A Ranger's Time Read online

  A small, narrow room, not much bigger than Charlie’s cabin, shared side walls with the mercantile on one side and Hanna’s Eatery on the other. The smell of Hanna’s cooking permeated the marshal’s office and made Russell’s stomach rumble. A young, stocky man, with a wide-brimmed hat that hid most of his face, sat in a chair with his feet propped up on a small table. Marshal Cook sat across from him at his desk and looked up as Charlie and Russell entered.

  “Why, hello, Charlie!” The marshal smiled as he rose to greet them. “You just get back?”

  “Got back last night.” Charlie shook the marshal’s hand, and looked over at the young man across from Cook. “Howdy, deputy.”

  Deputy F.G. Johnson acknowledged Charlie’s greeting with a nod, but didn’t say anything. He looked at Russell and nodded a greeting. Russell nodded back.

  City Marshal Amos Cook was a tall slender man, in his mid-40s, with wide shoulders and a thin waist. He had a long narrow face and soft gray close-set eyes. His short-cropped hair was mostly dark brown with grey patches along the temples. It matched the bushy untrimmed mustache that hid most of his mouth.

  “I saw Walker’s herd just west of here. They should be bedded down by this evening,” Charlie said.

  “I know,” the marshal replied. “I’m afraid it’s going to be a busy night. Especially with the new ordinance the council passed.”

  “What ordinance?”

  “A few years back, Dodge City passed an ordinance that no one was allowed to carry a firearm in the city limits. A little tough to enforce, but it seemed to cut down on a lot of trouble,” Marshal Cook explained. “I thought it might be a good idea to have the same law here. The council passed the ordinance a few days ago while you were gone.”

  “Those boys ain’t gonna like turning over their firearms,” Charlie warned.

  “Well, then they got a choice. They can leave, spend their time in jail, or die. And I don’t rightly care either way.”

  Charlie chuckled.

  Russell wasn’t paying much attention to Charlie’s conversation with the marshal. The interior of the marshal’s office had caught his interest. There was no color. Everything was old worn, grey wood. The walls, the ceiling, and the floor had never been painted. The one desk and the small table in the room, as well as the two wooden chairs, were well used and looked a dirty faded grey. The single wood cabinet that hung on the wall behind the marshal’s desk had two doors that could be locked, but they stood wide open. The cabinet held three rifles and there were empty slots for five more. A large, thick wooden door on the back wall opened to a small cramped room made of stone. At first, Russell thought this was a storage room, but noticed a cot inside the open door and bars across the small opening in the back stone wall.

  “Well, Amos, you’ll have your hands full enforcing that law,” Charlie said.

  “You gonna be around later?” the marshal asked.

  “Well, truth be told, I don’t want to be. I got the boy here and I don’t want him around any trouble.”

  “Who’s your friend?” Marshal Cook looked at Russell.

  “This here is Hicks, Russell Hicks. He’s a friend from back East. He’s here for a short visit. On his way to California.”

  “Hicks?” the marshal repeated. Russell offered his hand to the marshal who shook it and smiled. “Well, welcome to Amarillo, Hicks. How long you staying?”

  “Don’t know,” Charlie quickly answered for Russell. “I guess till he gets tired of being here.”

  With that, all three laughed, and Charlie ushered Russell toward the door.

  “We’re gonna get some grub and then I’ll show Hicks around the town,” Charlie said.

  “Have you seen Captain Bill, yet?” Marshal Cook asked.

  “Not yet. I was going to stop in there after we eat. Why?”

  “Well, he was looking for you yesterday. That’s all. He had to send a couple of Rangers to Waco. I guess he’s running out of Rangers,” the marshal said with a smile.

  Charlie walked out the door with Russell ahead of him. Marshal Cook followed them outside onto the sidewalk. He stopped and slowly looked around the streets as if imagining the anticipated arrival of Abe Walker and his cowboys. A grimace appeared on Marshal Cook’s otherwise congenial face. Charlie knew what he was thinking.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll be around for you, Amos,” Charlie said.

