Deadly Shadow

by Paul Bedford

  After years of killing, both man and beast, he had finally settled down on his own spread with the woman of his dreams and then it had all been taken away from him. Well, he was going to ensure that the rest of those pestilential desperados were wiped off the face of the earth. With her new lover dead and gone, his whore of a wife could then plead to be taken back. What he hadn’t yet decided was whether he would accept her. Maybe it would just be better to erase her from his memory and obtain another mail order bride from back East. Of course, to avoid being a bigamist, it would mean having to consign Cathy to hell along with the big outlaw!

  Jared Tunstall regarded the set of newly fashioned horseshoes with satisfaction. He took pride in his job and as the town’s only blacksmith, a great many people relied on his skill. Mopping his brow, the powerfully muscled tradesman stepped out of the smithy on to Roy’s main and indeed only dirt street. He drew in the cold air with a pleasure that most people wouldn’t comprehend, unless they happened to spend most of their working lives next to a furnace.

  Gazing around, Jared took in the few clapboard buildings that lined either side of the thoroughfare. The small settlement was completely isolated in an undulating sea of grassland. Roy only survived because a few local ranchers and settlers needed somewhere to purchase supplies. It wasn’t even important enough to merit the cost of a telegraph connection. As for the railroad, that might as well have existed in another century. Freight wagons were the only regular source of contact with the outside world.

  And yet, the slow and predictable pace of life held great appeal for the blacksmith, because it hadn’t always been so. Even twenty-three years after it finished, the blood-soaked War Between the States still came back to haunt his dreams and the intervening period had also often been far from peaceful. Stretching his massive frame, Jared turned back to the many tasks that awaited him by the forge. As he did so, he happened to glance to the north and what he saw brought a deep frown to his features.

  A band of seven riders was slowly approaching the town and the blacksmith knew immediately that they weren’t from any of the local ranches. Strangers, especially in such numbers, were extremely rare in Roy. With his work temporarily forgotten, Jared closely scrutinized the newcomers. Other than registering surprise at the presence of an obviously attractive woman, he didn’t like what he saw. The men looked ragged and disreputable. They smelled of trouble with a capital T.

  As the strangers drew nearer, he observed that at least two of them appeared to be injured, which was another bad omen. Glancing around him, Jared noticed that a few other citizens had spotted the new arrivals, but that they were nervously keeping their distance.

  ‘Some things never change,’ he muttered to himself.

  As the dog-tired group closed in on the small community, Taw addressed the others softly. ‘We don’t want any trouble here, so leave the talking to me.’

  They were all aware of the immense figure in a blacksmith’s apron apparently waiting for them on the main street.

  ‘He must be hoping for some business,’ Davis remarked dryly, but then caught Taw’s sharp eye and nodded silently.

  It was obvious that the big man wasn’t intending to step aside and so before long, the scavengers reined up directly in front of him. Although the blacksmith wasn’t wearing a gun, the meeting had all the hallmarks of a confrontation, which was the last thing that Taw wanted.

  ‘You folks look a mite ill used,’ remarked Jared mildly, as he struggled to keep his eyes off the female.

  ‘Ain’t that the truth, mister,’ responded Taw, equally softly. Being merely wounded and dog-tired rather than stupid, he had not missed the other man’s preoccupation.

  For an achingly long moment nobody else spoke, until Jared suddenly favoured Cathy with a broad smile and knuckled his forehead.

  ‘My name’s Jared Tunstall, miss. I’m the town blacksmith, by trade. What brings you all to Roy?’

  Cathy returned his smile, but mindful of Taw’s instructions, remained silent. The outlaw leader was quick to respond.

  ‘We had a run in with some real mean hombres, who kind of took against us up in the Breaks,’ that man replied. ‘I caught a bullet in the shoulder and Jed here has got a broke leg. We could use some doctoring and a place to hole up for a spell.’

  Jared nodded coolly, the woman temporarily forgotten. What he said next was deliberately calculated to provoke a reaction. ‘I’ve heard that the Breaks is a refuge for all sorts of people on the dodge. You were lucky that nobody was killed. We don’t see many bullet wounds around here. It’ll likely put a strain on our horse doctor.’ He paused, before adding sharply, ‘I didn’t get your name, mister.’

