Ralph Compton - Death Rides a Chestnut Mare

When Danielle came back down the stairs, the Delaneys were waiting in the parlor.

“There are at least six men wounded or dead,” Danielle said. “Sheriff Sam Duro is one of the dead, but he’s not the head of this damn snake. Ephiram, who is the man who runs this town?”

“Simon McCandless,” said Ephiram.

“That explains a lot of things,” Danielle said. “He brought Kalpana in to gun me down and, failing in that, sent Duro after me with a bunch of killers. Where am I likely to find McCandless?”

“He’s got an office at the rear of the bank,” said Ephiram, “but he lives at a hotel. It’s The Rio, I think.”

“He’ll be at the office, then, waiting to hear that I’m dead,” Danielle said. “I’ll be back for my horse.” She stepped out the door, leaving the Delaneys speechless.

The bank building, having three floors, was the tallest building in Brownsville. There was a back door, and to one side of it a coal oil bracket lamp burned. Danielle turned the knob, and the door opened on silent hinges. At the end of a short hall was yet another door with lamplight bleeding out beneath it. Danielle made no noise, for the hall was carpeted. Standing to one side of the door, she turned the knob. When the latch let go, she kicked the door open, slamming it against the wall. Simon McCandless sat behind the big desk, staring at her unbelievingly.

“Your pet sheriff’s dead, McCandless,” said Danielle, “along with some of the other owlhoots you sent after me. The rest of them ran like the yellow coyotes they are. Since you want me dead, do your worst. It’s just you and me, McCandless.”

“You’ve got sand, kid,” McCandless said, “and I wouldn’t kill you if there was another way. But you gunned down my boy, and as soon you could get to a ranger outpost, I think you’d tell the rangers all about me. What do you aim to do with me?”

“I’m going to put you on a horse and take you to the rangers,” said Danielle. “I want them to see the daddy skunk in the flesh, and then I want to hear your excuses as you try to save your miserable hide. Get up. We’re riding out tonight.”

“You won’t deny me a last cigar, will you?” McCandless asked.

“Go ahead,” said Danielle. “Just be damn careful what you do with your hands.”

McCandless opened a desk drawer and took out a cigar box. Danielle was barely in time, dropping to one knee as McClandless raised a Colt from the box and fired twice. The lead went over Danielle’s head, splintering the door behind her. Danielle drew and fired twice, and McCandless was driven back into his swivel chair. He lay there, blood pumping out on his white ruffled shirt. He was trying to speak, and Danielle leaned across the desk.

“We’d have . . . made . . . an unbeatable team, kid. Too bad . . . you was on . . . the other side . . .”

Those were his last words, and Danielle left him there. The town had some cleaning up to do before the rangers rode in.

The Delaneys were still in the parlor when Danielle got back to the house. They waited for her to speak.

“McCandless drew on me, and he’s dead,” said Danielle. “You decent folks in town had better get together and take control of things. I aim to report all this to the rangers just as soon as I reach San Antonio. There must be one honest man you can elect sheriff, and I hope your bank’s got no more skunk-striped varmints like McCandless.”

“McCandless has kept the town terrorized and under his thumb for years,” Ephiram said. “Without him and his hired guns, we’ll manage, I think. But tell the rangers we’ll be welcoming them, just in case there are some undesirables who don’t want to leave.”

“I’ll tell them,” said Danielle. “I’m going to saddle my horse and be on my way.”

“I hate to see you go, Daniel,” Ethel said.

“In a way, I hate to go,” said Danielle, “but I still have some man-hunting to do.”

Danielle saddled Sundown and, mounting, rode north toward San Antonio. It was more than two hundred miles, and she took her time, for it was a two-day ride.

San Antonio, Texas. December 23, 1870.

Danielle rode in just before sundown on her second day out of Brownsville. She hoped to find Captain Jennings in his office, for it was important that the rangers reach Brownsville before the rustlers and killers had time to reorganize. Jennings was there and made no move to conceal his pleasure when Danielle entered the office.

“Captain,” Danielle said, “we have to talk. There’s been hell to pay in Brownsville, and the decent folks there are going to need some help.”

“Then let’s go eat,” said Jennings. “Supper’s on me.”

They went to a small cafe where the ranger was known, and since it was early, there were few other patrons. While they waited for their food, sipping coffee, Danielle told her story.

“I thought there was something unusual about the telegram informing me that Kalpana had been gunned down,” said Jennings. “It carefully avoided telling me who actually did the shooting, but I suspected it was you.”

“I don’t think I’d have had a chance at him,” Danielle said, “if I hadn’t been forced to shoot Reece McCandless. I think after Reece was shot, Simon McCandless hoped Kalpana could finish me. When he failed to, Sheriff Duro and maybe a dozen men came looking for me. In the dark, Duro shot one of his own men. I accounted for five others, including the sheriff himself.”

“There’s nothing worse than a lawman selling out,” said Captain Jennings. “I’ll need the names of some honest folks in Brownsville who will stand behind what you’ve told me. Not that I doubt you, but the rangers who’ll be riding down there will find it helpful in getting at the truth of it.”

“Ephiram and Ethel Delaney,” said Danielle. “They stood by me through it all, even as Sheriff Duro threatened to burn their house to drive me out.”

“We’ll talk to them,” Captain Jennings said. “I’ll have two rangers on their way in the morning.”

Their food was ready, and Danielle ate hungrily, for she had eaten little, the situation in Brownsville bearing on her mind. When they were down to final cups of coffee, Captain Jennings spoke.

“It’s interesting, what you’ve told me about Simon McCandless. I’ve heard of him. He was one of the carpetbaggers who moved in after the war, and I suspect he may have been wanted by the law somewhere up north. I aim to find out. By the way, there’s a three-thousand-dollar price on Kalpana’s head, dead or alive. I aim to see that you get it.”

“I don’t really want it,” Danielle said. “You know why I was after Kalpana. The reward had nothing to do with it.”

“I know that,” said Captain Jennings, “but I want you to have it. If you don’t need it, send it to your ma and your brothers in Missouri. It’s been hard times there, too.”

“You’re a thoughtful man, Captain,” Danielle said. “That’s exactly what I’ll do.”

“It’ll take maybe a week to get the money,” said Captain Jennings. “Why don’t you just rest here for a few days, until I make the arrangements?”

“I’m thinking of riding back to Waco,” Danielle said.

“Rucker’s still sheriff there,” said Captain Jennings, “and it’ll be the same old Mexican standoff, all over again. There’s still too many folks around who haven’t gotten over the war, and they resist all authority, even to hiding their outlaw kin.”

“I know,” Danielle said, “but when I return, I won’t be the same hombre who rode in there before.”

“Disguise?”

“Yes,” said Danielle, thinking of the female clothing in her saddlebag.

“Since you’ll be in town for a few days,” Captain Jennings said, “how do you aim to spend Christmas Day? It’s the day after tomorrow.”