  The marshal acknowledged Charlie’s remark without a word and the two shook hands as they parted company.

  “Who’s Captain Bill?” Russell asked as they walked a little while.

  “He’s my boss,” Charlie began. “Captain Bill McDonald. He’s in charge of Company B of the Frontier Battalion of the Texas Rangers. He just took over about a year or so ago. He was a political appointment by the new governor. I don’t understand it. Ol’ Soft-Voice McMurry ran this group just fine for years. Couldn’t see any reason for him to go. New governor, new appointments.” Charlie stopped and looked over at Russell. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to go on like that. It’s not your concern.”

  “I take it you’re not too fond of Captain Bill,” Russell said.

  “He’s okay. He ain’t no Sam McMurry. Let’s grab some food.” Charlie opened the doors to Hanna’s Eatery, next to the City Marshal’s office. The windows in the faded whitewashed double doors were adorned with red and white checkered curtains. The smell of hot food being cooked made Russell’s mouth water.

  “Charlie!” A shout of happy recognition came from a short, rather rotund lady standing behind a small counter. “It’s real good to see ya’,” she continued in a slight Swedish accent.

  Charlie returned the greeting with a smile and a wave. At this hour, the restaurant wasn’t crowded and they sat at the first table they came to. Hanna waddled her way through the tables and chairs and gave Charlie a big hug.

  “Good to see ya’, Charlie. When did you get back?”

  “Got back last night.”

  “Hello. I’m Hanna.” She looked at Russell with a warm welcoming grin. “Who’s your friend?”

  “This here’s Rus …” Charlie began.

  “Hicks,” Russell quickly interrupted. “Russell Hicks.” Russell smiled at Charlie defying Charlie’s earlier order to keep his mouth shut.

  “That’s right. Hicks is from back East,” Charlie confirmed.

  “Well, glad to meet ya’, Hicks. You boys want to eat?” she asked.

  “What’s on today?” Charlie asked.

  “I got me some good steaks today, Charlie.”

  “Well, bring us a couple beefsteaks and two coffees,” Charlie ordered.

  “Coming right up.” She turned and headed back toward a door behind the counter along the back wall.

  “She’s a nice lady,” Russell observed.

  “Hanna’s a fine lady,” Charlie said. “None better. She came out here about four years ago with her husband, Walter. They had a small spread down by the river in Old Town. They farmed a bit and raised hogs. Walter died from the fever a couple of years back. She couldn’t do the farm by herself so she sold the farm and the hogs and set up this place. Good food, good people.”

  The interior of the diner was simple wood siding that had been whitewashed some years before and was in desperate need of another coat. A short counter ran partially along the back wall with three stools in front of it. Six tables stood around the small diner in no apparent order, five of which would sit only two or three patrons. The one exception was a large round table in the middle of the room that had six chairs around it. Only one other table was occupied this afternoon by two men drinking coffee.

  Hanna brought back two thick ceramic mugs filled with hot black coffee. Russell stared at the mug, a little hesitant to sip the coffee after he remembered the campfire swill Charlie brewed up the night before.

  “Don’t worry,” Charlie said. “It’s much better coffee than mine.”

  Russell smiled and took a welcomed sip. Thank God, Russell thought, it actually tasted like real coffee.<
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  “Steaks will be up in a minute, boys.” Hanna smiled and returned to her position behind the counter.

  Russell watched Charlie watch the people walk by on the sidewalk outside the restaurant. Charlie looked as if he was expecting something to happen. The two sat in silence. The steaks came with two large potatoes and a generous helping of beans. They were the biggest slices of meat Russell had ever seen. He commented on the portion size, but Charlie ignored him. As hungry as he was, Russell could only manage to eat half of his steak and only one of the two potatoes. He set his fork down and leaned his chair back.

  “So, what’s next?” Russell finally broke the long silence.

  Charlie just looked at him.

