High Valley Manhunt: Laramie Davies #1

by B. S. Dunn

  While his brother got dressed, Jeb crouched beside the young woman to check her. She was alive but the Judge had really worked her over. Apart from the broken jaw, she had a busted nose, her left eye was already swollen shut, blood came from her split scalp courtesy of the night stand and as he looked at the bruises on her torso, he guessed she had broken ribs as well.

  He looked up at the saloon owner, “You'd best get her a doctor.”

  The man ran from the room and was replaced immediately by the whore from downstairs, “Oh my God, what happened?”

  She looked at the Judge, “What the hell did you do to her you son of a bitch?”

  Once more the Judge's anger rose to the surface and he lunged at Mary, “By hell, don't you start sassing me too. I'll give you what I gave her.”

  Jeb Coltrain realised his brother had finally passed his tipping point. He rose from beside the unconscious woman, grabbed his brother's jacket by the lapels, and with all his strength pushed him out the door.

  Using the momentum that he had, he ignored the Judge's cries for him to stop, and shoved him along the landing to the top of the stairs. Once there, he stopped and looked his brother in the eye, “You get the hell down those stairs and get yourself a drink. Then you find a table out of the way and stay there until I get this sorted. Do you understand me?”

  Zebulon Coltrain looked into his brother's eyes and knew there was no arguing with Jeb. He'd seen that look before, usually just before he shot someone. His shoulders slumped, “Sure Jeb. Okay I'll do it.”

  Jeb Coltrain watched as his brother shuffled down the steps. His gaze then fell on his nephew at the bottom, “Keep a damn eye on him.”

  The Rock Springs Sheriff returned to the room and found Mary with the other whore cradled in her arms.

  She looked at him with hate in her eyes, “Why?” she asked, tears glistened as they streamed down her cheeks, “Why did he have to do this to Ellie. She was kind and gentle. She wouldn't hurt anyone.”

  Jeb didn't have time to answer before the Mountain Pass doctor brushed past him and knelt beside both women.

  Jeb heard him say softly, “Dear Lord.”

  The doctor looked at her for a few minutes and said, “We must get her to my office so I can examine her properly.”

  “I'll get you some help,” offered the saloon keeper.

  Jeb followed the Saloon owner out, who then organised men to help the doctor. He found the table where his brother and nephew were seated and sat down.

  “How's the whore?” the judge asked with genuine concern, “Is she going to be alright?”

  “It's a bit damned late to be worryin' about that now ain't it,” Jeb said caustically, “What the hell were you thinkin'? We're not in Rock Springs now.”

  “Yes well it's done now isn't it?” the judge bit back at his brothers attack, “I told you she shouldn't have sassed me.”

  Jeb Coltrain remained silent as he watched Deputy Gunderson come into the saloon and walk steadily up the stairs, then watched as the still unconscious Ellie was carried down them and out of the saloon and off to the doctor's office.

  A short time later, Gunderson came back downstairs with the saloon owner.

  “Whatever happens Judge, just follow my lead,” the Rock Springs Sheriff said quietly.

  The Judge gave his brother a questioning look, “What?”

  Jeb watched as Deputy Gunderson hesitated at first, then weaved his way through the tables and town's people to get to where the Coltrains were seated.

  “What can we do for you Deputy?” asked Jeb Coltrain.

  “I've come for your brother,” Gunderson said uneasily, “I know he's a Judge and all but he shouldn't of wailed the tar outta that whore like he did.”

  “Do you reckon you'll get him out of here, Deputy?” Shell sneered.

  “Let it go Shell,” Jeb cautioned, “your Pa done wrong and a spell in jail might do him some good.”

  Zeb Coltrain's jaw dropped, “What the hell Jeb?”

  “Shut it Zebulon,” Jeb hissed, “now hand over the Webley.

  The judge reached slowly into his jacket and pulled his pistol out with two fingers. He handed it over with little fuss.

  “Thank you Mister Coltrain,” Gunderson said, as relief flooded his face, “a little bit of professional courtesy goes a long way.”

  “No problem Deputy, do you mind if I come along with you?” Jeb asked innocently.

