Blaze! Western Series: Six Adult Western Novels

by Stephen Mertz

  * * *

  Later, while Kate slept, J.D. padded naked to the window and looked down at the dark street below. In the morning there would be no sound of rickety wagons hitting holes in a muddy street, or of horse’s hooves coming and going, somewhat muffled by the dirt. No, in the morning they’d hear the clip-clop of shod hooves on a cobble-stoned street and, if they kept their eyes closed, they might well think they were in a hotel in New York or Philadelphia.

  But she was right. In their business, it was not wise to look too far ahead. There was a pretty decent chance neither of them would even make it to forty, as they lived by their guns. What way could it all end other than the same way?

  He went back to bed and cuddled up to his wife’s naked body, her skin burning him as it always did. She was easily the warmest woman he’d ever been with. It was only one of the many ways she brought him comfort.

  * * *

  In the morning they made love, then dressed for breakfast. They each strapped on their guns, J.D.’s in a cross draw fashion, while Kate favored the more traditional holster. They were each fast and accurate with both a pistol and a rifle. The way she handled a gun was another way she brought him comfort, he thought.

  “You look so handsome in that jacket,” she said.

  “Just trying to look part businessman, part gunfighter.” J.D. was not one of those gunmen who constantly insisted he was not one.

  “How do I look?” she asked. She wore her shirt and Levi’s slightly loose for comfort, not tight to show off her body—unless the situation called for it. Her boots and hat were black.

  “You look like the only woman gunfighter in the West,” he told her, proudly.

  “And they did know that when they contacted you, right?” she asked. “I mean, that they were getting a married couple?”

  “Well...”

  “J.D.!”

  “Well, I thought rather than write them back that I had gotten married, and waiting for another letter, we’d just come here and...show them.”

  “And how do you think they’ll react?”

  “We have their thousand dollars,” he reminded her. “They’ll get their money’s worth and talk to us. Besides, even though the letter was addressed to me, they may have heard of us by now. We’re not exactly the best kept secret in the West, you know.”

  “Well,” she said, “at least we’ll have an out.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “If the job doesn’t sound like something we want to take on,” she said, “I’ll just go all girlie on them, convince them they’ve got the wrong people.”

  “Kate,” he said, “you are all woman. I don’t think you could go ‘all girlie’ if you tried. Besides, these are men we’re meeting.”

  “Ah...” She knew what he meant.

  “They’re gonna fall in love with you the minute they see you with your gun strapped on,” he finished, “the way all men do.”

  “The way you did?”

  He smiled and said, “Absolutely!”

  Chapter 3

  Kate attracted most of the eyes in the lobby, but that was only because most of them were male. The eyes of the women in the lobby washed over J.D. just as hungrily as those of the men—and that included the pretty girl behind the front desk.

  “Mr. Blaze? Mr. Blaze?” she called out.

  “Your girlfriend is calling you, my love,” Kate said.

  “Now keep your head, Kate,” he warned. “I know how jealous you get.”

  “Jealous? Me?” she asked. “Just because I’d shoot the nose off her pretty face if she touched you?”

  “I’ll just go and see what she wants.”

  “You do that.”

  J.D. walked over to the desk, where the young woman beamed at him.

  “Good-morning, Mr. Blaze.”

  He groped for her name and couldn’t come up with it.

  “Good-morning...”

  “Betty,” she said. “My name’s Betty. You forgot?”

  “’Course I didn’t forget, Betty,” he said. “I couldn’t forget a girl as pretty as you.”

  “Oh, I ain’t so pretty,” she said, looking away. “Not like your wife is.”

  “Betty, can I tell you a little secret?”

  She leaned on the desk and said, “I’m all ears.”

  “There ain’t nobody as pretty as my wife,” he said, lowering his voice, “but you come a right close second.”

  “Awww...” she said, straightening up. “There’s two gents waitin' for you in the dining room.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yep. And they look like money.”

  “Well,” he said, “that’s a look I like a lot. Thank you, Betty.”

