CHAPTER FIVE
The Patterson & Son Stage and Express Company skimped on wages and passenger comfort but not on horses. The team Buttons Muldoon hitched to the stage was the best money could buy, six high-quality grade horses personally chosen by Abe Patterson himself. They’d go fast and far without tiring.
Red Ryan watched Buttons with Tam McLeod. The scout was in a sour mood, last night’s whiskey punishing him. “Why did you change your mind, Red? That purty Morgan gal work her charms on you?”
“Uh-huh, you could say that,” Red said. “She’s anxious to join her husband in Fort Bliss.”
“The two other army wives decided to make the trip,” McLeod said. “I guess they’re also anxious to join their husbands. More fool them.”
“Who told you that?” Ryan said, surprised.
“Colonel Grierson . . . ah, and here he comes now.”
The officer pulled on a leather glove as he walked across the parade ground under a morning sky ribboned with scarlet. He wore a faded blue fatigue blouse with no shoulder boards and a battered campaign hat. He looked tired, like a man who hadn’t slept in several days.
“Ready to go, Mr. Ryan?” Grierson said.
“Yes, Colonel. Tam tells me the other two women have decided to make the trip.”
“Yes. They figure if a sweet young thing like Stella Morgan is going, then they’ll tag along too. They probably think Mrs. Morgan wouldn’t make the trip if she didn’t think it was safe.”
McLeod watched Lucian Carter help Stella into the stage. “Heard you had trouble with that ranny yesterday, Red,” he said.
“Nothing serious,” Ryan said.
“He’s still aboveground, so I figured it had to be nothing serious,” McLeod said. The scout rubbed his aching temples. “What do you count as nothing serious?”
“I won’t be handled,” Ryan said.
“I reckon you’ve plugged men for less.”
“Not recently,” Red said.
Colonel Grierson smiled. “Those ladies are having a time of it.”
“So is Muldoon,” McLeod said. He grinned. “Yeah, that’s right, push on those bustles, Buttons. That’s it . . . like loading a cow into a chute.”
“Narrow door, plump lady. It’s always a problem,” Red said.
Buttons closed the stage door, wiped off his sweating face with a large blue bandana, and called out, “You ready, Red? Let’s hit the road.”
Six mounted troopers, one holding a red-and-white cavalry guidon, had formed up behind Grierson. “Red, I’ll escort you part of the way to Ketchum Mountain myself,” the colonel said. He seemed worried, his face lined and exhausted. “I’d expected to hear from Company B by this time.” Then, visibly making an effort to appear confident, “Captain Taylor is a competent officer who was with me on the Victorio campaign. For all I know he may be in pursuit of the hostiles.”
Red Ryan nodded and said what he didn’t really believe. “I’m sure that’s the case, Colonel.”
* * *
When the Patterson stage rolled out of Fort Concho, Red Ryan was in the guard’s seat, his shotgun across his knees. Colonel Grierson and his men had formed up behind, riding through dust. The scarlet sky had turned to pale lemon, and the new-aborning day was coming in clear, smelling of horses, leather, and buffalo grass.
Buttons Muldoon’s hands were steady at the reins, his far-seeing eyes scanning the plain in front of him. Then he turned to Red and said, “The Carter feller is a two-gun man. Shoulder holsters. Odd that.”
Red nodded. “I haven’t seen many men carry guns that way.”
“John Wesley Hardin did. Do you recollect we met him out Gonzales County way that time?”
“Lucian Carter isn’t a patch on Wes Hardin,” Red said. “On his best day, he ain’t even close.”
Buttons watched a jackrabbit bound in front of the horses and then veer away in panic, its feet kicking up little puffs of dust. “How do you know that?” he said.
“I just know.”
“No, you don’t. You have no way of knowing how he’d stack up to Wes.”
Red smiled. “What are you trying to tell me, Buttons?”
“I’m telling you to be careful around Carter. All right, he may not be as fast as John Wesley, but he’s sneakier, I guarantee it.”
“I’ll bear that in mind,” Ryan said.
“And another thing . . .”
“I swear, Buttons, you must be the talkiest stage driver in Texas.”
“Maybe so, but I see things.”
“What did you see?”
“When that Carter ranny was helping Stella Morgan into the stage, I seen him run his hand down her back, from neck to bustle.” Muldoon shook his head. “Odd that.”
“Buttons, you think everything is odd,” Red said.
“She’s a married woman, but she didn’t object. Seen that too.”
“Stella is a pretty woman,” Ryan said. “She’s probably used to men touching her all over and no longer thinks anything of it.”
“You reckon so? But I bet she’d object if I done it,” Buttons said.
Red turned his head, stared at his whiskery companion, and said, “Come to think about it, I guess she would at that.”
The stage rocked over some uneven ground, and after getting the team under control again, Buttons spat over the side and then said, “Well, we can’t all be purty like you, Red.”
* * *
After an hour, the vast, sun-scorched land empty around them, Colonel Grierson cantered his horse alongside the stage, and Muldoon brought the team to a jangling halt.
“Ketchum Mountain is in sight and this is as far as I go, Mr. Muldoon,” the soldier said. “I don’t want to get too far from the post. Give Captain Taylor my compliments and tell him that I’d like a report as soon as possible.”
Red Ryan leaned across his driver and said, “Sorry to lose you, Colonel.”
“I have only half a company back at the fort,” Grierson said. “I can’t be gone for long.” He extended his hand. “Good luck, Mr. Muldoon.” And then to Ryan, “Keep a close watch on the trail, Red.” They shook hands. “And good luck.”
“And you too, Colonel, good luck,” Red said. “See you back at Fort Concho in a couple of weeks.”
“I hope so,” Colonel Grierson said, his face lined with concern. “I sure hope so.”