Lawmaster (A Piccadilly Publishing Western Book 5)

by Jack Martin

  ‘It could come to that,’ Jessie said. ‘When Cole returns.’

  Em shook his head. ‘It’ll be too late then. Clem won’t risk anything with a territorial judge in town. That’s why he’s gotten where he is without a blemish on his character.’

  The fact that Clem Bowden had taken up residence in the jailhouse troubled Em but he kept his concerns to himself. And that fact only added to his conviction that Cole was being prudent in hiding away.

  He had a good idea where Cole would be and he knew that there was little chance of him being tracked down.

  He would be turn up when he was good and ready.

  Jessie smiled, wryly. ‘Maybe you’re right,’ she said. ‘I do hope so.’

  ‘I’m right sure enough,’ Em said. ‘This’ll all work itself out and you and Cole will have the biggest wedding this town’s ever seen.’

  Jessie went to the window and stared out at the darkness. She wondered where Cole was and what he was doing at this particular moment. She prayed he was safe.

  ‘I’d best be going,’ Em said shortly. ‘Try not to worry too much.’

  ‘I’ll try.’

  ‘Good,’ the old man smiled. ‘I’ll call round in the morning and walk you to the schoolhouse.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Jessie said and showed the old man out. Once he had gone she stood there, for a long while, her back against the door listening to the silence.

  Chapter Nine

  Dawn sent shadows dancing across the entrance to the Squaw Caves, giving the rock its famed effervescent glow. The minute traces of crystal and novaculite within the rock caught the sun causing the mountains to seem alive in places. Sometimes, in a strong light, it would appear to shine a deep green. It was this Phenomenon that had led the Indians to bestow supernatural qualities to the mountain range, proclaiming it a sacred place. The area is mentioned in the writings of Hernando de Soto. During the European’s expedition of the country late in the sixteenth century, he and his men had come upon the mountains during a particularly clear moonlit night and promptly called them, el pico brillante. This translated as the glowing peak.

  It just after first light and already the sun was warming the ground and Cole, weary after guiding the horse over some tricky terrain, was relieved when he tethered it outside the largest of the caves and sat himself down on a rock. It had been slow, ponderous going and several times Cole had to dismount and lead the horse along some of the more perilous sections which were made doubly dangerous by the fact that they were moving at night.

  Moonlight and the strange greenish glow of the mountains being the only illumination.

  The plan was to remain here for the next two days and then move out and get into position to meet the stage as it made the final leg of its journey to Squaw. It would be nice if he could remain hidden until that time and avoid any conflict with Bowden or his men which was why he had come here. He was hoping the men searching for him, being cowboys rather than trackers, would miss his trail and figured he’d headed towards the desert and the town of Allensville some fifty miles distant.

  It seemed a reasonable plan.

  And if the worse did come to the worse and a posse found him then he was sure he could hold them off for days or long enough to make an escape and lose them in the mountains. The only weapons he had were the pair of Colts, his rifle would have given him even more of an advantage but this was a good strategic point to fight off an army let alone an ill equipped posse formed by Bowden.

  He was hoping that the fact he was so well concealed would frighten them off. They were mostly ill equipped cowboys and would not be so eager to get in a fight if there was even a chance of most of them becoming fatalities. None of Bowden’s men had the stomach for real bloodshed. There was no way of taking him by surprise. The layout of the mountains meant he would see them approaching for miles around, giving him the option of flight and avoiding a fight altogether if he so choose. That would be preferable—all he needed to do was get to the judge before Bowden and lay out his case. He was sure the judge would sanction the involvement of the army in preventing a possible war while they took Sam Bowden in for his crimes.

  Cole set a small fire and went about making a camp. He kept the flames low and the fire virtually smoldering so that the smoke would not be visible to anyone more than a mile away. And soon the delicious smell of fresh coffee was teasing him. He poured the thick liquid into his tin cup and sat, smoking his pipe, and looking out at the majestic landscape.

