Free [Texas Rangers 06] - Jericho's Road by Elmer Kelton Page B

the old man’s land grant wasn’t legal anymore. When he fought back, they ambushed him and Juana’s husband. Lupe hunted down the leaders and left them layin’ dead as a skinned mule. Then he took a fast horse and went to Mexico.”
    Len said, “And after that you married Mrs. McCawley?”
    “ When a respectable time had passed. I was in love from the first time I saw her. Besides, I was grateful to the old man and wanted to save his land for her if I could. I had to face up to some hard men. I even had Jericho in my sights once. I ought to’ve killed him, but I let him go because there was a time when we used to be friends.” McCawley looked regretful. “He’s hated me ever since. I guess he figures he’s beholden to me, and it grates on his soul to owe anybody.”
    Andy said, “At least you’ve given Lupe Chavez a reason to like you, marryin’ his sister and savin’ her land.”
    “ No, Lupe doesn’t like me. To him I’m just another gringo, and he hates them all. He’d be glad to come to my funeral if he didn’t have to kill me himself. He leaves me alone on account of his sister.”
    Farley asked, “But you’re American. Ain’t it tough, standin’ up against your own kind?”
    “ People like Jericho aren’t my kind.”
    Andy thought he understood. “For a long time I thought of myself as Comanche. But there were some Comanches I had no use for.” He explained to McCawley about the years he spent with the Indians.
    McCawley said, “Then maybe you can understand the position I’m in. Sometimes I feel like I belong to both sides, and other times I don’t belong to either one.”
    After dark the Rangers unrolled their blankets in the yard. Len lay on his back, looking up at the stars. He asked Andy, “What color would you say Teresa’s eyes are?”
    Andy said, “Brown. Dark brown.”
    “ But they’re not brown like anybody else’s. They’re different. They’re …” He considered for a moment. “Damned if I can say just what color they are. But they’re the prettiest eyes ever I seen.”
    Andy said, “Sounds to me like you’re in love. But as I remember it, you’ve been in love lots of times before.”
    “ Not like this.”
    Farley said, “She’s Mexican.”
    Len’s voice was defensive. “Half of her is white.”
    Farley gave the matter some thought. “I’ll admit, I kind of liked lookin’ at her.”
    After breakfast McCawley led them back out to the corrals. A dozen horses stirred in a single pen, warily watching the men who entered the gate. He said, “Take your pick, Farley.”
    Andy had always known that despite his faults Farley was a good judge of horses. He strode among them, making them walk, watching how they moved. He soon made his choice. “I like that stockin’-legged red.” He had always shown a partiality to sorrels.
    McCawley said, “You’ve got a good eye. He’ll take you there and bring you back.”
    The Rangers saddled up. Andy shook McCawley’s hand. “Please tell the womenfolks again how much we enjoyed their good cookin’.”
    “ And you-all watch out that the next time you run into bandits, it’s of your own choice and not theirs.”
     
    The Ranger camp was similar to one Andy had known on the San Saba River. It was a row of pyramid-shaped canvas tents and a set of crude but effective corrals built of tree branches tied together with rawhide. The tents could be moved on short notice as the need arose and the corrals quickly put together at the new site with whatever materials happened to be at hand.
    A broad-shouldered man emerged from a tent and stood with big hands placed solidly on his hips as he watched the three riders approach. He gave Andy and Farley a critical study, then shifted his attention to Len. He said, “Look what the north wind just blowed in. I figured you liked San Antonio so much that you wasn’t comin’ back.”
    Andy could not be sure whether the man was joking or not. He sounded serious, even disappointed that Len