west.
Two hours later they found Tom. “Sure, I seen em,” he said. “Ten of ’em, I counted. Didn’t like their looks, so I stayed hid. They was about a hunnert yards off. Quiet and sneaky like. Come on I’ll show you.” He led them back behind his house a half a mile and pointed out where he had been, down in a dry wash under some salt cedars. “Right over there.” He pointed.
They walked to the spot he pointed to and found the tracks. Military-style boot prints were still visible, but wind-blown and blurry. “How long ago exactly?” Race asked with a hint of excitement.
“Four days. Was ’bout noon.”
Race thanked the man and immediately she, Ruth, and Joan started following the tracks. They were easy enough to follow most of the time, generally staying parallel to Highway 277 and staying fairly close to it.
“Look.” Race said when they found their campsite. “They’ve cleaned up. No trash and they buried the ashes from their fire. If you didn’t know to look, you’d never notice a thing. Probably from habit, since I don’t think they expect to be followed. They haven’t completely hidden themselves from sight and they’re traveling in daylight, so they must think no one is on to them.”
Ruth said, “How are we going to catch up with them? It takes us longer to work out their tracks than it does for them to make them. We’re falling farther behind every hour.”
Race replied. “We’re going to get some wheels and drive up 277. We’ll stop every now and then and check for tracks. They’ve been tracking Highway 277 since we found them, so I expect they’ll continue like this until they get to San Angelo, then they’ll follow along Highway 208 to Colorado City. We’ll find them on 208, before Colorado City, I think.”
Joan rubbed her short hair and looked around at the desolate country. “Where are we going to get wheels, Race?”
“There must be some around here somewhere. These ranches are remote, they have to have transportation of some kind – at least some of them will. Once we find some, we can talk to the owners. When they understand it’s part of the war effort – if they’ve heard of the war – I think we can get a loan.”
They stopped at three ranches with no luck, but at the third they were given a tip about a man who had a truck and went on to the fourth ranch house It was occupied by an old man who was clearly surprised to see three young women armed with assault rifles approaching his house. “Y’all hold up right there and keep your hands where I can see them,” the old man hollered from a window. A rifle barrel poked from the windows, but the man himself was not visible.
“We’re Texas Rangers and we’re on a war-effort mission sir,” Race shouted back.
“Come on up slowly, but keep those hands in sight,” he yelled back.
They approached slowly, careful with their hands, their rifles slung over their shoulders. The old man had moved to the doorway, rifle at the ready. “Rangers eh? Well they ain’t making Rangers like they used to, that’s for sure. Show me some ID.”
The three women complied, showing their badges. The old man said, “Well hell, those badges don’t mean nothin’. Anyone could make a badge like that. But I believe you anyway. I’ve heard tell of women Rangers and no one would make up a damn fool story like that. Ya’ll come on in out of the sun, sit a spell and tell me what you want.” He turned and walked into the house.
“At war with China eh? Damn shenanigans that’s what that is. Well girls, this is your lucky day. I got a 1950 Chevy pickup truck in the barn. Still runs like a top. My son bought her and fixed her up real nice. He drove her occasionally before he was killed. I start her up once in a while to keep the battery fresh, drive her a mile or so every month to work the moving parts a bit. Got plenty of gasoline in the tank. I’ll let you take her if you promise to bring her back as good as she is now.
Two hours later they found Tom. “Sure, I seen em,” he said. “Ten of ’em, I counted. Didn’t like their looks, so I stayed hid. They was about a hunnert yards off. Quiet and sneaky like. Come on I’ll show you.” He led them back behind his house a half a mile and pointed out where he had been, down in a dry wash under some salt cedars. “Right over there.” He pointed.
They walked to the spot he pointed to and found the tracks. Military-style boot prints were still visible, but wind-blown and blurry. “How long ago exactly?” Race asked with a hint of excitement.
“Four days. Was ’bout noon.”
Race thanked the man and immediately she, Ruth, and Joan started following the tracks. They were easy enough to follow most of the time, generally staying parallel to Highway 277 and staying fairly close to it.
“Look.” Race said when they found their campsite. “They’ve cleaned up. No trash and they buried the ashes from their fire. If you didn’t know to look, you’d never notice a thing. Probably from habit, since I don’t think they expect to be followed. They haven’t completely hidden themselves from sight and they’re traveling in daylight, so they must think no one is on to them.”
Ruth said, “How are we going to catch up with them? It takes us longer to work out their tracks than it does for them to make them. We’re falling farther behind every hour.”
Race replied. “We’re going to get some wheels and drive up 277. We’ll stop every now and then and check for tracks. They’ve been tracking Highway 277 since we found them, so I expect they’ll continue like this until they get to San Angelo, then they’ll follow along Highway 208 to Colorado City. We’ll find them on 208, before Colorado City, I think.”
Joan rubbed her short hair and looked around at the desolate country. “Where are we going to get wheels, Race?”
“There must be some around here somewhere. These ranches are remote, they have to have transportation of some kind – at least some of them will. Once we find some, we can talk to the owners. When they understand it’s part of the war effort – if they’ve heard of the war – I think we can get a loan.”
They stopped at three ranches with no luck, but at the third they were given a tip about a man who had a truck and went on to the fourth ranch house It was occupied by an old man who was clearly surprised to see three young women armed with assault rifles approaching his house. “Y’all hold up right there and keep your hands where I can see them,” the old man hollered from a window. A rifle barrel poked from the windows, but the man himself was not visible.
“We’re Texas Rangers and we’re on a war-effort mission sir,” Race shouted back.
“Come on up slowly, but keep those hands in sight,” he yelled back.
They approached slowly, careful with their hands, their rifles slung over their shoulders. The old man had moved to the doorway, rifle at the ready. “Rangers eh? Well they ain’t making Rangers like they used to, that’s for sure. Show me some ID.”
The three women complied, showing their badges. The old man said, “Well hell, those badges don’t mean nothin’. Anyone could make a badge like that. But I believe you anyway. I’ve heard tell of women Rangers and no one would make up a damn fool story like that. Ya’ll come on in out of the sun, sit a spell and tell me what you want.” He turned and walked into the house.
“At war with China eh? Damn shenanigans that’s what that is. Well girls, this is your lucky day. I got a 1950 Chevy pickup truck in the barn. Still runs like a top. My son bought her and fixed her up real nice. He drove her occasionally before he was killed. I start her up once in a while to keep the battery fresh, drive her a mile or so every month to work the moving parts a bit. Got plenty of gasoline in the tank. I’ll let you take her if you promise to bring her back as good as she is now.
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