Lawman from Nogales (9781101544747) by Ralph W. Cotton Page A

quiet creak of tack and saddle as the horses settled beneath them.
    â€œI have spent many nights outdoors this past year, but none as peaceful or as beautiful,” Erin remarked quietly, as if not to disturb the night and its sounds and feel. “It’s enough to make one forget one’s troubles.” She paused, then added in a more solemn tone, “ Almost anyway . . .”
    â€œYes, almost,” he offered quietly.
    They sat for a moment in silence.
    Finally Sam stepped the dun forward and gazed down into the greater darkness, seeing only short traces of the silvery trail meander out of sight across the rolling flatlands below them.
    â€œCome morning we’ll be able to see our back trail from here,” he said. “This is a good place to get some rest.”
    â€œI’m not even tired,” Erin offered, but her voice said otherwise. “I mean, I could rest, or I could ride farther, either way.”
    â€œI’m not that tired either,” Sam said. “But this is a good spot. The horses could use a rest before we head down tomorrow afternoon toward Pueblo de Ruinas . ”
    â€œWhere I’ll take a land coach to . . . ,” Erin said, hesitating, asking for help.
    â€œTo Jerez,” Sam said. “From Jerez to a half dozen other towns. Then you’ll be able to take a train in the San Luis Potosi region all the way to Mexico City.”
    â€œThen on to the Port of Tampico , ” Erin said as if tiring just thinking of the long journey that lay ahead of her. She knew she still had a long way to go before even embarking on her sea trip back to Ireland. She shook her head in the moonlight.
    â€œIt’s a far place you’re heading to,” Sam offered.
    â€œYes, but it’s home I’m headed to,” she replied, “and home is never too far.” She turned a curious look to the Ranger. “And where is it that you call home, Ranger Burrack?”
    Home . . . ?
    Sam had to think about it for a second before he could answer.
    â€œOwing to trouble along both sides of the border, my home is now Nogales . . . the Ranger outpost.”
    Erin smiled.
    â€œâ€˜The lawman from Nogales,’ is what the Gun Killers call you.”
    â€œI bet that’s not all they call me,” Sam replied.
    â€œNo, it’s not,” said Erin. She followed his gaze out across the wide purple sky. A shooting star streaked in and out of sight. She thought about the Gun Killers, about her dead brother, Bram, Matten Page and the Torres brothers. She thought about Luis and Teto.
    Teto . . .
    â€œWe are both a long way from home, Ranger Burrack,” she said.
    Sam pondered her statement. He was certainly not as far from home as she, but to him home was much the same as the present surroundings. Home for him was the weathered plank and adobe Ranger barracks. He was used to tall saguaros in a rocky valley carpeted sparsely by mesquite, hedgehog and barrel cactus.
    â€œI’m at home here ,” he said in reflection.
    â€œHere?” Erin questioned, looking around the rugged Mexican hillside. “Forgive me for saying so, Ranger Burrack, but Mexico isn’t even your country.”
    â€œI know,” Sam said, and he swung down from his saddle, offering nothing more on the matter.
    He presented her with his gloved hand. Erin took it and swung down beside him.
    â€œHow does a body get so far from home, Sam?” she asked, as if he might actually have an answer to such a question.
    Sam looked at her in the moonlight, realizing she had things she needed to say.
    â€œI don’t know, Erin,” Sam said quietly. “You tell me.”
    She paused, then lowered her face and said in a voice that failed to hide that she was bordering on tears, “Ranger Burrack, I’m afraid I am not the person you think me to be.”
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    Moments later, over steaming cups of hot coffee, the Ranger listened as Erin told him about the past