‘I admit to not having much practice when it comes to talking to a pretty, educated gal,’ he confessed. ‘But I surely don’t mean to frighten you.’
‘Frighten me?’
‘Yeah, well I come charging in like a bull after a couple stray coyotes didn’t I? Busted those two fellers a good one each before I even said “howdy” to you.’
‘You were acting on my behalf,’ she excused the violent introduction. ‘Men like Sandoval and Connor don’t respect any normal form of reasoning, only brute force.’
‘Them I know how to handle,’ he said. ‘I can deal with the worst most men can throw at me, but I’m plum backward around a lady such as yourself. I don’t know how to behave.’
Lynette surprised him with a timorous smile. ‘It isn’t only you, Mr Mason. I . . . I had a rather bad experience with a man, a philanderer who took advantage of my naivety and lack of experience around men. I was hurt and mortified by the episode and have discouraged suitors ever since.’
‘I’m not familiar with what one of them philanderer-types does for a living.’
‘It isn’t an occupation, it means he was a womanizing, underhanded scoundrel.’
Mason frowned. ‘Tell me his name and where I can find him, Miss. I’ll settle for your honour and the lowly hunk of vermin will crawl all the way back here on his hands and knees to apologize.’
She laughed at his threat, the mirth signalling a lowering of her guard. ‘I actually believe you.’
‘Honesty is one of my few virtues,’ he admitted.
Lynette shifted subjects. ‘Richard told me you have a brother.’
‘Yeah, Cliff is five years younger than me. He works for our uncles.’
‘Uncles?’
‘Three brothers – the Valerons. They have a sizable place on the Colorado-Wyoming border. Ma’s sister is married to one of the three. Got more cousins than I can count in that big family.’
‘But you choose to be . . . what? A troubleshooter of some kind?’
‘No, ma’am. I’m more of a wanderer – a tumbleweed driven before the wind.’
‘How did Richard and you become friends?’
He grinned at her query, enjoying the middling conversation. His candid gaze caused her features to soften noticeably and he was completely disarmed. Lynette was quite fetching when her guard was down. She afforded a feminine ‘ahem’ to prompt him to recover his power of speech.
‘Uh, sorry,’ Mason said, embarrassed to have lost his train of thought. ‘You were asking about buster and me?’
‘Yes, you seem . . . well, you’re not exactly the kind of man Richard usually pals around with.’
‘Not as book-learned, you mean?’
She laughed again, once more affecting him with her natural charm. ‘That’s it exactly. Richard’s friends are mostly bank colleges or businessmen.’
‘Actually, he paid my fine to get me out of jail.’
The remark caused her to gape. She recouped her senses to inquire: ‘He did what?’
‘Yes, ma’am. I was sitting out a ten-day sentence for settling a dispute between a couple hunters and an Indian scout. A fight broke out during a town barbecue and I reckon them two would have killed the Indian, if I hadn’t taken up for him.’
‘Yet, they put you in jail?’
‘Indians aren’t real popular in this part of the country. Nearly every person you meet has lost a friend or loved one to a hostile band.’ He shrugged. ‘Difference is, this red man was working for the army as a scout; he was on our side.’
‘So why did the judge incarcerate you?’
‘Our little fracas intruded on his dinner party.’ At her inquisitive look, he explained. ‘I knocked one of the men over the table where he and his wife were sitting. They both ended up wearing a fair portion of their meal.’
The corners of her mouth rose slightly at the image, but she remained serious. ‘So, do you enjoy physical conflicts?’
‘Not at all,’ he defended. ‘I figure there has to be order in our society. Men shouldn’t be browbeaten or pushed around just because they’re different or nature chose to make them slighter in build. Plus, I don’t much like bullies.’
‘And that’s why you learned how to fight.’ It was a statement of fact. When Mason had nothing more to say, Lynette continued.
‘Richard explained to me about your training.’ She uttered a girlish giggle. ‘And how utterly hopeless he was as your student.’
