A Day for Fools to Die (Benedict & Brazos 30) by E. Jefferson Clay

Author:E. Jefferson Clay [Clay, E. Jefferson]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Western ebook, gunfighters, the old west, cowboys, action adventure, the American Frontier
Publisher: Piccadilly
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven – Outlaw Army

Colonel Chard Ringerman stood at attention on the parapet before his ‘command post’ as the trumpeter’s notes signaled the end of another day in Killdevil Canyon, Alamo Ranch.

Above the tall cattleman, who wore the tailored uniform of a colonel in the former Army of the Confederate States, the evening sky was a lavish welter of rose and gold, the sun already gone from sight beyond the lofted spine of the Shoshones.

A hundred yards below Ringerman’s reviewing position, which was set in the eastern slopes of the canyon’s wall, the men who comprised his ‘army’ were lined up between their rows of lean-to’s, tents and rough shacks.

They also stood to attention as the strains of the Last Post filled the evening air. Ringerman’s critical eyes detected a touch of sloppiness here and there, but though determined to whip them into perfect military shape before they went into action, he was anything but displeased. They had drilled well that afternoon, while the day had marked the arrival of another three recruits from Kentucky. Roll-call tonight set the strength of his army at fifty-three men.

The Second Army of the Glorious South was at last beginning to look like an army.

When the final notes of the trumpet had faded away, Ringerman turned to salute the Confederate flag which hung limply from atop the white-painted pole to his left. Then he marched to the parapet wall and signaled down to Denham to dismiss the troops.

As was his regular custom then, the Colonel took out his pipe, seated himself on the solid stone balustrade and waited for Sergeant Denham to make his nightly report.

Denham wasn’t a genuine sergeant, but then, neither was Chard Ringerman a genuine colonel. Ringerman had bestowed the title on himself when he first set out on his crusade and subsequently invested titles and ranks on his followers in keeping with their status. A tall, well-made man of thirty-five, with regular sun-tanned features and a handsome black moustache that gave him the look of a leader of men, Ringerman was only able to spare an hour or two each day away from running his big cattle outfit for his army, but most of the men spent twenty-four hours a day in Killdevil Canyon. Occasionally he granted them leave to visit Wildhorse; they were the hard-looking men with no visible means of support whose presence puzzled many people in the county, including Sheriff Mort Beardsley.

Denham finally appeared, riding slowly. It was the Alamo ramrod’s first day back at the canyon since his whipping at the hands of Hank Brazos. The big man still looked sick. Ringerman reckoned it would be a long time before he was his normal, rugged self again.

“All men present and correct, sir,” Denham reported with a salute. “Except for Swift.”

“You can take Swift’s name off the register, Sergeant.”

“Sir?”

“Holly brought the news before I left the house. Swift braced Brazos in town and some gambler shot and winged him. Holly waited in town long enough to put him on a stage and warn him to stay gone.

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