A Ranger's Christmas (Lone Star Ranger Book 4) Read online

  “Thanks,” Nate said. “These’ll do.”

  “Don’t mention it,” Ken answered. “Just tell George to heal up as quick as he can. With him laid up, Dakota’s gonna have to be the cook, and whatever he makes comes out downright inedible. His bacon’s tougher than the shoes he pulls off the horses, his biscuits are like rocks, and his coffee tastes like swamp water. The whole company’ll be down with bellyaches and the trots until George gets better.”

  “I’ll tell him,” Nate said, with a laugh. “Don’t know if there’s much he can do about it, but I’ll tell him.”

  ****

  “Nate, I’m glad to see you got back so soon,” Jim said, once Nate returned. “I’ve still got three more men to treat, once I’m done with George. Nothing major, Tom’s got a sprained ankle, Dakota and Larry some bad bumps, but they still need to be taken care of.”

  “I told you I wouldn’t be long,” Nate answered. “Are these all right?”

  “They’ll do just fine,” Jim told him. “Put ’em down alongside George. There’s no point puttin’ this off any longer. George, I’m gonna pull those bones back in place now. Are you ready?”

  “I reckon it don’t matter whether I’m ready or not,” George said. “It’s gotta be done, so you might as well get at it.”

  “Okay. Nate,” Jim said. “I’ll need you to hold George’s leg still, while I yank the bottom back into place. You’ll have to keep it from movin’, as much as possible. I also want you to hold George down and keep him from movin’, at the same time. The best way to do that is sit on him, just below his hips, grasp his leg, put a hand on each side, a few inches below the knee, and push down hard when I pull. Think you can do that?”

  “From what I’ve seen of Nate, he’s always pullin’ someone’s leg,” George said, before Nate could answer.

  “Just stuff that bandanna in your mouth, will you, George?” Jim told him. “Nate, can you handle this?”

  “I’ll manage,” Nate said.

  “Good. Time to get this done.”

  Nate got in position and took hold of George’s leg, while Jim gripped it six inches above the ankle.

  “All right, George?” Jim asked. George nodded.

  “Here goes.” With a sharp tug, Jim pulled the broken bones back into place. They snapped back with an audible crack. Even with the bandanna in his mouth, George yelled with the pain, then passed out. Nate, himself, got a little queasy, but swallowed hard, and managed to keep his stomach in check.

  “It’s better that he did lose consciousness,” Jim told Nate. “That way, he won’t feel anythin’ while we finish workin’ on him. Hand me those splints.”

  Nate handed the chuck wagon pieces to Jim, who placed one on each side of George’s leg to measure them.

  “You chose good,” he said. “These are just about the perfect fit.”

  “Ken helped me find ’em,” Nate answered.

  “Remind me to thank him,” Jim said. “Now, watch while I do this.”

  Jim took the blanket and cut several strips from it. He used the remainder to wrap around George’s leg, then placed a splint on each side. He used the strips to tie those in place, except for two. Those, he used to bind George’s pants leg, once it was rolled back down, over the splints.

  “There’s a couple of reasons to pad a broken limb before you splint it,” he explained. “First, it’s for the man’s comfort. It’ll keep the splints or bindings from pressin’ on the limb, which could lead to sores, mebbe even gangrene if the sores got bad enough. Second, paddin’ the limb helps protect it against bumps and bruises. Third, it helps keep the limb warm. I realize that sounds silly in this heat, but an injured limb can get chilled, no matter how hot the weather is.

  “It also helps make certain the splints aren’t too tight. You want to make certain they’re tight enough the limb can’t move, but not so tight they cut off its circulation. The padding helps protect against that. Of course, if you don’t have anythin’ you can use for padding, you splint anyway.

  “I’ll remove George’s splints and the padding every day for a week or so, just to check the leg, to make certain it hasn’t gotten gangrenous. That’s about all we can do here for now. I won’t need your help with the other men.

  “Why don’t you go check on your cayuse? I know you’re worried about him. I see Phil and Jeb comin’ back. Looks like they’ve rounded up the horses, so Phil should be with you right quick.”

  “All right. And thanks for the lesson,” Nate said.

