Legion of Fire

by William W. Johnstone

  “To tell the truth, I don’t have that planned quite yet,” Luke answered. “It occurs to me, though—since Craddock is technically my prisoner—maybe I ought to be the one to stick close and keep an eye on him. If it’s all right with the marshal, I could sleep on the cot in the other cell.”

  Burnett nodded. “You know, that ain’t a half bad idea. I’m sure Fred wouldn’t mind not having to give up his comfortable bed at home. He could go ahead and still make the evening rounds for me, and then head home.”

  “It should be my responsibility to see to it the prisoner gets fed, too,” Luke said. “Since I’ve been planning on taking a meal at the little café down the street, I figured I’d bring him back something from there.”

  Burnett’s forehead puckered. “That’s good thinking, except for one thing—the café is closed by now.”

  “Closed?” Luke echoed, the emptiness in his stomach suddenly faced with only disappointment to fill it.

  “That’s right. Lucinda, the gal who runs the café, opens early for breakfast and keeps serving a while past lunch. By two or three in the afternoon, she closes,” the marshal explained. “She tried staying open later but found she didn’t do enough business on account of most folks around town prefer to take their supper at home. The two saloons lay out an evening spread, though. The Brass Rail’s the best of the two, in my opinion. You could get some sandwiches for you and your prisoner there.”

  “He will not!” Millie objected. “Isn’t it enough that Mr. Jensen comes to our town, gets nearly shot, and then is left to sleep on a jail cot? The least we can do is see to it he doesn’t have to go without a decent meal.”

  “It’s all right, miss,” Luke assured her. “Your father is doing plenty by allowing me to keep Craddock here and also giving me a place to bunk with a roof over my head. He doesn’t owe me anything more. Nobody does.”

  “Well, I don’t see it that way,” Millie insisted. “I have a mound of already cooked roast beef at home—way more than just Father and I can eat, even after we’ve already made one meal out of it. I will be heating it up and serving it with some side dishes and dessert for our supper. After I’ve fed the old grouch and put him to bed, I’ll prepare plates for you and your prisoner and return here with them. I will be highly offended if you do not accept this offer of hospitality.”

  Luke wanted to refuse, wanted her not to go to that much trouble, but the depth of her imploring brown eyes and the anticipation that knifed through his stomach at the mention of roast beef was a lot to overcome.

  An appealing look in the direction of Burnett didn’t help at all.

  “If you were paying attention earlier, I believe you heard ample warning about my daughter’s headstrong tendencies,” the marshal said. “My advice to you, friend, is to accept the offer and get yourself set for a fine meal.”

  * * *

  “It’s about damn time somebody came around to check on me. I been hearin’ voices yammerin’ out in the other room, folks comin’ and goin’, but not a damn one gave a peep to me. I ain’t seen nobody since that rickety old horse doctor who wrapped this bandage around my head and announced I had a busted skull. Like I didn’t already know that much on my own.” Ben Craddock sat on the edge of his jail cell cot and glared at Luke on the other side of the bars.

  The outlaw was a huskily built specimen, late thirties in age, with a ruggedly handsome face and piercing blue eyes. At the moment he had a thick bandage wrapped around the top part of his head, just above his bristly eyebrows, leaving his longish, unruly dirty blond hair to poke out around the edges.

  “Yeah, I probably could have diagnosed the cracked skull part, too,” Luke said dryly. “I ought to know, since I’m the one who gave it to you.”

  “You’re damned right you did.” Craddock rose to his feet. “If that mangy nag I was ridin’ would have had some sand in her instead of too much lead in her ass to climb a lousy hill, it would have been a different story. You’d have never got close enough to get your hands on me and I’d be ridin’ free and clear right about now.”

  Luke shrugged. “If you’re going to blame somebody, why not yourself? You had a wide-open shot when I was walking unprepared down the street. You should have taken care of business right then and there.”

  “You bet I should have!” Craddock balled his fists and came closer to the bars. “How I missed, I’ll never know.”