  “You sure aren’t much of a conversationalist around food,” Russell commented.

  “We’re going to Solomon’s Store and pick up some supplies. Then we’re going to the Ranger’s office down the street.” He smiled at Russell and gave a little wink. “And if there’s time, we might be able to stop at the hotel and have us a drink before we head back to the cabin.”

  Russell kept looking out the window and fidgeting with the fringe on the leather vest. He was excited and anxious to get started. He wanted to see it all. He wanted to experience a lifestyle he had only read about in historical research.

  Charlie stood and walked over to Hanna. They exchanged a conversation that Russell couldn’t hear and Charlie paid for the meals. He walked back past the table and picked up his hat. “Let’s go.”

  The two left the restaurant, crossed the street, and walked along the sidewalk until they came to Solomon’s General Store. Like the hardware store, it had two large windows where a number of goods were displayed like canned goods, hats, soap cakes, and other items. A few boxes outside on the sidewalk displayed fresh produce for sale from local farmers. Russell was awestruck. It looked like a museum display to him. He was having a hard time realizing that these were real everyday goods and not historical artifacts.

  Russell stood in the doorway and gawked at the floor to ceiling shelves that lined the two side walls inside the store. They contained everything from canned goods to tools to household items to clothing; pretty much anything one could imagine. Russell entered the store and the worn pine floor planks creaked under him with each step. A musty smell greeted him as he first entered. He walked slowly taking it all in, not wanting to miss a single item. Russell caught the sweet aroma of peppermint as he walked by a display case featuring jars of various candies that lined the top of the case. Baskets and metal buckets and tubs hung from various hooks along a ceiling beam. A collection of various shovels and picks and forks were neatly stacked in the front corner of the store.

  Charlie was talking to the store clerk at the counter and placing his order for matches, coal oil, coffee, ammunition, canned fruit, dried fruit, beans, some hard candy, and some other things that Russell didn’t hear. Russell was too busy looking at everything in the store. He was fascinated by all the different varieties of goods in such a small space. There were two large wooden display cases in the store. One stretched along the back of the store and contained different bins holding grains, flour, dried beans, sugar and coffee. The other case ran along the right side of the store and was filled with cigars, handguns, ammunition and boxes and sacks of other items. The center of the store contained racks and tables all featuring different wares for sale like cookware, tools, blankets and tack items. The left side of the store was a long counter containing clothing and bolts of fabric. He felt a hand on his shoulder.

  “Let’s go,” Charlie announced.

  “This place is great!” Russell said. His eyes beamed with excitement as he moved away from Charlie and began reading the labels of some of the canned goods. “I want to stay here and look around some more.”

  “No,” Charlie said. “I got some things to do and it’s already late in the day. We have to come back later and pick up the order. You can look around some more then.”

  The excitement drained from Russell’s eyes and he lowered his head in disappointment as he followed Charlie out the door. They walked down the sidewalk for two blocks, passing a couple of saloons, the office of the Amarillo Champion newspaper, the First National Bank, and a number of other businesses and residences. Russell wanted to go into every business, but Charlie kept prodding him along.

  They finally came to one of the few brick buildings in town on the corner of an unnamed side street and Polk Street, the main thoroughfare. The front door was painted white and had a large brass star nailed to the door. A brass plaque, attached to the brick next to the front door, announced that this was the Amarillo Ranger Outpost for Company “B”. Two long benches lined the sidewalk on either side of the front door of the Ranger’s Office.

  “This where you work?” Russell asked.

  “Yeah, we’re just a small company, part of the Frontier Battalion sent here. Our division is headquartered a little ways from here in Quanah. There’s only about six or eight of us here at any given time.”

  “They move you around?” Russell asked.

  “Not much. Not me, anyway, I guess they figure I’m too old to be any good at anything, so they pretty much leave me be.” Charlie smiled at Russell and patted his shoulder.

  “Sit down out here.” Charlie pointed to one of the benches. “I got some business inside. I shouldn’t be too long.”