Mason’s grinned at the memory. ‘If a man wanted someone to plan his finances or check a storekeeper’s books, your brother would be the man for the job. When it comes to fighting, his best option is to use what little speed God gave him and run for the hills.’
Lynette smiled at his summation, but turned serious. ‘I believe you are capable, Mr Mason, but I don’t see how one man can go up against Rutherford and Gilmore. Those two have some dangerous men working for them.’
‘Tell me about the opposition.’
‘Five of them arrived here from Texas, packing a lot of money and guns. Within a week, they took control of the bank and the saloon. Most of the land and businesses around here were already in debt, as the bank held their deeds. Rutherford increased the interest rate until a few people went broke. That allowed him to resell those properties and make a tidy profit.’
‘And they get away doing that, because there is no law hereabouts to deal with them,’ Mason deduced.
‘Mike Lafferty assumed the position of mayor and they also hired their own judge. You’ve already introduced yourself to Lafferty’s men. Between them and Rutherford, they have control over the entire valley.’
‘We kind of fired the judge, me and Mrs Wright.’
Lynette shook her head in wonder. ‘Dear me, you do work quickly.’
‘I aim to put an end to them fellows’ stranglehold. If it becomes more than I can handle alone, I’ll send for a couple of my cousins. When it comes to good men, the Valerons have a code of honour that few families can match. Like them, I believe that whenever or wherever crime or corruption is unchecked, it is a slap to every honest citizen’s face. I’m one of them citizens who slap right back!’
Lynette reached out and placed her hand on his arm. ‘I realize you are sincere, Mr Mason, but I don’t want to see you hurt or killed.’
‘It’s not like I’d be missed all that much,’ he said rather flippantly.
The woman frowned. ‘Don’t you dare say that!’ she snapped. ‘Men of courage and laurels are always needed. You are risking your life for people you don’t even know. I’ve never met anyone who would do that before.’
‘Well, buster is a friend.’
‘He is a stranger,’ her voice rose with her passion, ‘who bailed you out of jail and hired you to come here. I’m sure he didn’t expect you would attempt to tame the entire valley alone!’
‘Not so loud,’ he shushed her placidly. ‘The whole town will hear you.’
Lynette didn’t have to reply or react, as Richard appeared at the doorway, carrying the three empty dishes.
‘Them fellows cleaned the last breadcrumb from their plates, Sis,’ he announced. ‘It’s like I always told you – you’re a mighty fine cook.’
‘I agree completely, Miss Brooks,’ Mason praised, rising quickly to his feet. He reached down to take hold of the lady’s wrist and helped her to stand. ‘I haven’t had such fine cooking since I left home.’
‘You’re more than welcome,’ Lynette said stiffly, likely worried Richard had overheard her outburst. To cover her chagrin, she picked up her basket and the piece of protective cloth, which she stuck in the container. Composed once more, she paused to regard Mason with a look of genuine concern. ‘Do be careful. These are dangerous men and are not to be taken lightly. They won’t sit by and let you wrestle the town free from their control.’
Mason grunted. ‘No town should be terrorized by a band of hard-cases with guns. People have the right to govern themselves.’
‘I’ll be around i
f you need me,’ Richard offered. ‘I left my shotgun at Lynette’s office, but I can get it quick enough.’
‘You take tonight off, buster,’ Mason offered. ‘You can help watch the jail tomorrow.’
He said ‘OK’ and Lynette lifted her free hand in a short wave. Then they returned down the street towards the newspaper office and Lynette’s upstairs apartment. Mason watched them go and felt a renewed tug at his heart strings. It didn’t take a lot of contemplation to realize he was missing out on the best thing in life . . . a wife and family of his own.
After a restless night on a cot, which he bought at the general store, Mason arose to the grumblings of his three incarcerated guests. He addressed them with a succinct – ‘Shut up or you can chew your own boot leather for breakfast!’ – and there was tranquility in the jail once more.
Julia arranged for the prisoners’ meals to be prepared at the Harmony House eating establishment, and also provided that Mason would eat for free. Mike Lafferty had a tax structure in place, so there were funds available to pay for everything in due process.