  Luke’s mouth formed a thin smile. “Well, you’ve got plenty of time ahead of you to think about it. It’s a twelve-day ride to Amarillo and then, once there, you’ll have another stretch in a cell before you eventually take your walk up the gallows steps. Trouble is, none of it will provide the chance for you to improve your aim any.”

  Craddock unclenched his fists and wrapped them around the bars. “Don’t you count on it, bounty hunter! Like you said, it’s a long way from this godforsaken town to Amarillo. A lot can happen. I ain’t at the top of those gallows steps yet.”

  “Keep dreaming,” Luke told him. “You had your run, but now you’re in my custody. And if you know anything at all about me, you know I’m not in the habit of losing prisoners.”

  “Yeah. Luke Jensen, the big bad bounty hunter in black,” Craddock sneered. “I don’t know how you caught up with me, but that still don’t mean it’s over. I might’ve made a mistake by missin’ that rifle shot, but it just might be you made a mistake, too, by not finishin’ me when you had the chance.”

  “Thanks for reminding me. I’ll be sure to keep that in mind in case you try anything cute when we’re out on the trail.”

  Craddock’s sneer faded. Turning sullen, he said, “We ain’t out on the trail yet. What about the here and now—am I gonna get anything to drink or eat? And is that doctor ever comin’ back? My head’s poundin’ like there’s somebody with a hammer inside tryin’ to beat his way out.”

  “You’ll be getting some food and water in a little while,” Luke replied. “The headache you’re going to have to live with. Consider yourself lucky it’s not a bullet hole.”

  Chapter 8

  It was after dark when Millie Burnett returned to the jail bearing a large picnic basket with a red checkered cloth draped over the top.

  In the interim, following his brief session with Craddock, Luke had killed some time by again stripping down his pistols, cleaning them, and then once more carefully wiping each of the cartridges from the cylinders and his gunbelt before reassembling and reloading. If he was somewhat fastidious in his appearance and mannerisms, he was even more so when it came to his weapons. They were, after all, the difference between life and death in his line of work.

  Deputy Packer also helped pass some time by stopping by for a bit of small talk in the midst of his rounds. Luke obliged him by recounting a couple of “bounty huntin’ adventures,” without too much elaboration or exaggeration yet enough to satisfy the oldster before he drifted on. After he was gone, Luke took the liberty of going through the stack of wanted posters on Marshal Burnett’s desk.

  Nothing in particular piqued his interest, especially since he was going to have his hands full with Craddock for the next couple of weeks, but he did note that three or four of the unfamiliar faces staring back at him all carried, as part of their descriptions, the phrase “Reputed member of the Legion of Fire.” That was a new term to Luke. Obviously a gang of some sort operating in the region.

  The fact that he hadn’t heard of them wasn’t surprising, considering he’d been busy down in Texas for much of the past year, mostly along the border until he drifted north to take up the trail of Craddock. Seeing the size of the rewards attached to the suspected Legion of Fire members, however, was enough to make him muse about coming back this way again to maybe try for a slice of that pie.

  A slice of pie, in the literal sense, was far more easily attained once Millie showed up. The plates of food she had prepared were heaped with thick slices of roast beef, mashed potatoes, buttered carrots, and a fat wedge of apple pie for dessert. She’d even broug
ht a pitcher of lemonade.

  All of this she withdrew from the basket and laid out on one end of her father’s desk. “I hope you find this to your liking. Father is the only one I ever get the chance to cook for. He says I do a good job, but I can never be sure if that’s truly the case or if he’s just being kind. Mother was an excellent cook, but she passed away when I was only fourteen and just starting to learn her ways in the kitchen. On top of that, Lucinda Davis, who runs the town café, often invites him over for supper at her place.” She smiled. “She seems to have taken a romantic interest in him. You can imagine how intimidated I am by having that kind of competition.”

  Looking down at the fare spread out before him, Luke said, “By the looks and aroma of everything you’ve prepared here, I have a pretty good hunch you can hold your own against any competition.”

