The day Frank Angel shows up in Liberty he’s looking for Harry Culp, a man on the run. Angel doesn’t realize he’s walking into a dangerous situation that has nothing to do with Culp. The threat comes from the corrupt Judge Cranford and the town sheriff, Sherman.
When Angel steps in to help a young woman he’s arrested and falsely accused and sentenced to six-months hard labor in the prison camp run by Cranford and his brutal henchmen. It’s too late for Culp, who is already dead, and Cranford believes he has everything neatly under control.
But he and his bunch don’t realize who they have in their midst.
Frank Angel is an undercover operative, and not a man you want against you. Beaten and framed, Angel is about to fight back and it’s already too late for the sadistic Cranford and his crew.
Angel is mad and getting madder by the minute. What he discovers at the camp only adds fuel to the fire, and when Angel starts to burn, anything that stands in his way is going to be razed to the ground.
Hell has nothing on Frank Angel when he makes his final stand ... and Liberty will never forget that day!
SHOOT ANGEL!
ANGEL 9
By Frederick H. Christian
First Published in the UK under the title Standoff in Liberty by Daniel Rockfern in 2004
Copyright © 2004 by Frederick Nolan
First Smashwords Edition: August 2015
Names, characters and incidents in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information or storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law.
This is a Piccadilly Publishing Book ~*~ Text © Piccadilly Publishing
Series Editor: Ben Bridges
Published by Arrangement with the Author.
Chapter One
‘She’s lying!’ Harry Culp protested wildly. ‘I never laid a finger on her!’
The girl, lacquered red hair tumbling around her white shoulders, flung out a slim arm, a long finger pointing accusingly at Culp.
‘He did so too!’ she wailed, red mouth puckering. ‘He ... he was going to force me to—’
‘Force you? Hell, that’s all … ’ Culp yelled.
One of the hard-faced deputies reached out and prodded Culp’s shoulder. He was a big man, built like the side of a house, and the power in his large fist shoved Culp across the alley. The other deputy, who had placed himself behind Culp, stuck out a foot. Culp tripped and fell, sprawling on his back in the dirt of the gloomy alley. He lay stunned, staring up at the menacing shapes of the two deputies. A protest rose in his throat, and died just as swiftly. Something warned him to be careful. There was a bad feeling beginning to grow. Harry Culp was no fool. He’d been on the wrong side of the law for long enough to know that he had walked right into a set-up. The girl was in with the two deputies. The next move would be a threat of jail ... or a demand for money. It was so obvious it might have been laughable if it hadn’t been for the nagging worry at the back of Culp’s mind. Maybe he’d missed something. He couldn’t put his finger on it but he was certain there was more to this set-up than he’d realized.
‘On your feet,’ demanded the deputy who had laid Culp on his back. ‘We got a place for bastards like you!’
On his feet Harry Culp brushed dirt from his clothing. He glanced at the big deputy, trying to read the expression in the man’s small, mean eyes. He decided it might be best to give the game a chance to play itself out.
‘All right, boys, you got me,’ he said, forcing a little humor into his tone. ‘Now how about us getting round to settling this right here? I reckon we can figure something out to suit us all. Even the little lady there. What’s the going rate?’ Culp reached slowly into his coat pocket and drew out his wallet.
The big deputy dropped his eyes to the wallet, studying it closely. After a minute he raised his head, sucking in a sharp breath. Without prior warning his large right fist came out of nowhere and hit Culp full in the mouth. Culp staggered back across the alley, his shoulders banging painfully against the rough wall of the building behind him. Warm blood was oozing thickly from his mashed lips, dripping from his chin on to his shirtfront. He lifted a hand and clumsily wiped at the sticky wetness running down his face.
‘This feller’s got nasty habits,’ the big deputy said. ‘First he tries to rape the lady. Now he’s trying to bribe us. Koch, we better get him over to the jail ’fore he does anything else.’
The one called Koch grinned. ‘Hell, Duggan, the judge is going to love this boy!’
Duggan reached out and took Culp’s arm. Then he hesitated.