As Mason had been privileged to dine with Lynette the previous night, he didn’t bother ordering anything special for breakfast. Mush and toast was good enough for the men he was holding, so he got himself the same. Crossing the street to his office with the tray of food, he spotted a lone rider. The man’s girth was equal to his mount and he looked out of place on the back of a horse. Mason didn’t pay him any attention outwardly, but he kept an eye on him while entering the jail.
Once he served the three inmates, he mentioned to Lafferty: ‘A walking outhouse rode in on a dun horse. He’s wearing a lot of rawhide, including knee-high moccasin boots. His ten-gallon hat looked like something he stole from a scarecrow.’
The ex-mayor grinned. ‘He has a shanty outside of town. Goes by the name of Scraps, ’cause that’s all he leaves behind when he tears a man to pieces.’
‘He claims to have gouged an eye out of six different men,’ Sandoval spoke up.
‘Scraps is here for your hide, Mason,’ Connor warned. ‘You ought to light a’shuck before he tracks you down!’
Mason responded evenly. ‘Given a choice, I’m more apt to fight than run. I’ll be sure and give Scraps a chance to make the same decision.’
‘He’ll eat you alive!’ Connor jeered.
‘Carve your heart out with his skinning knife,’ mouthed Sandoval.
As for Lafferty, he just kept right on grinning.
Rather than reply to the taunting, Mason removed the special thick-hide gloves he carried in his belt and stepped out the door.
Scraps had a face that would have made potential mothers swear off parenthood – piggish eyes above a wide, crooked nose, with several gaping holes in his row of tobacco-stained teeth. With a horseshoe-shaped jaw and a scraggly, unshaven face, he would have been plug-ugly without the lengthy, greasy hair that hung to his shoulders. Blocky in build, his ape-like arms were covered with coarse hair and as big around as Mason’s thighs.
‘I come to rip you apart like a toy doll,’ Scraps announced, skipping any introduction. ‘You can run if you don’t have the sand for a beating.’
‘Never cottoned to bullies who destroyed children’s toys,’ Mason riposted. ‘And I’m not exactly intimidated by a man whose nickname is taken from odds and ends.’
The brute’s thick lips parted in a sneer, the same look one might expect from a rabid wolverine. ‘You’ve a funny mouth, mister. I think I’ll shut it . . . permanently.’
Mason doubled his fists within the thick-lined gloves and primed himself for combat. Never one to allow anger to dictate his game, he methodically sized up his opponent: Bull. Bear. Mauling dog. Scraps would use his size and muscle to dominate the fight. If he got hold of Mason, he could do the most damage using his superior strength. Mason had met men in the ring like him before. None more formidable than the giant before him, but he had honed his skill and was a seasoned veteran. He silently prayed the speed and power behind his punches would give him the advantage.
Scraps went from standing to a charge without shifting his stance. A less prepared fighter might have been caught flat-footed at the suddenness of the attack.
However, Mason reacted swiftly. He sidestepped the rush and, simultaneously, launched a left jab that nailed the man squarely on the nose. Before Scraps could alter his speed or direction, Mason whirled in behind him and slammed him hard to the back of his left ear. The power of which drove him to his knees.
Scraps was game and quick for a man of his size. He scrambled to his feet instantly and spun about to face Mason. Throwing up a defensive posture to protect his face, he blinked at the tears to clear his vision from the poke in the nose. Before he could set himself, Mason leapt forward and slipped a second jab between the man’s knotted fists, cracking him hard on the bridge of the nose once more.
Mason repeated the strategy, staying out of the man’s reach, then darting in close enough to use his left jab to blind the big oaf again and again. When Scraps was forced to lift his guard up in front of his face, Mason launched a solid right-left combination to hammer his opponent in the stomach and kidneys. This time his adversary grunted from the power behind the blows.
Moving constantly, Mason remained patient, avoiding every omnipotent attempt the muscular brute made to hit or ensnare him within his grasp. In and out, back and forth, he continued to pulverize his opponent with wicked punches to the body and head.
