by Arch Gallen
*Colorado Gold Heist, Western Settler Saga Book III
Uncomprehending, Deacon peered at the young Marshall, fully unsure what was happening or why. Mouth hanging, he watched as Adam stooped, grabbing Lambertson by his boot heels and started dragging the inert form toward the door then listened unbelievingly as Pike gave directions.
“There’s seven horses in the barn or pasture, Mr. Chance, two draft and five saddle, needful of someone to care for them. Please hitch the team to the wagon and tie the others to it after saddling one for this sad excuse of a man to ride and gather up all the gear you feel can be sold in Cheyenne or used at Mrs. Loftin’s place and toss it in.”
Reaching the door, Pike tapped it open with a boot then saw Deacon standing unmoving. “Mr. Chance?” he said curiously, “If you’re not wishful of earning by selling horses and gear, please serve me by doing as told and be prompt in it as I’m most sure Mrs. Loftin is expecting you back for supper and will be disappointed if we’re tardy.”
Hearing Rachel’s name, Deacon came alive, trotting through the rear door and toward the barn as Pike hauled Lambertson off the porch, heedless of the man’s head bouncing off a pair of steps in the process. Removing a coil of rope from his saddle, Adam turned an end into a short noose and fastened it around Lambertson’s throat before tossing the remainder over a beam supporting the roof. Looping it twice over the upright, he tied a slip knot to secure Lambertson from moving far and sliced the rest off, tossing it on his saddle horn as he mounted.
One horse saddled and working on hitching the team, Deacon looked up as Pike trotted Black to the barn door. Dismounting, he threw out a length of rope and tied the end around the dead man’s feet then squatted alongside the body. Frisking him, Adam slipped several bills from a pocket and deposited them in his own before standing. Looking at Chance with a smirk, he commented, “Troublemakers never do have much money, it seems.”
Stripping the man’s holster, he wound it to a ball and tossed it toward Deacon. “Add it to the rest then finish up and meet me in front.” he directed then mounted and walked his horse into the yard dragging the carcass behind. Chance shook his head as Pike duplicated his actions over the second body, tying his feet with the loose end of rope before returning to the saddle and spurring his horse to a trot, the bodies tossing twin streams of dust into a warm breeze as he rode.
Returning to his task, Deacon gathered the horses and what gear he could find, nearly filling the small wagon with saddles, bags, tools and any seeming useful while trying to make sense of all he’d seen before surrendering the effort as futile. Hoisting himself into the seat, he took a moment to admire the team, recognizing as fine a pair of horses as any he’d driven, then flipped the reins starting them toward the house. Pulling up along the porch, he saw Pike’s horse tied in front so retrieved his rifle then waited until Adam stepped past the door cradling an armload of rifles and shotguns and carrying a canvas sack in one hand.
Dropping the guns in the wagon, Pike returned to his horse and secured the bag to his saddle then walked the extra horse up next to Lambertson. Chance’s eyes widened recognizing the noose over the man’s neck as Adam released it then gasped when Pike bent and effortlessly raised the hefty body using two hands under the man’s back. Gripping the reins, he edged close to the horse before leaning the unmoving shape against the saddle, plopping him over it face down. Several short strokes along the animal’s neck calmed her against the sudden move before Pike made an ‘X’ with rope over Lambertson and tied each end to stirrups on either side.
Stepping up, lithely tossing a leg over his own horse, he observed, “Reckon all that’s needful doing here is handled, Mr. Chance.”Deacon giving an uneasy nod in answer before asking, “You bury them two that quick?”
“Buzzards eat their own” Adam answered with a sidelong look, “so no burying required.” then asking with a sly smile, “Care to return to Mrs. Loftin’s?” nudging his mount to a pace Deacon quickly matched.
Riding next to the wagon, not much wanting his back to the man now called Deacon Chance, Pike waited for questions or comments the man must have but, as no words came, he remained quiet satisfied with his tuneless whistling for company. As they rode, Chance gave several hesitant glances at the young Marshall, wrestling with waves of conflicting emotions. Most strongly, he felt powerful relief seeing Lambertson strapped across the horse but knew there was fear rising each time he looked at the broad shoulders of a US Marshall confidently trotting alongside.
A small smile rose on Deacon’s face recalling the previous evening and morning’s activities, his heart light not for what was done but for what she meant by it. Excitement began to replace all else as they neared the incline past Red Rock and started up, the possibility of Rachel becoming his partner for all life seeming more real than ever. Dreams of future days and years bubbled up from depths long lost to despair and anger, bringing with them ideas for the ranch, raising children and many others he never allowed himself to consider.
