Death Stalks the Rangers Read online

  Death Stalks

  the Rangers

  Other Texas Ranger Novels

  By

  James J. Griffin

  Trouble Rides the Texas Pacific

  Border Raiders

  Trail of the Renegade

  Ranger Justice

  Panhandle Raiders

  Big Bend Death Trap

  Ride For Redemption

  Death Stalks the Rangers

  Renegade Ranger

  Bullet for a Ranger

  Faith and the Ranger short story collection

  Ranger's Revenge

  Death Stalks the Rangers

  A Texas Ranger Sean Kennedy Story

  A James J. Griffin Novel

  Reprinted with permission of author.

  The Western Fictioneers Library www.westernfictioneers.com

  Copyright© James J. Griffin 2010

  Cover Design L. J. Washburn

  Cover photo left credited to Six Gun City, Jefferson, New Hampshire

  Cover photo right credited to www.shutterstock.com/pic-124137574

  Western Fictioneers logo design by Jennifer Smith-Mayo

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  This collection is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or are used in a fictional manner. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Paperback available at Dancing Fox Publishing

  www.dancingfoxpublishing.com

  Dedication

  In memory of my friend Gale Buffum, a great lady, and a wonderfully talented illustrator. God needed an artist in Heaven.

  Thanks to Paul Dellinger for his invaluable suggestions and editing.

  As always, thanks to Texas Ranger Sergeant Jim Huggins of Company A, Houston, and Karl Rehn and Penny Riggs of KR Training, Mannheim, Texas, for their help with technical information.

  CHAPTER 1

  Texas Ranger Sean Kennedy awoke just before sunup, while the other members of his Ranger Company were still snoring in their bunks. It was his morning to feed the horses and start the breakfast fire.

  Sean swung his legs over the edge of his mattress and sat up. He pulled on his jeans, boots, and then ran a hand through the thatch of unruly dark hair covering his head. He stood, yawned and stretched, rubbed his beard-stubbled jaw and scratched his belly. Sean lifted his shirt from the peg behind his bunk and shrugged into it, tied a blue bandanna around his neck, then jammed his battered gray Stetson on his head. Finally, he buckled his gun belt around his waist and headed outside.

  Sean stepped from the bunkhouse on the abandoned ranch just northwest of Laredo, which his company had been using as a headquarters for the past six weeks.

  His blocky blue roan gelding, Ghost, nickered a greeting when the Ranger headed for the corral. The mount, which had been named not only for his coloring but also for his uncanny ability to move almost silently through the brush, was a big horse, which was necessary to support his rider's size. Kennedy was a large man, just about six feet tall, lantern-jawed, barrel-chested, and thickly built. His bulk belied his quickness, for he could outdraw most men, and had catlike agility in a fistfight.

  "Mornin', boy," Sean called to his mount. The horse whinnied again, more urgently this time. He and the other horses in the corral had their heads lifted and ears pricked sharply forward, gazing at something in the distance.

  "What's botherin' you, Ghost?" Sean asked.

  Sean turned to follow the horse's gaze, his dark eyes narrowing against the glare of the rising sun, now gilding the eastern sky blazing yellow and orange. He could barely discern an approaching object off to the east.

  Sean squinted, trying to ascertain exactly what he was watching. He finally realized it was an approaching horse.

  "Somethin's wrong, though," he muttered. "That horse doesn't appear to be movin' right. I don't see a rider, either."

  The horse broke into a trot as it drew nearer the ranch.

  "That's Thad Dutton's horse!" Sean exclaimed, recognizing the blaze-faced chestnut. When he started toward the animal, it stopped, whickered nervously.

  "Thad!" Sean shouted.

  Ranger Thad Dutton, his left foot caught in the stirrup, hung upside down from his saddle. His six-gun was gripped tightly in his hand, which dragged the ground; his eyes were wide open in the unseeing stare of death. Dried blood stained his shirtfront and covered his face. It coated Thad's Stetson, still held tightly on his head by its chinstrap.

  "Lieutenant Blawcyzk!" Sean called. "Sergeant Huggins! Get out here, quick!"