‘You carryin’ a gun?’
Culp just nodded and opened his coat, revealing the short-barreled Colt he wore in a shoulder rig. Duggan took the gun, tucking it in his belt.
‘Never do trust a feller who keeps his gun hid,’ he remarked. ‘You walk ahead of me, mister, and don’t try any funny stuff! One wrong move and I’ll kick the shit right out of you!’
They emerged from the alley and cut across the main street. Curious bystanders gathered on the lamplit boardwalks outside the saloons and gambling-houses. Harry Culp could see the stone-built jail. It looked solid. It was going to be a lot harder getting out than it had been getting in, he thought, sourly. He didn’t worry too much. He was no stranger to jails. What worried him more was the fact that he wasn’t going to be able to get to his horse and remove the $75,000 hidden in his saddlebags. Culp had risked a lot for that money.
He’d worked hard for it. He’d already had to outrun some lawman they had put on his tail. Luckily Culp had lost the man somewhere down Yuma way. He’d been figuring himself pretty smart until now. Then he’d gone and let himself get hooked like some barefoot farm boy down from the hills. All because he’d gotten itchy pants over a redheaded saloon girl when she’d rolled her eyes and twitched her tight little ass!
As they reached the jail Duggan stepped ahead and shoved open the heavy door. Culp followed him inside. Behind him Koch closed the door with a solid thump.
‘Customer, Phil,’ Duggan said to the man behind the large, cluttered desk.
The man stood up. He was large, powerfully built, with a thick body. His stomach bulged tautly against his tan shirt. In the yellow lamp light his bald head gleamed, giving him a cold, impersonal appearance. He moved around the desk, staring intently at Culp, absently fingering the thick mustache which adorned his upper lip.
‘What’d he do?’ he asked shortly. His words were brittle, snapped out quickly. Culp judged him as a man who lived on his nerves.
‘Would’ve raped Louella if we hadn’t come along,’ Duggan stated. ‘Right, Koch?’
Koch leaned against the edge of the desk, nodding eagerly. His eyes glittered brightly.
‘Damn right!’
‘No it ain’t!’ Culp burst out. He knew he was being foolish but he couldn’t stop himself from speaking.
‘He’s got a loose mouth, Duggan,’ the bald-headed man said. ‘For Christ’s sake close it!’
Culp knew what was coming and he tried to defend himself. But Duggan and Koch were old hands. They cornered Culp and dealt with him in a brutally methodical way that was far more frightening than the actual physical beating. When they were done they stepped back and appraised their handiwork with the air of true professionals.
Harry Culp lay in a haze of pain. His body pulsed with terrible intensity, as if every bone was broken, every organ ruptured. It hurt to breathe. It even hurt to think. When his eyes were able to focus
again he stared at the scuffed floorboards and realized that the red spots he could see was his own blood. The bastards! What the hell had he walked into?
‘Get him on his feet!’
Hands grabbed his clothing. Culp was hauled roughly to his feet and dragged over to the desk. He stared through badly swollen eyes at the bald-headed man, wishing silently that he had a gun in his hand.
‘My name’s Sherman,’ the man said. ‘This badge says I’m the law in Liberty. Long as you’re in my jail you remember that. I got one rule. Do as you’re told—every time. You just found out what happens if you don’t!’
Culp stayed silent. He learned quickly. It was one way of staying alive. In this place it looked like it was the only way of staying alive.
Sherman fingered his mustache. ‘Nothing to say? Glad to see we understand each other.’ He jerked a thick finger in Duggan’s direction. ‘Put him in a cell then get back in here so we can sort out the paperwork for the judge.’
Culp was dragged through a door and along a short passage. He received a distorted picture of bare stone walls, flickering lamps. The passage opened out on to the cell area. Culp was shoved into an empty cell. He lay on the cold stone floor and heard the door clang shut. The key rattled in the lock. Duggan and Koch vanished along the passage, leaving Harry Culp alone, hurt, and not just a little scared.
