CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Red Ryan felt better . . . if aching all over and hurting to breathe could be defined as such.
Buttons Muldoon was concerned. “Red, if you’re up to it, we’ll detour to Bill Stanton’s station and change the team.”
“I can stand it. Have you any money? The Rathmores took every cent I had.”
“Took mine as well. All the dinero Luna Talbot gave us for bringing in the stiff is gone,” Buttons said. “And Bill Stanton charges for everything. He’s a tightfisted man.”
“Think he’ll give us credit?” Red said.
“Stanton ain’t a big believer in tick. And since the Leah Leighton gal killed Charlie Brownlow in Stanton’s place, he might hold it against us.”
“Hell, we didn’t kill him.”
Buttons said, “I know, but stage station men have a heap of time on their hands and they start into thinking. Maybe Stanton is thinking what we’re thinking . . . and that is that we started the Brownlow fight. Maybe that’s what he’s thinking.”
Red groaned, both from pain and his driver’s tangled logic. He shook his head. “That didn’t make a lick of sense.”
“That’s what you think,” Buttons said.
“Wait . . . I have money.” Daphne Dumont stood watching the two men, a small, forlorn figure in a shabby dress holding a tattered yellow parasol above her head, her carpetbag at her feet. She saw the expressions on the faces of Buttons and Red close down in disbelief.
“I do too,” Daphne said. “I took it from Mr. Loveshade.”
“How much money?” Buttons smiled. “A whole dollar?”
“Twenty dollars,” the girl said. “I can loan it to you, and if you want, you can pay me back when we reach El Paso.”
“Show us,” Buttons said.
Daphne reached into her bag and came up with a gold double eagle. She held out the coin. “Do you want it?”
Red smiled. “Best you keep—”
“Yeah we want it.” Buttons grabbed the money and said, “We’ll pay you back in El Paso.”
* * *
Buttons Muldoon held the stage door open. “Inside with you, Miss Daphne,” he said, refusing to tackle the girl’s name change. “And you too, Red.”
Red Ryan held his shotgun and wore his Colt. “I’m the guard. I’ll ride up on the box.”
“Red, you ain’t fit—”
“I’m fit enough.” Red closed the door on Daphne and said, “I hope you’ll be comfortable.”
“I’ve never been in a stagecoach before,” Daphne said. “This is exciting.”
Red grinned. “A trip with Mr. Buttons Muldoon is always exciting.”
* * *
“Buttons, what the hell happened to your team?” Bill Stanton said, his hound dog eyes puzzled.
“Hungry folks ate two of them,” Buttons Muldoon said from his perch in the driver’s seat.
“Not you and Red?”
“No, other hungry folks.”
“You got a tale to tell,” Stanton said.
“Later,” Buttons said.
Stanton looked in the stage window and saw Daphne. He was alarmed. “Here, Buttons, I don’t want no trouble.”
“What trouble?” Buttons said.
“Your female passengers keep shooting my best customers. I can’t have that. It’s bad for business.”
“She ain’t a shootist like the last one,” Buttons said. “Her name is Daphne, and she’s a learner whore. Who you got inside? No kin of the late Charlie Brownlow, I hope.”
“I got a Texas Ranger by the name of Sam Flowers,” Stanton said. “Seems like a nice enough feller, but he’ll pay me in Ranger scrip that I can never collect on.”
Red Ryan said, “It’s worth it for the goodwill. Rangers are fine men to have on your side.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Stanton said, “but it depends how much he eats, don’t it?”
“Talk about eating, what’s for supper, Bill?” Buttons said. “I’m feeling gant.”
“Got a nice pork stew,” Stanton said.
“From the same hog we had the last time we was here?” Red said.
“I salted down the meat. It’s right tasty.” Stanton looked up at him. “You look like hell. You been through it, Red?”
“You could say that, Bill.”
“Seems like you and Buttons both have a story to tell.”
“Same story. Long in the telling.”
“All I got in this place is time,” Stanton said. “Buttons, I’ll help you put up your horses. I have oats, and they need ’em. Red, you come inside and set. You look like you got an axle dragging.” He smiled at Daphne. “And you, too, young lady. Just don’t shoot anybody.”
