“I suppose I should consider that a proposal?”
“I reckon it could stand for one. I never was very handy with words, and since I got wounded the first time I’ve had a stiff knee. If I got down you might have to help me up. There’s still a bullet in there somewhere. Doc said he’d cause more trouble gettin’ it out than the bullet would if it stayed.”
Mac rode up beside them. He glanced back again. He was not at all sure they were free and clear. That was a bad outfit, and some of them were very tough men. After a moment, he fell back again. Dal and Kate were talking, oblivious to all but themselves, and he needed to listen.
If there was an attempt to follow them the pursuers would probably ride right for Refugio by the most direct route, while Mac had already decided to stay south of Mission River until he reached the main road into Refugio.
Nor must they linger in Refugio, but leave at once for Victoria.
The day was bright and clear. From the higher ground they could catch an occasional glimpse of the bay, and the ship could be seen approaching the passage into Aransas Bay. Mac took off his hat and mopped his brow. He was beginning to feel the let-down after an action, and it was too soon.
Home! Now he could go home. He could work around the place, repairing the pole corral, leaks in the shed roof, the doors and windows on the house. He wanted nothing so much as to be back doing the simple, everyday things.
He wanted to be riding the range again, branding the stock long left unbranded due to the War.
He turned again in his saddle … nothing.
Why should he feel so uneasy? What was wrong? Yet the feeling persisted.
Dust … he smelled dust! He called out. “Dal! Somebody’s coming! Look alive now!”
Horsemen were coming, at least twenty of them, and seven or eight of them Indians. They drew up. Mac Traven pushed a little ahead, his Spencer across the saddle in front of him.
There was a tall man in a Mexican sombrero and a dozen very tough, capable-looking white men, Anglos or Mexican.
The tall man whipped off his sombrero and bowed. “Kate? Are you all right? These, I take it, are the Travens?”
“That’s right,” Dal said, “and who are you?”
The man smiled. “I am Martin Connery. Occasionally called Captain Martin Connery.” He glanced at Kate. “You are all right? And the other girls? Are they also all right?”
“Everything is fine now. Dal Traven, Martin Connery. Dal and I are to be married.” She turned in the saddle. “Major Mac Traven.”
“The pleasure is mine. We were coming to see if all was well, and also, well, we here in Texas like to keep our beaches clean. We thought we might ride down and clean things up a bit. Odds and ends, you know.”
“Some of those odds and ends,” Dal said, “are drinking the whiskey they found in the supply wagon. I believe Ashford has gone off with a couple of the others.”
“We shall see, shan’t we?” Connery raised his hat again. “Hasta la vista!”
Eighteen
Happy Jack walked across the plaza to greet them as they rode in to Refugio. He was smiling. “Mac! Dal! Sure good to see you! I was figurin’ you got chewed up down there an’ I was goin’ to have to come down an’ pull you out from under those fellers!”
He held out a hand to Kate. “Good to see you, ma’am, I guess you folks been through it, but from what those girls tell me they’d never have made it but for you.”
Mac glanced around the square. People were watching them, and these were good people. He wanted to visit no trouble upon them. “Are they rested? Can they travel?”
“They’re itchin’ for it, but how about you folks? You must have been goin’ day an’ night?”
“We’ll make it. I’d like to go on to Victoria.”
Dal protested. “Kate an’ me, well, we …”
“You can be married in Victoria just as well as here, maybe better. There’s a lot of good German folk there, and they like marriages and such. Let’s get out of here.”
When Kate had gone off to see the girls, Dal said, “Mac? What’s bitin’ you? That’s all over. Those folks are whipped, and when Connery gets through with them there won’t be enough left to hide under your hat.”
“Maybe. I say we get out of here, get some distance behind us. Some of those boys got away, and I don’t know what Ashford’s got in mind.”
He tied his horse to the hitching-rail and went into the hotel. In Jesse’s room he bathed and shaved, then trimmed his mustache. Happy Jack came in with fresh clothes. “Found a store open. You get shined up now.” He paused. “You sure you want to start tonight?”
“No,” Mac hesitated, “I guess not. It will give all of us some rest, which we can use. Anyway, I don’t want to be on that road at night with all those girls. Get Dal an’ me a room, Jack, and we’ll bed down here for the night.”
“Where are the girls?” Dal asked.
“Cottage down the street. Mrs. Atherton’s with ’em, and I been sort of watchin’ around, too.”
“I’ll just bet you have!” Dal said dryly. “I’ve seen you watchin’ around ever since you first saw Mrs. Atherton.”
“Somebody’s got to look out for ’em.” Jack was embarrassed. “Anyway, she’s a widow lady. You told me so yourself.”
It was a pleasant town, and people went about their business, only partly aware of what had been happening only a few miles away. Mac cleaned and reloaded his guns, checked the tubes in the Quick-Loader, then stretched out on the bed. “You boys rest,” Jack said. “Me an’ Jesse will keep a tight rein on things tonight. Besides, I’ve had me a talk with the marshal, an’ he’s put an extry man on, just as precaution. These are good folks, and they don’t trifle around much.”
In the small hotel things were quiet. From time to time people walked along the hallways, and there were subdued voices from the various rooms. Yet for all his weariness, Mac had a hard time felling asleep. For four years now he had slept with an awareness that he might have to rise at any moment.
“Four years?” he spoke aloud. “It’s almost nine, if I count the Rangers, although there was a good night’s sleep there, time to time.”
Outside the cottage where the girls slept, Happy Jack tipped his chair back against the wall and got out a cigar. He struck a match, revealing a face seamed by sun and wind, and eyes alive as a boy’s yet wise with years. His eyes swept the square, seeing nothing. This was an early-to-bed town, except around the saloons, but even they were quiet tonight. A few late drinkers or poker players were active, but Jack had no desire to join them.
“There’s somethin’ to be said,” he had told Jesse, “for just restin’, for just settin’ an’ watchin’ the world go by.”
“Aw, now, Jack!” Jesse protested. “There’s mighty little of it ever got past you.”
“Well, a man has to get around some.” He changed the subject. “Mac was sayin’ folks back east killed off almost all their cattle durin’ the war, and now they’re short of eatin’ meat. I been figurin’ on tryin’ a drive, maybe a thousand head.”
“How will you get across the Mississippi?”
“Swim it. How else? Hell, Jesse, some of those longhorns would swim the Atlantic if they knowed there was grass on the other side.”
“If you or Mac decide to try it,” Jesse said, “you can count me in. Only I’m not swimmin’ no river that size. I’ll let you an’ the longhorns do it. When I cross a river that big I’ll be in a boat.”
One by one the lights went out, and the square lay silent, the last dust settling, the last creaks going out of the boards. A lone dog trotted up the street, headed home from somewhere, and a cat crouched near the water trough in silent patience. Often in the late hours rats came to drink or to hunt for scraps of food dropped by passersby.
Wind rustled the leaves, and Happy Jack’s lids grew heavy. The lone dog, sensing his presence, came up on the walk under the porch and sniffed at Jack.
“Set down, boy. You wasn’t goin’ nowhere you just had to be, now was you? Set down, an’ we’ll enjoy the night together.”
He scratched the dog’s ears, and the dog lay down, watching the cat. He had chased that cat before, and twice was more than enough. He had learned about cats.