Blaze! Western Series: Six Adult Western Novels

by Stephen Mertz

  “Yes.”

  “Then it’ll be on the map, right?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Okay, that’ll be good enough.”

  As they rode away from him Kate said, “I wish we’d known about Weatherby and Evans before we took this job.”

  “Yeah,” J.D. said. “I wonder how many of the other ranchers want to kill each other.”

  “You’d think that the ones in the Association would be okay,” she said, “working together.”

  “Evans seems like a man who’s only out for himself,” J.D. said.

  “At least Weatherby and the other man—what was his name?”

  “Milton,” J.D. said. “George Mllton.”

  “Right. The milquetoast one,” Kate said. “Think he hates anybody?”

  “He might just be hitching his wagon to Weatherby’s splinter group, trying to save his spread.”

  “We better get back to town,” she said. “We’re going to need that map.”

  “Right.”

  They urged their horses into a gallop.

  * * *

  In town they handed their horses over to the hostler at the livery and walked back toward their hotel. On the way someone called their name and came running across the street toward them. It was Sheriff Allen.

  “Sheriff,” J.D. said. “What can we do for you?”

  “The shootin’ last night,” Allen said. “It’s become a little more complicated.”

  “How so?” Kate asked.

  “The Mayor and the District Attorney,” Allen said. “They want to see you both. They’re talkin’ about bringin’ charges.”

  “It was a fair fight,” J.D. said.

  “Maybe you can convince them of that,” Allen said.

  J.D. and Kate exchanged a glance.

  “Can we see them now?” J.D. asked.

  “I can take you over there. They both have offices in the City Hall building.”

  “Let’s go, then,” J.D. said.

  * * *

  City Hall was a two story brick building, apparently the newest building in town.

  “Wait,” J.D. said, at the front door. He grabbed the Sheriff’s arm. “Before we do this, fill us in on these fellas.”

  “Oh, sure,” Allen said. “The Mayor is Gerald Guthrie, the D.A. Zackary Wheeler. They ran on the same ticket, and they pretty much run things together.”

  “Partners in politics?” Kate asked.

  “I guess. Guthrie makes most of the big decisions, but he usually consults Wheeler.”

  “Okay,” J.D. said, “let’s go and meet these fellas and see if we can convince them not to charge us.”

  Allen nodded, opened the door and led the way in.

  * * *

  Upstairs in the Mayor’s office two men sat facing each other across a large oak desk. Gerald Guthrie was in his fifties, grey-haired and barrel-chested, with bigger ambitions than just being mayor.

  Zackary Wheeler, ten years younger, tall, slender, handsome, wasn’t quite as ambitious. He was satisfied to be D.A. for a while, and eventually move into the Mayor’s chair.

  “Do you think this is going to work?” Guthrie asked Wheeler.

  “Why not?” Wheeler asked. “We have two of the deadliest guns in town. Why not use them? You heard what they did last night to Evans’ men.”

  “I also know he’s probably already tried to hire them.”

  “And the others?” Guthrie asked. “The Association? You think they’ll try—”

  “They’re still convinced that detectives can do the job,” Wheeler said. “They’ve got some Pinkertons coming to town.”

  “So then we have to convince them to work for us,” Guthrie said.

  “We just have to outbid Evans,” Wheeler said.

  “The richest man in the territory?” Guthrie said. “How do we do that?”

  Wheeler smiled.

  “We have something else to bid with,” he reminded the Mayor, “don’t we?”

  Mayor Guthrie stared at him, then got it, smiled and nodded.

  Chapter 15

  Sheriff Allen opened the door to the Mayor’s Office and they went in. It did not escape J.D.’s attention that the two men were already there, waiting.

  “Mayor,” Allen said, “Mr. Wheeler, this is J.D. Blaze and his wife, Kate.”

  Mayor Guthrie stood hastily when he saw Kate, but remained behind his desk. Wheeler stood and held out his hand to Kate.

