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

by GP Hutchinson

  Sure enough, throughout the night their dozing was disrupted time and time again. Yahoos ran and rode up and down the avenues as though they were making the last dash on a cattle drive, hooting and yelling and firing off every kind of handgun, rifle, and shotgun known to the West. Shouting, laced with streams of profanities foul enough to make the old Deluder himself blush, echoed through the streets.

  At one point, a glass bottle shattered against the front wall of the Dutchman’s Inn. Li jumped in her sleep. Not long afterward, a woman screaming then sobbing bitterly somewhere across the street dragged both Emmett and Li out of their slumber once and for all.

  She crawled up beside him and nestled under the protection of his arm.

  When her breathing failed to slow into that relaxed, even rhythm that would have told him she’d managed to drift off to sleep again, he whispered, “Are you OK?”

  The weeping and moaning from the woman across the street continued.

  Li whispered, “That could have been me…if you had not stood up to McIntosh.”

  He stroked her hair. “Try not to think of that. Let me take you where you’ll never have to worry about that again.”

  She held on to him tightly. “Thank you, Emmett. Thank you for not leaving me.”

  Even considering all the danger, he was glad he hadn’t.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

  The next morning Truckee had an entirely different look and feel. It still smelled of burning wood and liquor and human waste. But oddly—as folks would be in any respectable town around the country—ordinary people were up and working as though the only thing heard during the night had been crickets and owls.

  The same was true down at the railroad station. There Emmett admired the stalwart locomotive that would pull the westbound Central Pacific railcars over the high sierra: four powerful driver wheels toward the back, four smaller wheels up front, a mushroom-shaped smokestack up top. The big mechanical beast gave an occasional thump or hiss as the engineer, his fireman, and his brakeman clambered about, checking this and that.

  Li stood close by Emmett’s side. Even as he quietly reminded her to carry herself like a man and to keep her hat brim low, he had to suppress the urge to take her slender hand in his own.

  Juanito and Sikes remained vigilant, scanning the platform, eying passengers and passersby alike.

  With their tickets purchased and horses loaded, nothing remained but to wait. And it was while waiting that a feeling of disquiet began to descend over Emmett. Rather than drawing comfort from the relative ease of their escape from Nevada, he found himself unsettled that everything had gone as smoothly as it had. Apart from the three suspicious riders out on the wagon road, the only fright had come from the typical nightly horrors of Truckee. He’d expected more trouble. And the fact that it hadn’t yet come left him feeling it must still lie ahead. But when? And where?

  Just then the train whistle sounded and the bell began to clang. The conductor made the customary “all aboard” call.

  Emmett looked down the line at Li, Juanito, and Sikes. “Shall we?”

  The locomotive was pulling six cars—the wood fuel car, three passenger cars, a livestock car, and a caboose. Emmett, Li, and company climbed up into the last of the passenger cars, the one just ahead of the livestock car. They took a pair of bench seats that faced each other near the middle of the carriage, Emmett on the aisle beside Li, facing forward, and Juanito on the aisle beside Sikes, facing rearward.

  With a last blast of the whistle, the train lurched and began to chug ahead.

  Li put a hand to her mouth to cover a giggle.

  Inclining his head toward her, Emmett said in a hushed voice, “Manly.” He winked. “At least till we get past Sacramento. Then you can be as girly as you want. In fact, I’d like that.”

  She smiled at him.

  “First time on a train?” Sikes asked.

  She nodded, and he smiled back.

  Emmett made himself comfortable on the bench, but his mind was busy. He wondered how far afield McIntosh and Blaylock would go. Cromarty had told him they would be watching every rail station in the region. Emmett and his companions had cleared not only Nevada, but now also Truckee in California. He found it hard to believe they could have bypassed the threat that easily.

  Rubbing his chin, he recalled the railroad map on the wall at the Truckee station. The next stop would be Summit—fourteen miles away up a fairly steep gradient. The train wouldn’t move very fast along this stretch. He shifted and adjusted his gun leather, then glanced at Li’s waist to see how her holster sat.

