Chapter 1

Sean Murphy and Ezra Woodpacker rode into Laredo trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. This was very difficult for the two seasoned Texas Rangers, since they couldn't look relaxed, even though they were. Their gaze was never still, but darted back and forth to every potential danger point, from the mouth of a narrow alley to the bell tower of the town hall. With the left hand holding the reins and the right hand resting near the gun butt, they looked like they were not waiting for trouble, but looking for it.

They were both slim and tall, with the squint in the eyes from too much time in the direct sun, the very ideal of the dime-novel Texan. Not unusual for the time nor the place, they both were wearing sombreros resting lightly on their heads, tipped to get the maximum shade from the broad brim, but not so much to restrict their vision.

They showed the signs of hard riding and several days without shaving or a bath, particularly noticeable if you happened to be downwind. The reason for their appearance was obvious in the corpse tied to the horse that Ezra was leading, for there were several bullet exit wounds visible on the man's shirt back. Close observation would also show a bit of blood on the bandage wrapped around Sean's left hand.

The men were headed for the Ranger office in the next block and were anxious to get there, as they anticipated a couple of days off as soon as they deposited the corpse and made their report. This summer of 1875 was just too damned hot and they both needed a break.

They tied off their horses at the hitching rail in front of the office and wearily climbed the two steps to reach the wooden sidewalk. Ezra commented, as they entered the office lobby, "I'm gittin' too old for this shit! I need a rest."

A voice from the back of the lobby remarked, "Ezra, how can ya be getting too old? Ya're only 26 years old!"

"I know, cap'n, but this six days of steady ridin' at full tilt is as hard on me as it is on my hoss."

"Maybe it's your hoss that needs the rest!"

"We both do, that's fer sure!" moaned Ezra, while Sean just grinned at his friend and partner and the man went through his ritual of complaining about how tough his life was and that he needed a rest. No matter how easy or how hard the assignment had been, Ezra always talked like this as they reported back to Captain Johnson.

"Well, Sean, I supposed ya caught up with Shifty Jones, or ya would still be on the trail."

"Yeah, cap'n. Old Shifty is out there lyin' over his saddle with three bullets through his chest. We caught up to him four days ago near Albertville. We had to shoot him when he wouldn't give up. Some people are just too stubborn fer their own good."

"OK, then. Write up yer report and take a couple of days off. Ya both need a bath, sumpthin' fierce!"

The captain sent a man out to take care of Shifty Jones' body and the horses while Sean and Ezra struggled with writing their reports. It only took them about an hour to write the one-paragraph report of the pursuit and killing of the murderer and rapist they had been chasing.

When finished, they left their rifles in the office while they grabbed some clean clothes and headed for the barber shop for a hot bath, shave, and haircut. On their way to the saloon, they dropped their dirty clothes off at the laundry and said that they would pick them up tomorrow.

It was almost a race to see who could get to the bar first and order his beer. The beer wasn't cold, but it was cool and wet, and tasted mighty good after spending all that time on the trail, never knowing when you might get shot at. They leaned their backs against the bar and looked around the saloon for any signs of trouble; they were NEVER completely on vacation.

Sean was the one who spotted the card sharp palming cards at the poker table. He poked Ezra in the ribs with his elbow and moved nonchalantly over behind the cheating poker player. He was completely relaxed with Ezra covering his back as he spoke quietly into the sharp's ear, "Ya better drop outa this game afore someone else sees ya palmin' those cards."

The sharp jumped at this and turned to see who was accusing him of cheating. The steely blue eyes staring back gave the sharp no choice but to stand up and excuse himself from the game. Sean nodded to the rest of the players and began wandering around the room, Ezra at his side. "Ya better watch yer back fer a while, ole buddy, 'cuz that there sharp didn't take kindly to yer gentle voice of reason."

"Yeah, I know, but I just ain't up to gittin' involved with another shootin' so soon after Shifty Jones if I kin avoid it. And that there sharp was bound to git caught; he jus' wasn't that good."

The two friends lazed around the saloon for about an hour and headed back to the Ranger barracks for supper. After supper, they were so tired that they just went to bed.

The next morning, as was their habit, they both woke up at dawn, dressed, and shuffled off to a breakfast of ham, eggs, grits, and biscuits. Now, fully awake, they wondered what they were going to do with themselves until Captain Johnson came up with an assignment for them. About 2 hours after breakfast, they went into the captain's office and asked if there was anything they could do.

"I wondered how long it was goin' to take fer ya two yahoos to git bored. Ya actually lasted a little longer than I expected. Well, I got a job fer ya ifen ya want it. What do ya say?"

"Sure, cap'n. Ezra an' I will take anythin' ya got. We're goin' crazy with nothin' ta do."

"OK. Well, there's some cattle rustlin' goin' on up near Eagle Pass. Remember, ifen ya cross the Rio Grand into Mexico, you've got no legal right to be there an' I can't back ya up, officially. So, be careful. Y'all are crazy enough to git into all kinds of trouble, so don't!"

Relieved at having something to do, Sean and Ezra grabbed their rifles and rushed to saddle up before the captain changed his mind. They loaded a pack horse with supplies and headed out; the pack horse was trained to follow without a lead rope, so they could move much more freely.

Five days later, they pulled into Eagle Pass and looked up the town marshal. They introduced themselves and told him they had been sent to take care of some rustlers. "How bad is the problem, anyway?"

"It's real bad. I can't tell fer shor, but I think that it must be Mexicans, 'cuz the cattle seem to disappear across the river. Course, it could be Anglos jus fakin' to be Mexicans."

"When was the last rustlin' and where was it?"

"The last time was last night at a ranch about 5 miles north of here. If ya want, we can go take a look right now."

"Let's go!"

The ride took about an hour. They were riding along the river and came to a ford that was really chopped up from so many cattle using it at one time. There must have been over 200 cattle in the herd, and the ground was so messed up, it was impossible to tell how many horsemen there had been with the herd, but it could easily take a dozen men to get that many cattle safely across the river.

Ezra turned to the marshal and said, "We're goin' to follow the cattle fer a while. We'll understand ifen you don't want to come with us."

The two men started to ford the river, but the marshal hesitated. Then, grinning, he hurried to catch up to the two Rangers. The river was over 200 yards wide along here and they didn't have a clear view of the other bank, so they were not certain just where the cattle came out. But they must have come out along here, somewhere, because there was too much chance of quicksand just to drive the cattle either upstream or downstream. The recognized fords were the only safe places to be walking along on the river bed, any place else could get you killed real quick.

They found the place where the cattle left the river and followed the obvious trail west, away from the river for about a mile, then it swung north, more or less parallel to the river for about four miles. That was where they found the stolen cattle, guarded by four Anglo cowboys.

The three men backed off a little bit and discussed what they should do. The obvious choice was to recapture the cattle and return them to their rightful owner, but that would do nothing to stop the rustling. Another alternative was to keep an eye on the cattle and see where they went from here. All three men agreed that this was the better option, so the marshal went back to town for camping supplies while the two Rangers stayed to watch over the herd.

It was already dark by the time the marshal returned. Their supper consisted of some sandwiches and a jug of coffee brought by the marshal; they didn't want to build a campfire because of the risk of discovery by the rustlers. A watch schedule was worked out and they turned in for the night.