Read Online [Texas Rangers 04] - Ranger's Trail by Elmer Kelton - Free Book Online

whiskey when it came handy, but he had never felt any addiction to it. “I’ll trust you. Just pour me one.”
    The whiskey seared his throat as it went down. He almost choked.
    The barman said, “Told you.”
    Rusty had no wish for another drink. When his throat stopped burning he said, “I’m lookin’ for a preacher.”
    “ You ain’t dyin’. My whiskey ain’t that bad.”
    “ The preacher I’m lookin’ for would’ve married a young couple a while back. I’m hopin’ he can give me an idea where they went.”
    “ Probably the chaplain up on the hill. Regular preachers usually take a look at this town and decide it’s beyond salvation. Young couple, you say? Name wouldn’t be Bascom, would it?”
    Rusty stiffened. “That’s right, Corey Bascom. You know somethin’ about him?”
    “ Enough not to be talkin’ much. He brought a young lady to town with him and got the chaplain to tie the knot. Spent the night camped on the river. Some of the boys thought about goin’ down and givin’ them a shivaree but decided against it. Them Bascoms are mean all the time. They get real mean when they’re riled up.”
    “ Do you have any idea where they went from here?”
    “ The family claims land to the northeast. I doubt it’s recorded at the courthouse, but who with any sense is goin’ to challenge them?”
    “ How would I get there?”
    “ You know where the settlers forted up against the Indians durin’ the war?”
    Rusty remembered the place. It had been named Fort Davis in honor of Jefferson Davis, disregarding the fact that a military post by the same name existed in mountains far to the west. It had been populated a relatively short time, affording protection to civilians against the Comanches and Kiowas while so many of their young men were away to war.
    The barman frowned. “I hope you ain’t got trouble on your mind. Them Bascom boys can give you more of it than you can handle. And old Bessie Bascom … she’s the devil’s stepmother. You a lawman?”
    “ Used to be a ranger. I’m not anymore.”
    “ You’d better not let them know you ever was. They’re a grudge-holdin’ bunch, and they got a grudge against any kind of law.”
    “ I’m just lookin’ to be sure the girl’s all right. She needs to know that her mother has taken down sick.”
    “ Just the same, you tread softly around that bunch. There ain’t a preacher amongst them.”
    The barkeep drew a crude map on the back of an outdated fugitive poster originally circulated by the state police. The description on the poster fitted the man himself. He cautioned, “Now, don’t you let them Bascoms know I told you how to find them. I was lucky to live through the war. I don’t know how much luck I got left.”
    Andy was waiting outside. He indicated that he had heard everything so Rusty need not repeat any of it. Rusty said, “I’d ought to leave you here, only this is no place for a green young feller like you.”
    Andy said, “Maybe those Bascoms aren’t as bad as he makes out.”
    Rusty did not attempt a reply.
     
    He had visited the site of Fort Davis while on ranger patrol, so he had no difficulty in finding it. Old cedar picket buildings, thrown up for temporary shelter, slumped in various stages of ruin. A stockade fence, started but never finished, leaned toward its final rest upon the ground. A hungry-looking coyote slunk away at the far end of the quadrangle, its ribs showing through a rough coat. Winter had not been kind.
    Rusty said, “Folks here had a hard life. Carried water up from the river in buckets. The men, what there was of them, did their cow huntin’ in bunches. Had to watch for Indians all the time. They took care of their farms the same way. There were more women and children than men.”
    Andy remarked, “The Comanches had just as hard a time of it. If they had ever really wanted to they could’ve cut through this place like a knife through butter.” He spoke with a touch of pride.
    The saloon