  ‘Probably because he didn’t give it,’ snarled Davis with unconcealed venom. ‘What’s it to you who and what we are, anyway?’

  Jared’s eyes narrowed slightly as he took in the unrestrained hostility. He knew full well what these men were: scoundrels on the run, who very likely deserved everything that happened to them. The only thing that puzzled him was the girl’s involvement. She looked far too clean and respectable to be a ‘Dutch Gal’. What he said next came as something of a surprise, as had been intended.

  ‘Because I’m also the town marshal . . . when there’s a call for such a thing, which ain’t often around these parts.’

  ‘Huh, I might have known,’ grunted Davis. ‘A law dog!’

  ‘Shut your mouth!’ Taw growled menacingly at him, before allowing his hard eyes to lock on those of the marshal. His shoulder throbbed abominably and he knew that if he didn’t dismount soon, he would quite likely just topple into the dirt. Nevertheless, a faint smile played on his lips as he responded wearily, ‘Believe me, Marshal, we really ain’t looking for any trouble. We’ve had more than our fair share lately. And we ain’t looking for handouts, either. We’ve got money for the sawbones and room and board.’

  Jared nodded slowly. ‘Fair enough, but you’ll find accommodation pretty sparse around here. No hotel and only a very few spare rooms to speak of. I can maybe organize a place for the lady to stay, but you fellas’ll have to bed down in the livery. It’s the largest building we’ve got.’ Gesturing down the street, he added, ‘You head on over there and get situated, while I locate the doc.’ So saying, he finally backed off towards the smithy. All the while, his eyes stayed on the newcomers as they urged their weary mounts towards the livery stables. It occurred to him that it was very probably time to locate his badge and gun.

  ‘I don’t like that big son of a bitch,’ Davis muttered quietly out of the corner of his mouth.

  ‘Thank God you didn’t let him see it,’ Taw replied drily.

  Chapter Ten

  Marshal Jared Tunstall took a number of Roy’s citizens by surprise the following morning, as he strode out of the smithy. Many of them couldn’t actually remember when they had last seen him wearing both a badge and gun. His Remington revolver, many a lawman’s weapon of choice, nestled snugly in a polished black holster. Hanging from a well maintained gun belt, it seemed a little at odds with his rough working clothes.

  Not possessing a jailhouse or office of any kind, he lived in a single room built on to the rear of his smithy. All his meals were taken out, at an eating house further down the street. He led a solitary life and there could be no denying that Jared was, on occasion, a very lonely man. It was this, as much as any official business, which prompted him to pay a visit on the very attractive young lady now rooming above McLean’s General Store. She had been on his mind throughout a long and restless night, because it was a sad fact that in Roy’s small population, there wasn’t another unattached female to match her in looks. Whether she was available or not was entirely another matter.

  As he tentatively knocked on her door, he felt an unaccustomed flutter of unease in his belly. What if she wasn’t alone? What if one of those saddle tramps had sneaked up the back stairs without being spotted by Missus McLean’s eagle eye? He had seen the way the big man with the shoulder wound had look
ed at her and how his eyes rarely left her. And then she opened the door, favoured him with a genuine smile of welcome and all his nerves disappeared . . . for a brief moment.

  ‘I’m real sorry to trouble you, miss. Only I feel it’s my certain duty to ask you a few questions.’

  Cathy peered up at his open, honest features and formed an immediate liking for him. Strangely enough, he reminded her of her late pa. He too had been a man that worked with his hands. Had he not died before his time of smallpox, she might not have ended up in a doubtful relationship with an outlaw, whilst fleeing from her rightful husband.

  ‘I can see how you might have some concerns,’ she lightly replied, opening the door wider to allow him entry. Although not having visited the bathhouse yet, she had washed her face and vigorously brushed the trail dust out of her clothes. The attention and exercise was enough to provide her with a radiance that brought an ache to the marshal’s heart.