  He opened the front door and before he went inside issued one last command.

  “Don’t go anywhere and don’t talk to anyone.” With that, he went inside and closed the door behind him.

  The interior was a large open room with white plastered walls and dark wood trim. The left side held two doors with frosted glass panels. One of them had the word COMMANDER lettered on it. There were two desks in the room; one against the back wall, cluttered with stacks of paper. A large map of Texas hung on the wall above the desk. The other desk was against the front wall, next to the door.

  Two other rangers in the office, both sitting at the desk by the front door, greeted Charlie as he came in.

  “Cap’n Bill will be glad to see you,” one ranger said. “He’s been looking for you for two days.”

  “Well, no sense keeping him waiting.” Charlie opened the door to the commander’s office and walked right in.

  When Charlie came out of his meeting with Captain Bill McDonald, he met with the other two rangers and told them about his discussion with the captain. He was being assigned to work with Marshal Cook until Walker and his crew were gone. Something he knew already. Just before Charlie left, one of the rangers handed him a telegram.

  “I almost forgot. This came for you last week. Been sitting on this desk ever since.”

  Charlie opened the telegram. It was from a Frank McCrudy who Charlie took to the prison in Cañon City five years earlier. The telegram had said that Frank had been released two months ago. Charlie looked at the two rangers who intently watched Charlie read the telegram.

  “Whatcha think?” Charlie asked.

  One ranger shrugged his shoulders and kept quiet, but the other said “Ain’t Frank McCrudy that fella you testified against a ways back?” The first ranger slapped him on the shoulder to quiet him.

  “Did everybody read this?” Charlie asked. The rangers lowered their heads and looked away. “Yeah, I testified all right, but not against him. I testified for him. He was innocent. Never should have been sent up. Poor guy was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “Sounds like he wants to see ya’.”

  “I paid Frank a visit just about every time I dropped off prisoners. Nice fellow. He said when he got out he’d let me know where he was. He appreciated what I tried to do for him. He said I got an open invitation to visit him once he got out. Looks like he landed in Trinidad. Must be doing some mining.”

  “Where’s Trinidad? I never heard of it,” said the second ranger.

  “Ain’t much. It’s a small mining town in the southeast mountains in the Colorado Territory. Maybe
someday I’ll look him up.” Charlie folded the telegram and stuck it in his vest pocket just before he headed for the door.

  Russell did as Charlie asked and sat on the bench outside the ranger’s office watching people move about the town and interact with each other. The sun was getting lower in the west and the town was in a mix of dark shadows and ribbons of bright sunlight peeking between the buildings. Men with guns walked into the marshal’s office and walked back out without them. No problems here, Russell thought.

  Russell felt relaxed. He’d thoroughly enjoyed this day. Charlie had been in the office for a while, but it didn’t matter to Russell. He watched a short man in a suit hurry up the sidewalk and walk into Marshal Cook’s office. A minute or two later the man exited and walked away. Russell thought little of it until he saw Marshal Cook and Deputy Johnson come out of their office, each carrying a large shotgun. The two walked side by side down the street toward the ranger’s post.

  A feeling that something wasn’t quite right swept over Russell. He looked up and down Polk Street but didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. He watched the marshal and his deputy pass in front of the ranger’s building and turn down the side street. Marshal Cook stopped on the side street directly across from Russell and moved to the shadow of a building across the street. Hidden in the shadow of the building, the marshal stared down the side street. The deputy stepped onto the sidewalk where Russell was sitting and walked past him down the sidewalk of the side street. The deputy stopped and stepped into a recessed doorway of the building behind the ranger’s office. Russell walked around the corner of the sidewalk and looked down that side street to see what the marshal was looking at.

  Russell felt his eyes widen with surprise as he watched a band of riders slowly coming toward Amarillo in what appeared to be a loose, haphazard formation. Marshal Cook opened his shotgun, checked the loads, and snapped the barrels closed. He wondered if he should get Charlie.