  “This is a very great pleasure, Mrs. Blaze,” he said, holding her hand too long to suit J.D..

  “We appreciate you coming to talk to us,” Guthrie added.

  “Did we have a choice?” J.D. asked.

  Kate slid her hand out of Wheeler’s grasp, wiped the man’s clammy handprint off on her thigh.

  “Well, not really,” Wheeler said, “but if you’ll both have a seat, we’ll tell you why.”

  Allen brought two chairs over for the Blazes, but when he started to bring a third over for himself Guthrie said, “That’ll be all, Sheriff. You can wait outside, in case we need you.”

  Allen stopped short, as if slapped, then said, “Uh, okay, yeah, sure, Mr. Mayor.” He left the room.

  “We understand from the sheriff that you might want to press charges for what happened last night between us and some of Harold Evans’ men.”

  “Well, if I may...” Wheeler said, looking at Guthrie for permission.

  The Mayor nodded.

  “...it’s not that we want to press charges, but we may have to. I mean, you have killed four of our citizens—“

  “Citizens?” Kate asked, cutting him off. “They were hired guns.”

  “They had been living here for a while,” Wheeler pointed out. “But my point is, public opinion might be that you should be charged.”

  “And your opinion?” J.D. asked.

  “Well,” Wheeler said, “we’ve been having some trouble around here lately that you might be able to help us with.”

  “And if we do?” J.D. asked.

  Wheeler shrugged and said, ”No charges.”

  J.D. looked at the Mayor.

  “I concur with Mr. Wheeler,” the Mayor said. “If you were to do the town a service, I don’t think there would be any question of laying charges.”

  J.D. and Kate exchanged a glance.

  “And what about payment?” J.D. asked.

  Now it was the Mayor and the District Attorney’s turn to exchange glances.

  “I think we might be able to come up with something from the town treasury.”

  “So what’s this problem you’re having?” J.D. asked.

  “Rustling,” the Mayor said.

  “On a major scale,” Wheeler said.

  “Including murder.”

  J.D. and Kate sat back in their chairs. They were both having the same thought—which happened quite a bit.

  But neither of them said what they were thinking.

  “So let me get this straight,” J.D. said. “If we track these rustlers and bring them in, we won’t be charged with anything. Is that it?”

  “Well,” Wheeler said, “you wouldn’t necessarily have to bring them in.”

  “So,” Kate said, “it’s a dead or alive situation?”

  “Exactly,” Guthrie said. “And the arrangement will be just between us.”

  “Can we get this in writing?” J.D. asked.

  Guthrie shook his head and smiled. “I’m afraid we’ll have to keep this on a handshake basis, Mr. Blaze.”

  “A handshake between you and me?” J.D. asked.

  “Unless you prefer it take place between Mr. Wheeler and Mrs. Blaze?”

  “No,” Kate said, “that won’t be necessary.”

  “The lady has spoken,” J.D. said. “Will you be able to provide us with any information that would be helpful in finding these rustlers?”

  “We will send everything we have over to your hotel this afternoon,” Wheeler said. “The sheriff himself will deliver it.”

  “That’s
fine, then,” J.D. said.

  “Then you agree?”

  J.D. stood up and extended his hand to the Mayor. Guthrie stood up and shook it.

  “If you will, you can send the sheriff in on your way out,” Wheeler said, “so we can tell him there will be no arrests.”

  “Come on, Kate,” J.D. said, putting his hand out to his wife. He help her up from her chair and together they went out into the hall.

  * * *

  Outside Kate started to laugh.

  “So now we have three clients for the same job?” she said.

  “Looks like it.”

  “Do you think we’ll be able to get all three of them to pay us?”

  “They better pay us, once we get the job done,” J.D. said. “I’m not a happy guy when I don’t get paid.”

  “How about a drink?” she asked.

  He tapped his head and said, “As usual, we’re still thinking alike.”

  Chapter 16

  They had a drink at a small saloon they hadn’t yet patronized, rather than going back to one of the others. They weren’t looking for trouble, just a drink, and some time.