  “Well...” Gunderson started.

  “It's just to see he doesn't give you any more trouble,” Jeb explained.

  The deputy still wasn't sure. He had images in his head of the events that had occurred in the jail when the Coltrains first arrived.

  The owner of The Royal Flush could see the Deputy's apprehension and stepped forward, “I'll come with you Lyle.”

  The anxiety left Gunderson with those simple words, “Thanks Bob.”

  Jeb Coltrain cursed quietly under his breath.

  Gunderson drew his pistol from its holster and pointed it at his prisoner, “If you'll step this way Judge.”

  “Before you go Deputy,” said Jeb Coltrain.

  “What is it Mister Coltrain?”

  “Zeb, how much money you got?”

  The Judge pulled out a wad of cash from his inside pocket and gave it to his brother.

  “One more thing Gunderson, do you have a local Judge or circuit?”

  “Local, why?” Gunderson asked.

  “Just curious,” Jeb answered.

  “Are you comin' or not?” the Deputy asked.

  “Nope,” said the Rock Springs sheriff, “I changed my mind.”

  Gunderson shrugged his shoulders and took Zeb Coltrain off to jail.

  “What are you up to?” Shell asked his Uncle, “We can't just let them lock Pa up.”

  “We're not, I'm goin' to see the local judge.”

  *

  “I don't understand your honour, you want me to let him out?” Gunderson was confused.

  “That's what I said Lyle. Let the good Judge out.”

  “But he beat Ellie half to death,” Gunderson protested.

  “I'm well aware of the terms of his incarceration,” snapped Judge Billings, “now let him out.”

  Billings watched Gunderson saunter off upstairs to let Zeb out and then turned to saloon owner, Bob Wessels. “Now I've ordered they pay restitution of one hundred dollars to you for the incident. Does that seem reasonable to you sir?”

  Wessels stammered, “Ahh, well...”

  “Good it's settled,” Judge Billings said hurriedly, “now I shall take my leave and return home. Good evening.”

  “I'll walk you out Judge,” said Jeb Coltrain.

  Both men walked out onto the board walk and stopped just outside the lantern light that shone through the sheriff's office windows.

  “Are you satisfied now? I did what you wanted,” the judge pleaded.

  “Yes Judge, you did. Now when you get back home, you tell Shell to do what I said and your wife will be fine.”

  Jeb watched Judge Billings hurriedly disappear down the darkened street. There was a noise behind the Rock Springs sheriff and he turned to see his brother emerge through the door.

  “Come on, let's go.”

  “Where we going?” asked Zeb.

  “To find another saloon that we can drink at.”

  “How on earth did you manage to get me out anyway?” Zeb asked curiously.

  “Convinced the town Judge to get you out,” Jeb answered.

  “How?”

  “It cost me a hundred bucks, but it cost the Judge more,” he explained.

  “Where's Shell?”

  “He's takin' care of somethin' for me, now come on, I want a drink.”

  While the two brothers found a place to drink, Shell Coltrain put out the lamps at Judge Billings' residence and locked the door behind himself.

  Chapter 14

  The following morning, Laramie, Sally and Lonesome were ten miles from town, riding slowly along
a rut riddled and winding trail, when the Mountain Pass posse appeared behind them. The galloping hooves that signalled the arrival of the posse, first sounded like the far off thunder of a mountain storm, but as it got closer, Laramie could make out the huffing and snorting of hard ridden mounts.

  Whoever was coming seemed to be in a hurry, so Laramie and the others pulled off the trail and waited for the riders to pass.

  When they appeared around a blind corner, Sally was the first to recognise the rider out front who rode a Bay horse and wore a shiny star.

  “It's Pa. Laramie it's him,” she called excitedly and eased her horse back onto the trail.

  The posse eased down to a stop just short of where Sally sat, her horse side on across the trail. Her father was about to curse the rider who'd stopped them but had to bite it off when he recognised his daughter.

  “Sally girl,” he said surprised, “by golly it is you.”

  Hank Richards jumped down from his horse and was met halfway by his daughter, he scooped her up in his arms and spun her around, “It's so good to see you girl. I thought I'd lost you.”

