Blaze! Western Series: Six Adult Western Novels

by Stephen Mertz

  But the why and wherefore didn't really matter. What mattered was taking advantage of this turnabout in what only moments ago had seemed a nearly hopeless predicament.

  Kate raised the Starr, aiming upward at the shape hovering over her, and emptied four chambers as fast as she could squeeze the trigger. The shape gave a single loud grunt of surprise and then fell back, twisting before toppling all the way down, his spasming trigger finger discharging two rounds off into the bright sunlight that had betrayed him.

  * * *

  J.D. was relieved to hear the renewed gunfire from within the ruins. It was assurance that Kate was still alive and fighting.

  A moment later, however, that same gunfire resulted in quite a different reaction.

  Both of the wild, dying shots thrown by the man-shape Kate had blasted came screaming out of the ruins and, totally inadvertently, slammed into the tall chimney that had managed to remain standing for so long after the rest of the hotel was only a pile of refuse...The same chimney behind which Hiram was so desperately trying to reach for cover. The bullets slamming into the weathered, wind-scoured pile of stones did what the elements hadn't yet been able to accomplish. The top half of the tall structure teetered momentarily above the weakened chinks knocked out by the errant slugs and then came crashing ingloriously down.

  Down directly on top of Hiram Woolsey.

  Chapter 18

  It was the following morning before J.D. and Kate rode out of Silver Dog.

  Following the violence at the old hotel, it had taken less time to appease the inquiries of the authorities, as represented by a hastily assembled Miners Council, than it had for Kate to scrub herself clean from the grime she ended up covered in.

  Hank Brimbel played a helpful hand in each matter.

  First, she testified how it had been the man identified as Hiram Woolsey who'd initiated the meeting that resulted in the shootout. In the course of her telling, Hank included the clear impression she'd gotten of Hiram's dangerous intentions. This dovetailed well with the identities of the three additional dead bodies found at the scene. All were known troublemakers with criminal pasts who'd shown up in Silver Dog after the spring thaw, getting by on gambling and hiring out to do grunt work for anyone foolish enough to trust hiring them.

  A fourth cohort of theirs seemed to be suddenly missing from the area. It seemed logical to figure he'd been the second shooter down by the creek and had apparently fled after seeing his employer crushed under the collapsing chimney and then realizing his pals were all cut down.

  After that much was settled, Hank had invited the Blazes to stay the night at her place. The offer included the chance for Kate to soak as long as she wanted in the oversized bathtub that Hank's late husband, a man of considerable girth, had specially installed back when he was still alive. With that secondary provision, there was never the slightest question of refusing the offer. As a show of appreciation for her hospitality, Kate and J.D. took Hank out to Stroheim's that evening for supper.

  * * *

  Despite everybody else—including even Kate, to a certain extent—seemingly willing to accept that Hiram must have had a hand in killing Oliver Braedon, J.D. remained stubbornly doubtful. It was for this reason that he continued to be troubled as he and Kate rode back into Elk City. He was, of course, pleased that they'd caught up with Hiram in order to hold him to account for the things he had done and to remove him as a threat to Belle; but he nevertheless regretted failing to keep him alive long enough to answer the question concerning Oliver.

  As it turned out, however, in one of those bizarrely unexpected twist of events, the answer was awaiting them when they arrived at the Big Thompson Lodge. Almost as surprising as the revelation was the contingent gathered to deliver it.

  As soon as they got to the lodge, after stabling their horses but before going to their own quarters, J.D. and Kate stopped by Belle's suite to update her on how it had gone with Hiram and to check on the condition of Sam Ruckner. The first big surprise came in the form of the four Braedon offspring who were present in the suite as the Blazes were ushered in. From the somber expressions worn by everyone, J.D. immediately presumed the group was on hand to cause more trouble.

  The first order of business was still to determine that Sam—who was out in the parlor with the others, propped up on pillows in a large easy chair—was doing well, and then to report their successful trackdown of Hiram. With the presence of so many others, they couldn't go into too many details for fear of revealing the ambusher's link to Belle's past.

