Death Rides a Chestnut Mare

Chapter 18

Brownsville, Texas. December 21, 1870.

Danielle lay down across the bed to rest, and the longer she lay there, the more she was sure that Kalpana had been brought back across the border to kill her. His having failed in no way lessened her danger, and she sat up, tugging on her boots. She would leave Brownsville tonight, taking word of the situation there to the Texas Rangers in San Antonio. But she had waited too long. There was a knock on her door, and answering it, she looked into the frightened face of Ethel Delaney.

“Daniel, there’s a group of horsemen across the street, watching the house. Ephiram believes they’ve come after you.”

“I reckon he’s right,” said Danielle.“I should already have ridden out. Now I’ll have to face up to them.”

“But they’re here to kill you,” Ethel protested. “You can’t go out there.”

“I can, and I will,’ said Danielle. “They haven’t yet surrounded the house, but there may be men watching the back door. Is there a way out, without going through the front or back doors?”

“Through the cellar,” Ethel said. “Come on. I’ll show you.”

Carrying a lighted coal oil lamp, Ethel Delaney led the way down the stairs from the kitchen to the cellar below. The door was barred from the inside, and Ethel lifted the bar.

“As soon as I’m out,” said Danielle, “put that bar back in place.”

“Go with God,” Ethel said through her sobs.

Danielle stepped out into the night. There was no moon, and she could hear the mutter of voices across the street. Finally, there came a challenge.

“We want Daniel Strange,” a voice shouted. “If we have to come in and get him, you Delaneys are gonna be sorry.”

“He’s been expecting you,” Ephiram said, “and he ain’t here.”

“Duke,” said the voice across the street, “look in the stable behind the house and see if his horse is gone.”

Duke made his way around the house, his Colt drawn. Danielle stepped out of the darkness behind him, slamming the muzzle of her Colt against the back of his head. Without a sound, he collapsed. Taking his revolver, Danielle slipped it under her waistband, then waited. Her next move would depend on the men hunting her.

“Damn it, Duke,” a voice shouted impatiently, “what’s keepin’ you?”

Only silence greeted him, and Danielle could hear angry voices. Obviously, the men were deciding what they should do next, and the gruff voice that had spoken before again threatened the Delaneys.

“You Delaneys, we’re goin’ to surround the house. You got ten minutes to get Daniel Strange out here. If you don’t, we’ll set the place afire and drive him out.”

There was no reply from either of the Delaneys, and Danielle knew she couldn’t allow them to suffer for her deeds. She moved away from the house into the shadow of a huge oak tree. Finding a stone the size of her fist, she waited until two of the men began to make their way along her side of the house. Once they were past her, she threw the stone against the side of the house. The two men whirled, firing at the sound. Danielle fired at their muzzle flashes, and they fell, groaning.

“The bastard ain’t in the house!” a voice shouted. “He’s shot Turk and Bender.”

Danielle heard the sound of running feet and stepped back into the shadow of the oak. Her trick had worked once, but it would not a second time. There would be too many of them, and before she could cut them all down, some of them would be shooting at her muzzle flashes. Six men crept through the shadows alongside the house.

“Damn it,” said one of them, “here’s Duke, and he’s out colder than a bullfrog.”

One of the pair Danielle had shot groaned, drawing their attention.

“A couple of you help Turk and Bender back to the horses,” a voice commanded.

“Bender’s dead, and Turk’s hard hit,” said another voice.

“Then take their carcasses away, and then get the hell back over here.”

Danielle waited until the two fallen men had been removed. She then stood behind the huge trunk of the oak and issued a challenge of her own.

“You’re covered. Drop your guns.”

The four drew and began firing. Lead slammed into the oak. Danielle, leaning to one side, fired around the trunk at the muzzle flashes. She then hit the ground, rolling into a new position, belly-down.