  After crowding his massive frame into the small room, he stood there uncomfortably or a moment, very conscious of her lovely eyes resting on his. Not wanting to stare too obviously at her, he briefly took in his surroundings. The clapboard walls were unplastered and unadorned and the only light came from a minute window that sorely needed washing. He couldn’t help but think that she suited altogether better surroundings.

  Finally, after swallowing heavily, he got some words together. ‘If you don’t mind me saying, miss, you appear a mite out of place with those . . . the men that you arrived with. Could it be that your movements are not entirely free?’

  She favoured him with a sad smile that made him want to wrap his bear-like arms around her, which of course wouldn’t do at all. Desperately ploughing on, he added, ‘What I’m trying to say is, if they’re holding you against your will, then now is the time to tell me. Even if they don’t break the law in Roy, I can at least send them on their way without you.’

  Cathy’s eyes widened expressively. ‘You’d do that for me? They’re dangerous men, you know.’

  Back on safer ground, he nodded grimly. ‘Oh, I don’t doubt that, but I’ve had my moments as well!’

  Her mouth opened and then closed again in silence, as she pondered his offer. She barely knew this part-time lawman and yet there seemed to be something basically decent about him. Yes, he apparently found her attractive, but she perceived that that wasn’t the only motive behind his presence in her room. It appeared that he possessed a sense of duty as well. Finally, some sixth sense prompted her to tell him everything and it took quite some time.

  Jared’s features registered incredulity as he absorbed her remarkable story. ‘So this husband of yours is very likely to be still out there,’ he remarked after Cathy had eventually finished.

  She nodded. ‘He never gives up. And I can’t help thinking that I’m partly to blame.’

  Feeling suddenly very protective of the young woman, Jared was quick to scoff at that. ‘Oh, so it’s your fault you got kidnapped by a gang of desperados, after Clemens left you all alone in a frontier cabin? I don’t think so.’ He paused for a moment, while he pondered his next move. Given the danger that the men represented, there really wasn’t any choice in the matter, but it gave him chance to remain close to her for a little longer.

  At last he sighed and announced his intentions. ‘It’s my duty to the citizens of this town to get Taw Johnson and his riff raff out of here as soon as possible. I’m going over to the livery to see when they’ll be fit to ride. When they leave, it’ll be up to you whether you go with them. But think on this. Johnson is known throughout the territory as a bad hombre and winter’s upon us. That’s a bad combination for a young lady such as you. Whatever affection that you think you feel for him may not survive his lifestyle and if you’re off in the wilderness when you discover it, things may go badly for you.’

  With that, he turned away and reached for the door latch.

  ‘Thank you, Marshal,’ Cathy murmured softly and then he was gone. Whatever else his visit had achieved, it had given her a great deal to think on.

  As Jared stepped from the shelter of the building on to the street, two things occurred. A flurry of snowflakes came out of the leaden sky and then just as quickly died away, but there could be no doubt that there would be a substantial covering before nightfall.

  ‘Marvellous,’ he decided sourly to himself. ‘That’s all we need right now.’

  Then, as he glanced over at the livery, one of the big doors eased open and one of Johnson’s ‘scum’ wandered around to the north-facing side of the building. Unbuttoning his trousers, the scruffy individual began to urinate with great satisfaction on to the timber wall.

  ‘God damn it all to hell,’ snarled Jared. ‘You there!’ he bellowed out. ‘We have ladies in this town.’

  The other man merely smirked and retorted, ‘Well then, send them over here. I’ve got something for them to feast on!’

  Jared felt a tightness in his chest as real anger began to build within him. He had never tolerated that kind of behaviour in his town and he wasn’t about to start. Clenching his huge fists, he strode purposefully across the thoroughfare. As he closed in on the uncouth lout, that man’s brutalized features twisted into a mixture of belligerence and fear. The blacksmith/lawman had to be the biggest creature he’d seen that wasn’t covered in body fur. Bigger than his boss by far.

  ‘My town doesn’t possess a jailhouse, so you’re just gonna have to take a beating,’ the marshal stated with the unnerving assurance of someone very capable of doing just that. Yet before he could even make a move, an unseen force swept in from the north.