Abruptly, Adam halted, a concerned look on his face as he turned to Chance. Tossing his head toward the ranchhouse, he barked, “Mrs. Loftin has company it seems.” spurring to a gallop as Deacon looked up then put his team to a run.
Closing on the place, Adam surveyed the eight men on horseback, two he'd seen eating at the café, their pudgy sheriff hanging near the back and banker Ambrose at the front facing Rachel standing on the porch defiantly holding her scattergun at one side. Slowing to give time for Chance to close up, Pike allowed the intruders to see him scan the scene. Reining to a halt near the steps, he stared, letting all take in the badge on his chest and understand what a rifle, shotgun and twin belt pistols meant to them.
Hearing Deacon roll up, he gave a quick glance back as the team came abreast. Tossing him the reins of Lambertson’s horse, Pike directed, “Take the prisoner round back, Deputy, and join us on the porch through the rear door if you would.”
Surprised, Chance caught the reins, grinning when Adam swiveled toward him with a bright wink then shifted his attention forward again. Walking the horse two paces ahead, Pike nodded to Rachel.
“Adam Pike, ma’am, United States Marshall.” he boomed across the mob, “Is there something going on here the law should know about?”
The woman gave a tight smile, her eyes never moving. “Can’t say rightly, Marshall.” she replied sternly, “These fellows arrived shortly ago an’ just now finished telling of their displeasure over troubles between Mr. Lambertson an’ myself, explaining it was time I pack up an’ leave my home an’ property.”
Nodding, Pike fixed the men with an icy blue gaze. “Took all these men to say that, ma’am, or is one here thinking he speaks for all?”
Mrs. Loftin motioned with her gun. “Mr. Ambrose been doing all the talking.”
Setting his eyes on the banker, Adam sat a moment then dismounted, pulling the canvas sack from his saddle horn as he strode purposefully toward the porch. Hopping up two steps, he spun behind Rachel, a short look all needful to give rise to admiration for the well-built structure, before laying one leg over the railing followed by the other, boots resting on protruding boards. Placing the bag behind him, Pike leaned forward, large hands splayed to each side propping him as he considered the riders and how to begin.
“Whatcha’ doin’ wit’ Mr. Lambertson?” the sheriff squealed from the rear.
“Am not required by law or custom” Pike responded sternly, “to answer fool questions from men yet more foolish.” then laughed loudly, startling them as he slapped his thigh. Resuming his pose, Pike beamed.
“Is as good a place to start as any, mister, and appreciate the help.” he conceded, straightening so fingertips sat inches from his gun handles. “The man you call Tresh Lambertson, truth be spoken, will rightfully be called Lambert Tresh. His dim notion of name changing is what put me on him at the first.”
Pausing to catch the eye of every man, liking that they shifted from his face as he did, Pike went on. “I’m takin
g him to Cheyenne and turning him over to the US Army where’s he’s wanted on charges of war profiteering, thievery and murder. Every dollar that man spent in this town” Adam added with disdain, “was blood money taken at great cost in lives and well-being of Union soldiers in the recent war between north and south.”
Reaching to his vest pocket, Pike withdrew a long, slender cigar of the fashion favored further south by Spanish men, a small paper brought out held in his palm unseen as Adam struck a match and lit his smoke. Popping off the porch, three quick steps brought him next to Ambrose. Holding the paper, he looked up at the banker.
“This is an order from the court, Mr. Ambrose, directing all bank holdings of Mr. Lambertson, or Tresh if you like, be totaled in a draft payable to the Army.”
Ambrose glared at Pike unmoving. “Would suggest you take it, sir.” Adam offered, “as I have full authority to seize those deposits by whatever means chosen should you refuse.”
The banker snatched the cable, stuffing it in his pocket without a glance. Throwing a broad grin at him, Pike retreated to the porch never letting his eyes leave the crowd. Stepping back to his seat, he took a long draw on the cigar then exhaled, squinting through blue smoke while speaking.
“Should the Army acquit Mr. Tresh, an unlikely event you can believe, I will return to put him up before a US District Judge on double charges of murder. At least” he continued, bringing up the canvas bag and withdrawing two holstered guns, “if Mrs. Loftin can identify these I found hidden at his place.”
Holding out the weapons, Pike looked at Rachel. Staring wide-eyed, unwilling to touch them, she volunteered, “One is Pa’s, Marshall. His initials are carved to it. The other Augie brought back from his cavalry days.”