  “No, thank you for helpin’ out. You did just fine. Now, go take care of that horse.”

  ****

  Larry Cannon had taken charge of the horse herd. He nodded to Nate when he hurried up.

  “Your sorrel’s right over there, son,” he said. “I took a quick look at him. He’s sore, that’s for certain, but I couldn’t see anythin’ obvious. I don’t think whatever’s botherin’ him is too serious. Phil can give you a better idea, once he’s turned the remuda in with this bunch.”

  “Thanks, Larry,” Nate said. He whistled. Big Red walked over to him, still limping. He nuzzled Nate’s hand.

  “I don’t have any biscuits right now, Red.” Nate patted the horse’s shoulder. “I’ll try’n find you one in a bit. Right now, we need to see how bad you’re hurt.” He stayed with Red, talking to him soothingly and comforting him, until Phil approached.

  “Red’s still limping, Phil,” Nate said.

  “I figured he would be. A horse don’t usually heal up in just a few minutes. I’m just glad I got back sooner than I figured. Jeb and I got every one of the runaways back,” he said to Nate. “We got lucky. They didn’t scatter all over half of Texas. Now, let me take a look at your bronc. Walk him out for me, will you? Away from me, then toward me.”

  “Sure.” Nate picked up Red’s reins, led him away from Phil, then back to him.

  “Good, good,” Phil said. “Now, trot him out. Same way.”

  Nate repeated his actions, this time at a trot.

  “All right,” Phil said, once they were back at his side. “Red’s definitely off on his right front. The question is, why? Lemme get a better look. You hold him, and don’t let him jump around on me while I check that leg.”

  “Sure.”

  While Nate held Red, Phil ran a hand over his right front leg, looking for any signs of injury.

  “So far, so good,” he said, straightening himself up, then arching his back to work out a kink. “I don’t see any lumps, and don’t feel any, either. So it appears Red didn’t bow a tendon, or tear a ligament or somethin’. And it sure ain’t a broken bone, or he wouldn’t be placin’ any weight on that foot. Now, I’m gonna check his hoof.”

  Phil picked up Red’s foot and examined it closely.

  “No pebble stuck in there, and no bruises that I can see,” Phil said, as he dropped the foot. “Lemme see what else it might be.”

  He ran his hand slowly down Red’s neck, then his shoulder. When he reached that, the horse flinched, then shied away from Phil’s touch. He nickered.

  “Ah. There it is,” Phil said.

  “There what is?” Nate asked, his voice worried. “What’s wrong with him?”

  “It’s actually good news, considerin’,” Phil said. “Red must’ve strained a muscle in his shoulder. A little rest, and he should be good as new, before you know it. Of course, that means you won’t be ridin’ him for a while. You’ll have to choose one of the spare mounts from the remuda. But your horse will be just fine. I’ve got some liniment in my saddlebags we can rub on that shoulder. It’ll help him feel better, and also help him heal faster.”

  “Muchas gracias, Phil,” Nate said. “I’m obliged.”

  “Por nada,” Phil answered. “Glad to do it. And you’re pickin’ up Mexican real fast, kid. You’re soundin’ more and more like a native Texan every day. Now, let’s go see if Cap’n Quincy needs our help. After that, we’ll come back and rub down Red’s shoulder.”

  ****

  Th
e men working on uprighting and salvaging the chuck wagon had just completed their work by the time Phil finished checking Big Red. Bob and Hoot had also picked up the tents and supplies lost from the pack mules, and returned. Captain Quincy had gathered all of the men around him. Nate and Phil joined them.

  “Nate, Phil, you’re just in time to hear what I have to say,” he said, then took a drag on his cigarette and tossed the butt aside. “First, the chuck wagon took quite a beatin’, but it’s repairable, without too much trouble. Fortunately, none of the wheels were broken, and neither of the axles got busted. A couple of hours with hammer and nails and it will be ready to go. That’s the good news.

  “The bad news is, we lost quite a bit of our supplies, including some of Jim’s medicines, most of our foodstuffs, and all of our water. All four barrels were busted wide open when the wagon crashed. Now, Percy’s going to scout ahead of us, and search for water. As all of you know, if anyone can locate a waterhole, Percy can. However, the last good source of water in these parts is the Pecos River, and we’ve already left that quite a few miles behind us.