  It was early and the saloon was empty but for two other men, each seated at their own table, heads bowed over glasses of whiskey.

  “Two beers,” J.D. told the bartender.

  “Comin’ up.”

  The bartender was a little man, barely five foot three, and when he came back with two mugs of beer they looked huge in his hands.

  J.D. picked up the two beers and carried them to a back table, where he sat across from his beautiful wife.

  “What do you think Guthrie and Wheeler have to give us?” she asked.

  J.D. shrugged. “Maybe nothing more than what Weatherby’s giving us, but we need someplace to start.”

  “You think Weatherby, Evans, and the Mayor and D.A. will ever exchange notes and realize what’s going on?”

  “Who knows?” J.D. said. “But I think if they were ever going to join forces they could have done it against these rustlers before this.”

  “You’d think so.”

  “J.D.,” she said, as he sipped his beer, “this could turn into a real mess.”

  “Could,” he agreed. “On the other hand, we could be getting paid three times.”

  He raised his mug and she clinked it with hers.

  * * *

  Dev O’Connor looked up from his beer as his man, Slim, entered the saloon. Around him half a dozen of his other men were drinking and pawing two girls they had brought into camp the night before.

  “Hey, boss,” Slim said, sitting opposite O’Connor.

  “You better have something for me, Slim.”

  “I do,” Slim said. “The sweetest herd of plump cows you ever saw, boss.”

  “Where?”

  “About twenty miles on the other side of town.”

  “Twenty miles?”

  “North of Arvada?”

  “Yep.”

  “If I’m not wrong,” O’Connor said, “you’re talkin’ about the Evans spread.”

  “That’s what I’m talkin’ about.”

  “How many head?”

  “A hundred.”

  “That’s a big job.”

  “He’s gettin’ ready to drive them to his south meadow, where he’s got five hundred others.”

  “That’s too big a herd,” O’Connor aid.

  “That’s what I figured,” Slim said. “That’s why I think we should take the hundred. They’re just sittin’ there.”

  “Well,” O’Connor said, “we haven’t hit the Evans spread yet. It’s probably time to do it. How many men?”

  “Half a dozen at a time,” Slim said. “I only need that many men to do the job.”

  “Take ten.”

  “I don’t need—“

  “Take ten, Slim,” O’Connor said. “Do what I tell you.”

  “Yeah, okay, boss. Any idea who you want me to use?”

  “Not any of the six in here,” O’Connor said. “Pick from the others.”

  Slim looked around at the others, then said, “Yeah, I can see you’re right.”

  “Get yourself a drink,” O’Connor said, “and then go pick your men.”

  “Right, boss.” Slim stood up.

  “And try not to kill anybody,” O’Connor said. “The law is already lookin’ for us for rustlin’. We don't need them lookin’ for us for murder.”

  “Boss,” Slim said, “they’re already lookin for us for murder.”

  “Well,” O’Connor said, “no more murders, then.”

  “We’ll do our best.”

  Chapter 17

  As J.D. had suspected, they ended up having two maps delivered to their hotel. When they returned there one was waiting at the front desk. The other came while they were back in their room. They laid them both out on the bed and chose the one that seemed to have been drawn by someone with the most ability.

  “Do you see what I see?” J.D. asked Kate.

  “I do,” she said. “No pattern.”

  “Right.”

  The six sites of rustling were marked on the map, with numbers next to them, indicating the order in which they had been hit.

  “If they’re not working a pattern,” Kate said, “then we can’t predict where they’re going to hit next.”

  “Maybe we can,” he said.

  “How do you mean?”

  He pressed his finger to the map. The point he was pressing had no markings on or near it.

  “They haven’t hit anywhere near this area.” He moved his finger around the map.

  “That’s all Hal Evans’ spread.”

  “Right.”

  “Why would they not have hit him before now?” she asked, sitting on the bed. “He’s got the biggest ranch around here.”

  “Two possible reasons,” J.D. said.