  Sitting here now, the delicious oatey taste of the tobacco drifting around his mouth, the warm touch of the sun upon his face, a landscape before him so perfect that only the Lord could have created it, and it was easy to forget a person’s trouble. And Cole was grateful for that. He still ached from the beating he had taken but now, perhaps for the first time, he felt truly comfortable.

  Several times he had thought he’d heard movement coming from somewhere in the darkness but he put it down to nerves. It would be the gentle breeze blowing through the foliage or some critter out foraging for food.

  He was alone out here.

  No-one ever came to Squaw Mountain.

  ~*~

  Em Tanner had been true to his word, having promised to walk Jessie to the schoolhouse so that Bowden’s men wouldn’t badger her none. It had been the old man’s idea and although Jessie didn’t fathom the reasoning of it she indulged him all the same. It seemed the old man was going to watch over her until Cole returned.

  ‘A more despicable bunch you never did see.’ Em said and scratched the back of his head. He carried a rifle and he clutched it tightly to his chest as he watched the men mount up outside the jailhouse. Sam Bowden, wearing the tin star of office, seemed to be supervising.

  ‘What’s happening’?

  Em looked at the schoolteacher and then back at the men. There were ten of them in total, all heavily armed and looking like a militia. He recognized most of them as being Bowden’s ranch hands but the two tall men on the powerful looking horses were strangers to him. They sat on their mounts, looking on impassively while Sam barked out orders to the other men. One of them, a tall, powerful looking man was some sort of half-breed. Comanche blood would have been Em’s guess.

  ‘They’ll be forming a posse to look for Cole is my reckoning.’ Em said and spat tobacco juice.

  Jessie shuddered. ‘Come on,’ she said, prompting the old man. She didn’t like the way he was staring at the small army and feared that any moment they would notice and challenge them. ‘Let’s get to the schoolhouse.’

  ‘Don’t like the look of them two fellas in front.’ The old man said. ‘The one looks half Indian.’

  Jessie looked across and immediately knew what he meant. They didn’t look like cowboys at all. There was something sinister about them and she felt a shiver run the length of her spine.

  ‘Did you know Sam Bowden’s wearing a badge?’

  ‘Yes,’ Jessie nodded. ‘Betty Harker couldn’t wait to come over and inform me. She was knocking at my door jest after dawn. I swear that woman starts with first light and doesn’t stop till dusk.’

  Em smiled. That sounded like Betty , sure enough. She was the biggest gossip in Squaw. She could often be seen holding council with the town’s womenfolk, they would stand around outside the general store clucking like a bunch of mother hens, berating their men folk, fuming over the ladies of ill virtue in the saloons.

  ‘That varmint wearing a star makes a mockery of the law.’ Em said and would have added considerable more were his attention not taken by the sight of Sam Bowden walking across the street towards them. The old man’s heart tightened in his chest.

  ‘You two.’ Sam adjusted his coat as he approached so the badge was visible to them. ‘I’ve got papers on Cole Masters. If you folks are holding back on information of where he’s at then you’ll be breaking the law.’

  ‘What do you know about the law?’ Jessie snapped.

  Despite Jessie’s fear this man standing before them st
oked up her ire. She had nothing but contempt for him and all of his kind. The worse kind of men; cheating liars. She knew what Sam had done to that saloon girl, had overheard Cole and Em talking, and she looked upon him as a malignant tumor eating away at all that was good about the town. He was a cancer and his destructive reach was expanding.

  ‘I am the law,’ Sam said and ran a finger over the star he wore. ‘You’ll do well to remember that,’ he looked at Em and then shook his head. ‘You too old man.’

  ‘We don’t know where Cole is.’ Em said and made sure his rifle was pointed down at the ground. He didn’t want to give the younger Bowden any excuse to start a fight.

  One movement was all the son-of-a-bitch needed to justify gunning him down.

  Sam struck out with the back of his hand, slapping the old man across the jaw with a sound like fish guts hitting a sink. ‘Show some respect when you address me.’ He said. ‘It’s Sheriff Bowden.’

  Em gritted his teeth against the pain and fought back the urge to bring his rifle up and blow the bastard’s head clean off. He stumbled sideways with the blow but managed to keep his balance. ‘I’ll never call you sheriff.’ He said, defiantly and licked a speck of blood from the corner of his mouth.