“Oh, God,” a voice moaned, “I’m gut-shot!” Two of the men were down, and the other two stood there, waiting. They well knew their muzzle flashes could be their undoing. Slowly, they began to back away toward the front of the house, and Danielle let them go. When they reached the far side of the street, an argument ensued, and Danielle was sure she recognized the gruff voice of Sheriff Sam Duro.

“Sheriff,” Danielle taunted, “you’re done. The rest of you men, if you come after me, be prepared to die.”

“Come on, damn it,” Duro bawled to the rest of the men, “we’re goin’ after him.”

But only two of the men followed. Dirk and Malo mounted their horses. They left town, riding north. Two other men watched them uncertainly. Then, mounting their horses, they followed Dirk and Malo. As Sheriff Duro and his two companions crept alongside the house, there was a shadow directly ahead of them. The unconscious Duke had staggered to his feet, only to have Sheriff Sam Duro cut him down at close range. It was all Danielle needed. She fired at the muzzle flash, and the force of the slug slammed Duro against the side of the house. He slumped to the ground, and the two men who had accompanied him ran back the way they had come. Seconds later, there was the thud of hooves as the survivors of the ill-fated ambush galloped away. Danielle walked around the house, mounted the porch, and knocked on the door. Ethel Delaney opened it.

“Is it over?” Ethel asked fearfully.

“Not quite,” said Danielle. “I want to get my saddlebags, and then I want to talk to Ephiram.”

When Danielle came back down the stairs, the Delaneys were waiting in the parlor.

“There are at least six men wounded or dead,” Danielle said. “Sheriff Sam Duro is one of the dead, but he’s not the head of this damn snake. Ephiram, who is the man who runs this town?”

“Simon McCandless,” said Ephiram.

“That explains a lot of things,” Danielle said. “He brought Kalpana in to gun me down and, failing in that, sent Duro after me with a bunch of killers. Where am I likely to find McCandless?”

“He’s got an office at the rear of the bank,” said Ephiram, “but he lives at a hotel. It’s The Rio, I think.”

“He’ll be at the office, then, waiting to hear that I’m dead,” Danielle said. “I’ll be back for my horse.” She stepped out the door, leaving the Delaneys speechless.

The bank building, having three floors, was the tallest building in Brownsville. There was a back door, and to one side of it a coal oil bracket lamp burned. Danielle turned the knob, and the door opened on silent hinges. At the end of a short hall was yet another door with lamplight bleeding out beneath it. Danielle made no noise, for the hall was carpeted. Standing to one side of the door, she turned the knob. When the latch let go, she kicked the door open, slamming it against the wall. Simon McCandless sat behind the big desk, staring at her unbelievingly.

“Your pet sheriff’s dead, McCandless,” said Danielle, “along with some of the other owlhoots you sent after me. The rest of them ran like the yellow coyotes they are. Since you want me dead, do your worst. It’s just you and me, McCandless.”

“You’ve got sand, kid,” McCandless said, “and I wouldn’t kill you if there was another way. But you gunned down my boy, and as soon you could get to a ranger outpost, I think you’d tell the rangers all about me. What do you aim to do with me?”

“I’m going to put you on a horse and take you to the rangers,” said Danielle. “I want them to see the daddy skunk in the flesh, and then I want to hear your excuses as you try to save your miserable hide. Get up. We’re riding out tonight.”

“You won’t deny me a last cigar, will you?” McCandless asked.

“Go ahead,” said Danielle. “Just be damn careful what you do with your hands.”

McCandless opened a desk drawer and took out a cigar box. Danielle was barely in time, dropping to one knee as McClandless raised a Colt from the box and fired twice. The lead went over Danielle’s head, splintering the door behind her. Danielle drew and fired twice, and McCandless was driven back into his swivel chair. He lay there, blood pumping out on his white ruffled shirt. He was trying to speak, and Danielle leaned across the desk.

“We’d have . . . made . . . an unbeatable team, kid. Too bad . . . you was on . . . the other side . . .”

