of Christ preacher named Johnson spoke the words and dirt was shoveled over Dade and Matthew. Ty walked several yards behind Imma and Dade’s mother back to the house. When he got a chance to talk with Imma, he asked her if he could use Dade’s riding mule for a few days.
“I’ll get him home as soon as I can,” he promised.
Imma allowed him to take the mule, and Ty rode for Bandera and a telegraph. After he wired Ranger Captain Richarz, Ty headed back to Vanderpool. He wanted to try and pick up the shooter’s trail once again.
This time, I’ll be ready, he vowed.
Ty skirted Medina and camped near a spring. He didn’t want to see anyone, not tonight. As the sun drew down and dark returned, he ate cold corn cakes that Imma had prepared and tried to reason out all that had happened in the past week. Later, when he tried to sleep, he was tormented. He saw Dade’s head explode, Matthew’s eyes bug, and Blaze kicking. He was dreaming of Dog when he awoke in a cold sweat. He was up and saddled long before daylight.
Ty was eight miles west of Medina when the sun broke across the horizon. He found himself following a deer trail through rock formations that rose on either side of a long canyon that ran from Medina, halfway to Vanderpool. Suddenly Ty reined the mule to a stop. In the distance he could hear the rhythmic ring of several hoof beats along a rocky ledge above him. The sounds indicated that there were two riders moving fast and coming directly toward him. He dropped the reins and jumped from the mule. The mule stood its ground as Ty quickly grabbed his short-barreled shotgun and then ran up a rocky jag. There, he found a place to hide just above the ledge.
With the sun behind him and the limestone bluff above his head, Ty was in a perfect spot for an ambush. If he were lucky, the approaching riders would turn out to be the kidnapper and Sarah. He shifted his weight on his haunches and tried to move farther back along a narrow crag. A westerly wind whipped at his leather chaps.
The blue steel of the shotgun felt as if it were glued to his hands. Shimmers of heat danced on the canyon floor as the summer sun began to scorch the ground. Ty’s senses quickened. The gusting wind whistling around a nearby boulder and echoing off the steep limestone walls would squelch any opportunity Ty might have to hear the riders coming. About twenty yards below, he spotted a rabbit feeding on grass along the narrow trail. When the rabbit threw his ears back and quickly disappeared back into the brush, Ty knew the riders were close. He eased the hammers of the shotgun back and waited. His mind raced with anticipation. He dropped to one knee behind the boulders and fixed his eyes on the first of the riders as they rounded the bend.
It was Matt and Ben Franklin! After he was sure it was them, Ty stood up and hollered. Matt, who was in the lead, almost jerked his horse over trying to stop, frantically fumbling for a gun.
“Hold on, it’s me, Holt,” Ty shouted and stepped out into the trail in front of Matt.
“Gawdomighty, Ranger Holt, you almost scared us to death,” Matt said as he stuck his pistol back into a hip holster. “We’ve been on your trail for two days. What the Sam Hill happened back there? We found your horse shot. There was blood everywhere, and you were nowhere around. When I saw them buzzards, I told Ben something was going to be bad wrong. What happened, and where’s Dog?”
“Dead too,” Ty answered, “and Ranger Peterson and his nephew, Matthew.”
“Holy cow,” Matt muttered.
Ty told the boys to follow him back to where he had left Dade’s mule. When they reached level ground, he filled them in on all that had happened.
For a minute, Ben looked as if he might be sick. He glanced around anxiously. Finally he spoke. “Ranger Holt, me and my brother have done what we set out to do. That was to find you. We got work back home that we need to be doing. I’m sure you can understand that,” he said, looking at the ground. “We ain’t no law dogs and we got to get on back so we can let everyone know what’s happened.”
Matt looked at Ben as if he had lost his wits, but he said nothing. Ty nodded, asking the brothers if one of them would ride over to his ranch and let Aunt Izzy know he was all right.
“Yes, sir, we sure will,” Matt answered. “I think we should stay and help you, though.” The “I” was heavily emphasized.
“I appreciate that Matt, but Ben is right. You two have work to do and this-here outlaw is my business.”
With that, Ty mounted the mule. He turned in the saddle and asked, “What’s the date?”
Ben answered, “August second or third, I think. I know it’s Sunday.”
Ty thanked the boys once more for their help then kicked the mule due west toward the Barrow place.
Chapter 10
With the long days, Ty was at the Sabinal River above Vanderpool an hour before sundown. Reining the mule to the water’s edge, he knew he was not far from where Dade and Matthew had found the first dead Indian. The recollection of Dade pulling him into a clump of trees to tell him the story was vivid in his mind. He’d not soon forget the sight of those three dead redskins stretched out next to Shine’s still, wrapped in a bloody army blanket.
Ty dismounted and let the mule drink his fill. He walked upriver a few feet to fill his canteen. He was only half a mile from the very spot where Dade had shared his story of the dead Indians. Ty let the mule graze as he stripped off the clothes he’d been living in for the past three days. The sun felt good on his naked body. As the sun began to set in the west, Ty stepped into the cool water and bathed.
He washed his trail clothes as best he could. When they were as clean as they were going to get, he stepped out of the river, laying them on a large flat rock to dry. His three-day beard felt like a currycomb, and he decided to get his razor from his war bag. Once again, when he left the water Ty gingerly walked across the gravel until he caught the mule. The mule hardly looked up when he unleashed the leather sack from the pommel and returned to shave.
After scraping his whiskers, he laid the razor and soap on the bank and swam out into the deep water to a big rock, then back to the gravel bar. There was still half an hour of daylight, and Ty stretched out in shallow water to wait for his clothes to dry. He hoped the river would wash away some of his tension and anger.
Ty was almost asleep when he heard footsteps. Someone was watching him. He stood with a start. Grabbing Dade’s Sharp rifle he crouched beside the big rock where his clothes lay drying. With one hand he dragged his pants off the rock. They were hot and dry to his touch. After he managed to pull them on, he grabbed for his shirt. That was when he saw the peeping Tom scurry behind a big tree on the other side of the river.
Across the river, he could hear Mary Jane giggle as she darted away. Her blue gingham dress caught on a bush, and she had to jerk it free before she could complete her escape.
“That saucy little wench,” he said aloud laying his rifle on the rock.
Quickly, Ty finished dressing and cinched his gun belt around his waist. He gathered his belongings and put them back into his war bag. Within a few minutes, he was on the mule that he had begun to call Gray and was riding toward the Barrows’ cabin.
The cabin was well lit. Someone was on the porch with a candle. Riding closer, Ty could see that Mary Jane, her mother, and brother, Jeb were all outside. They were squatting near the far end of the porch. It was almost dark as Ty reined the mule to a stop in some trees long before he was close enough for anyone on the porch to see or hear him.
I wonder what in the world they’re fiddling with?
Sue Carol, Mary Jane’s younger sister, came running out of the house with a saucer and knelt beside the others. It wasn’t long before Mrs. Barrow and then Mary Jane stood. Ty watched a few minutes more, and then slowly rode toward the house. Mary Jane was the first to hear him coming.
Ty put the mule in the corral before he walked to the house. Mary Jane met him at the gate.
“Ty, I’m so glad to see