  Sam Bowden’s eyes appeared to be trying to squeeze themselves free of their sockets, his skin went a deep crimson and he pulled back a hand, forming a fist to follow up the slap. He was just about to swing when his father emerged from the jailhouse and called him over.

  ‘You’re lucky, old man.’ Sam said, glaring at Em. ‘But when this is all over I’m going to cut your throat.’ He smiled and then coldly turned on his feet and went over to his father who was standing with the posse.

  ‘Are you hurt?’ Jessie bent to steady the old man.

  Em pushed her away. ‘I’m fine,’ he said. ‘Don’t you be fussing.’ He glared across to street to where Sam seemed to be having an angry exchange with his father. ‘I’ll see that varmint dead.’

  They watched as Sam Bowden mounted up and then the posse moved out. The two strangers took up the lead. Clem Bowden stood watching them until they turned out of Main Street and then looked across at Jessie and Em for a moment.

  He shook his head and went back into the jailhouse.

  ‘I don’t like the look of this at all.’ The old man said presently as they resumed their journey towards the schoolhouse.

  ‘I hope Cole—’ Jessie started but her words drifted away to nothing as she fought back a sudden wave of emotion.

  ‘Don’t you worry, none,’ Em seemed to want to embrace her in order to comfort her but he was unsure what a response that would bring. Instead he tapped her gently on the back as one would a spooked horse. ‘Cole is one tough hombre.’

  In truth though and although he wouldn’t show it, Em was equally worried. It was not so much Bowden’s posse, Cole could slip that lot of fool cowboys any day of the week. But those other two, the strangers with the featureless faces and cold unstaring eyes. They had the look of killers about them; professional killers. If they were going to hunt for Cole then the object was a killing and not a capture.

  ‘We’re to be married in the fall,’ Jessie said, the emotion of the situation becoming too much for her and Em’s emotional support proved largely ineffectual.

  ‘You sure will,’ Em said. ‘That’s going to be a rooting tooting shindig. I’ll be taking my monthly bath just to come to that.’

  Jessie smiled, gently. ‘You are pushing the boat out for us. Come on,’ she said, regaining the outwards appearance of composure. ‘Must not keep the children waiting.’

  They walked the rest of the way in silence, each brooding on their own thoughts, but each aware that the reason for the other’s excruciation was concern for Cole Masters. The sight of those two impressive looking men leading the posse had troubled them both.

  ‘Well,’ Jessie said. ‘I’ll see you after school?’

  ‘Maybe not,’ Em said and scratched at his beard. ‘I think maybe I should find Cole. Just to warn him on that posse.’ He pulled some sort of tick from his beard, examined it briefly and then popped it in his mouth.

  ‘We don’t know where he is.’ Jessie said. ‘He told me not to worry. That he’d be safe.’

  ‘I’ve known Cole ever since he got here,’ Em said. ‘I’ve ridden with him, bedded down beneath the stars next to him. I know’s him about as well as I know’s myself. I think I can find him if I have a mind to.’

  Jessie grabbed him by the arms. ‘Do you really think so?’

  ‘Aye,’ Em said. He fell silent for a moment and seemed to be thinking it over. ‘I’m sure I can.’

  ‘It might help for him to know what’s happening.’ Jessie said and looked towards the schoolhouse. Any moment now and the children would be arriving. ‘When will you leave?’

  ‘I’ll give that posse a chance to cover some ground,’ Em said. He had a better than good idea of where Cole would hide out and he was sure the searchers would go off in an entirely different direction. They would go North which was the obvious direction for someone wanting to escape, into the desert, and onto the great wilderness beyond. But Cole wasn’t trying to flee, he just wanted to lay low, and the old men was sure he knew just where that would be.

  ‘Guess I’ll leave in an hour or so.’ He said.

  ‘Be careful.’ Jessie said and then, unfazed by any indication that the old man had missed his monthly bath this time around, or for that matter the one before that, kissed him on the cheek. ‘Tell Cole I love him.’ She whispered gently and sweetly as if it had been Cole’s ear into which she had spoken.

