* *
After breakfast at the boardinghouse, during which, he exchanged idle but polite conversation with the other few early risers, he walked down to the F-Company Ranger headquarters. It consisted of one small office for Randolph Mitchell in the back of an annex to the courthouse. When he walked in, he found Mitchell coaxing a coffeepot to boil on the tiny iron stove in his office. The captain turned when he heard the door open. When he saw who it was, he just stared for a long moment while he formed his question. “Ben, what in the hell happened in Navasota?”
“What did Billy Turner say happened?” Ben responded.
“That ain’t the answer to my question,” Mitchell said. “Ben, you’ve been in this business for twelve years—the last four under my command in F-Company. I’ve never known a Ranger who was any better at the job than you. And I sure as hell never heard any report of you backin’ away from a dangerous situation.”
“I’ll ask you again,” Ben said. “What did Billy say happened? He brought the bodies of Big Foot Sam Kelly and Jack Queen back yesterday, didn’t he? He didn’t need any help from me to do that.”
“He didn’t bring their bodies. He just brought their weapons and their horses. Said they didn’t have any money on ’em.” He paused then and studied Ben’s face for a moment. “How did they die?” Mitchell asked.
“I expect that was in Billy’s report, wasn’t it?”
Mitchell hesitated. He could see that Ben wasn’t going to give his version of the confrontation with the two outlaws, so he finally answered. “Billy said him and you arrested the two outlaws in the Texas Rose Saloon. You started back to Austin and made camp about ten miles from Navasota. He admitted that you both were a little careless about packing their weapons out of reach but decided to let the prisoners go ahead and eat. He said he released them and both of you had your weapons drawn to guard ’em.” Mitchell paused, watching Ben’s face carefully before he continued. “He said Queen saw the weapons on top of their pack and made a try for one, so he had to shoot him down. Kelly made a move for the weapon and got his hands on it while you just stood there like you were frozen. So he had to shoot Kelly before he shot you. He said you were still actin’ strange after he killed both of the outlaws and didn’t hang around to help bury ’em—just got on your horse and rode off.”
Ben didn’t protest during Mitchell’s accounting of Billy’s report. He hadn’t planned to make much fuss about what happened to Kelly and Queen, as long as Billy just made a simple statement that the prisoners resisted and gave them no choice. But now that he heard the picture Billy had painted for Mitchell, depicting him as having been frozen with fear and forcing him to save his life, Ben couldn’t hold his tongue. “Sounds like Billy was havin’ trouble rememberin’ all the details of that confrontation, and I reckon I am to blame for that. I shoulda come back with him, so you could get a full report. I reckon Billy forgot the part about when he emptied the bullets out of those two handguns, then set ’em up so they’d be tempted to make a play for ’em. That was a little something he forgot to tell me until it was too late. Did he mention that Queen was shot in the back? ’Course, if he’d brought the bodies back, you coulda seen that for yourself. He was right about me standin’ there, facin’ Kelly after he got hold of that gun. I didn’t shoot him, and I kept tellin’ him the gun he had wasn’t loaded, but Billy shot him.” He paused then and studied Mitchell’s face for his reaction. “So now you’ve got two versions of what happened on that little creek bank the other night. I reckon it’s up to you to decide which one to believe. The reason I didn’t come back with him was because I just refused to ride with the lowlife.”
Mitchell was visibly relieved, having already found the charge of cowardice leveled against a man he knew to be the direct opposite of a coward hard to believe. “He wanted to make the ride back from Navasota easy, right?” was his first response. Ben nodded. “Well, rest assured I’ll take the report from a man I know as well as I know you over one I just met. So don’t worry about this thing. You might as well take a little rest, since I don’t have anything pressing right now.” He got up and extended his hand. “Sorry you got paired with Billy Turner. Oh, I almost forgot, there’s a letter that came here for you day before yesterday.”
“A letter? Who from?” Ben asked. “Does it say?”
“Yeah, there’s a name on it.” He reached into his drawer and looked at the return address before tossing it on the desk in front of Ben. “Here it is. Attorney at Law Robert T. Spencer. You know him?”
“Nope, never heard of him. Wonder what he wants?”
“You got any relatives that mighta been sick, maybe passed away or something?”
“Hell, Cap, you know I ain’t got no family a-tall,” Ben said, “least none I know about.” He opened the letter and read it, then explained to Mitchell, who was every bit as curious as he was. “Says he needs to meet with me in the settlement of a will. He’s right here in Austin.” He looked up at Mitchell and shook his head. “There wouldn’t be anybody leavin’ me anything. I think this came to the wrong person. I don’t know how he wound up with my name.”
“Go by and see if he’s really wantin’ to talk to you,” Mitchell advised. “If it ain’t you he’s lookin’ for, at least you can let him know that.”
* * *
Attorney Robert Spencer opened the door to his office, which was located in a little white frame house near the edge of town. He looked the tall, broad-shouldered man up and down before asking, “Can I help you?”
“You Mr. Spencer?” Ben asked.
“I am.”
“You sent me this letter. Said you wanted to talk to me ’bout something.” He handed the letter to Spencer.
“Of course,” Spencer said when he glanced at the envelope and saw Ben’s name. “Ben Savage. Come on in.”
Ben didn’t go in right away. “What’s this about?”
Spencer smiled. “You’ve been named as an heir in a will. Come on inside and we’ll go over it.”
“I’ll be honest with you, Mr. Spencer, I’m pretty sure you’ve got the wrong person. I don’t know of any relatives I’ve got anywhere.”
“You are Benjamin, no middle name, Savage, right?”
“Yes, sir, I am,” Ben answered. Then Spencer asked if he could prove it, and Ben was stuck for a moment. “No, I reckon not. I ain’t got any papers or anything that says I’m Ben Savage. I expect you could ask Captain Mitchell if I’m Ben Savage. He’s the captain of the Ranger company I work for.”
“Have you got a Ranger badge?” Spencer asked, unable to think of anything else.
Ben pulled his coat open to reveal the badge on his vest. “It ain’t got my name on it,” he said.
“Where is the Ranger headquarters?” Spencer asked and when Ben told him it was behind the courthouse, Spencer said, “Fine, when we get through here, we can walk over there and let someone identify you. Is that all right with you?” Ben shrugged and said that it was. “Do you know a man named James Howard Vickers?”
“I can’t say as I do,” Ben declared, then caught himself. “Wait a minute, are you talkin’ about Jim Vickers?” Spencer nodded. “Of course, I know Jim Vickers,”