  What he observed when he looked across at Juanito encouraged him. He had known his brother-in-law long enough to recognize his lawman face—that set jaw that told him Juanito was on the job, ready for action at any moment.

  Shifting his gaze to Sikes, he wasn’t so sure. He knew the man was in pain day and night. Just how well recovered was he?

  As the train achieved about as much speed as it was going to on the climb toward Summit, an unexpected sound caught Emmett’s ears.

  Juanito’s gaze shot to the ceiling of the railcar. Over the clack-clack of metal wheels on sections of rail came the distinct and dissonant clomp of footsteps on the roof.

  Emmett leaned forward and said to Juanito, “Does the train crew ever travel from one car to another that way?”

  Juanito’s hand was already on the grip of his revolver, “I don’t think so, hermano.”

  Right then Emmett knew. This was it.

  He stood, pistol drawn, and shouted, “Get down! Everyone!”

  The eight or ten passengers in the railcar with them turned and gawked, seemingly more puzzled than alarmed.

  The car’s front and back doors burst open. A rugged fellow with two drawn Remingtons rushed into the front of the car and opened fire.

  Emmett didn’t think about shooting. He thought only about protecting Li. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her rising to her feet. With one hand, he pushed her back down. With the other he thumbed back the hammer of his Colt.

  He pointed and fired at the gunman with the Remingtons. The man’s face jerked to the side, flinging a gory spray. Women screamed.

  Emmett felt Sikes behind him. Juanito stepped into the aisle. Both were already shooting.

  The next face Emmett saw was Charlie Blaylock’s. Charlie struggled to get past the fallen man with the Remingtons. He stumbled, yet even so kept his wide eyes focused on Emmett. As he went down, he managed a shot in Emmett’s direction.

  Another McIntosh hand had breached the door in Charlie’s wake. He too came in with guns blazing. Emmett fired back. Bullets now flew in both directions up and down the railcar. Windows shattered, sending shards of glass stinging through the air.

  Suddenly the upper half of a man appeared in the window across from Emmett. Hanging from the roof somehow, the outlaw gritted his teeth, thrust his pistol through the opening, and fired.

  Li shrieked. Emmett glanced back at her. She held a hand on her upper arm and stumbled back into the seat where Sikes had been.

  Dammit! Emmett fired at the figure in the window. Not waiting to see whether his instincts had been true to him, he twisted toward the door, thumbed back the hammer, and squeezed off a shot at the gunman behind Charlie. A cry from the window told him that shot had found its target. His eyes confirmed he’d hit the one behind Blaylock.

  He hazarded another glance at Li. She was fumbling to draw her revolver. “You OK?” he shouted over the melee.

  Her eyes widened. In one fluid move, she let go of the handgun, drew one of the metal throwing sticks from her cattleman’s cuff, and let it fly.

  Emmett spun again to find Charlie Blaylock only steps away, clutching at his own throat. Li’s throwing stick was deeply embedded right beside his Adam’s apple.

  Charlie’s tongue flailed in his open mouth. His bulging ey
es settled on Emmett. Struggling with one hand to extract the chopstick from his neck, he swung his pistol hand up and fired.

  Emmett charged him. He jammed his Colt into Charlie’s ribs and pulled the trigger.

  Charlie shuddered.

  Someone yelled, “You Texas son a of bitch!”

  Emmett whirled to find Seth Blaylock clambering up the aisle toward him, his face twisted with rage.

  Juanito stepped into the gangway. He took aim at the dandy, but the train jerked on its rails and the bullet went wide. Before he could thumb back the hammer and fire again, Blaylock biffed him with the butt of his Schofield. Juanito reeled and toppled against Emmett.

  “Sikes!” Emmett yelled as he and Juanito fell in a tangle. But a momentary glimpse revealed the Englishman was several seats away, grappling hand to hand with another of McIntosh’s outlaws.

