Strong Convictions: An Emmett Strong Western (Emmett Strong Westerns Book 1)

by GP Hutchinson

  The marshal edged back, and the wood flooring creaked.

  “The fugitive’s name is Blaylock. Charlie Blaylock—the brother of Nevada resident Seth Blaylock,” Emmett said.

  The marshal’s face drained of color.

  “So you’re familiar with Seth Blaylock,” Emmett said.

  “You don’t want to go messin’ with Mr. Blaylock.” The marshal stumbled over his words. “Not unless you want to end up just like that Texas state senator.”

  “What do you propose then?”

  “Believe me, you two should just saddle up and head on back to Texas. Tell whoever sent you that Charlie Blaylock gave you the slip. Trail went cold.”

  Emmett pounded the desk. “That Texas state senator was my brother!” he barked. Then almost in a whisper, he continued, “You still think I should just turn around and go home?”

  The marshal fidgeted with the blotter on his desk.

  Emmett stared at him. “Are you gonna help me out here?”

  “I-I don’t want nothin’ to do with them Blaylocks,” he said.

  “Then, dagnabbit, tell me where Seth Blaylock lives. We’ll go get him ourselves.”

  “I can’t tell you nothin’.” The man was trembling visibly by this point.

  “Who the blazes are the Blaylocks and the McIntoshes anyway that everybody up here is so thundering petrified of them?” Emmett demanded. “What do they do?”

  The marshal turned and grasped the glass of whiskey he had poured. With no apparent qualms remaining, he drained it in one swig.

  After he caught his breath, he said, “This is all I’ll tell you—and it’s probably too much: The McIntoshes and Blaylock, they run a string of saloons, gambling parlors, and bed houses from San Francisco to Genoa. A whole lot of outlaws have gravitated to them. They’ve got what amounts to their own private army. If people leave them alone, they generally do the same in return. Seth Blaylock…well, he don’t live in Carson City. Now that’s all you’re gonna get outta me. I don’t care if you pistol-whip me.”

  “Why don’t you do yourself a favor,” Emmett said, his voice low. “Turn in your badge. Quit pretending you’re a lawman. Looks like your nerves could use some mending.”

  The marshal fumbled again for the whiskey decanter. “Ranger, your attitude’s gonna get you killed a whole lot faster than my nerves are gonna do me in.”

  Emmett glared at the wreck of a lawman for several long moments, then turned and headed for the door.

  Just across from the Virginia and Truckee depot, Juanito dismounted, tethered his horse to a hitching post, and began to play the fool. He almost never wore a serape. Yet there were times when it came in handy, not only to ward off the chill, but also to play off of misconceptions some people had about Mexicans…or Texans, or Texians.

  He slowed his gait and shuffled just a bit more as he walked. Before stepping up onto the boardwalk in front of the telegraph office, he stretched, scratched his belly, and yawned aloud. “Ay, madre mía,” he whined.

  Once inside the telegraph office, he took off his hat and clutched it with both hands, just above waist level. He scuffled to the counter.

  The man behind the desk turned and wrinkled his nose. “How can I help you?”

  “Ay, Mister,” Juanito said in an exaggerated accent. “I have become—how you say?—separated from my boss.”

  “Yeah,” the telegraph man said, nose still wrinkled, brow now furrowed. “Well, how exactly can I help you?”

  “It’s just that Mr. Charlie, he was going to see his brother, Mr. Seth. He was in such a hurry, he left me behind.” Juanito scratched his head and stared.

  The telegraph operator cocked his head. “Do you need to send a telegram or what? Because I’m a very busy man, and I’ve got to—”

  “Oh no, Señor. I just need you to tell me where I go to find Mr. Seth Blaylock. That’s the brother of my boss.”

  For a moment the telegraph operator looked dubious. Then he sighed. “You,” he said, “are in the wrong town for Mr. Seth Blaylock. Seems you folk from down Texas way keep getting that mixed up this week. First Charlie Blaylock himself. Now you. Lucky for you I’m the one that made sure your boss got squared away. You follow what I’m saying so far? Comprende?”

  “Sí. I mean, yes. I understand.”