  “Anytime, Mr. Blaze.”

  J.D. walked back to where Kate was impatiently tapping her foot, and ignoring the appreciative glances of other men.

  “You took a chance, leaning in on her like that,” she said. “I almost drew my gun.”

  “Oh, take it easy on the girl, Kate,” J.D. said. “She can’t help herself any more than you can when it comes to me.”

  “What did she want?” she asked, ignoring his comment.

  “She just wanted to tell us that our hosts are waiting in the dining room.”

  “She wanted to tell us, huh?”

  “She says you’re real pretty.”

  “I’ll thank her myself some time.”

  * * *

  They walked to the diningroom, stopped just inside the door.

  “There,” he said, jerking his chin toward two men seated together off to the left. One was wearing an expensive suit, while the other was dressed less formally.

  “No,” she said, jerking her own chin the other way, “there.”

  He looked at the two men she indicated. Both were wearing suits, middle-aged, well fed. She was right. Even before it was confirmed he took out a five dollar piece and handed it to her. At that point one of the two men stood and waved at them.

  “I’m still one up on you,” J.D. said.

  “A temporary situation.”

  They started across the floor to the two men’s table.

  “Mr. Blaze?” the standing man asked.

  “That’s right,” J.D. said. “This is my wife, Kate.”

  “A pleasure,” the man said, executing a slight bow to her after shaking hands with J.D. “My name is Leon Weatherby. This is my colleague, George Milton. Please, sit.”

  The two men had seated themselves across from each other, so J.D. and Kate ended up seated the same way. He didn’t mind. He usually sat across from her so he could look at her while they ate.

  “We ordered a pot of coffee,” Weatherby said. “I hope that was all right.”

  “That’s fine.”

  “Both of you?”

  “Yes,” J.D. said.

  Weatherby poured both their cups full.

  “Would you like cream?” he asked.

  “Just black for both of us,” Kate said. “Thank you. Mr. Weatherby, we’d like to find out why you asked us to meet you here.”

  “There’s actually no rush, Mrs. Blaze.”

  “Look, we—” she started, but J.D. stepped in.

  “My wife is the impatient one, Mr. Weatherby,” he said. ”She likes to get right down to business.”

  She gave her husband a look. Patience was never a great virtue of his.

  “This is supposed to be a breakfast meeting, my love,” he said to Kate. “Let’s order breakfast, and then we can hear what the gentlemen have to say.”

  “That sounds like a fine suggestion,” Weatherby, who seemed to be the spokesman, said.

  “It wasn’t exactly a suggestion,” Kate told him.

  Chapter 4

  “Mayhem.”

  Weatherby spoke the single word as if it should mean more to J.D. and Kate than its simple meaning.

  “We’ll need more.”

  “They’re causing mayhem for us,” Weatherby said. “Rustling, murder...mayhem.”

 
“If murder is involved,” Kate said, “then so is the law.”

  “Not in River County,” Weatherby said. “The law is controlled by the Colorado Cattleman’s Association.”

  “Let me get this straight,” J.D. said, pushing his empty plate away. “You’re cattlemen, right?”

  “Right.”

  “But you’re not members of the Colorado Cattlemen’s Association?”

  “No, we are,” Milton said, speaking for the first time.

  “Then what’s the problem?” Kate asked.

  “Well,” Weatherby said, “we’re not exactly here representing the Cattlemen’s Association. We represent a sort of...offshoot branch.”

  “Offshoot branch,” J.D. repeated.

  “That’s what we’re calling it.”

  “Go on,” Kate said. “Can we assume this offshoot branch has its own...finances?”

  “Paying your fee won’t be a problem,” he replied, “no matter what it is.”

  Kate could see that made J.D. happy, but she spoke up before he could.

  “We’ll discuss our fee once we’ve heard all the facts,” she said.

  Weatherby looked at J.D.

  “Does your woman speak for you, Mr. Blaze?”

