Buzzard's Bluff. William W. Johnstone
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I emptied the cartridges outta the guns, just in case. I’ll take care of ’em after we eat. Right now, this sowbelly looks like it’s ready, and they’re wantin’ somethin’ to eat. I’ll go unlock ’em. Get ready to cover ’em.” He got up from one knee and went at once to unlock the prisoners. His actions surprised Ben, since Billy just seemed to take command of the situation without consulting him.
Ben hesitated for a minute, but there wasn’t time to put the belts and holsters out of sight, so he drew his weapon preparing to guard the prisoners while they ate. Billy’s actions were unbelievably careless, but Ben figured there was no real danger, since the guns were empty. Even if they made a play for them, it would all be over once they found out there were no bullets in them. “Bring ’em around this way, Billy,” he said when the prisoners started toward the fire on the side closer to the packs. When Billy didn’t respond, it suddenly struck Ben what he was up to. “You peckerhead!” he uttered, then yelled at the outlaws. “Stop right there!” But it was too late. Jack Queen bolted toward the packs and the .44 sitting conveniently waiting to be drawn. He was downed by a shot in the back before he reached the weapon.
In a panic then, thinking the Rangers planned to kill them both, Sam saw no alternative other than an attempt to save himself. Ignoring Ben’s commands to stop where he was, Sam lunged toward the packs and snatched the .44 out of the holster. “It’s empty,” Ben told him. “Drop it.”
Billy stood, waiting, his pistol cocked and ready, watching for Sam’s next move. Convinced that he had no choice, Sam aimed the weapon at Billy and pulled the trigger, only to hear the lifeless click of the hammer on an empty cylinder. His eyes wide with fright, he pulled the trigger again and again. Ben looked at Billy to see a cynical smile of contempt an instant before Billy cut Sam down with a shot in the chest. Feeling Ben’s look of total disbelief, Billy turned to him with a smug smile on his face. “What?” he asked.
“You sick mongrel,” Ben responded. “You set those men up to murder ’em.”
“Murder?” Billy blurted. “The hell it was! It was self-defense. They were goin’ after that gun.”
“You set it up for them,” Ben insisted. “I shoulda known you were up to something as low-down as that—shoulda known that gun settin’ up there was nothin’ but bait, so you could shoot ’em.”
“What the hell is your complaint?” Billy responded. “They didn’t know the gun wasn’t loaded. They woulda sure as hell shot us if it hadda been. So what’s the difference? They was on their way to a hangin’, anyway, so we did ’em a favor and did us one, too. Now, we don’t have to worry about all the trouble of haulin’ their sorry asses all the way to Austin.” It was obvious to him that Ben wasn’t buying his attitude, so he began to worry that he had made a mistake in judgment. From all he had ever heard about the big lawman working out of F-Company, he assumed that Ben Savage was stone-cold hard on outlaws—and far from a by-the-book Ranger. “You ain’t gone goody-goody on me, have you?”
Ben didn’t answer him for a long moment. It was the first time in his twelve years as a Texas Ranger that he was tempted to shoot a fellow Ranger. When he felt he was calm enough, he answered Billy. “I reckon you and I don’t see this job in the same way. You don’t seem to have any problem with what you just did. And I have a helluva problem with it. It ain’t your job to execute a prisoner. It’s just your job to catch him. If you’re so damn anxious to shoot a man, then give him a loaded gun, too. Maybe you oughta apply for a job as a hangman.”
“So now what?” Billy asked. “You gonna go runnin’ to Captain Mitchell complainin’ about me shootin’ two worthless saddle tramps? Maybe you oughta been a deacon instead of a Ranger.”
“No, I’ll let you take your two prisoners in by yourself. Make up any story you want about how brave you were, standing up to two killers. Then get your ass back up to Fort Worth and don’t ever cross my trail again. I won’t be ridin’ back with you. If you’re thinkin’ about shuttin’ me up the same way you did those two, you need to remember that my gun is loaded.” He left Billy standing there while he went to saddle his horse and load his packhorse, having decided that he wouldn’t risk riding back with him, since Billy knew what he thought of his actions against two defenseless men. He didn’t trust Billy enough now to close his eyes with him in his camp. He believed there was a real possibility that he might be another fatality in Billy’s heroic gun battle when he would report to the Ranger captain, Randolph Mitchell. Maybe he should report Billy’s actions to the captain, but somehow, Ben was reluctant to report any transgressions committed by a fellow Ranger. He didn’t know what to do about it, if anything, so for that reason, he just decided to let Billy take the credit for doing the job he was sent down here to do, knowing he’d never work with him again.
Back by the campfire, Billy poured himself a cup of coffee and called out to him, “Ain’t you gonna eat some of this sowbelly?”
“Nope,” Ben answered, still picturing the way Billy had waited before taking his second shot, obviously wanting him to shoot one of them. “You can have it all. I just lost my appetite.”
“Where you goin’?”
“Somewhere else,” Ben answered and continued loading up his packhorse.
“You leavin’ me to clean up this mess?” He pointed toward the two bodies.
“It’s your mess,” Ben answered. “You take care of it any way you see fit.”
“It’s your responsibility to guide me back to Austin,” Billy protested.
“You don’t need a guide. Just stay on this wagon road. It goes to Austin.” When he was finished loading up, he climbed on his horse and rode off into the growing darkness, leaving Billy still sitting by the fire. After he was out of sight, he turned and circled back toward Navasota. “Sorry, Cousin,” he told the big dun gelding. “I know I’ve worked you pretty hard today, but I’m hopin’ Lem Wooten ain’t locked up the stable yet. I’ll give you a good rest and a portion of oats when we get there.”
Back in town, he went straight to the stable and was glad to find Lem Wooten still there. “Good thing you came when you did,” Lem greeted him. “I was fixin’ to go to supper. Where’s your partner?”
“He went on to Austin,” Ben said. “I decided to stay here tonight. I was hopin’ I’d catch you before you locked up. I wanna leave my horses here tonight. Like to sleep with ’em if it’s all right.”
“Sure,” Lem said. “Bring ’em on in. You wanna feed ’em?”
“Yep. I’d like to feed myself, too, but I don’t reckon I’ve got time before you lock up.”
“Why don’t you go to supper with me?” Lem invited him. “I eat up the street at Mabel’s Table. Can’t get any better chuck in Navasota than Mabel’s. Matter of fact, you can’t get anything that’s fit to eat anywhere else in town. After that, I’ll let you back in the stable for the night. Whaddaya say?”
“That suits me just fine,” Ben answered and led his horses into the stable. After the horses were watered and fed. He and Lem walked up the street to a small building between the post office and the drygoods store.
“Evenin’, Lem,” Mabel Rivenbark greeted them when they walked in. “I was startin’ to wonder if you was takin’ supper somewhere else. I was fixin’ to throw the rest of the cornbread out.”
“If I’da knowed you baked cornbread tonight, I’da been here a lot sooner,” Lem said, and looked at Ben. “Best cornbread in the state of Texas, and every time she bakes it, I ask her to marry me.”
Mabel threw her head back and laughed. “You do carry on,” she declared. “Who’s this you got with you?”
“This, here, is Ben Savage, Texas Ranger,” Lem announced. “He came all the way from Austin to arrest me for sellin’ horse meat to you.” She just shook her head, pretending to be out of patience with him. “I told him you cooked the best