Ride for Rule Cordell

Chapter Forty-one

Red streaks of a new day greeted a strange group of riders entering the quiet town of Caisson. Thirty Rangers surrounded Holt’s gunmen, their hands tied in front of them, as they entered the main street. In the rear were five horses carrying dead Holt gunmen.

A barely conscious Jaudon, with his face blossoming in purple and yellow bruises, rode in the center. His horse was led by the redheaded Ranger. His hands were tied together and grasped the saddle horn.

At the front rode John Checker, Rule Cordell, Aleta Cordell and Spake Jamison.

An excited young boy ran into the street and alongside them. “What’s going on? You aren’t real Rangers, are ya? My ma says there’s a bad bunch claiming to be Rangers.”

Aleta was the first to respond. “Buenos dias. Sí. These ees real Rangers. They ees bringing ze bad ones in. To justice.” She looked down at him and smiled. “Como esta usted? Ah, how are you thees morning?”

“I’m fine, lady. I gotta go now. Tell my ma. She’ll be very happy.”

“Adios.” She waved and the boy ran off.

Spake turned in the saddle back toward the other Rangers. “Let’s take them to the city corral. Down at the end of the street. We can tie them to the poles. Any of ’em give us trouble, we’ll shoot ’em. Be less to mess with. They can stay there ’til the circuit judge can get here. Ol’ Judge Jones’ll be just what we need.”

Checker motioned toward Jaudon. The Ranger’s hands were puffy and swollen.

Spake pointed. “Except for the Frenchman. He goes in the jail.”

From the newspaper office burst a disheveled Lady Holt. She screamed, “I demand to know what is going on here! Those are my men. That is Ranger Captain Sil Jaudon. Unhand him, I demand it.”

None of the Rangers responded, focusing on the street ahead and watching as townspeople were beginning to gather along the sidewalk.

“You don’t understand. I own this town.” She waved a large sheet of paper. “This is the first edition of the Caisson Phoenix! It tells what is happening here.” She hurried over to the closest Ranger and shoved the paper toward him. “Here, read it. It’s exciting. There’s even a poem about Iva Lee.”

He brushed it aside and rode on.

She ran toward the first riders, pointing and screaming, “That’s John Checker—and Rule Cordell! They are wanted…for murder. Arrest them. Arrest them.”

Turning toward her, Checker said, “Better start a new edition. I’ve got the headline. ‘Lady Holt and Her Men Arrested for Murder and Attempted Land Theft.’ How’s that sound?”

She looked at him, not comprehending. “Shoot him, Jaudon. Shoot him.” As the group rode past, she frantically looked at the arrested gunmen. “Where is Tapan? I don’t see Tapan. Where is my Tapan?”

Rule pulled his horse from the group and rode over to her. “Tapan Moore is lying on the top of a ridge. Back where he tried to kill us. So is Luke Dimitry. They weren’t good enough. Your men tried to wipe out some good people. Your men weren’t good enough, either. You hired Eleven Meade to kill John Checker. He wasn’t good enough, either.” Cocking his head to the side, he said, “You aren’t good enough, either, lady.”

Aleta and Checker joined the gunfighter, easing their horses toward the wild-eyed woman.

“I’ll triple what you’re earning right now. Triple the wages!” She waved her arms and screamed, “I’m the Queen of Texas! Iva Lee, I’ve done it!”

Waving the Rangers to a stop, Spake joined Checker, Rule and Aleta in confronting the unstable English rancher.

“You’re under arrest, Holt. You’re going to jail. With your buddy here, Jaudon.” Checker swung down from his horse.

“You’re not the law. Tapan is the sheriff. Jaudon is…the Ranger captain. I’ll wire Governor Citale. He’ll put a stop to this nonsense. He’ll—”

“Citale’s about two weeks away from resigning,” Checker snarled. “Either that or he can stand trial like the dog he is.”

“No! No! He’s the governor. My governor. I am the Queen of Texas!”

