by Neil Hunter
The Home of Great Western Fiction!
CONTENTS
About the Book
The Story
About the Author Page
Copyright Page
Piccadilly Publishing Page
Latimer was a tough Texas town. But things got a whole heap tougher when Ralph Elphick decided he wanted the oil discovered on range owned by Callum Bascombe and his wife Abby. Elphick’s first move was to have Callum Bascombe ‘vanish’. He figured Abby would be only too willing to sign over the land after that.
But Abby was tougher than she looked—resourceful, too. Accepting that her husband was most likely dead, she penned a letter to the US Marshal’s office, asking for help in solving her problem.
That’s where US Marshal Alvin LeRoy came into it.
LeRoy slipped quietly into town, playing an undercover role while he checked out the lay of the land. But things didn’t go according to plan. He took a beating that laid him up and did nothing to make him feel any more kindly toward the bad guys.
Stubborn as hell, LeRoy just kept coming, until Elphick’s hired guns took a hand. Bullets flew and bodies piled up, but there was just no stopping him. By the time he was through, Latimer knew the fury of one man’s fight for justice ... US Marshal Alvin LeRoy’s kind of justice.
LATIMER, TEXAS.
They left him lying in the dirt of the alley, beaten and bloody, and LeRoy might have stayed there the rest of the night if the woman hadn’t found him. He was half-conscious, his body aching fiercely, nothing broken but every part of him bruised and crying out for relief. The woman helped him to his feet, leaning him against the closest wall while he gained some strength to stay upright, sleeving blood from his eyes and probing the inside of his mouth with his tongue. No broken teeth, but cuts inside his cheeks where they had been gouged. LeRoy spat blood, felt the split lips and struggled to even see properly through eyes that were almost swollen shut. He was, he figured, a mess, and made no objection when the woman pulled his arm across her shoulder in an effort to keep him upright.
‘Come on, cowboy, don’t quit on me now. They might decide to finish you off if they come back. So get those feet moving and let’s get you out of here.’
LeRoy was barely aware of where they were going. He was ready to just lie down and quit, which was not his way. But he had been soundly worked over and the result was having an effect on him and he didn’t have the strength to resist right then. So he shuffled alongside the woman and she led him along the ally to the back lot of the buildings. He had no idea how long they moved, or where they went. He was so disoriented after the attack he simply stumbled and lurched his way through the shadows, his weight taken by the woman.
He vaguely realized they had entered a building, a door banging shut after they went through and she half-dragged him up a flight of stairs and into a room where she let him fall onto a bed, where he lay peering up at a high ceiling with the woman hovering over him. He didn’t move because it hurt just thinking about it. The only coherent thought going through his mind was the fact he wouldn’t be able to resist if his attackers did show up again.
Hell, son, you really walked into this one. They saw you coming and let you know …
The thought passed through his mind, drifted away and left LeRoy vaguely troubled. He had come to Latimer a few days ago, unannounced, and passing himself off as a visitor to town. He had dressed in range clothes, with nothing to show he was a US Marshal, mingling with the crowds in the saloons. That was his cover. What had been decided when he took on the assignment and LeRoy played it to the hilt.
So the attack had come about with a degree of surprise for him. A painful one. He was still trying to figure out what lay behind it when he slid into a restless sleep and when he did open his eyes, squinting against bright sunlight streaming in through the room’s single window, he was no closer to figuring out any answers.
He still ached. His body protesting when he tried to move. It was only then he became aware of someone in the room. He turned his head and saw the woman standing there, concern in her eyes and a frown on her face.
‘You had me worried,’ she said, moving closer.
LeRoy stared at her, doing his best to recognize her.
‘I didn’t think you were going to wake up. You were tossing and turning most of the night. Then you just went all still and I didn’t know what to do.’ She indicated a high-backed leather armchair, a rumpled blanket on it. ‘I guess I must have fallen asleep myself then. It was pretty late and I only woke myself a little while ago.’
LeRoy eased himself upright, the stiffness in his body telling him it was a foolish move. He saw his shirt had been removed and glancing down he had to admit the patchwork of bruises didn’t look pretty.