  Emmett clambered from beneath his brother-in-law. Still on his hands and knees, he looked up—and absolute terror gripped him.

  Seth had caught sight of Li. Recognition clearly registered in his eyes. Worse yet, the slaver had a clear line of fire at her.

  Scrambling over Juanito, Emmett threw himself at his enemy. The Schofield went off. He couldn’t see whether or not the bullet hit Li.

  All he could do was go after Blaylock with everything he had left. He clenched the outlaw’s gunhand and pummeled away at him.

  But Seth’s fury equaled his own. He shoved and clawed to break free.

  Emmett refused to let go, refused to let Blaylock fire another shot.

  He punched and jabbed and clung to his enemy until—seemingly right in his ear—a gun discharged. He flinched, and in that instant Blaylock head butted him. Hard.

  Sharp pain and sudden dimness and bursting light disoriented him. He shook his head, determined not to drift into unconsciousness. He couldn’t leave Li.

  Seth had him by the throat now. Fingernails digging in. Grip tightening.

  He couldn’t breathe.

  Just as things were starting to grow dim around the edges, he managed to peel back just one of Blaylock’s fingers. And he hung on to that finger. He bent it back and twisted it mercilessly—as though he could tear it off completely.

  Blaylock cried out. His grip loosened. Emmett gulped air and lashed out.

  Before he knew it, he and Blaylock were trading punches in the doorway at the rear of the railcar. He sensed the train was slowing down. All he could think of was throwing Blaylock overboard before they reached the next station.

  At last he got him into a headlock. While Seth threw bruising blows into his stomach and kidneys, Emmett squeezed tighter and tighter. He rammed his enemy’s head into the outside wall of the passenger car, then yanked a knee up into his gut.

  That did the trick. Finding Blaylock off balance, he gave one final shove and watched the dandy go reeling off the train, rolling over and over on the embankment until he was blocked from view by the livestock car.

  Emmett leaned out from between the two railcars. The train was slowing and making a sharp turn on its tracks. He couldn’t see where Blaylock had ended up. Twisting the other way toward the locomotive, he saw that the engine was just pulling up to the tiny station in the town of Summit.

  Still catching his breath, Emmett stumbled back inside the passenger car. His head throbbed, and the bridge of his nose stung. He dabbed at the spot and found it split and bleeding.

  Propped up against one of the benches stood Sikes, revolver recovered and in hand, barrel pointed at the ceiling, hammer cocked. He was covering Juanito, who was making his way down the aisle, pressing a bandanna to the side of his bleeding face, looking things over, seat by seat.

  Emmett caught sight of Li Xu—standing right where he had left her—pale but fully alert. Her gaze was fixed on Charlie Blaylock’s corpse, sprawled out in the seat directly across the aisle from her. Her throwing stick protruded from his neck, and his side was marked with a deep-red hole surrounded by burnt and bloody shirt cloth.

  Just as Emmett reached her, the conductor stepped into the front doorway of the car. Juanito spun toward him. The railroad man’s lips parted as he stared past Juanito at the rest of the car. His fingers tightened on the doorframe, and for a moment Emmett thought the fellow was going to retch.

  “You’re looking at the work of Lucian McIntosh’s boys,” Emmett said. “A murderous bunch out of Reno.”

  The conductor blinked several times. “The engineer is afraid we may be overrun by more of these people if we make our regular stop here in Summit. He wants to keep rolling.”

  “I don’t suppose any of these folk would mind putting a little distance between us and the bunch responsible for all this.”

  The conductor nodded, then turned and hurried for the engine.

  After only seconds, the train lunged and strained, grinding its way ahead once more.

  “Look!” Juanito pointed.

  Emmett bent to get a clear view out of the shot-up railcar windows. It appeared to be three McIntosh men, darting for cover behind a rough timber building.

  “Reckon that’s all that survived?” He couldn’t help but wonder whether that was the last they’d see of the slaver’s gang.

  “No way of knowing.” Juanito kept peering back at the building.

