snuffed the candles of any number of folks we know little or nothing about.”
Me and Boz nodded our mutual agreement.
Culpepper kept his rant going. Didn’t even slow down. “Want the widow-making slug back here so’s I can hang ’im. Now, I wouldn’t force an extended horseback trip like this on any man without good reason. Bein’ as how the Southern Pacific pushed through there not long ago, I’m more than willing to foot the freight for whatever you might require by way of tickets for yourselves, and transportation of your animals, all the way down to Del Rio.”
I knifed a glance over at my partner and said, “Well, that ain’t a’tall bad, Boz. Hear tell as how the area around Del Rio’s something of a garden spot, what with San Felipe Springs supplying water for that whole vicinity.”
Culpepper grinned. “Town’s a growin’ all right, Lucius. Somethin’ close to five hundred souls livin’ there these days, maybe more.”
“Most of ’em weevil-brained railroad workers. And every one of them boys dumber’n a bag of busted hammers, I’d wager,” Boz grumped.
As though pleased by the ease of his sales job on me, Culpepper added, “Figure as how it’s a fairly easy horseback jaunt up to Rio Seco from Del Rio. Want you fellers to make damned sure Teal gets back to Fort Worth as quickly as possible. If he tries to escape though, you have my permission to kill the hell out of ’im.”
Boz and I sat at attention in a pair of rickety canvas chairs. Cap’n Culpepper’s massive, treelike bulk loomed over us from behind his battered, Civil War cavalry officer’s field table. Swear that mountainous man could fill up all outdoors like he was wearing it.
A booted foot crossed over one knee, Boz thumped the musical, solid silver rowel of a Mexican spur. He glanced up at the cap’n and said, “So, Teal’s corralled in whatever goes for a jail in Rio Seco, Cap’n? That the whole, complete, and entire deal?”
The open, tentlike structure Culpepper used as his official office flapped overhead in the scorching Texas breezes. Filtered sunlight seeped through the thin, frayed material. A moving, crosshatched, shadowy pattern played back and forth across Culpepper’s square-jawed, rugged countenance.
Our fearless leader snatched the well-chewed, root-like panatela from between chapped lips. “Indeed, Boz. My old friend Jacob Cobb, one of the finest rangers I ever rode with, acts as city marshal down that way these days. Appears Jacob scooped Boston Teal up during that belly slinker’s slack-jawed attempt to rob Rio Seco’s pissant- sized branch of the Texas State Bank.”
“Thought them Teal boys usually worked those kinda jobs together. Bein’ as how they’re such a tight-knit, God-fearin’, lovin’ family and all,” I offered.
Culpepper dismissed my clumsy effort at humor and waved the stubby piece of his stogie around as though he might be about to make a long-eared jackrabbit appear out of the upturned Stetson hat that rested on his rude desk. “Could very well have been the case in the past, Lucius,” he said, “but not this time.”
“How so, Cap’n?” Boz said.
Culpepper raked stubby, dirty-nailed fingers through sweat-drenched hair. “Oddly, in this particular instance, appears the youngest of the Teal boys acted alone. Telegraph message I got from ole Cobb indicates as how Boston Teal is something of a blanket-headed idiot.”
Boz flashed a toothy grin. “I’ve heard as much.”
Company B’s commander nodded. “Friend Cobb allows as how given the slightest opportunity he felt certain Irby Teal’s baby brother could single-handedly screw up a one-hearse funeral. Get the distinct feeling that the poor, broke-brained bastard could mess up a ball bearing with a soiled dove’s favorite powder puff.”
“He botched the robbery?” I asked.
Culpepper took a lung-filling drag off his smoldering stogie. Blew a tub-sized smoke ring that circled over our heads, then gathered into an ominous, hovering, steel-colored cloud.
The cap’n flashed a sly grin then said, “Damned fine assessment of the circumstances there, Lucius. Seems the squirrel-headed son of a bitch had the money in hand. He was heelin’ a hot path to the street and the prospect of imminent, glorious escape, by Godfrey. Bet my entire poke the man had unrestrained visions of Messican senoritas, tequila with lime and salt, and a plate of fire-breathin’ enchiladas as he headed for his horse.”