  With that much out of the way, it was time to face whatever purpose the Braedons were there for. What was then related to the Blazes was a stunning occurrence that had taken place in that very room earlier in the day.

  It all stemmed from a visit by Maria Sandimez, the cook and housekeeper who had served the Braedons for so many years. She'd shown up asking for a word with Belle. Once inside, she immediately pulled a Colt's Dragoon pistol from under her shawl and proceeded to unleash a furious verbal attack on Belle while all the time menacing her with the heavy caliber gun.

  As she talked, Maria spoke of the passion and deep feelings that had blossomed between her and Oliver Braedon and the secret affair they'd carried on during the later years of the first Mrs. Braedon's illness, and then beyond. In Maria's mind, she was to have been the next Mrs. Braedon and her boy Jorge would have been raised as another of Oliver's sons.

  But then Oliver had met Belle and brought her home as his new wife. Maria was crushed, to the point of considering suicide in her pain and shame. When she told this to Oliver, he talked her out of it. He told her that he would always have deep feelings for her and that he would always take care of her and Jorge, that they were part of the family. For Jorge's sake, she relented and continued on, hiding her inner torment. She found consolation from simply being near Oliver, convincing herself that his infatuation with the much younger and obviously superficial Belle would wear thin and he would come to his senses. At that point he would also remember the depth of his true love for Maria, would come crawling back to her, and then they would be together the way it was meant to be.

  Instead, the day came when realization finally hit Maria how pathetic and hopeless her groveling fantasies really were. It was the day Oliver and Belle came back from looking at the property where they were going to build their new house (the same day they were re-accosted by Hiram and then encountered the Blazes, though none of that was ever spoken of). Maria overheard them talking upon their return and it struck her like a thunderbolt that once Oliver and Belle moved away and Clay and his healthy young wife moved into the big house, there would be no need—no place—for her and Jorge. Everything Oliver had told her was a lie! From the furtive lust she had mistaken for love all those years ago, while his wife lay dying in another room, clear on through to his false promises to always take care of her and her son.

  Maria seethed. This time she did not contemplate taking her own life. No, this time she instead felt a determination to take the life of the man who had abused and shamed and lied to her.

  Later that afternoon, when Oliver went out to check on Jorge in the carriage shed, the rage inside Maria had built to an explosive level. She took the Henry rifle down from over the kitchen door that lead outside—kept there to use on coyotes or other varmints who showed up in the back yard, a weapon Oliver himself had taught Maria how to shoot—and carried it out behind the corral fence in the lengthening shadows cast by the approach of evening.

  When Oliver came walking back toward the house, she pumped two slugs into him.

  * * *

  "From the sound of it," said Clay Braedon, who, along with Belle, had been relating the story up to this point, "she probably was intending to go back in the house and shoot Belle, too. But the quick flurry of activity in response to those first two shots apparently caused her to change her mind."

  "So she waited," said Belle. "She waited, but she never stopped seething and hating. This morning, for what
ever reason, she must have figured she'd waited long enough. She had Jorge drive her into town, sent him on some errands, then came here to complete her business with me."

  For the first time, Sam Ruckner spoke. His head was hung low, he didn't lift his face to make eye contact with anyone. "I was in the other room, in my sick bed. I heard the voices out here, recognized that one of 'em belonged to Maria. In all the years, I'd never heard her talk so loud or in such an angry tone. So I crawled out of bed and came to see what was wrong. For some reason, I'll never quite understand why, I took time to hook my six-gun out of its holster hanging off the back of a chair..."

