“I figure we’re maybe two hundred and fifty miles north of Fort Worth,” Cass Herring said when they had made camp for the night.
“You’re bound for Fort Worth, then,” said Danielle.
“Yeah,” Herring replied. “For the time being, anyway. It gets God-awful cold here in the Territory when them snowstorms blow down from the high plains.”
“Hell, it snows in Texas, too,” said Leroy sullenly.
“Not near as much as it does to the north,” Herring replied. “If it gets bad enough, we can always ride farther south.”
“I don’t like south Texas,” said Leroy. “Too damn many rangers there.”
“You can always strike off on your own and go any place you damn please,” Herring said, “but if you get gun-happy in Texas and get us in trouble with the rangers, then I’ll personally gut-shoot you.”
While none of them had admitted it, Danielle believed they had been in Laredo—on the Mexican border—rustling Mexican horses and selling them in Texas. They had then rode into Indian Territory to avoid any retribution for the lawman who had been shot. Danielle wondered if Leroy had done the killing, but there was no way of finding out unless she asked. For her own well-being, she couldn’t afford to show too much interest in these men, who were undoubtedly on the dodge.
“We used the last of our coffee this morning,” Cass Herring said. “How are you fixed for grub, kid?”
“I have enough coffee to see us through to Fort Worth,” said Danielle. “I’ve got some jerked beef, bacon, and hardtack I’ll share.”12
“That’s generous of you,” Jarvis Brooking said. “We’re near ’bout out of everything.”
They rode on, stopping only to rest their horses, making night camp near a spring or a stream. At the end of the second day, Danielle estimated they were within fifty miles of Fort Worth. She had no reason for returning to the fort, since Captain Ferguson—the post commander—had refused her any help. Still, the sutler’s store would be the nearest source of supplies, and sharing with her five companions had all but emptied her saddlebags. With much of the frontier still unsettled, civilians were allowed to buy supplies and goods from a military outpost’s store.
Fort Worth, Texas. December 4, 1870.
In back of the sutler’s store was a saloon, and Danielle’s five companions went there first. Danielle had no intention of remaining at the fort overnight and, in the sutler’s store, began replenishing her supplies. The very last person she wished to see was Captain Ferguson, but she soon heard footsteps behind her, and there he was. His manner was different, and when he spoke, there was some friendliness in his voice.
“You’ve been busy, young man. I received the Kansas City newspaper that told of the killing of a Kansas-Pacific railroad man. He refused to cooperate with you, didn’t he?”
“Yes,” Danielle said. “He didn’t want any bad publicity for the railroad, but he got it anyway. One of the men on my list is Chancy Burke, and I was told by Alan Steele that Burke didn’t work for the railroad. Steele confronted Burke himself, and after he shot and killed Steele, Burke escaped.”
“I suppose I owe you an apology,” said Ferguson. “If you had gone to Kansas City knowing Burke was with the railroad and feeding information to his outlaw friends, Steele might be alive today. I’m sorry I didn’t make some effort to get that list of railroad men for you.”
“We all make mistakes, Captain,” Danielle said. “Your apology is accepted. Now I want to ask you something. Did you know Rufe Gaddis, Julius Byler, and Chancy Burke are all from Waco, and that they have families there?”
“No,” said Ferguson. “It’s news to me. Perhaps that’s where they are now.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Danielle said, “but a lot of good it’ll do me. I visited the Gaddis, Byler, and Burke families, and was ordered out of town. I couldn’t stable my horse, buy a meal, or rent a room.”
“Waco has an elected sheriff,” said Ferguson. “You got no help there?”
“None, and no promise of any,” Danielle said. “The sheriff’s concerned only with the next election, and it was him that told the town I was looking for Gaddis, Byler, and Burke. He also made it a point to warn the families of the three outlaws, and their kin were waiting for me with guns.”
“I can’t promise you any help,” said Captain Ferguson. “I suspect there are outlaws all over Texas, but there’s nothing the military can do. We’re already undermanned, and with Quanah Parker and his Coman che followers raising hell, local lawmen and the rangers will have to deal with the outlaws.”
“I understand,” Danielle said, “but even the rangers have failed in Waco.”
Shaking his head in frustration, Captain Ferguson walked away. When Danielle had her purchases bought and wrapped, she took them outside and stowed them in her saddlebags. She tied a sack of grain for Sundown to her bedroll behind the saddle. Feeling that she at least owed her five companions an adios, she went looking for them in the saloon behind the store. They did, after all, tell her that Snakehead Kalpana had been in south Texas, running horses across the border. If he had killed someone, especially a lawman, he might be long gone. She found all five of the men were gathered around a table, playing poker.
“I’m ridin’ out,” Danielle announced. “I just came to say adios.”
“Watch your back, kid,” said Cass Herring. It was an underhanded compliment, for no man was likely to face her down when she drew with blinding speed. Potter, Brooking, and Slacker had words of farewell. Leroy Lomax glared at her murderously, for he was a big loser, having few chips before him.
“Don’t expect nothin” from Leroy,” Stubbs Potter said. “His ma weaned him on sour pickles, and he’s went downhill from there.”
There was laughter, some of it from strangers who had overheard the conversation. For a second, Danielle’s eyes met Leroy’s, and she knew if their trails again crossed on the frontier, one of them would die. Danielle rode out slightly to the southwest so that she might avoid Waco, which lay due south of Fort Worth. She had no doubt that eventually she would be riding back to Waco, for with the whole town, including the sheriff, looking out for Gaddis, Byler, and Burke, it was a safe enough haven for the outlaws. She took heart in the possibility that Kalpana might not have been working alone, that some of the other killers she sought might be riding with him. From what she had learned at Fort Worth, Laredo, Texas was a border town some three hundred miles to the south. Since San Antonio was along the way, Danielle decided to stop and talk to the old ranger, Sage Jennings.
San Antonio, Texas. December 7, 1870.
Captain Jennings had heard of the killing of Alan Steele, of the Kansas-Pacific. Danielle filled in the details, and shaking his head, Jennings spoke.
“No damn wonder the frontier’s neck-deep in outlaws. I reckon you’ve been to Waco?”
“I have, right after I left here before,” Danielle said. She explained her run-ins with the sheriff and the Gaddis, Byler, and Burke families.
“I frankly don’t know what we’re going to do about that situation,” said Jennings. “If we had some way of knowing when those three varmints slip back into Waco, I reckon we could take a posse and go after them. But it would be hell, trying to buffalo a whole town the size of Waco. Somebody would die, and not necessarily the outlaws.”
“I got word that Snakehead Kalpana, one of the men I’m hunting, has been rustling on the other side of the border and bringing the horses into Texas. Do you know anything about that?”