  He stepped carefully toward the animal. "Easy, Toby, easy," Sean attempted to sooth the nervous horse. He lunged, and grabbed the gelding's reins before it could trot off.

  Lieutenant Jim Blawcyzk emerged from the bunkhouse, closely followed by Sergeant Jim Huggins and several other members of the company.

  "What is it, Sean?" Blawcyzk called.

  "It's Thad Dutton. His horse just brought him back. Thad's dead."

  "What?" Blawcyzk exclaimed.

  "Appears like he was gut-shot," Sean answered. "And maybe took a bullet in his head. Can't tell for certain until we get him off his bronc."

  "Johnston, Mallory, help Kennedy get Dutton off Toby," Blawcyzk ordered two of the Rangers assembled around their dead comrade.

  "Right away, Lieutenant."

  While Sean held Dutton's horse steady, the two men attempted to remove him from the saddle.

  "Thad's pretty stiff, Lieutenant," Rick Johnston noted. "We're gonna have trouble gettin' him off this horse."

  "Seems he's been dead for some time," Levi Mallory added. Mallory was a young Ranger, in his early twenties. In contrast to the blocky built, darkly-featured Kennedy, he had a slim build, hazel eyes, and light brown hair. Mallory's rugged good looks were accentuated by his wind and sun darkened skin.

  "We'll let Sergeant Huggins figure out when he was killed. That's his area of expertise. You just get Thad down," Blawcyzk replied.

  After struggling to bend the muscles and joints of Dutton's rigor mortis stiffened limbs, the two men were finally able to free him from the saddle and lay him on the ground.

  "Jim…" Blawcyzk said to Huggins.

  "Yep," the veteran sergeant answered. He glanced at Sean.

  "Kennedy, get someone to handle that horse. Now's your chance to show you've learned some of what I've been teachin' you."

  "Sure, Sergeant," Sean agreed. After he handed Toby's reins to Mallory, he and Huggins knelt beside Dutton's body. By now the entire company of Rangers had gathered around them.

  "What's the first thing you notice?" Huggins asked.

  Kennedy swallowed hard to help get his emotions in check. He and Dutton had ridden together for two years. He resolutely put aside his distress over the loss of his friend and fellow Ranger, to concentrate on the task at hand.

  "Thad was shot with his gun in his hand. His grip tightened on it when the bullet hit him. Cadaveric spasm happens immediately."

  Sean lifted Dutton's arm to sniff the gun barrel.

  "This gun's been fired, too. Thad got off at least one shot."

  "That's correct. What else?"

  "I was right sayin' he was shot through the head. I believe Thad took the bullet in his belly first. Despite the slug in his guts he was still able to shoot back at whoever killed him, but then they shot him in his head and finished him off."

  "You're do
ing fine," Huggins assured him. "Go on."

  "I'd guess Thad was killed sometime less than twenty-four hours ago. His body hasn't begun to decompose all that much. Rigor mortis is still present, which means he's been dead less'n thirty-six hours or so. Judging by the condition of his horse, which isn't all that gaunt, I came up with a twenty-four hour guess."

  "That's reasonable," Huggins agreed. "Anything else?"

  "That's about it," Sean answered.

  "What about the livor mortis?"

  "We didn't talk all that much about that, Sergeant. Maybe you'd better explain."

  "All right," Huggins agreed. He opened Dutton's shirt and removed his hat. He then pointed out several purplish-red areas on Dutton's body.

  "See these discolored spots? That's livor mortis. Gravity causes the blood to pool once the heart stops pumping. Since Thad was hung up in his saddle, most of the blood settled in his upper chest, neck and shoulders. Look here."

  Huggins indicated the large splotch of dried blood running from the bullet hole in Dutton's lower abdomen, over his stomach and chest, and the dried blood matting down his dark hair.

  "This much blood on the outside of the body indicates Thad was alive for a while after he was shot. His heart would have had to keep working for this much blood to flow from the wounds. Sean, you were right, up to a point. Thad was shot in the gut first, then the head, but he didn't die right off. I'd say his heart didn't give out for ten or fifteen minutes after he took the second slug. Not that he ever had a chance with two bullets in vital spots. His heart just didn't know he was already dead."