“Cobb caught him?” I said, then grinned.
Culpepper waved away my comment with his cee-gar again. “No, Lucius, no. See, Teal hit the boardwalk out front of the bank at a run. Clumsy jackass stubbed his toe on something.”
“Aw, geez,” Boz mumbled, then rolled his eyes.
The cap’n almost laughed out loud. “Yep. Uh-huh. You see it a-comin’, don’t you, Boz? ’Pears as how the rusted head of an errant nail must’ve been pro-trudin’ from a loose piece of rough-cut pine. Or, hell, maybe the clumsy idiot just got tangled up in his own spurs. No way to tell, really.”
“Could be he’s just born dumber’n a baby bird, Cap’n,” I said. “You know, all mouth and no brains.”
Culpepper let out a short, snorting chuckle. “Doesn’t matter,” he went on, “ ’cause Teal tripped. Went down like an anvil in a well. Fell on top of his very own, fully cocked Colt’s pistol.”
Boz threw his head back, let out an extended, hacking snigger. “Don’t tell me.”
The cap’n showed a set of choppers fully capable of biting through an arm-sized cottonwood limb. “Yep. You guessed it, Boz. Landed on that big ole .45-caliber popper of his like a load of bricks. Shot his more’n stupid self in the foot.”
Boz grimaced. “Damnation, Cap’n.”
“Uh-huh. Blew his three biggest toes clean off. Made one helluva mess, according to Marshal Cobb’s wire. My friend said the boardwalk out front of the bank was covered with all manner of bones, toenails, rendered flesh, blood, and such.”
I squirmed in my chair and stamped a foot then mumbled, “Makes my own kicker hurt just thinkin’ ’bout it.”
The cap’n knuckled a stubble-covered chin with the back of a hand the size of a camp skillet. “Yeah, well, sorry skunk injured himself so bad he managed to get back up, but couldn’t run for spit on that blood-gushin’ two- toed stump of his.”
“That’s when Cobb got him?” I said.
Cap’n’s grin widened even more. “Nope, Lucius. Seems a group of wild-eyed, angry Rio Seco citizens jumped on his toeless, would-be bank-robbin’ ass. Came nigh on to kicking him slap to death before friend Cobb could arrive on the scene and stop ’em.”
Boz giggled like a little girl. “Too bad those good people didn’t save us a trip and just go on ahead and kill ’im.”
Another satisfied grin etched its way onto Culpepper’s face. “Cobb’s telegram mentions as how the youngest of the Teal boys had so many knots on his thick noggin when them town folk got finished with him, the man bore a striking resemblance to a west Texas horned toad.”
Well, the three of us got a rib tickler of a hoot out of that one. The pleasant thought of Boston Teal getting the crap kicked out of him by a bunch of angry hoople heads had the mystic power to satisfy the souls of all us badge toters and man hunters.
A sudden thought struck me. “Bein’ as how they ain’t all that far away, why don’t we just have some of them boys from Company A waltz over and take Teal in hand? Escort him on up our direction. Be a site easier than makin’ the trip all the way down to Rio Seco ourselves.”
Culpepper sliced a squinty, corner-of-the-eye look my direction. “Because I want him back here so I can be absolutely certain he’s dead once his neck’s been legally stretched. Let them boys from Company A get their hands on the walking stack of hammered manure, and there’s more’n a good chance we’ll never see hide or hair of the iniquitous polecat. Besides, I want the unqualified opportunity to piss on that bastard’s grave soon as he’s under a thick layer of legally sanctified Texas dirt.”
Boz squirmed in his chair. Picked at lint on one of his pants legs. “Now, that sounds right personal, Cap’n.”
Culpepper flopped into the chair behind his desk for the first time since we’d entered the pavilion. He stared off into space, as though distracted. “Boston Teal murdered my brother’s son during the course of one of his more heinous crimes over in Mesquite, boys. Nephew was only sixteen. Had his whole life ahead of him. Smart young feller. Think he would’ve made a fine man.”