Those were his last words, and Danielle left him there. The town had some cleaning up to do before the rangers rode in.

The Delaneys were still in the parlor when Danielle got back to the house. They waited for her to speak.

“McCandless drew on me, and he’s dead,” said Danielle. “You decent folks in town had better get together and take control of things. I aim to report all this to the rangers just as soon as I reach San Antonio. There must be one honest man you can elect sheriff, and I hope your bank’s got no more skunk-striped varmints like McCandless.”

“McCandless has kept the town terrorized and under his thumb for years,” Ephiram said. “Without him and his hired guns, we’ll manage, I think. But tell the rangers we’ll be welcoming them, just in case there are some undesirables who don’t want to leave.”

“I’ll tell them,” said Danielle. “I’m going to saddle my horse and be on my way.”

“I hate to see you go, Daniel,” Ethel said.

“In a way, I hate to go,” said Danielle, “but I still have some man-hunting to do.”

Danielle saddled Sundown and, mounting, rode north toward San Antonio. It was more than two hundred miles, and she took her time, for it was a two-day ride.

San Antonio, Texas. December 23, 1870.

Danielle rode in just before sundown on her second day out of Brownsville. She hoped to find Captain Jennings in his office, for it was important that the rangers reach Brownsville before the rustlers and killers had time to reorganize. Jennings was there and made no move to conceal his pleasure when Danielle entered the office.

“Captain,” Danielle said, “we have to talk. There’s been hell to pay in Brownsville, and the decent folks there are going to need some help.”

“Then let’s go eat,” said Jennings. “Supper’s on me.”

They went to a small cafe where the ranger was known, and since it was early, there were few other patrons. While they waited for their food, sipping coffee, Danielle told her story.

“I thought there was something unusual about the telegram informing me that Kalpana had been gunned down,” said Jennings. “It carefully avoided telling me who actually did the shooting, but I suspected it was you.”

“I don’t think I’d have had a chance at him,” Danielle said, “if I hadn’t been forced to shoot Reece McCandless. I think after Reece was shot, Simon McCandless hoped Kalpana could finish me. When he failed to, Sheriff Duro and maybe a dozen men came looking for me. In the dark, Duro shot one of his own men. I accounted for five others, including the sheriff himself.”

“There’s nothing worse than a lawman selling out,” said Captain Jennings. “I’ll need the names of some honest folks in Brownsville who will stand behind what you’ve told me. Not that I doubt you, but the rangers who’ll be riding down there will find it helpful in getting at the truth of it.”

“Ephiram and Ethel Delaney,” said Danielle. “They stood by me through it all, even as Sheriff Duro threatened to burn their house to drive me out.”

“We’ll talk to them,” Captain Jennings said. “I’ll have two rangers on their way in the morning.”

Their food was ready, and Danielle ate hungrily, for she had eaten little, the situation in Brownsville bearing on her mind. When they were down to final cups of coffee, Captain Jennings spoke.

“It’s interesting, what you’ve told me about Simon McCandless. I’ve heard of him. He was one of the carpetbaggers who moved in after the war, and I suspect he may have been wanted by the law somewhere up north. I aim to find out. By the way, there’s a three-thousand-dollar price on Kalpana’s head, dead or alive. I aim to see that you get it.”

“I don’t really want it,” Danielle said. “You know why I was after Kalpana. The reward had nothing to do with it.”

“I know that,” said Captain Jennings, “but I want you to have it. If you don’t need it, send it to your ma and your brothers in Missouri. It’s been hard times there, too.”

“You’re a thoughtful man, Captain,” Danielle said. “That’s exactly what I’ll do.”

“It’ll take maybe a week to get the money,” said Captain Jennings. “Why don’t you just rest here for a few days, until I make the arrangements?”

“I’m thinking of riding back to Waco,” Danielle said.