  Huggins pulled his Bowie from the sheath on his belt and used the heavy bladed knife to slice open Dutton's abdomen for several inches, from the navel toward the breastbone.

  Dennis Knapp, one of the new recruits, turned away, retching violently.

  "Guess he's never seen anyone dig for a slug," Huggins offhandedly remarked. He shoved the knife's blade deeper into the dead Ranger's belly, searching for the bullet.

  "Got it," Huggins grunted in satisfaction when the blade hit a solid object. He twisted the Bowie to deftly remove the chunk of lead.

  "Appears to be a .45 slug by lookin' at it. Once I weigh it I'll know for certain," Huggins noted. "So I'd say Dutton was most likely killed with a pistol, not a rifle. The fact he apparently shot back before he died indicates that, too. He wasn't shot from long range."

  Huggins wiped the blade of his knife on Dutton's jeans before shoving it back in its sheath.

  "What about the time of death? Was Sean right about that?" Blawcyzk asked.

  "Close as anyone can come," Huggins shrugged.

  "So we can figure out about how far off Thad was killed, backtrack, and hope we come up with something," Blawcyzk stated.

  "It'll be a pretty wide area, but sure, we can narrow it down some," Huggins agreed.

  "Fine. Go through Dutton's clothes and see if there might be any clue as to where he was or who might have killed him. I'll check his saddlebags and gear. Once that's done we can get Thad buried and start searching for that lowdown skunk," Blawcyzk ordered.

  "It'll be a job gettin' his limbs straight," Mallory observed.

  "They'll bend. Just keep workin' at it," Huggins said.

  "Sure, Sergeant."

  "Wait a minute! I just noticed somethin' else," Sean exclaimed.

  "What?" Blawcyzk asked.

  "Thad's belt's missin'. You know, the one he had custom made in San Antonio, with the fancy buckle and all."

  "That's right," Johnston agreed. "Thad had a Ranger badge engraved on the buckle and his initials on the keepers. He was right proud of that belt. He wouldn't take it off for anything."

  "Except a good-lookin' señorita," Sean said.

  "Well, whoever shot Thad didn't take his belt, that's for certain," Huggins observed. "His horse took off with him soon as he was plugged. Thad's killer didn't have the chance to remove that belt."

  "Whoever does have Thad's belt might just lead us to his killer," Sean replied. "We are goin' after him, ain't we, Lieutenant?"

  "We'll settle that once we lay Thad to rest," Blawcyzk answered.

  CHAPTER 2

  "Eternal rest grant unto him O Lord, and may perpetual light shine upon him. May Thad's soul and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen." With the traditional words from the Catholic funeral service for the repose of the soul of the departed, which he used whenever he presided over a service for one of his deceased men, no matter what their faith, Lieutenant Blawcyzk concluded the brief interment ceremony for Ranger Thaddeus Charles Dutton.

  "You were a good man, Thad," Blawcyzk murmured as he threw the first clods onto Dutton's coffin. "We'll get whoever murdered you. Bet a hat on it."

  Blawcyzk stood silently for a few moments while some of the men filled in Dutton's grave. The Ranger had been laid to rest in a far corner of the ranch, his final resting place overlooking a small stream. A wooden cross would be carved by Ranger Charlie Moses and placed on the grave.

  "Jim, Sean, come with me," Blawcyzk ordered once the grave was completely covered. "The rest of you men, finish the jobs you were assigned yesterday. Make sure your tack's in good repair and your horses are ready for a long ride. Be certain none of 'em have loose shoes. If there's any doubt about one, replace that shoe rather'n chancin' it bein' thrown on the trail. We'll be ridin' out tomorrow."

  Kennedy and Huggins followed the lieutenant into the ranch house. Blawcyzk led them into the bedroom he was using as sleeping quarters and office.

  "Have a seat, men," he invited.