* * *
Red stepped into the cabin and sat at the table. Daphne set her parasol and bag on the floor at her feet and then settled beside him.
The Ranger sat opposite, a bowl of stew in front of him, a spoon in his right hand, a chunk of fry bread in his left. “Howdy.” He laid down his spoon and touched his hat to Daphne. “Ma’am.”
Back to eating, he finished quickly, pushed the bowl away, and took the makings from his shirt pocket. As he rolled a cigarette, he saw the tobacco hunger in Red. He tossed the papers and a full sack of Bull Durham across the table. “Help yourself, shotgun guard.”
“Obliged.” Red’s eager fingers built a smoke, and the Ranger thumbed a match into flame and lit it for him.
“Keep the makings,” Sam Flowers said. “I got more.”
Red was happy to accept the man’s offer.
“Saw you come in on the stage,” the Ranger said. He was a tall young man with frank, hazel eyes, and he sported the huge dragoon mustache that was a Texas Ranger rite of passage. “Where are you headed?”
“El Paso.” Guessing that some sort of clarification was needed, Red said. “Came up from the Rio Bravo way.”
Flowers nodded, accepting that without comment, and then said, “See any riders on your travels?”
“A few. You looking for anybody in particular?”
“Yeah, a feller by the name of Johnny Teague,” the Ranger said. “Him and his boys have been playing hob, robbing and killing. They’re the worst of the worst.”
Suddenly a man thrust into conflicting loyalties, Red stalled. “Worse than the James boys?”
“As bad, I’d say.” Flowers thought for a moment, drumming on the table with his fingers, and then added, “Yeah, I’d say just as bad.”
“I’ll keep a lookout for him.” Red figured it was a statement of fact, or could be, not an outright lie.
“Yeah, you do that and if you come across him, tell the local law enforcement. His name is Teague . . . T-e-a-g-u-e . . . Johnny Teague. Only don’t try to tackle him yourself. Leave it to the law.”
“I won’t. He sounds like a desperate character.”
“Oh, he is,” Flowers said. “That’s a guaranteed natural fact.”
“Quick on the draw, huh?” Red said.
“I don’t know about that, but I’d guess he is,” the Ranger said. “Outlaws who are slow shucking the Colt’s gun don’t live real long.” He looked at Daphne. “You got a situation waiting for you in El Paso, young lady? A teacher’s post, maybe?”
The girl smiled. “No, sir, I want to be a whore.”
It took a lot to surprise a Ranger, but Flowers was surprised. “Say again?”
“I want to be a whore,” Daphne said. “It is the oldest profession, you know.”
“After undertaker, maybe.” Flowers shrugged. “Well, good luck in your chosen calling.” He stared at the girl, obviously unimpressed by what he saw. “Well, if that don’t beat all.” Rising to his feet, he stretched. “Time for some shut-eye. The most comfortable place in this station is the hayloft, if you don’t mind the rats who share the same opinion.”
Buttons passed the Ranger in the doorway. They exchanged greetings, and Buttons took the man’s vacated chair at the table.
“The Ranger asked me if I’d seen Johnny Teague,” Red said after the driver sat.
“What did you tell him?”
“That I hadn’t.”
Buttons considered that and said, “We rode with him, Red, ate his grub. Seems hardly right to sell him down the river.”
“That was my thinking.”
“Say no more about it to anybody,” Buttons said. “So long as he ain’t holding up the Patterson stage, it ain’t really any of our business.” His gaze took in Red, assessing him, the hollow eyes and gray pallor under the tan, the sag of his shoulders and the weakness in his voice. “I’ll get you a cup of coffee, then lie down and rest.”
Red nodded. “I reckon I will. My tail is dragging.”
Buttons poured coffee from the pot simmering on the fire and placed it in front of Red. “I told you to ride inside the stage.”
“And I told you, I’m the shotgun guard. I take my place in the box.”
Buttons shook his head and then said, “Where did you get the makings?”
“Ranger gave them to me.”
“He’s a smart man, that Ranger, knows you’re ill. He was being considerate.”
“Maybe so. Anyway, I sure appreciated the gesture.”
“Yes, he’s a nice man,” Daphne said. “I hope I meet him again in El Paso.”