“Rucker’s still sheriff there,” said Captain Jennings, “and it’ll be the same old Mexican standoff, all over again. There’s still too many folks around who haven’t gotten over the war, and they resist all authority, even to hiding their outlaw kin.”

“I know,” Danielle said, “but when I return, I won’t be the same hombre who rode in there before.”

“Disguise?”

“Yes,” said Danielle, thinking of the female clothing in her saddlebag.

“Since you’ll be in town for a few days,” Captain Jennings said, “how do you aim to spend Christmas Day? It’s the day after tomorrow.”

“Christmas,” said Danielle with a long, painful sigh. “It’ll be the first time I’ve ever been away from my family at Christmas. I don’t know what I’ll do. I feel like I’m so old, Captain. A thousand years old, in just the few months since leaving Missouri. I’ve ridden so long on the dark side, there’s no light to guide me.”

“All the more reason why you need a few days’ rest,” Captain Jennings said. “I have two friends in Austin—Rangers Elmore and Williams—and like me, they have no family. They generally ride down here on Christmas Eve, and just for a day or two, we become as close to being a family as any of us will ever get. This Christmas, I’d like for you to join us.”

“I . . . I don’t know, Captain,” said Danielle, touched.

“My last Christmas at home, I was seven years old,” Captain Jennings said. “A week later, the Comanches struck and burned our house. Ma and Pa died in the attack, and a kindly old aunt took me in.”

While his eyes were on Danielle, he wasn’t seeing her. His mind was far away, at a different time and place. Danielle spoke, breaking his reverie.

“I’ll spend Christmas with you and your amigos, Captain. I think I’d like that.”

“Bueno,” said Jennings. “Find yourself a hotel and get some rest. Elmore and Williams will be here sometime tomorrow, and we can meet for supper.”

Danielle left Sundown at a nearby stable and chose one of the better hotels in which there was a dining room. There was a chill wind from the west, bringing with it a hint of snow that might blow in from the high plains. Removing her hat, gun belts, and boots, Danielle stretched out on the bed and slept. Far into the night, she awakened to the howling wind outside. Thankful that she and Sundown had a roof over their heads, she undressed and went back to sleep.

San Antonio, Texas. December 24, 1870.

Danielle joined Captain Jennings for breakfast.

“Be here at the office at five o’clock tomorrow,” said Captain Jennings. “Our ranger amigos will be here by then.”

The threat of last night’s storm had past, and it being Christmas Eve, the streets were alive with people. Danielle had started across the street to her hotel when a shot rang out. Suddenly there was a blinding pain in her head, and she felt herself blacking out. At first there was only merciful darkness, and then through slitted eyes she could see daylight. A man in town clothes was bending over her. Captain Jennings stood at the foot of the bed, watching with concern.

“You have a concussion,” the doctor said. “For the next few days don’t do anything foolish that might jolt you around.”

“No riding then,” said Danielle.

“Especially no riding,” the doctor said. “Spend as much time in bed as you can. I’ll be back to look in on you the day after tomorrow. Where are you staying?”

“Come by my office, Doc, and I’ll take you there,” Captain Jennings said. “Is he in a good enough condition to make it back to the hotel?”

“It all depends on him,” said the doctor. “Young man, can you stand?”

“I don’t know,” Danielle said. “I’ll try.”

Holding on to the bed’s iron footboard, she got to her feet, only to be engulfed by a wave of dizziness. But it soon passed, and she spoke to the doctor.

“I can make it, Doc.”

“I’ll go with him,” said Captain Jennings.

“Take this bottle of laudanum with you,” the doctor said. “There may be more pain, and this will help you sleep.”

Captain Jennings said nothing until they reached Danielle’s room on the first floor of the Cattlemen’s Hotel. Then Jennings had a question.

“Do you have any idea who might have fired that shot?”

“No,” said Danielle. “It came from behind me. Some of those outlaws who rode out of Brownsville may be here.”