  The scavenger slammed forward into the wall, all traces of hostility abruptly gone. They were replaced by a graphic display of agony and shock that caused the startled lawman to momentarily freeze. He didn’t need to hear the distant report that followed on, to know that the miscreant had been shot, but it had been a considerable time since he had actually witnessed such a thing. Then, as hard learned professionalism kicked in, Jared came to his senses. Realizing that it was pointless to reach for his own weapon, he instead grabbed his erstwhile prey and heaved him over his right shoulder. Even as he did so, the wounded man coughed blood on to the street and groaned weakly. Moving fast, Jared got around the corner to relative safety and made for the livery’s entrance. His peripheral vision informed that a number of townspeople were staring at him in stunned surprise.

  Taw Johnson twitched nervously as something heavy thumped against the stable wall. He was in a strange limbo land between sleep and consciousness, but the sound of a far-off gunshot abruptly banished that. Attempting to get to his feet, he grunted with pain and merely had to settle for lifting his head off the hay. Having had a large piece of lead removed from his shoulder the previous evening, any other movement was just too excruciating. Then the stable door was unceremoniously booted open and he instinctively knew that the spell of peace that he had hoped for in Roy was irrevocably shattered.

  Marshal Tunstall gently laid his trembling burden on a bed of hay and looked around. Thankfully, the horse doctor had conveniently stopped by to inspect his human patients, although Jared doubted very much if anything could be done for the latest one.

  ‘Another bullet wound, doc. For what it’s worth, I reckon this one looks fatal.’

  A hunched, bespectacled figure in a badly worn black frock coat stepped out of the shadows and knelt down next to the trembling scavenger. The doctor, a man by the name of Curren, was possibly in his mid-forties, but appeared far older. He seemed to be permanently cloaked with an air of anguish, which wasn’t really warranted from only dealing with the needs of animals. As the dying man shuddered and clutched at his arm, the sawbones glanced up at the town marshal.

  ‘As usual, you’re not wrong, Jared. But what’s occurring here? What has brought all this violence amongst us?’

  Rather than answer directly, Jared switched his attention to Taw’s supine figure.

  ‘It’s him, isn’t it? John Clemens has tra
iled you here and now it’s all starting again. How many were you originally, fifteen?’

  Taw momentarily closed his eyes, as though absorbing the horror that just wouldn’t go away. Then he peered over at the bulky figure, taking in both his badge and gun belt. Despite the parlous situation, he wasn’t prepared to ‘eat dirt’ from some two-bit law dog.

  ‘I see the blacksmith’s taken the day off and the marshal’s been busy,’ he remarked with heavy sarcasm. ‘You’ve obviously had a long talk with Cathy. Pretty, isn’t she?’

  Jared stared down at him grim faced. ‘By Cathy, you mean Missus Clemens. The kidnapped wife of the man that’s hunting you down like dogs. Seems like poetic justice to me. Except that now, it’s happening in my town.’

  Aware that his four remaining men were watching him closely, Taw made a supreme effort and using the wall of one of the stalls, managed to drag himself upright. With sweat streaming from his face, he snarled, ‘Well, I’m all broken up about that, Mister Lawman. Question is, what do you propose to do about it?’

  Jared glanced around at the five unwanted newcomers and came to a decision. To be honest, he’d actually made it just after he’d stepped out of Cathy’s room, but he wouldn’t have cared to admit that in front of any of his fellow townspeople or the watching outlaws. And besides, the shooting had changed everything.

  ‘If I really tried, I could probably find some wanted papers on you. Trouble is, we don’t have a jail and the circuit judge hardly ever comes here. So I want you all on your horses and out of here, now!’

  Taw recoiled slightly, but recovered fast. ‘What, even him?’ he sneered, gesturing towards his fading companion.

  Jared glanced dismissively at the blood-soaked man struggling through death’s door. ‘All he’s destined for is a cold hole in the ground . . . if he’s got the spondulix to pay for it. My only concern is for the good people of this town. That sharpshooter out there has got this place squarely in his sights.’