  He could have added that, in addition to the food itself, the same could be said about the preparer. Millie had changed from the riding attire she’d had on earlier and was wearing a full-skirted dress, lemon yellow in color, with short sleeves slightly puffed at the shoulder and a modestly scooped neckline trimmed in white lace. Her ample bosom nevertheless filled the front of the dress to the point of showing an intriguing hint of cleavage and a flow of creamy flesh leading up to her long, graceful neck. She’d pinned up her cascade of blond hair with ornate hairpins that glittered silver-blue above each ear and exposed more of her finely chiseled facial features. Once again Luke was reminded that she was as striking as the finest beauties he’d ever been in the presence of.

  “I hope so,” Millie responded to Luke’s comment on the food she’d laid out. “But the proof, as they say, is in the pudding—or more accurately, in the taste of the pudding.”

  Luke frowned. “I don’t need any proof to know one thing. This second plate you made up is too good for the likes of Craddock. You definitely shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble.”

  “Once the meal was ready, it wasn’t that much trouble to fill one more plate. Your man may be a scoundrel and a varmint, as my father would say, but he’s still a human being. He deserves to eat something, too.”

  “I suppose,” Luke allowed grudgingly.

  “So you sit down and dig in before everything gets even colder,” Millie directed. “I’ll go ahead and take his plate back to—”

  “Whoa. No, you won’t,” Luke said, interrupting her and placing his hand on the plate of food she’d been about to pick up. “I’ll be the one to deliver Craddock his grub.”

  Millie blinked. “It’s really no big deal. I take meals back to men in the lockup all the time.”

  “Maybe so. But Craddock’s not going to be one of them. I’ll take care of him.”

  “I appreciate you being cautious for my sake, but it’s really not necessary. There are heavy bars all around and a narrow slot to slide the food through. I can’t possibly come to any harm by—”

  “Think what you like, but I prefer to handle this myself,” Luke said, picking up the plate and turning toward the heavy door that led back to the cell block. “In addition to being a robber and a killer, Craddock has a lousy attitude and a foul mouth that I’d just as soon not have any part of exposing you to.” He brushed past Millie and passed through the door into the cell block.

  Craddock rose from his cot at the sight of him. At first the prisoner’s mouth curled automatically into a sneer, but then, spotting the plate of food, his expression mellowed. Moving closer to the bars, he said, “I would say it’s about damn time, but seein’ what all you got there, maybe it’s gonna be worth the wait. Damn, that looks fine.”

  “Go ahead and feast your eyes, but don’t even think about getting used to it,” Luke told him. “Once we get out on the trail, I can guarantee you’re not going to be eating this high off the hog.”

  “I wouldn’t expect otherwise,” Craddock replied. With his eyes taking on an eager gleam as Luke slid the plate through the narrow vertical opening in the bars, he added, “Which is why I always say, reach with both hands and take everything you can get while you can get it.”

  “Yeah, and we all know how well that particular philosophy of reaching and grabbing has worked out for you,” Luke said, releasing the plate into his hands.

  Craddock took a step back and held the plate under his nose, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply. When he opened his eyes again, his gaze immediately darted past Luke’s shoulder and his bristly brows lifted high with a new show of heightened appreciation.

  “Say now. This keeps gettin’ better and better, a plateful of delicious food for my belly and now some added dessert for my eyes!”

  Luke looked around and found Millie moving up behind him holding a tin cup in her hand. “You forgot to bring him anything to drink,” she said innocently. “So I poured him a cup of lemonade.”

  Gritting his teeth, Luke took the cup from her. Turning back to Craddock, he saw that the prisoner was staring brazenly at Millie with a lewd grin spread across his face.

  Craddock said, “Thank you ever so kindly, darlin’. You mind stickin’ around just a minute longer? In case this lemonade is a bit too tart, maybe I could get you to sweeten it up a mite by dippin’ one of your pretty little fingers in it.”

  “Put your eyes back in your head and shut your mouth or I’ll pour this lemonade down your boot,” Luke growled.