  “This territory is mighty dry country in the best of times, and it’s been in a dry spell for quite a while now. That means the odds of Percy findin’ any water at all, except mebbe a couple of mud holes, are really slim. We’ll have to rely on whatever cactus we can find to cut open for liquid, and whatever’s left in our canteens. We’ll need to save at least some of that for the horses, and also make certain there’s as much as possible kept aside for George and Dan. We could well be lookin’ at five days without water, and very little food, until we reach Fort Stockton. We’re dang lucky Dan and Percy shot a couple of those buffalo, or we’d go even hungrier.”

  “Why not send a couple of men ahead to Fort Stockton, then have ’em bring some water back for us?” Nate suggested.

  “If I thought they had any chance at all of makin’ it, I’d do exactly that,” Quincy answered. “But, just to try it, we’d have to give them what little water we have, and even then, there’s no guarantee they’d get through. We’re better off stickin’ together.

  “We’ll spend the night here, make the repairs to the wagon, then light out at sunup. I’m not gonna sugar coat things for you. This will be a mighty tough trip, but most of us have faced tougher. We’ll get through this, with the help of each other, and the Lord.

  “My suggestion for tonight is get as much rest as you can. There’s just one other thing. We’ll need a driver for the wagon, since George is laid up. Nate, I know George has taught you a little about drivin’ a team, but you’re not quite experienced enough yet to take on the job. Joe, since you rode shotgun for the Butterfield Stage, you know how to handle a team in a pinch. I’m handin’ drivin’ the wagon to you. I also want one man to ride along with you, to keep an eye on George and Dan. Nate, I know your horse is hurt. How bad off is he?”

  “Phil says Red’ll be all right, but I shouldn’t ride him for a few days,” Nate answered.

  “That’s right, Cap’n,” Phil added. “Nate’s horse strained his shoulder. He’ll be able to keep up just fine, especially since we won’t be travelin’ all that fast, but he shouldn’t have to take any weight for a while, I’d say at least until we reach Fort Stockton.”

  “Okay, then that’s settled. Nate, you’ll ride along with Joe. You won’t mind, will you?”

  “Not at all, Cap’n,” Nate said. “I don’t imagine it would make any difference if I did, would it?”

  “Probably not, unless someone else volunteered, or if you gave me a good reason why you shouldn’t. Besides, most of the other men would gladly trade places with you. They’d love the chance to ride in the wagon, nice and easy, and be out of the saddle for a spell.”

  “There’s no reason that I can think of. I’ll be happy to watch Dan and George.”

  “Good. Now, you men who are fixin’ the wagon, get at it. The rest of you, get some shut-eye.”

  2

  The Rangers began to break camp while the gray light of the false dawn was just brightening the eastern horizon. The men ate a meager breakfast, washed down with a few sips of water. The horses were given short drinks from their riders’ hats, the animals in the remuda also watered, then the horses were saddled and bridled.

  Makeshift beds had been rigged up in the chuck wagon for George and Dan, pieces of canvas which had been torn from its cover by the stampeding buffalo slung as hammocks for the two injured men. Those beds would sway as the wagon jounced along, but would protect George and Dan from the worst of the bouncing. After they were helped into the wagon, they stretched out on the beds, then were covered lightly with thin blankets. The canvas cover had been patched together as much as possible, so it would still provide them at least some protection from the blistering Texas sun. Once they were settled, Joe took his place on the driver’s seat. Nate piled some folded blankets just behind him, between George and Dan, then sat down, facing backward, and braced himself against the front boards.

  “Are you ready to move out, Joe?” Captain Quincy asked. To keep the injured men out of as much dust as possible, the wagon would travel right behind the captain, Lieutenant Berkeley, and Jeb Rollins.

  “I sure am,” Joe answered.

  “Nate, are you all set?”

  “I’m all set, Cap’n.”

  “Dan, George, are you boys comfortable?”

  “I’m as comfortable as I can be, under the circumstances,” Dan answered.

  “I’m as snug as a bug in a rug,” George said. “Just need my Rosita and a bottle of whiskey and I’d be plumb tickled.”