Adam bobbed his head, replacing the guns in his bag while taking up a small book from within. “Also secured this, Mr. Ambrose.” he explained, holding it up, “Lambertson’s bank record. Will know to a penny the amount your draft should be and am willing to remind that any sum less means you are subject to arrest also and being carted off for trial by the Army.”
The banker’s face paled. His bank couldn’t honor a draft for all Lambertson’s money, he knew well, but standing before an Army court appealed little. Unable to find an answer, he remained silent when the sheriff chirped again.
“What ‘bout that murderin’ man what’s standin’ behind ya’?”
Pike laughed again, pushing his hat back before leaning on one palm with his left hand on his leg near his gun. “You speaking of him?” he asked, flicking a thumb toward Deacon, going on when several men nodded. “Seems you listen well to Lambertson’s men but less to your own sense.”
Drawing on his cigar, Adam glanced to the ground then back up, grinning. “Taking one matter then the other” he said, motioning with his hand again, “know the fellow behind is Deputy US Marshall Deacon Chance, one of the finest lawmen I’ve been graced to work alongside. The murderer from back east Lambertson had stories told of, which you believed” he grunted, pointing with the cigar at them, “is long dead and gone. Fact is, him that was telling those stories is from the same county back in Ohio, as is Deputy Chance, which is how they both knew the story.”
“That liar’s given name, so you know, was Early McDermitt.” Pike continued, a swift glance back catching Deacon’s astonished expression while giving mental salutes to barmen knowing little the value of what they tell. “His Pa was a big-time judge until being arrested by Marshalls for abusing his trust to amass handsome property and impressive wealth. Seems he found sensible giving improper sentences, beatings and even murder to convince others to sell first rate, quality land for next to nothing. After the courts sentenced the judge to thirty years prison, young Early lit out, enlisting soon enough in the Army and being assigned to a quartermaster’s office in Kansas. Was there he met Tresh, them teaming up to have supply convoys meant for soldiers stolen then selling goods to meet Army needs at triple prices.”
Glancing at the sky, the sun slipping toward distant peaks as towering thunderheads north of them promised weather, he smiled, the territory so needful of any rain coming he welcomed it despite anticipating three days of wet riding to get home. Bringing his eyes back on the riders, he chuckled.
“Seems we saved taxpayer money, young McDermitt slated for hanging also now not called for, the Army rarely proving themselves wishful of hanging men already dead.”
Rising, Pike balled his fists on his hips, running an amused look over the dazed men. “Now if no more is required, I suggest you turn on back home to your shops and wives before one or the other finds no purpose for you, chasing after all this which is none of your business from the beginning.”
At the rear, several men turned, seeming to like Adam’s thinking, before Ambrose reared up.
“Wait a minute!” he yelped, “How we know you even a Marshall? Being almighty young for one doing that work.”
Pike frowned deeply, brows narrowing as he drilled the man with a look of fiery blue ice. Inching his fingers up, he tilted his badge some, catching the dying sun and reflecting it over their faces. “Don’t buy these off shelves of general stores, Mr. Ambrose.” he replied harshly, “Only get one when and if the President of the United States says you do.”
Dropping his hand, Adam surveyed the men. “Any of you doubtful, all that’s needful doing is ride to Cheyenne or Denver and ask. Speaking honest, you can stop by any town in the Territory having a real sheriff, all knowing me by name, reputation and most by sight as well.”
Pike smirked, saying as an afterthought, “Seems that’s a matter your town should attend, being a nice place like it is, a real sheriff not taking pay from an outlaw might save a sight of trouble.”Hopping over the rail, Adam shrugged. “Is for you to decide, I reckon, but for me to choose is here and now.”
Turning a shoulder to Rachel, suppressing a giggle at the woman’s dumbfounded look, he asked respectfully, “Ma’am, are you wishful of having these men leave your property.”
Flipping eyes at Pike, she waggled her head. “I am, Marshall, an’ most promptly.”
Adam smiled wide, facing the men as he moved to the steps. “Lady has asked you men leave. By her grace, any who head out without delay will be given courtesy but being she’s the owner here I am duty bound to arrest any which do not. Of course, the court will think little of it so no more price to pay you have but two days riding to Cheyenne tied over your saddle with no eatings and water enough only to keep you from arriving dead…”
Pike’s voice trailed off unheard, every man having swung their mounts already, several setting a sprightly pace to the west. Satisfied, Adam pivoted to face Rachel and Deacon. “Ma’am, would you have coffee brewed fresh we could share a minute before my departing?” he asked.