  “Mr. McIntosh’s boys have already taken your boss on up to Reno. That’s where your boss’s brother, Mr. Seth Blaylock, lives.”

  Juanito palmed his head. “In Reno?”

  “Yes.”

  “Ayyy, so far already.”

  “I’m afraid you’ll have to go just a little farther.”

  “OK, Señor. Well, muchas gracias. Thank you.”

  Juanito turned and shuffled out, mumbling and moaning as he went.

  Five minutes later, from an alley behind the statehouse, Emmett watched Juanito jog his horse up the street. Somewhere along the line, his brother-in-law had slipped off his serape, rolled it up, and stowed it behind the cantle of his saddle. Reins in one hand, he rode upright, no longer slouched as when he had been playacting. He had flattened his broad hat brim once again and replaced the sombrero at a jaunty angle.

  Emmett stepped out to meet him. “Any luck on your side of town?”

  Juanito nodded. “He’s in Reno.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  More than a dozen men stood or squatted around a snapping campfire on a hill just outside Virginia City. Ettie was there, too. Charlie Blaylock listened quietly from just outside the circle. He felt a lump in his throat and a heaviness in his chest. He was learning on the fly what his brother Seth did to earn so much money up here in Nevada.

  In the deepening darkness, Seth addressed his hired hands. “So everybody listen to Buck Tanner here. He’s gonna tell you what he’s seen firsthand. It’s important that we all get it. We wanna get into Chinatown and out again before anybody else ever knows we’re there.” He nodded. “Go ahead, Buck.”

  The buttons of Buck Tanner’s faded brown suit coat strained against their buttonholes. He sniffed and began. “You all know it’s my job to come here to Virginia City regularly, to sit in the saloons and bars and listen. Then I tell Mr. Seth and Mr. Lucian about whatever little bits of news I pick up from folks around here—whatever might be of business interest to them.”

  He cleared his throat. “Well, one night a fella over at the Comstock Queen Hotel told me how it might be worth my trouble to take a ride out around the edge of town. Told me to take a look through the windows of a certain restaurant. And sure enough, what I come across caught my eye—in a businesslike sense, of course.” Tanner glanced at Seth as though he wondered whether he was doing OK.

  Seth crossed his arms. “Go on.”

  This was all news to Charlie. He hadn’t been privy to the meeting between Tanner and Seth and Ettie. His brother had told him to wait outside on the porch, then closed the parlor doors.

  Tanner continued. “Well, where this man from the hotel sent me, turns out it was a Chinese restaurant. Not for white folks and all, like some of ’em. This one was for Chinese only. It had lots of windows across the front, and so I could see in real clear.”

  “Aw my gawd! Chinese? Really?” one of the men across the campfire said. He tossed a stick he had between whittling into the fire.

  Seth shot him a look that told him to shut up and pay attention—which he did.

  “Anyway,” Tanner said, “you know I seen Chinese girls that’s all ugly and Chinese girls that’s all pretty. Damn, if these ain’t six or seven of the prettiest China girls I ever seen before! I thought to myself these’d be just the type Mr. McIntosh would be real pleased to have for his businesses.”

  “Chinese?” another of the hands dared to whine. “Most China girls is so ugly they’d back a buzzard off a gut wagon.”

  Several of the bunch laughed openly.

 
“I’m tellin’ you,” Tanner said, “I know Chinese girls don’t fit every man’s taste, but some fellas like ’em. And these is as pretty as any I ever seen.”

  Seth stepped forward into the glow of the campfire. “Buck Tanner found out these same girls get together every Tuesday night at the same place—some kind of Chinese girls’ club or somethin’. He’s gonna lead us on in. It’s on the edge of town. It’s Chinatown. But we still don’t wanna wake up the dead. Aside from the fact that Virginia City’s not too partial to Mr. McIntosh, as always, keepin’ it a secret who we are—that trumps everything else.” His gaze went from man to man all the way around the campfire. “Understand?”

  Each man in turn nodded.

  He waved his left hand. “You all on this side are gonna split off to the back.” He pointed to a gunhand directly across the circle. “From Zeke over to my right, all the rest of you are gonna take the front.”