  Emmett turned to Li and cupped her face in his hand. Then he lifted her fingers from where she had been pressing them against her upper arm. A bullet appeared to have only just nipped her.

  As he examined her wound, he asked, “Anybody happen to see whether Seth Blaylock managed to get up and run after I pushed him off the train?”

  Li shook her head.

  Sikes eased himself down onto a bench. “I didn’t realize you’d thrown him from the train.”

  “The only McIntosh men I know of off the train,” Juanito said, “were the three we just saw running.”

  “We weren’t going all that fast when I pushed him. And he rolled when he hit the ground. Roll might’ve broken his fall. I couldn’t see whether he stayed down or got up and ran.”

  Having thoroughly inspected Li’s arm, Emmett drew her to himself and held her.

  “Are you hit anywhere else?” he asked.

  “No,” she said. “I’m OK.”

  He stepped back. “Here. Let me see. Just to be sure. Sometimes you don’t notice.”

  Emmett had her turn while he looked her over head to heels. “You look mighty good to me,” he whispered in her ear.

  She pushed him back and grinned for a second.

  Both their grins faded, however, as their gazes settled on the carnage all about them.

  Emmett called out. “Anybody else need help?”

  At that, an older woman in a fancy deep-violet dress let her tears give way to an audible sob. Li stepped past Emmett and went to sit beside her.

  Emmett made his way to Juanito.

  Juanito folded the bandanna he’d been pressing to his cheekbone. “Two innocent passengers killed and two more injured, by my count.”

  “That’s more blood on McIntosh’s head,” Emmett said.

  “At least your brother’s murderer is dead. I find it a lot easier to go home now, knowing—one way or another—justice was served here.”

  “One way or another,” Emmett said soberly, “it usually is.”

  CHAPTER SIXTY

  The Central Pacific westbound rolled at slow speed through Sacramento. Emmett, like everyone else in the car, stared out the windows in somber silence.

  In the hours since they had chugged away from Summit, he and Juanito had moved the dead to the back end of the carriage—Charlie Blaylock and the other McIntosh men on one side of the aisle, the two innocent men caught in the cross fire on the other. Everyone else had taken their things and moved to those seats at the front end that weren’t spoiled by blood.

  With the train bell clangi
ng in the background, Sikes said, “Looks like lawmen are waiting for us. The stationmaster in Summit must have telegraphed ahead.”

  Emmett was impressed by the sheer number of them—on the platform, alongside the tracks. Most wore badges—some stars and some shields. A few were mounted, rifles or shotguns across their laps. The rest stood at intervals along the length of the station.

  “After our experience in Nevada, I can’t help but wonder whether these lawmen are bought and paid for like the ones in Reno,” Juanito said.

  Emmett frowned. “What? You think they’re waiting here to arrest us instead of going after those that stormed the train?”

  Juanito shrugged.

  “Well, if they are bought and paid for, prospects don’t look real good for us. We’re heavily outgunned here.”

  The train jostled to a full stop, the whistle blew, and the locomotive hissed loudly.

  Rising to his feet and taking Li’s hand, Emmett said, “Time to face the music.”

  Li met his gaze. “Do you think they’re going to blame you?”

  He wanted to tell her no, but that wouldn’t serve either of them well. The faces they observed outside were grim. He couldn’t be sure what their assumptions were. At that moment, more than anything, he wanted to apologize to Li. Though in his gut he knew there was no easy way out of Nevada, he somehow couldn’t help believing he could have planned a better getaway if he’d only had more time to think about it.

  “Anything could happen,” he murmured, giving her hand a squeeze. “Just stay close.”

  Sikes limped down off the train first, followed by Juanito. Emmett was on the bottom step of the railcar when, from the corner of his eye, he spotted a figure running from the caboose toward the mounted lawman at the far right-hand end of the station.

  Hardly had his mind interpreted what he was seeing when a gunshot rang out. Instinctively he blocked the railcar’s exit with his body to protect Li. At the same time, his hand flew to his Colt revolver.