger Adams, is that you?” Red called out.
“Who the hell else would it be? I’m straight ahead of you, Ryan. I’m shot through and through, so don’t step on me with them big feet of yours.”
“Be like stepping on a wounded rattler, I reckon,” Red said.
“You got that right.”
Red gathered up the mare’s reins and walked forward. After a few paces lightning shimmered, and he made out the still form of a man lying on his back on the grass. Red took a knee beside Adams and saw immediately that the front of the young ranger’s shirt was covered in blood.
Adams opened his eyes and said, “Looks bad, huh?”
“I can’t see where you were hit,” Red said.
“My right shoulder is all smashed up. The bullet went clean through from back to front, but I was able to keep up with the stage for a distance and I even got off a few shots.” He managed a wan smile. “Then I got burned across the side of the head, and that knocked me out of the saddle. But I’m not kicking about it. The bullet saved my life, because when Dave Winter galloped past he took one look and figured me for coyote bait.”
“How many men does Winter have?” Red said.
“Too many, Ryan. You can’t tackle him by yourself, and them professors won’t be much help.”
Driven by a keening wind, the thunderstorm moved closer and lighting scrawled across the sky like the signature of a demented god. The air was edged and smelled of ozone every time a sizzling bolt splintered the night.
“Ryan, Winter and his boys saw the stage coming and waited,” Adams said. “They didn’t talk. There was no palaver, just shooting. I got hit in the first volley, and then we started running, and then I was hit again and what happened after that is almighty hazy.”
“Buttons?” Red said, fearing the answer. “What happened to Buttons?”
“I don’t know,” the ranger said. “The stage was going hell for leather, and that’s the last I remember. I can’t recollect if the driver was hit or not.”
Red nodded. “You’re in bad shape, Adams,” he said. He shook his head. “Wish I could, but I can’t say otherwise.”
“I don’t need you to tell me what kind of shape I’m in, Ryan. I’m all shot to pieces.”
“I’m taking you back to the others,” Red said.
“What others?” Adams said. His face was ashen, and he spoke through gritted teeth, obviously in considerable hurt.
“Hannah Huckabee and the professors, those others,” Red said.
“My brain isn’t working right, Ryan,” Adams said. “I thought you meant the stagecoach others.”
“I can’t blame you none for being confused, Ranger, ventilated the way you are an’ all,” Red said. “Maybe Owen or one of them other eggheads knows something about doctoring. Fix you right up.” Red sighed. “Adams, I have to lift you onto my horse, and it’s going to hurt like hell. But there’s no other way.”
“Then get it done, Ryan,” Adams said. Lightning flashed, and thunder roared right after it. “Hell, on that big American hoss, I’ll be the tallest lightning rod on the prairie for miles around.”
“Yeah, and as if that ain’t bad enough, the damned rain has started,” Red said. “It never rains but it pours, ain’t that the saying? Well, let me get ahold of you. Glad you ain’t no bigger’n a nubbin.”
When Red lifted him, he figured Adams hurt bad, judging by the ranger’s sharp, sudden intakes of breath. But Adams had sand and allowed himself to be manhandled into the saddle without a word of complaint. Red’s regard for Texas Rangers in general and Tim Adams in particular went up several notches.
“Hold on now, we got some walking to do,” Red said, taking up the reins. “And it’s fixing to storm bad.”
Adams was slumped over in the saddle, his arms around the horse’s neck.
Red watched the sky continually split apart by lightning, while thunder crashed, and the rain fell around him in torrents, drumming on the crown of his plug hat.
He turned his head, and yelled above the tumult, “Adams, all things considered, this ain’t a night for a stroll.”
But the ranger was unconscious and made no answer.