The bushwhacker had been firing from cover, and when Danielle fell, he didn’t fire again. Only when someone helped Danielle to her feet did Leroy Lomax curse. This damn little gunman had shamed him in Indian Territory, leading to a falling out with the four men Lomax had been riding with. Now he intended to get his revenge. The kid seemed to have just been creased. When he was again up and about, Leroy would try again, and this time, he wouldn’t miss.

Alone in her hotel room, Danielle removed her hat, gun belts, and boots. She stretched out on the bed and was soon asleep. She was awakened by knocking on the door.

“Who’s there?” she asked.

“Captain Jennings. I stopped by to see how you’re feeling.”

Danielle got up, unlocked the door, and Jennings entered.

“There’s no pain,” said Danielle, “but the side of my head’s sore.”

“Elmore and Williams are in town,” Captain Jennings said, “and they’d like to meet you. That invite to supper still stands if you feel up to it.”

“I’m hungry,” said Danielle, “and I feel steady enough. I’ll try it.”

“I thought you would,” Jennings said, “so we’re eating in the hotel dining room.”

After meeting Jennings’s friends, Elmore and Williams, Danielle was glad she had been asked to join them. While they were a little younger than Jennings, they showed no less enthusiasm for their work.

“Captain Jennings told us about you,” said Elmore while they waited for their food, “but he’s gettin’ old. I got a feeling he left some of it out.”

“Yeah,” Williams said, “what you’ve done is worthy of a company of rangers. Tell us all of it.”

Danielle told them, stressing the loyalty of Ephiram and Ethel Delaney. They listened in silence, and when Danielle had finished, there seemed little to be said. Captain Jennings spoke.

“Daniel, take off your hat.”

Danielle did so, revealing the bandage around her head.

“That happened on the street yesterday, right here in San Antonio,” said Jennings. “A bushwhacker, firing from cover.”

“Then you have no idea who he is,” Williams said.

“No,” said Jennings. “It could easily be one of the outlaws from Brownsville. They had a death grip on the town until Daniel evened the odds.”

“If he hated you enough to bushwhack you once, he’ll try again,” Elmore predicted. “I think we’ll have Christmas dinner here at the hotel restaurant tomorrow, keeping you off the street for a while.”

“Good idea,” said Williams.

After supper, the three rangers saw Danielle to her room before departing.

“We’ll see you at eleven o’clock tomorrow morning,” Captain Jennings promised.

Again Danielle stretched out on the bed, restless. She was starting to regret having promised Captain Jennings she would remain a few days in San Antonio. The hotel had gone to great lengths to decorate the lobby and the restaurant for the holiday, but it did not cheer Danielle. She thought only of her family in far away Missouri, who had to spend this holiday not knowing if she was alive or dead. She drifted off into troubled sleep, only to be awakened by the distant clanging of a church bell. She sat up on the edge of the bed, listening. Finally, she pulled on her boots, buckled on her gun belts, and reached for her hat. When she reached the street, the sound of the bell was much closer. Following the sound, she came to a church just as the bell was silenced. From within the church came the glorious sound of several hundred voices singing the old hymns and Christmas carols. There was no music except in the melodious voices. Danielle stood there listening, and it was as though her feet had minds of their own. When she entered the church, she slipped into a back pew. Some of the congregation, seeing the pair of tied-down Colts, looked at her curiously, but kept singing.

For at least an hour, Danielle lifted her voice in singing the old songs she had learned as a child. Long-forgotten memories came alive, and she closed her eyes, relishing the images. The words of the old songs, like long-forgotten friends, came rushing back to her. After the last song had been sung, Danielle slipped out the door during the closing prayer. She considered visiting the Alamo Saloon, but suddenly it seemed like a tawdry place, filled with boastful, cursing men. She returned to her hotel room and, with the joyful chorus still ringing in her head, was soon asleep.

San Antonio, Texas. December 25, 1870.