He didn’t sit up for a long time. For some odd reason he had the impression he was being watched. He felt sure that the moment he moved Duggan and Koch would appear to start beating him again. The fear stayed with him for some while. He eventually dispelled it as nothing more than reaction. He was being stupid. Letting his imagination scare him. But he knew it wasn’t imagination. He had come up against lawmen like Duggan and Koch before. Violent men who used their badges as an excuse for expressing their brutal characters. The other one, Sherman, was no different. Yet there was more to it than the initial violence. Culp couldn’t put his finger on it but the feeling was there.
A chill ran through his aching body. Culp sat up, cringing against the cruel pain racking his tortured flesh. He stared around the cell. It was empty save for a low cot against the rear wall. He stumbled to his feet and went over to it. There was a thin mattress on the cot, with a crumpled blanket half hanging to the floor. Culp wrapped the blanket around him and lay down. After the discomfort of the stone floor the cot felt almost luxurious. Culp lay staring through the bars of his cell, watching the door at the far end of the short passage, wondering what was going on in the office.
Much later the door at the end of the passage opened and a figure stood in the doorway, a dark shape against the yellow light flooding out from the office. The figure remained in the doorway for some time, then retreated into the office. The door was firmly closed again. Harry Culp saw nothing. Sheer exhaustion had dragged him into a deep, restless sleep, and he didn’t open his eyes until the cold light of dawn was pouring through the barred window of his cell.
He felt too stiff to move at first. The angry pain of the night before had become a dull, nagging ache. Culp’s left eye was swollen horribly and his crushed lips began to bleed when he opened his mouth. When he tried to sit up the effort brought a groan of agony from him. Duggan and Koch had really worked him over! Jesus, he was going to be stiff for days!
The door at the far end of the passage crashed open. Culp heard the sharp rap of footsteps on the stone floor. He lifted his head and saw Sherman staring at him through the bars of the cell.
‘Nice day outside, boy,’ Sherman remarked. ‘Good day for a hanging, like they say!’ He laughed sharply. ‘Judge’ll be here right quick.’
‘Sheriff,’ Culp called as Sherman turned away from the cell.
Sherman turned back to stare at him. ‘You want something, boy?’
‘You mind if I ask a question?’
‘Go ahead.’
‘Just what am I going to be charged with?’
Sherman tugged at his mustache. ‘Thought you heard last night. Well, first there’s the attempted rape of Louella Brill. Then you went and offered my two deputies a bribe, and when they wouldn’t take it you assaulted them. Naturally they were forced to defend themselves and you sustained certain injuries.’
Culp shook his head in disbelief.
‘Sheriff, you know and I know that’s a pack of lies.’
‘True, boy, but it’s your word against mine and my deputies. I’ll have to remind you that you did try to buy off my boys.’
‘It was a shakedown,’ Culp protested.
‘Tell it to the judge.’
‘You figure that’ll do any good?’ Culp asked drily.
Sherman shrugged. ‘Never know your luck, boy.’
‘In this town?’ Culp laughed harshly. ‘No chance, Sherman.’
‘You should of thought about that before you stopped over.’
The deputy named Duggan appeared.
‘Judge is here.’
Sherman nodded. ‘Open him up.’
Duggan unlocked the cell. They led Culp into the office. The other deputy, Koch, was there. Sitting behind Sherman’s desk was a silver-haired, lean man dressed in somber black. He stared at Culp through glittering black eyes. The hands resting on the desk were long and thin, the pale skin translucent enough to show a fine tracery of veins.
‘Read the charges against this man, Sheriff,’ the seated man instructed. His voice was dry, emotionless.
‘Deputies Duggan and Koch were forced to apprehend the prisoner in the act of sexually assaulting Miss Louella Brill. The prisoner then offered them money to forget what happened, and when Duggan and Koch refused this bribe he attacked them. His injuries are a result of their having to defend themselves.’
The judge glanced at Culp.
‘Do you have anything to say in your defense, Culp?’