Scraps began to gasp for breath, weary of chasing after the artful boxer, and feeling the effects of a thorough beating. He grew desperate, knowing he only had to get his hands on the elusive fighter, then he would break his foe in half and crush him under his heels.
But Mason was nowhere and everywhere at the same time. The direful jabs continually smashed his broken nose and caused an infernal swelling about his eyes. Staggering blindly, Scraps had yet to land a single blow. Every charge ended with him on his belly in the dust, every swing of his fists got nothing but air. His lungs were afire from the effort exerted, but pausing to pant for air allowed his adversary to pummel him with rock-hard contact to the body that felt like each blow was delivered by an eight-pound hammer. Subsequently, Scraps’ energy waned and both eyes were closed to mere slits from swelling. That’s when a bone-shattering punch exploded against his jaw. The force was great enough to lift him up on to his toes. Dazed, the world went dark. A moment later, there was the taste of dirt and blood in his mouth.
‘Might want to stay down, tough guy,’ a controlled voice reached his semi-conscious brain. ‘You’ll not be gouging out any eyes today.’
Scraps was vaguely aware of a set of strong arms half-dragging and half-carrying him. After he managed a few staggering steps, he landed on a solid wooden floor. Even as he struggled to reach a level of awareness, Mike Lafferty’s voice echoed in his ears.
‘Damn, Scraps! I thought you were supposed to be tough!’
Chapter Five
Wyatt Valeron was at the main ranch house, preparing for an extended hunt with Jared. Beef, pork and mutton were staples on the ranch, but everyone liked venison and buffalo meat as well. The two cousins had planned a trip to the Dakotas to hunt deer and elk. There were still some herds of buffalo around, but they no longer shook the earth when they began to run. Their numbers had dwindled from countless millions to only a few thousand, their way of life gone via the westward expansion of America’s populace.
Cliff Mason, a cousin who had become part of the family, was in the yard watching Nessy, a rescued orphan who had adopted him as her father. She was laughing and playing a game of ‘tag’ with two other children – kids of some Valeron employees – when a rider entered the yard.
‘It’s Skip,’ Wyatt informed Jared, speaking of the store manager/telegraph operator in town. ‘Don’t see him on a horse very often.’
‘Must be important for him to ride out here instead of sending a runner from town.’
Locke Valeron, the senior member of the
family and acknowledged ramrod of the vast Valeron holdings, had been working in his den with Martin, his nephew and the ranch accountant. He overheard their conversation and rambled out to stand alongside his son, Jared. He was the one to greet their friend and employee from town.
Cliff left Nessy with the other children and wandered over to join the group.
‘Trouble,’ was the single word Skip offered, handing a piece of paper to Locke.
‘It’s your brother,’ Locke spoke to Cliff as he read the note. ‘He got himself shot in the back over at Deliverance.’
‘Mason?’ Cliff asked, dismayed at the news. ‘Is he . . .?’
‘Says he is being looked after by some folks he was helping.’
‘Blast his hide!’ Cliff cried. ‘Last I heard, he was in Denver. Bet he’s mixed up in someone else’s problems.’
Locke looked up from the paper. ‘This here is from the mayor, a gent named J. Wright. He said Mason was trying to help the town’s newspaper editor and was shot for his efforts. He’s asking we send help at once.’
‘Didn’t I tell you?’ Cliff wailed. ‘He’s always sticking his nose where it don’t belong!’
‘So much for our hunting trip,’ Wyatt said, addressing the request. ‘Jared and I will go have a look-see.’
‘I’m going too!’ Cliff exclaimed. ‘He’s my brother!’
Locke gave a shake of his head. ‘That little orphan girl needs you more than your brother. We’ve got a dozen men who can ride to Deliverance, but only you can take care of her.’
‘By Hannah! This is completely unfair.’
Locke pointed out, ‘Everyone in her life has been taken from her, even the nun who was transporting her to an orphan home. You can’t leave her while she’s so dependent on you.’
‘She likes Aunt Faye, Tish and Wendy,’ Cliff argued. ‘One of them could watch over her for a few days.’
The Valeron Code Page 5