  Em, who had never had much to do with women, though he had once been married to a Sioux squaw, stepped backwards in embarrassment.

  He wiped his cheek and keeping his head down to the ground, rushed off.

  ‘I’ll be seeing you.’ He shouted over his shoulder and made a dash for the Majestic, obviously feeling the need for a drink before he set off.

  Chapter Ten

  Sam Bowden pulled his horse to a perfect stop. He watched the other riders for a moment before shouting: ‘Where we all going?’ he shook his head and glared at the two men leading the posse. ‘You’re leading us off in the wrong direction.’

  ‘Is that your reckoning?’ The half-breed who answered to the name of Quill asked.

  The posse stood still, all attention turned back to Sam.

  Sam took the makings from his shirt and rolled himself a smoke. ‘Hell yes.’ He said. ‘We were on the right tracks. Masters would have gone into the desert and yet you’ve turned East.’

  ‘I have.’ Quill agreed.

  ‘That’s back towards Bowden land. You think Masters will hide out on my own father’s land?’

  Quill said nothing and simply smiled. He shook his head and was about the move his horse forward again when he heard Sam Bowden pull his iron. His partner, Boyd, went for his own gun but the half-breed held out a hand to stop him.

  ‘I’m talking to you,’ Sam Bowden said, holding his Colt out in a perfectly straight arm. ‘God-damn-you. Don’t ignore me.’

  ‘Difficult to ignore you with that thing in your hand.’ The half-breed said and smiled to steady his partner who looked coiled to fill his hand in a split second.

  ‘You trying to avoid Masters?’ Sam asked. ‘You some kind of cowardly Indian?’

  Anger registered in the half-breed’s eyes and although it was Sam holding the gun, the younger Bowden suddenly felt a twinge of fear. He stood his ground though and kept the ugly eye of the Colt trained directly on Quill’s chest.

  ‘Some men would say that’s fighting talk.’ The half-breed said and dismounted. He held out his hands, palms up and walked slowly towards Sam. ‘Now put the gun down and we can discuss this peaceably.’

  ‘We’re going the wrong way.’ Sam said. The Colt became heavy in his hand and he was aware of it shaking. He looked to the rest of the riders but there was no obvious help there. They just sat on their horses staring at the hal
f-breed as he came closer to Sam. Boyd’s eyes though were firmly on the Colt and Sam knew he would be gunned down before the smoke cleared if he shot the half-breed.

  ‘We can talk about it. ‘Quill said. He took the final few steps and stood beside Sam’s horse, his empty hands held up. ‘Holster that weapon and we’ll listen to your thoughts on the matter.’

  Sam seemed unsure of himself. ‘We’ll g-go my way.’ He stammered.

  ‘Maybe.’ Quill said. ‘You put your case across. I’ll put mine and we’ll have a vote on it.

  Sam nodded. ‘That sounds fine.’ He said.

  ‘Good.’ The half-breed smiled but the only emotion in his face was a cold resolve. He was certainly not a man to be taken lightly. ‘Put the weapon back in the holster. I’ve seen them things go off by accident too many times.’

  Sam lowered the gun and then slid it into its holster. He smiled. ‘I just think we’re going the wrong way.’ He said.

  ‘Noted.’ Quill said and reached up and grabbed Sam by the shirt front and yanked him from his horse. He let him fall to the floor and then drove a boot into his stomach, knocking all the wind from him.

  Sam rolled up in agony and tried to catch his breath. He pulled the Colt from its holster but Quill kicked him again, this time in the elbow, sending pain like electrical shocks through Sam’s body and causing him to drop the gun.

  Quill lifted him by the scruff of the neck and slapped him across the face with the back of his hand.

  ‘Don’t ever call me a coward,’ he said. ‘Now mount up and let’s get on with this.’

  Sam remained on the ground until Quill had mounted up and started the posse off. He remained there for several moments longer, breathing deeply, before mounting up himself and following behind. His side ached and his stomach felt as if he had been gut shot. Damn half-breed had probably broken a few ribs.