  “She speaks for both of us,” he said, “as I do. We’re partners.”

  “I see.”

  Kate could see that in Weatherby they were dealing with a man who was set in his notions about what women should be. The other man, Milton—slightly younger—didn’t seem to be displaying the same tendencies—yet.

  “Then I suppose you better tell us exactly what you want us to do.”

  “We want you to stop the raids, catch the raiders, and kill them.”

  “Not bring them in to the law?” J.D. asked.

  “Is that a problem?” Weatherby asked.

  “Not really,” J.D. said, “it just affects our fee.”

  “Ah...”

  “How many raiders are we talking about?” Kate asked.

  “At least a dozen at a time have been seen,” Milton said. “Could be more.”

  “Will you need to hire more men?”

  “We usually work alone,” J.D. said.

  “How would you face a dozen men, then?” Weatherby asked.

  “One or two at a time,” Kate said. “Where have the raids been taking place?”

  “River County, in Arvada,” Weatherby said. “They’ve also raided in Jefferson and Adams County.”

  “Arvada,” J.D. said. “That’s what—ten miles from here?”

  “Northeast,” Milton said, nodding.

  “We’d like you to start as soon as possible,” Weatherby said.

  “And what about the Association?” J.D. asked.

  “It’s located right in Arvada,” Weatherby said. “You’ll need to avoid them. We don’t want them to know we’ve hired you.”

  “What have they been doing to solve the problem?”

  “They’ve hired stock detectives.”

  “That’s not good enough for you?” Kate asked.

  “They’re being paid to find them and arrest them,” Weatherby said, “and turn them over to the law. That’s not what we want.”

  “We want it over, for good and all,” George Milton said.

  “Are we the first you’ve tried to hire for the job?” J.D. asked.

  “Yes,” Weatherby asked. “We asked around for the best gun in the business. I kept hearing your name. They said, ‘get Blaze’.”

  “We didn’t know we’d be getting two,” Milton added.

  “Well,” Kate said, “you’re not getting two for the price of one.”

  “I didn’t think we would,” Weatherby said.

  “Let’s get some coffee,” J.D. said, “and then we can talk money.”

  “We were thinking a bounty, so much per head,” Milton commented.

  “No,” Kate said, “we’ll make it a flat fee, payable half up front, and the rest after the job is over.”

  Once again Weatherby looked at J.D. for confirmation. Kate wanted to slap him.

  “My wife is very good at business,” J.D. said. Then he looked around for a waiter.

  “I think,” Kate said to him, “I’ll have tea.”

  Chapter 5

  Dev O’Connor slapped the naked girl on the rump, first the right cheek, then the left. Her ass was already red from his previous slaps, but all she did was bite her lip and grunt as she tried to muffle her own screams. She knew if she showed O’Connor that he was hurting her too much, he’d only hurt her more.

  As it was he was pounding into her pussy from behind, his huge penis brutalizing her. The first time they’d brought her to the camp a week ago and given her to O’Connor she’d found him exciting. Now, after a week of being mauled and fucked raw, she was hoping the man would get tired of her and kick her out, like he’d done to other girls. At least, she hoped they had been kicked out. She didn’t want to think about the alternative.

  “That’s it, honey,” he said to her, “move that sweet rump!”

  She may have had a sweet ass a week ago, but at the moment it was just sore.

  When the knock came at the door, the girl almost gasped with relief. Meanwhile, O’Conner grunted in annoyance and withdrew from her.

  “What?”

  “Uh, boss?” a man’s voice said. “We got a situation out here.”

  “Damn it!” He got off the bed, grabbed his pants and pulled them on. “Get dressed, Connie,” he told the girl. “We’re done for now. I’ll have somebody take you back to town.”

  “S-sure, Dev.”

  O’Connor stalked to the door and slammed it open, almost pulling it from the hinges.

  “What is it?” he demanded.

  The skinny man standing in the doorway flinched, as if he thought O’Connor might strike him. His name was Charlie Dayton, but everybody called him “Slim”.

