Warriors of the Night Read Online Free PDF

Abbot’s son, Peter, standing with a lean, tough-looking individual whom Anabel identified as Capt. Amadeus T. Pepper, the commandant of San Antonio’s Texas Rangers. Ben noticed with some amusement how the half dozen blue-coated soldiers acting as Abbot’s personal guard stood opposite a few of Pepper’s Rangers. Each faction eyed the other with suspicion and cool disregard in the heat of the afternoon sun. To the soldiers under Ben’s command, these Rangers appeared to be no more than rabble. They were dressed like Indians, and smelled like them too. Of course, from the viewpoint of Pepper’s men, these bluecoats were about as fierce as puppies. The Rangers doubted there was one among the soldiers who could acquit himself in a running battle with war-painted hostiles.
    A long, wide veranda, covered by a low roof of cane and dry grass, ran the length of the governor’s palace. Two ollas, clay cisterns containing cool water, were suspended from the roof poles in netting of braided hemp. A dipper had been hung by each of them. Honeybees and mud daubers were drawn to the puddles that collected on the sandstone flooring below each cistern.
    The arriving procession soon became the object of everyone’s attention. The three Rangers, a rough-looking bunch armed with Colt revolvers and bowie knives, sauntered forward to greet Snake Eye Gandy and good-naturedly rib him about his traveling companions.
    “Snake Eye, you always were the one could be counted on to bring in strays,” one said.
    “Better’n sitting around here dusting flies from the sugar bowls,” Gandy retorted. “You know, Virge, if you ever eased your tired ass up out of a chair once in while, you might find there’s all kind of things a man can get into.” Gandy winked at the two men standing behind Virgil Washburn. “Things like chasing bandits and capturing renegade Comanches and rescuing pretty gals and brass-button toy soldiers.” Gandy tossed the rope to Washburn. “Better lock Spotted Calf here around back. I’ll see to him after I cut the dust.” He smacked his lips and dry swallowed.
    Ben bristled at Gandy’s insult, but let it pass. Now wasn’t the time or place for a confrontation. He climbed out of the carriage and walked up alongside Spotted Calf.
    “This man has a wound that needs dressing,” Ben said. “I assume there is a physician we can send around to check on him?”
    “Doctor up a Comanche?” Virge Washburn exclaimed. He was a man of average height, solidly built, with that perpetual squint a man develops when he has spent most of his life outside beneath a western sky. Washburn glanced at Gandy as if debating Ben’s order.
    Another voice spoke up. Captain A. T. Pepper walked around the horses. “See that our prisoner is cared for. I want some answers from him.”
    “You’ll get them,” Gandy said in a matter-of-fact manner. He dismounted as the brave was led away. The Ranger fixed Ben in his glass-eyed stare, then snorted in disgust and helped himself to a dipper of water.
    “I will want a full report from you later,” Pepper said. His upper lip was hidden by a thick, bushy brown mustache. He tended to tug and twist the ends when deliberating.
    “Yes, sir,” Gandy replied. His features were shaded by a battered hat that he immediately tilted back until it hung down his back by a leather thong. The scarred, scalped part of his skull looked sunburned and made him appear even uglier than usual. “Just as soon as you finish playing nursemaid to these here bluecoats.”
    “Nursemaid? Indeed, my good sir,” Matthew Abbot objected. He was short and stocky, white-haired and bull-necked. He had fought the British at the Battle of New Orleans and crossed swords with pirates on the Carolina shores. Sweat beaded his creased features and glistened in his close-cropped white beard. The retired officer didn’t like Gandy’s attitude and was determined to make his position known. Behind him, Peter Abbot, a slim, bespectacled