Checker’s eyes indicated there was no need for further discussion.
“Ah, certainly. I will tell her. Certainly.”
Checker took another sip of his coffee. “An’ bring us some more coffee.”
“Oh, certainly, sir. Certainly.”
As soon as the excited man left, Bartlett said quietly, “I’m kinda excited about meeting her. What do you think she wants?”
“To warn us.”
“Oh yeah. Guess so.”
Bartlett started to add more, but the owner returned with a fresh pot of coffee. Both Rangers thanked him and completed their meals in silence. Finished, they stood, dropped coins beside the empty plates and headed for Lady Holt’s table.
Checker’s leg wouldn’t take pressure for a few steps. Finally, he was able to slide it along as he moved the other. He didn’t like the adjustment and quickly forced his wounded leg to walk normally.
“Ma’am, you asked to see us?” Checker said, holding his hat in his hand.
“Oh yes, thank you. Please sit down.” She motioned with both hands toward the chairs on either side of her intentionally empty chair across from her. A quick flip of her hand brought fresh coffee cups from a nervous waiter. They were her china.
Bartlett started to sit.
“No, thanks, ma’am. We’ll stand. Got work to do,” Checker spat.
Lady Holt studied Checker appreciatively. “Well, your choice. I was hoping you might be interested in knowing the truth.”
“Always interested in the truth.” Checker folded his arms.
She grinned. “Good. Then you should know Emmett Gardner is a rustler. He’s stolen some of my beef. Under my orders, my men went to bring him in for trial. If you ask the sheriff, you will find they acted under his approval.”
Checker shook his head. “No, ma’am, Emmett Gardner isn’t a rustler—and you know it. Or should. He’s a good man. Working hard to help his sons grow straight and tall. Working hard to make that small ranch pay.”
She lifted her coffee cup slowly; her eyes locked on to his.
“Jaudon has been arrested for attempted murder. He and his men,” Checker spat. “That is the truth.”
Bartlett cocked his head and added, “ ‘Is it so true that second thoughts are best?’ ”
“Shakespeare?” she asked without taking her eyes off Checker.
“Tennyson, m’lady.”
“Oh. Of course.”
In an instant, her mouth became a slit; her eyes narrowed. Bartlett thought she looked like a cougar about to pounce. “Have you gentlemen ever heard of a phoenix? It’s a wonderful tale of everlasting life.” Her voice carried the hint of an English accent.
Bartlett said, “Yes, I have. The story is old. A fictional bird that gets burned up and returns to life. Something like that. Many think it came from seeing a large bird stomping on a dead fire’s ashes to warm himself—and causing the old fire to flame again.”
“I find it quite comforting. Like Christianity’s myths are to others,” Holt said.
Both Rangers frowned.
She laughed heartily. “I see I hit a chord. A ‘myth’ is simply a story that has grown large around some key principle or fact.” She studied them for an instant. “Pardon me for saying so, but you gentlemen don’t strike me as the churchgoing type.”
“What is that type?” Checker said with an edge to his voice.
She changed the subject abruptly. “How much do you make…as Rangers? I’ll triple it. I need good men.” Her eyes measured Checker.
“You have a good day, ma’am.” Checker returned his hat to his head and headed for the door, trying not to let his wounded leg be so apparent.
Bartlett joined him as Checker reached the door. Behind them came Lady Holt’s now sweet voice. “You take care of that leg wound, Ranger. Texas needs men like you.”
Chapter Seven
After seeing the doctor about Checker’s leg, the two Rangers wired Captain Temple with a report of the situation, checked into the hotel and immediately went to sleep in separate rooms. Checker was washing up in the late afternoon when the sounds of cattle, being driven down the main street, drew him to the window.
He studied the cattle moving toward the far end of town, toward a corral used for gathering beef for local transactions. He didn’t know the men driving them. The brands caught his eye. Each steer was carrying Emmett’s brand. He knew what this meant.
The steers would be shown as proof that Emmett Gardner was a rustler! If necessary, one would be killed and skinned to show the original brand underneath. The Phoenix Ranch brand, Lady Holt’s.
Dressing quickly, the tall Ranger went to the next room and knocked. Bartlett, too, was already dressed.
“That’s real trouble down there, isn’t it?” Bartlett said as he opened the door
“Yes. Emmett warned us about Judge Opat and the sheriff,” Checker said. “Now they’ll have all the justification they need to have Emmett arrested.”
“And hanged.” Bartlett cocked his head.
Checker frowned. “You ride for Emmett’s place. Tell him what is happening. Tell him that he and his sons need to get out of there. Go where they can’t find them until we can get this cleared up.”
“What if he won’t go?”
“Stay with him, then. I’ll join you as soon as I can.”
“I’m on my way. Where are you going?”
“I’m going to make sure no posse starts out there—until you’ve had time to move.” Bartlett’s eyebrows arched.
Behind them, footsteps on the planked stairway caught their attention. A teenage boy in a too-tight shirt was bounding up the stairs two at a time. Catching his breath, he looked at the Rangers and said, “Are you Ranger Checker and Ranger Bartlett?”
“We are, son.”
“Got a wire for you from a Captain Temple. Said it was urgent you get it.”
Checker reached into his pocket and handed the boy a coin. “Thanks, son, appreciate the fast delivery.”
“Yes, sir, that’s what Mr. McGraffin insists on.”
“Give him our thanks, too.”
Checker unfolded the telegram, read it and handed it to Bartlett.
The older Ranger gulped and stammered, “Wh-hat is this? Th-this cannot be. It cannot be.”
Tugging on his hat, Checker read the wire again:
“That lady makes things happen, doesn’t she?” Bartlett said, shaking his head. “Wonder if the sheriff—and the judge—know this yet?”
“Of course they do.”
Checker’s hands went to his gun belt. “We still need to warn Emmett. You ride. I’ll try to delay Hangar and his posse.”