‘Damn right I do! I don’t know what kind of a town you crooks are running but don’t expect me to just go quietly. This whole thing is rigged. All the way down the line from that little whore to this so-called trial.’
‘Have you finished?’ the judge enquired.
‘For now,’ Culp said. He had realized that he was wasting his breath. It made no difference what he said. It wasn’t going to change a thing. Not a damn thing!
‘Culp, in view of your aggressive attitude towards this court and its members, I feel no compunction towards reaching a liberal verdict. On the evidence presented to me in Sheriff Sherman’s written report, plus the testimony of Miss Brill and the two deputies, all of whom I have spoken to at length, I find you guilty on all counts. I sentence you, therefore, to six months’ hard labor. Sentence to commence immediately. This session of Liberty County Court is concluded. Remove the prisoner!’
Chapter Two
Frank Angel took his horse easily up Liberty’s main street, his gaze taking in the layout of the neat and tidy little town. It was the only way he could describe Liberty. It was a township which had sprung up in the first instance to serve the cattle community developing in the area. Over the years it had become established, more and more businesses opening up, a greater flow of families moving in. Gradually, though still supplying the outlying ranches, Liberty became independent. It prospered and took on an identity of its own. Unlike any ordinary cattle-town, Liberty went further than was usual in its attempts to create a better image for itself. It showed in the clean streets, the cared-for, painted buildings, the atmosphere of orderliness pervading the quiet calm. For some reason he couldn’t figure Frank Angel found Liberty just a little too good to be true. There was a feeling he had about the place, despite the fact he’d only just ridden in. Perhaps, he thought, it was just his suspicious nature. He never had been one for taking things at face value. Angel always liked to look a little deeper. It was surprising what a glance behind the scenes often revealed. Idly he wondered what Liberty’s skeleton in the cupboard looked like.
Angel reined in before a small establishment that advertised ‘Good Food’ and eased himself stiffly from the sad
dle. He looped the reins over the hitch rail, stepped up on to the boardwalk and went inside the restaurant. The interior reflected Liberty’s overall appearance. The place was clean, bright, neatly arranged. The eight tables were all covered by fresh, blue-and-white-checked cloths. The aroma of frying steak, drifting through from the kitchen in the rear, indicated that the standard of cooking would be as high as that of the interior decoration. Satisfied that he was going to have a good meal, Angel sat down, choosing a table by the window, which also allowed him a clear view of the door. He hadn’t been seated for more than a few seconds when he heard movement behind the counter and a girl with dark hair and green eyes appeared from the kitchen.
The hair and the eyes were the first things to catch Angel’s attention. The hair because it was thick and long and shone like he’d never seen hair shine before. The eyes were beautiful, striking, a shade of intense, sparkling green. They were both sensuous and mischievous, a combination Angel found irresistible. His interest was further aroused when the girl crossed over to his table, smiling at him as though they were old and very good friends. She was wearing a plain, light-blue dress that did wonders for her long-legged, slim figure, and Angel found it wasn’t doing him any harm.
‘My first customer of the day,’ the girl said pleasantly. ‘I always make a rule to give the first customer the very best service.’
Angel couldn’t help smiling. With a line like that she was bound to go far.
‘I’ve ridden a long way since this morning,’ he said, ‘so I warn you I’m a hungry customer.’
‘How about steak, with fried onions. Browned potatoes, greens, gravy. To follow I’ve got fresh apple-pie with cream that was still in the cow a few hours ago.’
‘If you could bring me a pot of coffee to start it’ll do just fine.’
The girl nodded and returned to the kitchen. Angel sat back and gazed out through the window. There weren’t very many people out on the street. Liberty seemed to have retired for lunch. He wondered where Harry Culp was—if the man was still in Liberty. Angel had lost a lot of time due to getting himself set afoot back in Arizona. Then he’d gone and walked in on that business with the Reece brothers and the Apache raiding-party at that way station. Matters had become a little difficult for a time and Culp had ceased to be Angel’s prime concern. But the interruption was over now and Angel had taken up the chase again.
Shoot Angel! Page 1