Many of the cafes were closed, so Danielle had breakfast in the hotel dining room. She wasn’t surprised to find her three ranger friends already there. Danielle pulled out a chair and sat down.

“We forgot to mention breakfast this morning,” said Captain Jennings, “and I thought you might want to sleep late.”

“I can’t hide out forever,” Danielle said. “Sooner or later, the varmint that’s out to get me will have to show himself. When he does, I’ll be ready.”

“If he doesn’t shoot you from behind,” said Williams. “That’s one thing you can count on. A coward never changes.”

After breakfast, lacking anything better to do, Danielle returned to her room, unaware that hostile eyes had been watching her. Leroy Lomax sat in the hotel lobby, an unfolded newspaper shielding his face. He watched to see how far down the hall Danielle was going, and then he went to the hotel desk.

“I want a room for the night,” said Lomax. “Bot tom floor.”

Given a key, he was gratified to learn that his room was almost directly across the hall from that of the little gunman he hated. The kid had to eat, and Lomax would try again at dinner or supper. Lomax lay across the bed, waiting. The kid seemed to have a habit of eating with Texas Rangers, and Lomax didn’t want to make his play as long as any of the famed lawmen were in the hotel. He would go after Daniel Strange after he had left the dining room and was on his way down the hall.

Danielle reached the dining room just a few minutes after eleven. Jennings, Elmore, and Williams were already there.

“Feeling better?” Jennings asked.

“Considerably,” said Danielle. “I feel like I could eat a whole turkey, goose, or double portions of whatever’s being served.”

The meal was an occasion to remember. Prodded by Danielle, the three rangers spoke of trails they had ridden, outlaws they had captured, and violent brushes with death. Only then did Captain Jennings take from under his belt a Colt, laying it on the table before Danielle.

“It’s a .31 caliber Colt pocket pistol, from the three of us to you,” said Jennings. “It will fit neatly under your belt or under your coat. It’s a short barrel, but no less a Colt. It’ll stop a man dead in his tracks.”

“I . . . I don’t know what to say,” Danielle said.

“There’s nothing to say, except Merry Christmas,” said Jennings.

“But I have nothing for any of you,” Danielle protested.

“You gave us our Christmas early,” said Williams, “when you salted down that ranger killer, Snakehead Kalpana.”

“I’m obliged,” Danielle said, slipping the short barreled Colt beneath the waistband of her Levi’s. When dinner was over, Danielle left her friends and started down the hall to her room. Softly, a door opened behind her, and a cold voice spoke.

“Unbuckle them belts and let ’em fall.” Danielle paused and felt the muzzle of a gun poking her in the back. Slowly she loosed her gun belts, allowing her Colts to slide to the floor.

“Now go on to your room, where you was headed,” said the voice.

Danielle had her key in her left hand, and while fumbling for the key hole, she eased her right hand to the butt of the pocket pistol. Suddenly the door opened, and Danielle seemed to fall forward into the room. Rolling over on her side, she fired twice, slamming Lomax into a door on the other side of the hall. He fired twice, but his arm had begun to sag, and the lead plowed into the carpet at his feet. Men came running down the hall, three of them the rangers who had not yet left the building. Danielle’s Colts lay on the floor in the hall, but in her hand she held the Colt pocket pistol.

“That’s Leroy Lomax,” Danielle said. “I had trouble with him in Indian Territory.”

She stepped out in the hall, retrieved her gun belts, and buckled them on. She then slid the Colt pocket pistol under her waistband and, facing the three rangers, spoke.

“You gave me the best Christmas gift of all. My life.”

“You still aim to stay a few days, don’t you?” Captain Jennings asked.

“Yes,” said Danielle, “but then I’ll be riding on. There’s six more killers I must find before my pa can rest easy. I want the varmints to know they’re living under the shadow of a noose.”

(Continue riding the vengeance trail with Danielle in the forthcoming book, The Shadow of a Noose.)