  Craddock’s grin only widened. “How about you pour it in the boot of that lovely little thing instead? Then I’ll take it from there—be like sippin’ champagne from the slipper of an elegant lady.”

  Luke snorted. “What do you know about champagne or an elegant lady, either one?” Over his shoulder he said to Millie, “Okay, you’ve brought him his drink. Now go on back in the other room. I’ll join you in a minute.”

  Still grinning, Craddock said, “Better do like he says, darlin’. He’s soundin’ kinda ornery. I hate to see you leave, but I’ll sure enjoy watchin’ you go.”

  Millie looked somewhat puzzled by the remark yet turned and departed as Luke had instructed.

  Gazing after her, Craddock murmured, “I may not know about champagne, but I damn well know how to drink in the sight of fine womanhood when I see it sashayed in front of me.”

  “She’s barely more than a girl,” Luke said, shoving the tin cup through the slot and into Craddock’s grimy paw. “And on the best day of your miserable life, you never rated getting anywhere close to the likes of her.”

  Finally tearing his eyes away from the doorway Millie had disappeared through, Craddock cut his eyes to Luke. “Then where does that leave you, bounty killer? You goin’ in the other room to have a friendly little session with her? You think you got any kinda chance with an overripe young piece like her?”

  Luke felt his ears burn and his jaw muscles tighten. “If I was a bounty killer, you wouldn’t be alive to be making crude remarks like that. And if you say any more, I may decide to come around to the other side of these bars and show you the difference.”

  Chapter 9

  “He is a rather nasty man, isn’t he?” Millie said when Luke came back into the office area.

  Luke scowled at her. “I tried to tell you that. But you just had to find out for yourself, didn’t you?”

  Millie blinked her big brown eyes in what Luke was beginning to recognize as a well-practiced bit of histrionics staged to deflect ire by conveying innocence. “What do you mean? I was just bringing his drink to save you making a second trip.”

  Deciding it was time somebody called her on it, Luke said, “That Little Miss Headstrong Yet Innocent routine might wash with your father and your suitor, but I find it neither convincing nor particularly attractive.”

  Bright red color flared in Millie’s cheeks. “What a terribly rude thing to say! And after I went to all the trouble of—“

  “What I said in no way negates these fine meals you’ve prepared,” Luke cut her short. “That was da—er, darn nice of you, and I appreciate it greatly. But it was at your own insistence, I’ll remind you.
And if I was rude, then barging into the lockup after I’d asked you explicitly not to was equally rude on your part.”

  “I told you. I was just trying to help you.”

  “You could have called out to me or waited and handed the cup to me when I started back through the door. What you were really doing was using the lemonade as an excuse to get your way when it came to having a peek at the big, bad prisoner.”

  “So now you’re calling me a liar?”

  The challenge made Luke pause. He wasn’t prepared to go quite that far and measured his words. “What I’m saying, is that I suspect you’re so used to getting your own way that you probably no longer even notice the different little tricks you use to go about it. Me, I don’t like being manipulated . . . not even by a gal as pretty as you.”

  Millie glared at him for several beats. Gradually, the color faded from her cheeks and she said, “I’m not sure I like being called a manipulator any better than a liar.”

  Luke sighed. “Look, miss. I’m obliged to your father and his deputy for their cooperation, and I’m truly obliged to you for these meals you fixed. The last thing I want is any trouble with anybody. I’ve already got enough of that lined up in the days ahead, getting Craddock back to Amarillo.”

  After some consideration, Millie said, “I’ll accept that as the closest thing I’m likely to get as far as an apology out of you. Now, you’d better start eating before your food gets any colder and you offend me some more by not digging in.”

  Luke settled into the marshal’s chair behind the desk and pulled the plate of food over in front of him. He hesitated with a forkful of mashed potatoes raised partway to his mouth.

  “What’s wrong?” Millie wanted to know.

  “It’s just that I’m worried I might dig in a little too eagerly, so much that I forget my table manners,” Luke explained. “Plus, I feel rather awkward eating in front of you when you’re not having anything.”