The woman gave a little laugh.
‘Don’t worry. I only took off your shirt. It was pretty well bloodstained. I cleaned up your face best I could.’
LeRoy tested his lips, his tongue feeling the tender flesh.
‘You did all this … why?’ he said.
‘You couldn’t help yourself after what they did. I figured if I let you stay there it might not get any better. So I brought you here so those men wouldn’t know where you were.’
‘I’m grateful for that but it still doesn’t tell me why. Right now I’m having trouble remembering exactly what happened last night. And I have no idea who you are and why you stepped in to help.’
‘My name is Abigail Bascombe. You are in my home. Safe for the moment …’
‘For the moment? That’s the part worrying me.’
‘I feel confident to say no one knows I found you last night and brought you here. Why? Because you have been asking questions about my husband Callum Bascombe.’
‘Whoever those fellers were they earned their pay last night,’ LeRoy said.
Abigail Bascombe placed her hands on her hips, color rising in her cheeks.
‘They could have killed you. Lucky I saw them follow when you left the saloon. I followed and got there after they left. And here you are … more or less alive.’
LeRoy held up a hand, the move causing him some discomfort from his bruised side. Abigail arranged the pillows at his back so he could sit in reasonable comfort.
‘Ease off, Miss Bascombe, I’m not about to leap out of bed and go chasing those fellers. Whoever they are I figure I’m allowed to express my feelings.’
She visibly relaxed. Letting her hands drop to her sides.
‘Please excuse my bad manners. I let myself get carried away at times. Not very ladylike … and by the way it’s Mrs. Bascombe. My husband vanished two months ago. I believe he has been killed and I am convinced it was due to matters involving Ralph Elphick, so you may understand my motives for helping you … mister?’
‘Ben Conroy.’
Abigail’s expression lightened and for the first time LeRoy realized how attractive she was. In her early thirties, with generous hazel eyes, her dark hair framing an unlined and soft face. A faint smile edged her mouth as she studied him intently.
‘Well, Mr. Conroy, forgive me if I doubt that is your real name. Or that you are the itinerant cowboy you pretend to be.’
‘Why would you say that?’
‘My business is people. Looking after their needs and assessing quickly how they might behave. All part of owning the saloon and hotel, which I now do since my husband vanished. And my assessment of you is you may dress like a cowboy and act like one, but underneath there is a calculating and clever man. I venture in your normal role you are less a cowboy and more of a lawman. You were deliberately making yourself known. Mentioning names to see how they would react.’
‘Well if that was the case I got a result.’
‘You coul
d have ended up with a bullet in you.’
‘Instead I got a warning. To tell me to stay away from asking too many questions. Beat a man and the interest passes. Kill him and there’ll be more questions. Maybe questions from the law … makes me figure somebody has something to hide.’
Abigail studied him for a moment, brow furrowed as she tried to figure him out.
‘Conroy, whatever game you are playing, be careful. If you keep digging the next time it won’t just be fists in a back alley.’
‘Next time I won’t go so easy on them.’
She stared at him until she realized there was a faint curl of his lips. Almost a smile.
‘Maybe they hit you harder than you realized. Now if you are in such a good humor a cup of coffee might help.’
LeRoy nodded and watched her leave the room. He stared out the window again. The patch of blue, with scraps of white cloud, was somehow settling and he concentrated on it for a time while his mind worked through the events since his arrival in Latimer.
Latimer was a well-established community outwardly prosperous, a large town riding on the thriving cattle business from the number of successful ranches in and around the area. In the days LeRoy had spent in Latimer he had seen the busy traffic coming and going. The stores with plenty of customers and the hotels doing similarly well. Two banks and a half dozen saloons. To all intents Latimer was doing fine.
Once he started asking his questions about Callum Bascombe he found the citizens of Latimer wary. Of him. They stepped aside. Spoke in guarded words as if concerned that he was about to do something to them. LeRoy didn’t let the atmosphere bother him. As a lawman he was used to being rebuffed. Rejected even. It came with the job. People often became guarded and sometimes hostile when confronted with a US Marshal, even though they might be totally innocent of any crime themselves. It was an occupational hazard and one that men like Alvin LeRoy came to accept.