  Charlie watched his brother—so refined in his nice clothes, light from the campfire reflecting off the silk of his dark-blue vest and the polished leather of his boot shanks. He recalled his brother chuckling, answering him, “Yeah, you might say I’m in livestock.” So this is what he meant, huh? He felt all tangled up inside. One part of him really wanted a piece of the rich life Seth had found. Another part of him was troubled about kidnapping young women for some big boss’s hookshop—even if they were only China girls.

  Seth finished giving instructions to his gang and told them all to saddle up.

  Charlie eyed Ettie and wondered what she thought of all this. Sure, she was dressed just as fancy as Seth. Probably turning a nice profit for her part in this whole business. Yet it puzzled him. How could a woman be OK with doing this to other women?

  Before Charlie could step into his stirrup, Seth clutched his arm. “You steady enough to handle this kind of action, brother?” Seth asked, his eyes like a wolf’s.

  After a brief hesitation, Charlie said, “’Course I am.”

  “You don’t have to do anything except cover the back door with that shotgun.” Seth tossed his chin. “Anybody that’s not one of us approaches, you just let them have it—especially if it’s some Chinese girl’s pa or big brother. OK?”

  Charlie nodded.

  Seth clapped him on the shoulder. “You’ll get paid handsome, brother. Believe me.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Gazing beyond the campfire out over Washoe Lake, not far from Carson City, Emmett took a swallow of bitter coffee to wash down his last bite of hard biscuit. That and a few strips of jerky had constituted his supper. After rendezvousing near the statehouse, he, Juanito, and Sikes had cleared out of town fast. They didn’t want to stumble into any more McIntosh or Blaylock sympathizers before they had a chance to sit down and talk over what they were learning.

  Sikes stood facing the lake, one hand holding a cigar, the other hand behind his back. “Thaddeus McIntosh has got that town wound up tighter than a clock.”

  “From that Farley fella to the US marshal,” Emmett said.

  Juanito sat, smoothing the brim of his hat. “Yong Xu wasn’t exaggerating about McIntosh, was he?”

  “How can McIntosh maintain such a pall of fear over Carson City when it’s the state capital?” Sikes asked. “It’s obvious to anyone with eyes and ears. Why don’t higher officials rein him in?”

  Juanito gave a cynical chuckle. “You said it yourself down in El Paso, amigo: people making big fortunes, paying officials to look the other way.”

  “Seems to me there’s got to be someone with scruples enough to reestablish the rule of law.”

  A crisp breeze rustled the nearby trees, prompting Emmett to stoke the campfire. Holding his palms over the embers, he said, “Law in this part of the country is a developing thing, Mr. Sikes. Lot of folks know how it oughta go. But there’s a lot of territory to oversee and not enough authorities to do the overseeing. Leaves just enough wiggle room for bosses like McIntosh to run things as they please.”

  “So what do you expect up in Reno, hermano?” Juanito asked.

  “If there’s another McIntosh up there, more of the same.”

  “A McIntosh, plus Blaylock’s brother,” Sikes said. “Could be even tighter there than where we just came from.”

  “Tighter’n a brand-new pair of mail-order shoes.”

  “And how far did we get in Carson City before we began to feel the squeeze?”

  Juanito pulled his serape around his shoulders. “So we’re three lawmen, a long way from home—”

  “Since when did I become a lawman?” Sikes said. “I’m not even a citizen.”

  “Two lawmen and a vigilante.” Juanito raised an eyebrow as he turned to Sikes. “Better?”

  “Vigilante. Why, I don’t know…”

  “Anyway,” Juanito resumed, “we’re outgunned and undersupplied. We have no support from the local law. How do we make a reasonable run at taking Charlie Blaylock back to Texas?”

  Emmett stared at the fire, rubbing his chin.

  Sikes tossed the stub of his cigar into the low flames. “Operating in enemy territory…Based on my countrymen’s recent disaster in Africa, I’ll tell you this: Courage and audacity don’t guarantee anything. Neither does marksmanship.”

  Emmett leaned forward. “You were heavily outnumbered in Africa, right?”