  “Good. Nate, if either one of those two show any sign somethin’ is wrong, you holler out, hear me?” Quincy said.

  “I’ll do just that,” Nate assured him.

  “Good. Then it’s high time we got movin’.” With a wave of his hand, Quincy started the men into motion.

  ****

  Quincy maintained a slow, but steady, pace for the morning, knowing that it would conserve the men’s and horses’ strength, and keep them a little less thirsty, than traveling faster than a walk. As the sun rose higher in the sky, it beat down mercilessly on the Rangers. Not even the wispiest cloud appeared in the sky to provide at least a bit of shade. A brisk breeze sprang up, but it provided little relief.

  The air was so dry the men couldn’t even work up a decent sweat, what little perspiration that might have cooled them, at least a touch, instantly evaporating. It took all the willpower they had to keep from opening their canteens and downing the contents in a few quick swallows. The horses and mules were just as miserable. They plodded along, sweat coating their hides with foam, heads hung low, barely lifting their hooves. Just before noon, the captain called a short break.

  “I sure hope Percy finds some water, Cap’n,” Jeb said to Quincy. “Either that, or we’d better hope a storm blows up. I don’t think we can make it to Fort Stockton with what little we have.”

  Percy had ridden on ahead as soon as they had broken camp, to search for a spring, creek, or any possible source of potable water.

  Quincy glanced up at the cloudless, deep blue sky, thumbed back his Stetson, and shook his head.

  “I’d say there’s no chance of a storm,” he said. “There’s not any sign of one, at all. There’s no moisture in the wind, and it doesn’t seem like any clouds are attemptin’ to build up. Besides, it’s kinda late in the year for thunderstorms. We’re just about at the end of the season. It’s gettin’ almighty close to fall; in fact, it’s just a couple of weeks off. My guess is our only chance of findin’ water is Percy. We’ll just have to keep on goin’ and hope he comes across some. We’ll rest for thirty minutes, then move on.”

  Phil Knight rode up. “You sent for me, Cap’n?” he asked.

  “Yes, Phil, I did. Our situation is really desperate. If Percy doesn’t find any water, you may well have to pick out a couple of animals from the remuda to kill for food. Their meat will at least give us some nourishment, and a bit of moistur
e.”

  “Beggin’ your pardon, Cap’n, but you’ll have to kill me before you’ll be allowed to slit the throats of any of those horses or mules,” Phil replied. “It ain’t their fault we’re in this fix. Matter of fact, it’s us to blame for gettin’ them into it. No one touches those broncs.”

  “I’m sorry, but if it comes down to a choice between the horses or the men surviving, there really isn’t one,” Quincy said. “We’ll have to sacrifice some of the horses.”

  “Not if I can do anythin’ to stop you,” Phil snapped. He turned Parker and spurred him into a lope, heading back to the remuda.

  “Phil means just what he said, Cap’n,” Jeb said.

  “I know it,” Quincy answered. “Here’s prayin’ to God it doesn’t come to that.”

  ****

  After the rest, the Rangers resumed their westward trek. They had gone about four miles when a horse and rider appeared.

  “Someone up ahead, Cap’n,” Bob said. He took his field glasses from his saddlebags, and put them to his eyes for a closer look.

  “Well, Bob?” Quincy asked, as his lieutenant studied the oncoming rider. “Can you make out who it is?”

  “Yep. It’s Percy. Let’s hope he’s found us some water.”

  A few moments later, Percy rode up to them, and reined in his horse.

  “Afternoon, Cap’n, Lieutenant,” he said.

  “Never mind the pleasantries, Percy,” Quincy said. “Did you come across any water? We’re gettin’ pretty desperate. George and Dan got the last of our water three-four hours ago.”

  “I’m not sure,” Percy answered. “I didn’t see any, for certain, but a few miles ahead there is a thin line of greenery off to the northwest, probably along a creek bed. I’d doubt it’s any sort of large trees that would indicate plenty of water, like cottonwoods or cypresses. It’s more likely some mesquite and scrub willows. I’d say a couple miles off the trail. It could be there’s some water, or it could be just a whole lotta damp sand.