Free The Killing Season by RALPH COMPTON

my commission with the rangers may be revoked. I might as well just die, damn it, and get out of everybody’s way.”
    â€œListen, you old catamount,” said Nathan, “you’re not about to die. At least, not for a few more years. You’re goin’ to get up out of that bed, and when you do, you’ll still be wearin’ the star of the Texas Rangers. Now I have things to do, and I’ll see you again tomorrow.”
    The old ranger managed a grin, and Nathan closed the door. Lieutenant Carter nodded at Nathan approvingly, for he had been listening. Returning to the post commander’s office, Nathan spoke to Captain Ferguson.
    â€œWhen time permits, Captain, I need the use of the telegraph.”
    â€œGet with the telegrapher,” Ferguson replied. “As far as I know, the instrument’s been idle all morning.”
    Nathan composed a telegram to Washington, to his friend Byron Silver, at the office of the attorney general. While Captain Sage Jennings might never rise from his bed, he wouldn’t be stripped of his commission as a Texas Ranger.
    Â 
    The following morning, Nathan returned to the post hospital, where he found Captain Jennings in a better frame of mind.
    â€œYou don’t aim to roost here until I’m on my feet,” he said.
    It was a statement, not a question, and Nathan laughed. “No,” he said, “I reckon you can manage that without me. I aim to mosey around and see if I can find out where that bunch of Horrells went.”
    â€œI suspected as much,” said Jennings.
    â€œI like to think you’d do the same for me,” Nathan replied.
    â€œI would,” said Jennings. “It means a lot, havin’ you here. A man never knows who his friends are until he’s down. I’m obliged.”
    â€œYou’ll be hearing from Byron Silver,” Nathan said.
    â€œYou telegraphed him?”
    â€œI did,” said Nathan. “If I hadn’t, he’d have skinned me like a coyote and hung my hide out to dry.”
    Jennings laughed. “He went to Washington to work among the Yankees, but he never stopped bein’ a Texan.”
    â€œI’ll be in touch with Captain Ferguson by telegraph,” Nathan said, “and when I ride back this way, I want to see you on your feet. Maybe I’ll spend Christmas with you.”
    â€œI’d like that,” said Jennings. “Ride careful, amigo.” Before riding out, Nathan took the time to meet with Captain Ferguson.
    â€œWhen you have access to the telegraph,” Ferguson said, “get in touch with me and I will see that you get a progress report on Captain Jennings.”
    â€œI’m obliged,” said Nathan.
    He saddled his horse, loaded his packhorse, and with Cotton Blossom leading out, rode south,. toward Georgetown.

Georgetown, Texas. June 22, 1873
    Nathan didn’t bother taking a hotel room in Georgetown. Instead, he began questioning people about the Horrells and where they might have gone after quitting the territory. He learned nothing of importance until he reached Duncan’s Mercantile. There he spoke to Andrew Duncan, who seemed reluctant to talk.
    â€œDamn it,” Nathan said, “I’m looking for Clint Barkley and the Horrells. Nobody else. From what I’ve learned, they’ve quit the territory. Now I know the Horrells hired riders from around here, and I want the names of some of those men.”
    â€œNo,” said Duncan, “I ain’t wantin’ on the bad side of ’em. I got to live here.”
    â€œI won’t name you,” Nathan replied, “unless I’m forced to bring the law into this. Now speak up.”
    â€œTobe Warner, Wat Iverson, and Bob McKeever,” said Duncan, “and I ain’t seen any of ’em in a month.”
    It was more than Nathan had expected. There was always a chance the trio had ridden away with the Horrells, but an equally good chance