  “You probably would have if it wasn't for Laramie,” Sally conceded.

  It was at this time that Richards became aware of the two other riders with his daughter. He stared at both of them before he said, “I'll be damned, it is you.”

  Laramie smiled, “Howdy Hank, it's been a while.”

  Hank Richards released his daughter and moved where Laramie could see him better. He had changed over the years, as had Laramie. Hank's hair was grey now and the years had transformed his face from young and tanned, to a hard leathery look. He was strong and wiry and showed no sign of a stoop in his five foot eleven frame. He still carried a Colt .45, but in his saddle boot, instead of a rifle, Laramie noticed a sawed off shotgun.

  Laramie climbed down from Bo and walked across to his old friend. He stuck out his hand and Richards gripped it in a firm shake.

  “It's good to see you Laramie,” he greeted, “is what Sally said true, did you help my girl out? Save her life?”

  “I had some help,” the gunfighter said humbly.

  Hank's eyes settled on Lonesome, “How you doin' you old bandit?”

  “I'll give you old bandit, just wait until I get down off this here cayuse,” the old mountain man grouched, “I may be old but I'll still give you what for.”

  “Calm down, you'll give yourself an affliction,” Richards smiled.

  “I take it you two know each other then,” Sally guessed.

  “Sure, we go way back.”

  Richards turned his attention back to Laramie, “How about you fill me in on the way to town.”

  Laramie nodded and they all climbed back on their horses. The Mountain Pass Sheriff eased his horse up beside Laramie's, “Well what happened?”

  “Have you ever been to Rock Springs?” the gunfighter asked.

  “Nope,” answered Richards as he shook his head, “Never have.”

  “Well don't.”

  *

  “And that's about all there is to tell,” explained Laramie.

  Richards shook his head in amazement, “That sure is one hell of a story. And Blackie Harbin's dead you say?”

  “Buried him myself.”

  “Can't say as he'll be missed,” Richards allowed, “but there is one thing that worries me.”

  “The deputy I shot?” guessed the gunfighter.

  The Mountain Pass Sheriff nodded, “Yeah, I'm goin' to have to look into it.”

  Sally was shocked, “Pa, you can't be serious!”

  “I'm afraid I am, Sally,” he apologised, “I'll get onto it when we get back to town, it's only another couple of miles. I hope you understand Laramie.”

  “Are you goin' to lock me up Hank?” Laramie joked.

  “I don't think I need to do that, do I?” Richards smiled.

  “That's good. I need to get the old feller to see a doctor, have him checked out where he was shot,” the gunfighter explained.

  “Don't worry, I'll take you there myself, he can check Sally out while he is lookin' Lonesome over.”

  “I don't need no damn doctor,” the old man complained, “I'm fine, them Blackfeet took good care of me.”

  “He sounds fine,” said Richards with a grin on his face.

  “I'd still like to find out how fine.”

  *

  Shell Coltrain rushed into the Gold Nugget Saloon and over to the table where his Father and Uncle sat with their shot glasses half full of whiskey.

  “The Sheriff's back and guess who he's got with him?” he said excitedly.

  “Davis?” asked Jeb Coltrain.

  “Sure is. You was right, he's got the girl with him.”

  “What are we waiting for?” asked the Judge, new life coursed through him, “Let's go get the murdering son of a bitch.”

  The three Coltrains rushed out of the Gold Nugget and into the middle of main street just in time to stop the posse.

  Jeb Coltrain raised his hand to stop them and spoke loud enough so that townsfolk in the general vicinity could hear clearly what he had to say, “That's far enough Sheriff, we'll take Davis from here.”

  The posse stopped and Hank Richards studied the three men in front of him, “And who might you be friend?”

  “I'm Sheriff Jebediah Coltrain from Rock Springs,” he stated clearly. “The feller on my right is my brother, Judge Zebulon Coltrain. This feller on my left is my deputy, Shell Coltrain.”

  “You're a little off your patch aren't you Coltrain?” Richards pointed out.

  “You might say that,” Jeb allowed, “but these are exceptional circumstances. Your man there killed an officer of the law.”

