Ranger's Law by Elmer Kelton

Author:Elmer Kelton
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-05-09T16:00:00+00:00

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 keeper’s map was vague. It showed a wagon road leading away from the ruined fort, but Rusty found there were several. He asked, “Which one do your Indian instincts tell you to take?”

“I’m afraid my guardian spirits stayed back at Fort Griffin. I’m not hearin’ anything from them.”

Rusty chose one at random. “Let’s try this.”

A couple of miles proved it to be a bad choice. The road showed no sign of recent use. It disappeared where heavy rain had washed it away, taking a deep cut into the topsoil. Rusty decided to strike due east, hoping he might intersect a trail showing more sign of recent travel. He did, after a time, and followed it until he came upon a farmer breaking sod with two mules and a moldboard plow.

He asked if they were anywhere near the Bascom place.

The farmer eyed him suspiciously. “You a friend of theirs?”

“I don’t even know them. I’m just carryin’ a message.” He saw no need to burden the man with details.

“Well, if you don’t know them, and they don’t know you, it might be better if you don’t find them.”

“The message is important.”

The farmer hunched his shoulders as if to say he had given fair warning. “You follow this road another mile or so, then take the first wagon trail that forks off to the right. Stay with it ‘til you get to a long picket house with dirt coverin’ on the roof. Better holler good and loud before you ride in so you don’t surprise anybody. Them Bascoms don’t like surprises. Don’t like neighbors much, either.”

Rusty thanked him for the information and the advice. He glanced at Andy as they resumed their journey. “Aren’t you glad you came with me?”

Andy smiled. “Beats plowin’. They sound like interestin’ folks.”

If it had not been for Clemmie, Josie, and Geneva, Rusty would not have undertaken this mission. Alice had made her bed, and it might do her good to lie in it a while. She resembled her two older sisters in appearance but not in personality.

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