Travis Read Free

“Maybe it’ll get better on its own. You can always hope so.”
    “A lawman can’t take chances like that. He can get his partners killed.”
    Doc finished the bandaging, put the arm in a sling. “You looked a little pale, son. I’ll give you some more painkiller and you go get something to eat. Things will look better tomorrow.”
    “Sure,” Travis snapped and stood up. “What do I owe you?”
    “Uh—a dollar.”
    Travis suspected it should be more than that. “I don’t want your pity, Doc.”
    “Pity?” the old man snorted. “Look, you young whippersnapper, you’ve just rid this town of a gunfighter who’s been tearing up this town for a couple of days now. I hope they give you a big reward.”
    “I’m a lawman. I can’t take a reward for doing my job.”
    Doc walked to his medicine cabinet and poured a small bottle, handed it to Travis. “Fifty cents for the laudanum.”
    The drug was already working. The pain had lessened. He fumbled in his pocket for money, took the bottle and started unsteadily for the door.
    “Son, if you don’t feel better tomorrow, come back.”
    “Thanks, Doc.” Travis went unsteadily out onto the wooden sidewalk where Growler waited patiently. With his arm tied up in a sling, his mood was worse than his wrist’s throbbing. Old Growler wagged his stubby tail and followed Travis’s uncertain steps.
    Travis thought as he walked. I’m finished as a lawman. What in the hell do I do now? I’m past thirty and have to look for a new job. The ranch can’t carry anyone else, so I can’t go home, although Mom and Dad and my younger brothers would welcome me back.
    Food. He should get some food. He didn’t feel hungry, but he knew his animals were. He walked with unsteady feet to a butcher shop with Growler following along behind and bought some cheap hamburger and then went down to get his horse from the hitching post in front of the saloon.
    He looked at the Appaloosa. No telling how long it had been tied here. He hated to see animals mistreated, so he took its reins along with his own stallion. He didn’t think he’d make it to the livery stable, but he did. Just because he was in bad shape didn’t mean his animals had to suffer. He sat on a hay bale and watched Mouse and Grande’s horse eat the oats in their stalls and fed Growler the meat. He wanted a drink in the worst way. Maybe it would make his wrist stop throbbing. What was the name of that saloon? Oh, yes, the Diamond Horseshoe. But first, he had to wire Captain Shipley.
    After asking directions to the telegraph office, he stumbled toward it, Growler trailing along behind. Once inside, he wondered how to word the wire. He couldn’t bring himself to tell the truth, that he was finished as a Ranger. There was always that small glimmer of hope.
    He licked the tip of the pencil and thought a minute before scrawling awkwardly with his left hand:

    CAPTAIN SHIPLEY, TEXAS RANGERS, WACO, TEXAS. FOLLOWED THE GRANDE KID UP HERE TO KANSAS. STOP. KILLED HIM WHEN HE WOULDN’T SURRENDER. STOP. TAKING A FEW WEEKS OFF BEFORE I COME BACK TO WORK. STOP. MAY RETIRE. WAITING FOR YOUR REPLY. TRAVIS PRESCOTT, TEXAS RANGER .

    He sent it and stood around waiting for a reply. If he was lucky, the captain might be in his office on a Saturday afternoon. While he waited, he took another slug of laudanum. He was in such despair, he didn’t care if he ever got any dinner.
    It was late afternoon when the reply came:

    CONGRATS ON GETTING GRANDE. STOP. WHAT THE H--- ARE YOU DOING IN KANSAS? STOP. HAVE YOU BEEN EATING LOCO WEED? YOU’RE MY BEST RANGER. YOU CAN’T RETIRE. STOP. DON’T KNOW WHY YOU WANT A VACATION, BUT GO AHEAD. STOP. UNTIL I CAN GET YOU A PAYCHECK, SELL GRANDE’S HORSE AND SADDLE TO GET BY. STOP. SINCERELY, MACK SHIPLEY. CAPTAIN, TEXAS RANGERS .

    Of course. Grande’s horse and fancy saddle would bring a pretty penny for someone wanting to make that land run into Indian Territory. On the other hand, why couldn’t he