  Sean settled on a worn leather chair in the corner, while Huggins reversed a ladder-back chair and straddled it, his arms resting on its backrest.

  Blawcyzk sat in the chair behind his battered desk. He took a piece of licorice from a jar on the desk, popped it in his mouth, and shoved the jar across the desk.

  "Candy?" he asked.

  "Sure." Sean took a piece of the licorice. "Thanks, Lieutenant."

  "You sure you don't need these for your Sam horse, Jim?" Huggins laughed as he also took a candy. Blawcyzk's paint gelding was as well known among the Rangers for his insatiable sweet tooth as his bad temper.

  "Nope. Peppermints only for him." Blawcyzk chuckled. The lieutenant grew serious when he continued, "Sean, Jim, you know we can't let the murder of a Ranger go unanswered. We've got to try and track down Thad's killer, no matter how long the odds are of finding him."

  "So we're goin' after him?" Sean asked.

  "Just rein in a minute," Blawcyzk answered. "First, there was absolutely nothing in Thad's gear or pockets to give us a hint as to why he was shot. Second, we don't really have any idea where to start lookin'. You said Thad's horse came in from the east, right Sean?"

  "That's right, Lieutenant."

  "Then there's a problem already. Thad was supposed to be on his way back from San Antonio. There's no reason he'd have headed any direction from there but straight south for Laredo. Except for a couple of Mexican villages and a few scattered ranches there's nothing between Laredo and Falfurrias. His horse comin' in from that direction makes no sense."

  "A cayuse without a rider guidin' it is liable to wander in any direction. You know that, Jim," Huggins pointed out.

  "Of course, but we've been stationed here for nearly two months, so Toby would know where to head for oats. There's not much grazin' around this time of year, especially considerin' the dry spell we've been havin'. My guess is that horse headed straight here from wherever Thad got shot."

  "That's not one hundred percent guaranteed."

  "Of course not. Only thing I'd say for certain is Thad didn't get killed in Laredo. Too many people there. Someone would have grabbed his horse before he got too far."

  "No one saw him after that, either, or they would have stopped Toby," Huggins pointed out.

  "Any possibility the killin' might've happened in Mexico?" Sean asked.

  "It's possible, but I doubt it,
" Blawcyzk explained. "Thad had no reason to cross the Border. Even with the Rio runnin' low, it'd be hard for a horse to swim the river with a rider hangin' off his side. I also didn't notice any dried mud on Thad's clothing. Did either of you?"

  "No," Huggins replied.

  "Me neither," Sean conceded.

  "So apparently his horse didn't take him into any muddy water, like the Rio. No, Thad was murdered on Texas soil," Blawcyzk concluded.

  "But where?" Sean asked.

  "That's what I'm assigning you to find out, Ranger Kennedy," Blawcyzk answered.

  "Me?"

  "That's right. You, Sean," the lieutenant confirmed.

  "Beggin' your pardon, but there's plenty of others with more experience than me, Lieutenant," Sean protested.

  "I know that, but I think you're the man for this job," Blawcyzk replied. "You've been with the Rangers for nearly four years now, and you've done a fine job. Don't forget the training Jim Huggins has given you. That's invaluable, and none of the other men have taken lessons from him. Not even me, for that matter, so you have an edge no other member of this company has. Much as I'd like to, I can't take this entire troop ridin' all over south Texas searchin' for Thad's killer. That wouldn't work anyway. A whole company of Rangers would just scare him off. Besides, our orders are to patrol the Rio from here to Eagle Pass, mebbe up to Del Rio if necessary, to try and stop the rustlin' and smugglin' plaguing the entire border region. Cap'n Trumbull would have my head if I disobeyed those orders. We ride out tomorrow as planned."

  "What about Sergeant Huggins himself?"

  "I can't spare him. If anything should happen to me, he'll be in charge of the company. In fact, he's the reason I'm giving you this assignment. You've learned a lot from him, and I figure with that knowledge you're the only man in this company, except for Sergeant Huggins, who can track down Thad's killer. Do you agree, Jim?"

  Huggins thumbed back his Stetson and scratched his jaw before replying.