  “Uh, boss, we got somethin’ out here you should see.”

  “Well, show it to me!”

  “It’s over here.”

  O’Connor stepped out and followed Slim Dayton to a buckboard, where two other men were waiting. On the buckboard bed something was covered by an old blanket.

  The other two men, Grant and Tomkins, straightened up when they saw O’Connor. All of O’Connor’s men had a healthy fear of him, because he was six-and-a-half feet tall and had a quick temper.

  “Whataya got?” he demanded.

  The two men looked at Slim.

  “Show ’im.”

  Grant grabbed one corner of the blanket and pulled it back to reveal two bodies beneath it.

  “Who are they?” O’Connor demanded.

  “Well,” Grant said, “we thought they was Pinkertons, or stock detectives—“

  “And you killed ’em.”

  “Uh, right,” Grant said.

  “And then we saw their badges,” Tompkins said.

  “What?” Grant asked.

  “Uh, they’re lawmen, boss.”

  “Where did you find them?”

  “About ten miles east of here,” Grant said. “We thought they was gonna stumble onto us.”

  “Were they followin’ a trail we made?” O’Connor asked. “Or lookin’ for us, at all?”

  “Um, we don’t know, for sure,” Grant said.

  “We figured—” Tompkins started.

  “You ain’t supposed to figure,” O’Connor snapped, cutting him off. “That’s what I do.”

  “Yessir.”

  “Where are the badges?”

  “Right here, boss.” Tompkins took them from his shirt pocket and held out his hand. O’Connor took the two badges and studied them.

  “Town deputies?”

  “Right,” Grant said.

  “Not federal?” O’Connor said. “Not marshals?”

  “Nossir,” Grant said.

  O’Connor tossed the two badges onto the back of the buckboard, where they landed on the bodies.

  “Bury ’em,” he said.

  �
��Badges, too?” Tompkins asked.

  “Yeah, the badges, too,” O’Connor said. “What the hell would we do with the badges?”

  Grant covered the bodies and said to Tompkins, “Come on.” He knew his partner had wanted to keep the badges. Unhappily, Tompkins climbed up onto the buckboard next to Grant and they drove it off.

  O’Connor turned to Slim.

  “You hungry?”

  “Uh, yeah, boss.”

  “Let’s get somethin’ to eat.”

  Happily, Slim said, “Sure, boss.”

  O’Connor’s moods changed quickly, and when he became affable like this, Slim knew you had to take advantage of it.

  The outlaw camp was actually the remnants of a ghost town, with a few of the buildings intact. One of those was the saloon, where the members of the gang did all their eating and drinking. That’s where the two men were headed. Slim just hoped nobody would do anything to change O’Connor’s mood until after they ate.

  * * *

  Most of Dev O’Connor’s twenty men were in the saloon, eating and drinking—all except the two who were burying the two dead lawmen.

  Grant and Tompkins drove the buckboard about five miles out of town and stopped.

  “This is good enough,” Grant said, dropping down from his seat. Tompkins did the same on the other side. They each took a shovel from the buckboard, found a likely spot and started digging. They did so in silence, each with their own thoughts. When they had a hole sufficiently deep enough they stopped and returned to the buckboard. They uncovered the body and tossed the blanket aside.

  Tompkins reached in and grabbed the badges.

  “What are ya doin’?”

  “What’s the harm?”

  “The harm is Dev will kill ya if he finds out.”

  “Are you gonna tell ’im?”

  “Well, no...”

  “Then like I said, what’s the harm?” He put the two badges back in his shirt pocket. “Now let’s drop these sons-a-bitches into the hole.”

  Chapter 6

  J.D. and Kate rode into the town of Arvada several days later, after having done some research on the situation. “Research” meant reading some newspaper stories on the situation. That meant reading back issues of the Denver Post, the Arvada News and the Arvada Sentinel. After hours in the back issue morgue of each paper J.D. thought they had all the information available on the gang.