“Nope. Those gunnies worked for Almanzar.”
Frank read the skepticism on Captain Wedge’s face, and to tell the truth, he was beginning to have his doubts about Tolliver’s belief too. From the looks of things, Tolliver’s hatred of Don Felipe Almanzar was so deep-seated that the cattleman was quick to blame Almanzar for everything bad that happened, whether Almanzar had anything to do with it or not.
It appeared that Wedge might have argued the matter further, but at that moment the women came out of the house onto the porch. The light was behind them and shone on their hair. Wedge took his hat off and nodded politely to them, saying, “Ladies. After a long day on the trail, you are sure a sight for sore eyes, if I may be so bold as to say so.”
“You may,” Pegeen Tolliver told him with a smile. “Hello, Captain. Will you and your men be staying to supper?”
“That sounds mighty nice, ma’am, but we’re on the trail of some bad men—”
“You can’t follow a trail very well at night,” Tolliver put in. “Join us for supper, Captain. Your men can eat in the bunkhouse with the hands.”
Wedge chuckled. “That Chinaman who cooks for you probably won’t be very happy about having that many extra mouths to feed.”
“He’ll get over it. There’s plenty of room for your men to bunk in the barn too, and we’ll find a bed for you in the house.”
The captain returned his black Stetson to his head. “I’m much obliged, Tolliver, and on behalf of my men, I accept.” He turned and said to his troop of Rangers, “Light for a spell, boys. We’re spending the night here on the Rocking T.”
A grin creased Tolliver’s leathery face. “I’d like to see Almanzar’s nighthawks come a-raidin’ now, with a couple dozen Rangers on the place! They’d get a mighty warm welcome if they did!”
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Copyright © 2005 by William W. Johnstone
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Notes
Cry of Eagles