  “One?”

  “He’s in on it,” J.D. said. “Using the rustling to try to force his neighbors to sell.”

  “That’s easy enough to find out,” she said. “We just have to see if he’s made any offers to the spreads that have been hit. What’s number two?”

  “They’ve been working up to it.”

  “They didn’t want to hit the big spread until maybe they were ready to stop,” she said. “You think it’s their last job?”

  “Could be.”

  “Then how do we catch them?”

  “We’ll just have to catch them in the act, Kate,” J.D. said.

  “Uh-oh,” she said. ”I know what that means.”

  “We’re going to have to sit out there and watch Evan’s herd until they do hit it.”

  “J.D.,” she complained, “that could be long, cold, hungry work.”

  * * *

  Dev O’Connor looked up from his beer as Slim came back into the saloon an hour later.

  “You pick out your men yet?” he asked.

  “Seven,” Slim said. “Still got three to go. But somebody’s here and wants to see you.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “Feller from town.”

  “No name?”

  “No,” Slim said, “he just said you’d know who sent him.”

  “Oh,” O’Connor said, “him...did anybody shoot at ’im?”

  “No,” Slim said. “Almost, but...no.”

  “Okay, let ’im in,” O’Connor said.

  “What about his gun?”

  “You got it?”

  Slim indicated the extra gun that was tucked into the front of his belt.

  “Yeah, okay,” O’Connor said, “keep it there, and stand at the bar.”

  “All right, boss.”

  Slim went out, came back with two men, one of them with an empty holster.

  “Have a seat,” O’Connor said, kicking the chair across from him out a few feet.

  “Can I get my gun back?” the man asked.

  “No!”

  Slim and the other men went to the bar, kept their eyes on the table.

  The man sa
t down across from O’Connor, nervously.

  “What’s on your mind?” O’Connor asked.

  “Can I get a drink?”

  “Sure,” O’Connor said, “what’ll ya have?”

  “Whiskey’d be good.”

  “Slim,” O‘Connor said, “bring a whiskey for this feller.”

  “Sure, boss.”

  Slim put a shot glass down in front of the man and withdrew to the bar again. The man tossed it down in one gulp.

  “Okay,” O’Connor said, “you had your drink, now what the hell are you doin’ here?”

  “I got a message from—“

  “I know who the message is from,” O’Connor said. “Just tell me what it is.”

  “J.D. Blaze is in town.”

  “Blaze?” O’Connor said. “What the hell does he want.”

  “He’s lookin’ for you.”

  “He don’t even know me,” O’Connor said. “Not under this name.”

  “Well, he’s lookin’ for the rustlers, and that’s you.”

  “Who’s he workin’ for?”

  “Ain’t sure, really,” the man said. “I know he went to see the Mayor and Wheeler.”

  “So,” O’Connor said, “the town. What about the Cattleman’s Association?”

  “They’re still bringin’ in Pinkertons.”

  “I ain’t worried about Pinkertons,” O’Connor said, “but Blaze...that’s a different story. He got that wife of his with him?”

  “He does.”

  “Damn.”

  “What’re you gonna do?”

  “Only thing I can do,” O’Connor said. “I gotta get rid of them.”

  “How you gonna do that?” the man asked. “I mean, he’s gonna ask me.”

  “Never mind,” O’Connor said. “Just tell ’im I’ll get it done. Now wait by the doors.”

  The man nodded, rose and walked to the batwings.

  O’Connor waved Slim over.

  “Have someone else take him toward town and give him his gun.”

  “Good,” Slim said, “I still got some men to pick out.”

  “No,” O’Connor said, “put that aside for now. I got somethin’ else for you to do, and for that you’ll need the men who are in this saloon.”

  “Oh,” Slim said, “that kind of job.”

  Chapter 18

  Blaze and Kate spent the rest of the day reconnoitering the Evans spread.They needed to make an educated guess about where the gang might hit—if they even had intentions of hitting the Evans spread.