Bullet for a Stranger

“She took time to bury the Apache girl,” Buttons Muldoon said. He shook his head in wonder. “That’s a lot of rock.”

“And that’s a lot of grief,” Red Ryan said.

“I guess Winter was long gone and Miss Huckabee went after him,” Buttons said.

“Looks like,” Red said. “I guess she figured he’d head for Fredericksburg.”

There was nothing more to be said, and a silence fell between the two men. Then Buttons said, “My team is scattered to hell and gone, I’ll round them up, and the Patterson stage will be back in business.”

Professors Richard Owen and Edward Cope, their feud forgotten, at least for a while, shared a concern for the welfare of Hannah Huckabee.

“Mr. Ryan, does she really plan to have it out with that thug Winter, or will she just inform the law in Fredericksburg?” Owen said.

“I think Hannah is her own law,” Red said. “Yeah, Professor, if she finds him, she’ll have it out with Winter.”

“But she’s only a slip of a girl,” Owen said. “What chance does she have against a dangerous ruffian like this Dave Winter person?”

Red considered that for a few seconds and then said, “None at all. Let’s hope that she doesn’t catch up with him, not now, not ever.”

“Perhaps our fears are unfounded,” Professor Cope said. “Miss Huckabee is an adventuress, well acquainted with precarious situations. I’m sure she’s aware of how dangerous the Winter gunman is and will leave the law to deal with him.”

“I sure hope you’re right,” Red said.

* * *

It took Buttons the best part of an hour to collect a team that had decided an easy life on the open prairie was preferable to hauling the Patterson stage all over God’s creation. As a result, he was all cussed out and hoarse before the team was hitched and ready to go.

While Buttons was on his horse hunt, Red checked on Ranger Adams, who looked awful.

“You look awful,” Red said.

“Thanks, and the same to you, Ryan,” Adams said. “I can’t smell the wound, and that’s a good sign. It means there’s no gangrene.”

“Hurts like hell though, don’t it?” Red said.

The ranger managed a weak smile. “Ryan, it’s sure a pleasure for a sick person to be around you.”

Red ignored that and said, “We’ll be in Fredericksburg tomorrow and get you to a doctor. Say, Adams, what do you want us to do with the Mexican? As you know, we buried the one who died.”

“Where’s the black Madonna?”

“Still tied to the back of the stage. Got a few bullet holes in her, but nothing too serious.” Adams didn’t answer right away and Red said, “He saved lives here at the fort, including the life of Buttons Muldoon, a man I set store by.”

“Yes, Professor Cope told me that, and he says Juan Perez stood his ground during the Winter attack.”

“Is that the little feller’s name really Juan Perez?” Red said. “Funny, you never think of Mexicans having names, unless it’s something like Mexican Bob or such.”

“They all have names,” Adams said. “It’s just that Americans never care to find out, I guess.” He moved a little and winced in pain. “Damned shoulder,” he said.

“I think you should let him go,” Red said.

Adams frowned, the pain nagging at him. “Let who go?”

“Juan Perez.”

The ranger didn’t hesitate. “Yeah, he acted like a white man, and I guess he’s earned his freedom. I’ll return the Madonna to them New Mexicans the next time I’m up that way.”

“I’ll go tell him.” Red said.

Adams closed his eyes and drowsily said, “Yeah, you do that . . .”

* * *

“Give him your horse, Mr. Ryan,” Professor Cope said. “He can’t walk home.”

“Professor, that’s an expensive mare,” Red said. “I guarantee that Juan Perez has never seen a hoss like that in his life, unless there was a Mexican lancer officer on its back.”

“I know. And give him this. I passed the hat and we all put in something, even your driver.”

Red counted the money. “There’s two hundred dollars here.”

“Yes, another small way of thanking the man who saved our lives,” Cope said.

“Professor, an American hoss and two hundred dollars isn’t small,” Red said.

“Neither,” Cope said, “is my life.”

Red sought out the little Mexican, who’d helped Buttons with the team and was now sitting beside the big driver sharing beef jerky, the other supplies running low.

Red held the saddled mare by the reins and stopped in front of the Mexican. “Juan Perez,” he said.

The little man rose to his feet and said, “Sí, señor.”

“Here, this is for you,” Red said, holding out the money.

Perez hesitated, suspecting that this was some kind of gringo trap.

“Take it,” Red said, shoving the notes and silver into the man’s hand. He passed Perez the mare’s reins. “And this is yours.”

The Mexican stared at him with confused eyes. “Damn it, learn to speak American,” Red said. Then slowly, “El caballo is yours.”

Perez, now looking thoroughly frightened, dropped the reins and the money and backed away.

“What are you trying to tell him?” Blanche Carter smiled at the Mexican and frowned at Red. “Are you abusing the poor man?”

“Hell no,” Red said. “I’m trying to tell him that the money and horse are his, a gift from the professors for helping them escape from Dave Winter.”

“I can speak a little Spanish as it’s spoken in Spain,” Blanche said. “Will he understand?”

“He doesn’t savvy much,” Red said. “But try him.”

Juan Perez understood.

As Blanche spoke to him, his expression changed from fear to apprehension to wonder to delight and ended with a smile.

“He understands,” she said.

“I figured that,” Red said.

Perez probably never heard the saying that he who hesitates is lost, but he acted on it. He stuffed the money in a pocket, shook Red’s hand, and then vaulted onto the horse. Yipping like an Apache, he lit a shuck across the long grass and was soon gone from sight.

“There goes a happy man,” Blanche said.

Red nodded. “He may not have the Madonna, but an American horse and two hundred dollars will make him a big man in his village. And, damn it all, I reckon he deserves it. The little runt had sand.”

Buttons Muldoon stepped beside Red and handed him the Greener shotgun. “Time to roll,” he said. “I got seven professors who want to ride in the stage and only room enough for six. That Sir Richard feller and Professor Cope finally agreed to ride in the steam wagon with the . . . with Latimer.” He looked at Blanche. “You got enough wood to take you to Fredericksburg, lady?”

“Yes. If I keep the steam pressure low enough, I can make it,” Blanche said.

“Hitch up a team to that thing and it will take you anywhere you want to go,” Buttons said. “It’s cheaper to burn hay than wood.”

Blanche smiled. “Mr. Muldoon, you may be right.”

“Damn right, I’m right,” Buttons said. Then to Red, “Excuse me, but when you’ve finished making calf eyes at Miss Blanche, the Patterson stage is in need of a shotgun guard.”