  “He tells it a different way, Coltrain,” Richards explained, “Says it was self defence.”

  “He's a damned liar,” snapped the Judge, “it was murder.”

  “He was tryin' to steal my horse Judge,” Laramie spoke for the first time, “when he didn't like me stoppin' him, he went for his gun. I had no choice. There were witnesses, they backed my story.”

  “Well then, there should be no problem at your trial,” Jeb Coltrain observed, “ain't that so Judge?”

  “No damn problem at all,” he spat.

  “That's not what my daughter says, either,” Richards added, “and I'd believe her long before anyone else.”

  “Your daughter is lucky I ain't inclined to prefer charges of aidin' and abettin' a wanted fugitive,” Jeb Coltrain said impatiently.

  “You are a liar Coltrain,” Sally cried, “You left me with that animal Blackie Harbin.”

  “Watch your mouth Missy,” the Rock Springs Sheriff said icily, “I'd kill a man for callin' me that. As for that Blackie Harbin feller, he told me he was a friend of your Pa's. Guess he must have lied.”

  “There is only one liar here Mister Coltrain, and that would be you,” Sally cried.

  “He killed my brother,” Shell barked and his hand went for his gun.

  Compared to some of the guns that Laramie had faced, Shell Coltrain was painfully slow. His gun had just cleared leather when the gunfighter's Remington boomed. The younger Coltrain cried out as the slug smashed into his gun and made it leap from his hand. Shell clutched at his arm as pain from the jarring blow radiated up it.

  “Damn you, Davis,” he cursed the gunfighter through gritted teeth.

  “Be thankful you didn't end up like your fool brother,” Laramie stated flatly.

  “Sheriff are you goin' to stand for this?” snapped the Judge, “I demand you lock him up until we are ready to leave town. Then he will be transported to Rock Springs and stand trial for the murder of my son.”

  “You know what Judge, I don't believe I will stand for it,” Richards conceded, “so this is what I'm goin' to do. I'm goin' to take Laramie into custody...”

  “No,” Sally gasped, “you can't.”

  Hank Richards turned to his daughter, “Hush now girl, let me finish.”

  He turned back to the
Coltrains, “Like I said, I will take him into custody and then I will do some investigatin' of my own to see what's what.”

  “You got no right, Richards,” Jeb Coltrain said aggressively, “the murder occurred in my town, so it's my case. Any investigatin' to be done, I'll do it, not you.”

  Hank Richards knew the kind of justice Laramie would get from the Coltrains. “I've said all I'm goin' to say Coltrain, now get off my street.”

  “Just remember this Richards,” Jeb Coltrain seethed, “you may have Davis now, but you have to be able to keep him.”

  With that said, Jeb and the Judge started to walk off the street towards the Gold Nugget, Shell however bent down to pick up his six-gun.

  “Leave it there kid,” Laramie said sternly, “You won't get any more fool ideas if you ain't got it.”

  Shell looked up at the gunfighter and saw that he still had his Remington in his fist, looked at his own gun, thought about it and then decided to follow the others inside.

  “You can't be serious about lockin' Laramie up, Hank,” Lonesome said incredulously as he eased the hammer down on his Hawken, “it's them varmints you need to be throwin' in jail.”

  “I agree but it needs to be investigated,” he turned to Laramie who had holstered his gun after putting in a fresh load, “I'm sorry Laramie, I hope you understand.”

  “I understand Hank, you're only doin' your job,” the gunfighter allowed, “do you trust me enough to let me see to my horse and get Lonesome to a doc first?”

  Richards nodded, “Go ahead, I'll be waitin' for you at the Jail.”

  Suddenly Lyle Gunderson appeared, “Hey, Sheriff, did I hear some shootin'?”

  Hank looked knowingly at his deputy, “Have you been sleepin' again Lyle?”

  Gunderson looked sheepishly at his boss, “No, not really, but I do have somethin' to tell you.”

  “Wait until we get over to the jail and I'll listen to what you have to say,” Richards said with a wink at Laramie, “I'll see you in a while.”

  *

  “What did you say your name was Mister?” asked the hostler curiously.