  Sam paused for a long minute. He still didn't raise his head. J.D. could hear him swallow. When he started talking again, there was a quaver to the first few words. "When I opened the door, I right away saw Maria standing there, poking that big Dragoon at Mrs. Braedon. At first I didn't know what in tarnation was going on, but...but the things Maria was saying made it clear quick enough. When she turned her head to see me standing there, the look on her face changed...I'll never forget how her expression turned...sad, it seemed, and hurt. Like she was sorry for me to see her like she was...But then it went right back to being all angry again. Her eyes swung once more to Mrs. Braedon and she raised the Dragoon a little higher. I could see her knuckles start to turn white as her grip tightened and...I had no choice but to stop her. I only meant to shoot her in the arm or shoulder, but when I jerked up my six-gun I bumped my hand on the edge of the door frame and it threw my aim off...I...I..."

  "We know the rest, Sam," Belle said gently. "You don't have to go through it again."

  Sam's shoulders trembled with silent sobs. His torment was obvious, but J.D. suspected he might be the only one looking on who understood the full extent of the man's torment for killing the woman he'd loved from afar for so many years.

  "What about the boy? Jorge?" Kate asked quietly.

  "He's devastated, to be sure," answered Nora Braedon. "We sent for some of the wranglers from our ranch and they're with him now. We'll make sure he's not alone in the days ahead."

  "Next to Maria and Pa," added Curtis, the youngest brother, "I was about as close to Jorge as anybody. I'll see that he gets looked after."

  Sam spoke again, finally lifting his head. "There was a time when I was pretty close to the youngster, too. Hell, I was there the night he was born." He cut his moist eyes to Curtis. "You do that, lad. You make sure to look after Jorge."

  "What about you, Sam?" said Belle. "You'll still be around."

  Sam shook his head. "No. No, I won't...Soon as I'm fit enough to travel, it'll be time and past time for me to move on."

  "You don't have to do that, you know," Clay told him. "Not because of anything that was said before...not by either side. That was tempers talking, but the foolishness of that kind of thing is painfully evident now and we need to get past it and learn from it.

  "Speaking for my brothers and our sister, we've come to realize that if we'd been focused less on our petty greed and unfounded suspicions and had paid closer attention to what was going on practically under our noses...well, a number of things might have turned out different." Clay sighed raggedly. "We've already expressed all of this to Belle and we're calling off our lawyer as far as how to work things out, just within the family...But that still leaves you, Sam. Any time you want, you're welcome back at the Bar OB."

  "That goes for me, too. Double for me," Chuck Braedon was quick to say. "In your case, it was my temper and my mouth barking the loudest. I'm real sorry, Sam. Like Clay said, you belong back at the ranch."

  Sam smiled wistfully. "Obliged for the kind words, boys. From both of you. I'm glad you kids are showing signs of having your heads screwed on straight after all. And I got no hard feelings...This valley will always hold good memories for me. But now, it also holds some mighty bad ones. I 'spect I'll bounce back from this bullet hole quick enough. But it's gonna take some distance and considerable time before I ever heal from...well, you understand."

  Nobody said anything for a minute. Then, her words coming in something of a rush, Belle broke the silence. "Speaking of that bullet wound, you're beginning to look exhausted. I think it's time to get you back to your bed. The doctor will be stopping by in a bit and if he sees I've let you overdo it, he'll chew me out royally."

  Sam mumbled a token protest, but it was easy to see that he was weary enough to actually welcome the inevitable. Especially when Kate and Nora closed in to give Belle a hand in getting him up and into the other room.

  As the three ladies escorted the wounded man away, Chuck Braedon stepped over to J.D. "Sayin' sorry to Sam was only part of what I owe." He extended his right hand. "I wouldn't blame you if you slapped it away. But I hope you won't. I hope you'll accept my apologies to you as well...along with my thanks."

  J.D. shook the offered hand. Frowning, he said, "'Thanks'?"

  Grinning crookedly, Chuck said, "For not blowin' my stupid head off either of those times I tried to goad you into a gun fight."

  Epilogue

  Later that night, J.D. and Kate lay together in the spacious, cushiony bed of their suite.

  "Do you realize," murmured Kate, "how little time we've actually spent relaxing on this so-called vacation of ours?"

  "Isn't that what we're doing now?" J.D. responded sleepily.

  "Finally, yes."

