Read Online [Texas Rangers 06] - Jericho's Road by Elmer Kelton - Free Book Online Page B

his attention to Andy.
    Len said, “This is Andy Pickard. The tired-lookin’ bird draggin’ his feet back yonder, that’s Farley Brackett. Him and Andy are Rangers too.”
    McCawley looked at Farley’s saddle, which Andy held in front of him. “A saddle by itself ain’t worth much. How come your man ain’t got a horse to go with it?”
    Andy was content to let Len do the talking. Len explained that they had been set upon by outlaws. “There was one that called hisself Hatton. I’m pretty sure he was with a bunch of horse thieves that our scoutin’ party jumped a while back on the river.”
    McCawley’s eyes went grim. “Hatton. Yes, I know him. He runs with Jericho Jackson’s coyote pack. I had him in my sights once, but my horse scotched and I missed.”
    “ I heard somebody holler like he was hit, but I don’t know if it was Hatton.”
    Andy rode up to the fence and looked over. The bronc had stopped pitching. It was circling the inside of the corral in a lope, its bay hide shining with sweat. A grinning Mexican cowboy held a hackamore rein high and tight. Three other cowboys stood inside the fence, watching, hollering for him to spur the bronc in the flanks. One was Mexican, two were white. Having heard so much about racial strife in the borderland, Andy was a little surprised at the camaraderie.
    McCawley said, “That’s Pedro Esquivel in the saddle. He’s puro jiñete, a natural bronc rider.” He turned and saw Farley at last approaching the corral. “I suppose your man is hopin’ for a horse?”
    Andy said, “Yes, sir, but not that one.”
    McCawley smiled. “I’ve got several he can pick from. Nothin’s too good for a Ranger.”
    Len said, “We’ll see that Farley either pays you or brings your horse back.”
    “ No need. It’s a small thing against the debt I owe the Rangers. If the horse stayed here some thief would probably take it anyhow. We get hit by all kinds, Mexican and white.”
    Andy knew instinctively that he was going to like this man. The more he looked at him, the more he was reminded of Tom Blessing, solid as an oak, comfortable as a well-worn pair of handmade boots.
    Farley trudged up to the corral, shoulders drooped in weariness. Sweat rolled down his face. Len introduced him to the rancher and said, “Mr. McCawley’s goin’ to fix it so you don’t leave here afoot.”
    Farley always seemed to have trouble expressing gratitude. “I’ll pay you when I can.”
    “ I already told your friends that it’s a gift.”
    Farley shook his head. “I’ll pay you. I don’t like leavin’ debts behind me.”
    McCawley shrugged. “Whatever suits you.” He looked at the western sky. “It’ll be sundown directly. How about you-all comin’ up to the big house with me? We’ll have supper pretty soon.”
    What he called the big house was modest in size and far from new. The stones that constituted its walls were of varied sizes and hues. The building had been constructed for utility rather than for beauty. It reminded Andy of houses he had seen in San Antonio.
    McCawley said, “I’ve promised my wife, Juana, a new house for years, but we’re land-rich and cash-poor. If we could stop the raidin’ and thievin’, maybe I could lay aside enough money to build what she deserves.”
    The place might be old, but evidently McCawley’s wife was making the best of it. A well-tended flower bed reached across the entire front, broken only by the doorway. It held roses, brilliant crepe myrtles, and several other colorful and eye-pleasing plants Andy could not identify.
    The three Rangers removed their hats as they stepped over the threshold, past a heavy wooden door carved with cattle brands and horse figures. A heavyset, middle-aged Mexican woman spoke to them in Spanish, took their hats and placed them on a rack in the nearest corner. Andy assumed at first that she was McCawley’s wife, then realized she was a servant.
    McCawley said, “Juana’s in the kitchen. You-all come on