  Sikes nodded. “Ridiculously.”

  “Thought firepower would win the day.”

  “An arrogant assumption with humiliating results, yes.”

  “Arrogant.” Emmett looked from Sikes to Juanito. “Well, who’s behaving all arrogant up here?”

  “Hmm,” Sikes said. “Perhaps the Achilles’ heel of the McIntoshes and the Blaylocks?”

  “And something we need to avoid at all costs,” Juanito said.

  Emmett leaned back against his saddle. “So is it arrogant for us to make a careful trip into Reno tomorrow?”

  “Careful would have to be the key,” Sikes said.

  “Might be less conspicuous if I ride in alone,” Emmett said. “You two can both wait in Virginia City, if you like.”

  “Uh-uh. No, hermano. You’re not going in alone.”

  “Word’ll be getting out that an odd trio—a Texan, a Mexican, and an Englishman—are riding around up here, asking some delicate questions about powerful people.”

  “A Texian,” Juanito said.

  “Not as far as they’re concerned.”

  “They won’t know I’m British unless I open my mouth,” Sikes said.

  “Odds are you’ll say something.” Emmett grinned. “Besides, some of McIntosh’s boys saw us together in Carson City today.”

  “OK,” Juanito said. “So we ride together to someplace just outside of Reno. Sikes and I wait for you while you go in for a look around. What then?”

  Emmett grabbed a few pieces of dead branch and tossed them onto the fire. “That’s something I won’t know till I get there.”

  Juanito and Sikes glanced at one another.

  “If anything looks peculiar,” Emmett said, “I’ll cut out three ways from Sunday.”

  “Like Sikes said, careful’s the word then, hermano.”

  Emmett nodded. “Who knows? Might catch a fortunate break.”

  Sikes dumped out the rest of his coffee. “Or they might catch you.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  The tables and chairs had all been moved to the edges of the dining room inside Zhang’s Restaurant in Virginia City. As Li Xu plucked and strummed her pipa, she watched her friends dance. Their giggles brought a smile to her face.

  The eleven Chinese girls—all in their middle to late teens—had each dressed in traditional clothes that night, as they did each Tuesday night. All wore wide-legged trousers beneath loose-fitting, thigh-length smocks, most with frogged closures. The colors and patterns varied but tended toward deep reds and
burgundies, trimmed with black, gold, or both. Li Xu found the palette pleasant to the eyes.

  She still wore her hair partly down and partly pinned up, but most of the girls wore a pair of braids or twists pinned high on the sides of their heads. Very elegant.

  At the end of the tune, everyone laughed and clapped. The handful of mothers chaperoning the weekly event sat in one corner sipping tea, gossiping, and paying little attention to their daughters.

  While several of the girls streamed off into the kitchen to bring out tea and sweet pastries, Li Xu remained seated in the corner opposite the mothers. Her friend Ping scurried over and sat beside her. Before long they plunged into one of their most frequent topics of conversation: turning twenty and facing an arranged marriage.

  “Li-Li, why don’t you trust your parents?” Ping said. “They’re the best. I wish my parents were half as fun as yours.”

  “I trust them about most things,” she said.

  “Then trust them now. They’ll find you a good man.”

  Li Xu rolled her eyes. Here we go again. “Ping, I’m glad you’re confident about the outcome of your parents’ arrangements, but honestly, I don’t know of a Chinese man in Virginia City that I’d want to marry.”

  “There are a thousand of us here in this one town, Li. There’s got to be at least one…”

  Li shook her head slowly. “Anyway, I’d rather choose—when I’m ready.”

  “It doesn’t work that way, and you know it.”

  “Did my mother send you over here to spoil my night?” she asked, glowering playfully.

  Ping laughed. “No, I’m just sad for you.”

  “Don’t be,” she said. “I’m perfectly fine.”

  “What if your parents could find you a husband who’s not from around here?”

  Li loved Ping to death. But she was growing tired of the persistent pressure to quietly accept any marriage arrangements her parents might come up with. She decided it would be fun to get a fresh reaction out of Ping. Looking up and away, she said, “I wouldn’t mind considering a husband who’s not from around here.”