Ride for Rule Cordell

Chapter Six

Weary Rangers John Checker and A. J. Bartlett walked into the restaurant after seeing Jaudon and his men secured in the jail’s cells. Checker’s leg was stiff and aching, but he tried not to favor it. A hearing would be set as soon as convenient with Judge Opat, the sheriff advised with little apparent interest in the matter.

They were soon enjoying ham, eggs and potatoes, washed down with hot coffee, when Lady Holt entered the restaurant. Her presence stopped the filled eatery for an instant as men and women throughout the room watched her grand entry.

The restaurant owner rushed to greet and guide her to a table kept exclusively for her use when she was in town. The table was adorned with a green cloth, laced around the edges. She thanked him in French as he helped her into the high-backed chair. A china cup and saucer, filled with fresh coffee, appeared in front of her from a wide-eyed waiter. A second cup and saucer were placed across the table, as she always insisted. No one knew why. A second waiter presented a china cream and sugar set. The china was hers, not the regular restaurant fare.

After ordering, she asked the bushy-headed owner with eyebrows to match about the two men on the far side of the room.

“They’re Rangers, Lady Holt,” he said, swallowed and added, “Ah, they brought in Mr. Jaudon and his men. Some kind of problem at the Gardner Ranch. A misunderstanding, I am certain.”

“I would like to talk with them, please.”

“Certainly.”

Straightening his narrow shoulders, the owner walked to the table where Checker and Bartlett were finishing their breakfasts. He didn’t like being in the middle of this and bit his lower lip to control his anxiety.

“Rangers, Lady Holt would like a word.” He rubbed his hands together nervously. “Ah, she’s over there. At the green table.” He looked away toward the wall. “Lady Holt is…a very powerful woman around here.”

“Is she, now?” Checker said, cutting his ham.

A. J. Bartlett looked at John Checker, smiled and said, “ ‘A daughter of the gods, divinely tall, and most divinely fair.’ ”

The owner frowned, not understanding Bartlett’s quote from Tennyson’s “A Dream of Fair Women.”

“Please, sirs. I don’t want any trouble…with her. Please.”

“I’m sure you don’t. Tell her we’ll come over. After we’re through eating.”

Checker’s eyes indicated there was no need for further discussion.

“Ah, certainly. I will tell her. Certainly.”

Checker took another sip of his coffee. “An’ bring us some more coffee.”

“Oh, certainly, sir. Certainly.”

As soon as the excited man left, Bartlett said quietly, “I’m kinda excited about meeting her. What do you think she wants?”

“To warn us.”

“Oh yeah. Guess so.”

Bartlett started to add more, but the owner returned with a fresh pot of coffee. Both Rangers thanked him and completed their meals in silence. Finished, they stood, dropped coins beside the empty plates and headed for Lady Holt’s table.

Checker’s leg wouldn’t take pressure for a few steps. Finally, he was able to slide it along as he moved the other. He didn’t like the adjustment and quickly forced his wounded leg to walk normally.

“Ma’am, you asked to see us?” Checker said, holding his hat in his hand.

“Oh yes, thank you. Please sit down.” She motioned with both hands toward the chairs on either side of her intentionally empty chair across from her. A quick flip of her hand brought fresh coffee cups from a nervous waiter. They were her china.

Bartlett started to sit.

“No, thanks, ma’am. We’ll stand. Got work to do,” Checker spat.

Lady Holt studied Checker appreciatively. “Well, your choice. I was hoping you might be interested in knowing the truth.”

“Always interested in the truth.” Checker folded his arms.

She grinned. “Good. Then you should know Emmett Gardner is a rustler. He’s stolen some of my beef. Under my orders, my men went to bring him in for trial. If you ask the sheriff, you will find they acted under his approval.”

Checker shook his head. “No, ma’am, Emmett Gardner isn’t a rustler—and you know it. Or should. He’s a good man. Working hard to help his sons grow straight and tall. Working hard to make that small ranch pay.”

She lifted her coffee cup slowly; her eyes locked on to his.

“Jaudon has been arrested for attempted murder. He and his men,” Checker spat. “That is the truth.”

Bartlett cocked his head and added, “ ‘Is it so true that second thoughts are best?’ ”

“Shakespeare?” she asked without taking her eyes off Checker.

“Tennyson, m’lady.”

“Oh. Of course.”

In an instant, her mouth became a slit; her eyes narrowed. Bartlett thought she looked like a cougar about to pounce. “Have you gentlemen ever heard of a phoenix? It’s a wonderful tale of everlasting life.” Her voice carried the hint of an English accent.

Bartlett said, “Yes, I have. The story is old. A fictional bird that gets burned up and returns to life. Something like that. Many think it came from seeing a large bird stomping on a dead fire’s ashes to warm himself—and causing the old fire to flame again.”

“I find it quite comforting. Like Christianity’s myths are to others,” Holt said.

Both Rangers frowned.

She laughed heartily. “I see I hit a chord. A ‘myth’ is simply a story that has grown large around some key principle or fact.” She studied them for an instant. “Pardon me for saying so, but you gentlemen don’t strike me as the churchgoing type.”

“What is that type?” Checker said with an edge to his voice.

She changed the subject abruptly. “How much do you make…as Rangers? I’ll triple it. I need good men.” Her eyes measured Checker.

“You have a good day, ma’am.” Checker returned his hat to his head and headed for the door, trying not to let his wounded leg be so apparent.

Bartlett joined him as Checker reached the door. Behind them came Lady Holt’s now sweet voice. “You take care of that leg wound, Ranger. Texas needs men like you.”