For the first time, she saw that townspeople were gathering. “My people! My people! How good you are here. I need your help. These awful men are trying to ruin us. You must help me stop them. Stop them! Our glorious empire depends on it.” She stutter-stepped toward the closest group, crossing her hands over her heart.

“Glorious Phoenix, you ever are my guide. Lead me to your Father, the Sun,” she cried out. “As it dies each eve and is reborn each morn, so you direct me to become invincible.”

“This time, lady, we’re the fire—and you aren’t coming out of it. Your phoenix is just another dead bird.” Checker grabbed her shoulder to stop her advance.

“Don’t you ever touch me! I am the queen,” she screamed, and spun toward him, swinging her right arm to slap his face.

He caught the oncoming swing, grabbing her arm with his left hand in midair. She pulled at his grip and cursed.

“Be glad you’re not a man, Holt. I’ve never hit a woman, but I’d make an exception in your case.”

Aleta came behind him, leading her horse. “Ranger Checker, these ees woman’s work. Let me take her to jail. Ees bueno?”

“I’d like that, Aleta. Thank you. I’ve about had it with this piece of British crap.”

The Mexican beauty stepped next to Lady Holt and delivered a savage slap across the evil rancher’s face. Lady Holt staggered and grabbed her pained cheek.

“Now, senorita, do you want to go to thees jail easy—or hard? Eet makes no difference to me.” In Aleta’s other hand was one of her revolvers.

Holding her reddened face, Lady Holt bit her lower lip, whimpered and started walking toward the jail. Hurrying down the sidewalk came Margaret Loren, her own face flushed.

“Miss? Miss? May I help you? I own the dry goods place up the street—and I’ve waited a long time for this day.” She motioned toward Lady Holt and produced a short-barreled revolver from beneath her apron.

“Gracias, senorita.”

Aleta started again, with Margaret beside her, moving the distraught Lady Holt toward the jail with jabs of their guns in her back.

“Riders coming!” Rule said, looking behind them.

Emmett, Rikor and Morgan led another bunch of Rangers—and Charlie Carlson and his six cowboys—into Caisson. Checker and Spake waved at their Ranger friends, part of Captain Poe’s main force. They had heard of the trouble and come to help, ignoring Poe’s wire demands that his men stay out of the complicated situation.

Immediately, Emmett spotted Aleta and Margaret taking Lady Holt to jail. His worried exclamation about where his boys were was answered by Rule. Both sets of children were fine and with the Morrisons, who were staying with them at the Cordells’ home. He explained they were a black family who had become their friends.

Emmett swallowed what he was about to say and, instead, asked what had happened. They had decided not to go on to Morgan’s ranch, but to come to Caisson to help. London Fiss’s body was left where it was, for later caring. They just couldn’t ride away and leave the trouble to Checker and Rule.

Jumping down and leaving the reins on the ground, Morgan ran toward Checker. She flung herself into his arms. At that moment, Jaudon pulled free the holstered pistol from the distracted Ranger next to him. Morgan stiffened as the bullet hit her, instead of Checker, and she slumped in his arms.

Checker, Rule and Spake fired at the Frenchman at almost the same instant. The lead impact lifted him from his saddle and his frightened horse bolted down the street as Jaudon slammed against the earth and was still. The Ranger next to him jumped down and ran toward the dying Morgan. He was crying.

Spake yelled at three men to find the doctor and they galloped away. Rule went over to examine the bullet-riddled Jaudon. No one saw a hungover Wilson Tanner slip toward the livery. With him was Alex Wilkerson, the banker and mayor.

Checker knelt in the street, cradling the young woman he loved. Jaudon’s bullet had struck her heart and he knew it. Tearing off his neckerchief, he wadded the cloth and held it against the seeping wound.

“M-Morgan, hold on. Hold on. W-we’ll get the doctor here.” He touched her cheek as his eyes welled with tears.

She grabbed his arm and her eyes fluttered open. “M-my d-dearest John…I—I w-wanted…a l-life with…y-you.”

“Morgan, please! I love you,” Checker declared as tears trembled down his face.

“I…I…l-love you.” Her hand slid from his arm and she was still.