  "Okay. So we'll extend our stay a little longer."

  "But, even with everything relatively settled, do you think we'd really be left alone, left strictly to our own pursuits if we lingered here?"

  "We would if we drew a hard line. Made it damn clear that's the way we wanted it."

  "Maybe." But Kate didn't sound very convinced. "I think we'd have a far better chance, though, if we took another crack at this vacation thing in another location."

  "You got some place particular in mind?" J.D. asked, already suspecting that she did.

  "Well, we've still got a pretty fair amount of money saved ahead...I've often wondered about San Francisco. I know you've been there, but I never have. For years I've heard people rave about it—the City by the Bay, the Golden Gate, Chinatown, and on and on." J.D. could feel her shoulders move in a faint shrug under the covers next to him. "I always knew I wanted to visit there some day, I'm just thinking that now might be a good time, that's all."

  J.D. lifted himself on one elbow. "And, in addition to all those things you just rattled off, did you happen to recall that San Fran is also home to the Ballard brothers—Belle's former employers, and the fine gentlemen responsible for sending Hiram after her?"

  "Well. Now that you mention it..."

  "Are you serious?"

  Now Kate raised on her elbow, too. "Yes, J.D., I'm dead serious. Do you think for a minute those two maniacs are just going to give up, especially once they get the news Hiram has been eliminated? If they were so hell bent before to go to all the trouble they did to reclaim or kill Belle as an example to dissuade others, what makes anyone think they wouldn't add revenge to their list of reasons and be even more fiercely determined to send somebody else after her?"

  J.D. didn't respond right away. Then: "You've really become a champion for Belle, haven't you?"

  "She deserves a break, J.D. She got one when she met and married Oliver, but it didn't last very long. She came so far, came so close. Then Oliver got killed and his children turned against her and she almost had it all yanked away. Not to boast, but if not for us, for what we were able to do, it very likely would have come to that."

  "But we were here, and were able to help it turn out better. Not perfect, not considering the lives that were lost and others shattered. But I think Clay and his siblings are sincere about working things out with Belle. If she makes the choice to stick around, she can still have a pretty decent life in this valley."

  "Not if the Ballards send somebody else after her. Somebody perhaps even worse than Hiram. In addition to the physical threat, she'd be facing the risk all over again of her past bei
ng revealed. How long do you think Clay and the others would remain so accommodating if that came out?"

  J.D. expelled a long, slow breath. "So the only way to be sure—to finish what we started when we decided to get involved in this to begin with—is to go to San Francisco and deal directly with the Ballards."

  "As it is, like you pointed out a minute ago," Kate said quietly, "lives have been lost and others shattered. Did we go through that only to leave an opening for more of the same?"

  Again J.D. didn't say anything right away. When he did, he said, "I've got one more question."

  "And that is?"

  "When we get to Frisco, will you want to enjoy the sights and sounds of the city first…or wait until after we've taken care of the Ballards?"

  SIX-GUN WEDDING

  JACKSON LOWRY

  Chapter 1

  "Tar and feather me," J.D. Blaze said, looping his thumbs under the arm holes of his vest. He thrust out his chin belligerently. "Shoot me. If that's too quick, hang me real slow until my heels are kicking in the air and breath fails me."

  "Heels kicking in the air," mused Kate Blaze. "That'd be a pretty sight. And it's one I'm going to see because you are going to the wedding."

  "I'd rather face down John Wesley Hardin with my right hand tied behind my back. Out there in the street. Blindfolded. Right now. No backing down. Him and me, one on one." He pointed into Wilderness, Wyoming's main street. A tiny dust devil whirled into nothingness, leaving behind only a hint of grit in the summer sunbaked dry dirt. For two cents, he'd spin around like it and vanish, too.

  "Hardin's in Texas and you're here. Besides, you could take him, on your best day, J.D., you could take him, shoot the six-shooter out of his hand, blow away the smoke from your Colt's muzzle and be on the way to the saloon for a drink of rye whiskey before he even knew what happened."