Except in this instance he was not in Latimer as a Marshal. As far as the town knew LeRoy was simply a visitor asking questions. Nothing threatening, or out of the ordinary.
Or so he thought.
So why the attitude?
And why the attack?
Had his real identity been compromised?
Known to an element in town who didn’t favor a US Marshal showing up? If that was the case LeRoy might have ended up with a bullet in the back, left for dead in that dirty alley. He considered that and came to the conclusion his attackers might have taken on board the consequences of killing a lawman—if they suspected that was who he was. If that happened Latimer might easily have become the focus of an intensive manhunt that could have dug deep into the criminal element in town. The result could have been far reaching. The Marshal service viewed crimes against its members seriously and the death of one of their own would have left Latimer reeling.
LeRoy took a look around the room, suddenly feeling the need to have something to hand he could use to defend himself. He accepted he was in enemy territory and paranoia aside, he favored a degree of self-protection. There was a chair to one side of the bed holding his clothes, his boots on the floor beside it. LeRoy spotted his rolled gun rig under a fresh shirt. Turning himself slowly, wincing at the nagging pain from his bruised ribs, he worked a hand under the folded clothing until he felt the familiar outline of his holstered Colt. He curled his hand around the smooth butt, sliding the pistol free of the holster. The feel of the heavy weapon offered him a degree of comfort and he checked that the cylinder was loaded before he slid it under the cover of his blankets.
If a man’s best friend was his horse, as the old saying went, his Colt revolving pistol ran a close second.
He was relaxing again when the door opened and Abigail stepped inside the room, a wooden tray in her hands. She placed it on a small side table and poured coffee from a china pot into a wide cup. LeRoy had to admit the smell of coffee was welcome.
‘Will you be able to manage it?’
He held out a hand and took the cup, put it to his lips. The hot liquid stung his tender flesh but LeRoy swallowed and enjoyed the tasty sensation as it slid down his throat.
‘That is good coffee, ma’am.’
‘Please, please, call me Abby. All those stuffy titles stifle me. I am not offended by my name.’
‘Then do me the favor of calling me Ben.’
‘Very well. I suppose it will do until I learn your real name.’
‘You’ve proved you can make good coffee and established you have a determined attitude. Are you always so persistent?’
‘Only when I am sure of my feelings.’ She glanced across the bed, then showed a faint smile as she satisfied herself. ‘Tell me, Mr. Conroy, are you so insecure you feel you need to have your gun beside you in bed?’
If LeRoy was surprised at her sharpness he did not allow it to show as he held out his cup for more coffee.
‘Tell me I don’t need it and I’ll hand it over,’ he said.
She held his gaze. The look in her eyes told him he had expressed exactly how she felt herself.
‘Latimer has trouble,’ he said. ‘My coming here is liable to bring it into the open.’
‘Would it surprise you to know I have a pistol in the drawer next to my bed?’
‘After today nothing is going to surprise me about Latimer.’
‘Then tell me who you really are. No more of this wandering cowboy tall tale.’
So LeRoy gave her the whole story …
‘Latimer, Texas,’ Marshal Henlow said. ‘Heard of it?’
‘Only in passing,’ LeRoy said. ‘In the middle of cattle country.’
‘Has a long history in the business. Right now we have someone in trouble. A young woman who appears to be under threat. Possible disappearance of her husband.’
Chief Marshal Henlow lifted a letter from his desk and passed it across to LeRoy.
It laid out in clear terms Abby Bascombe’s concerns. Her worry over her vanished husband. That he may well be dead. She outlined the ongoing problem she was having over the persistent demands that she sell off her land, naming the man she was convinced was behind her husband’s disappearance. She couldn’t prove it but her insights into the reason why he had vanished had to do with the man called Ralph Elphick and his persistence in trying to persuade her to sell.
The reason was the oil find on the piece of range the Bascombe’s owed. A sizable deposit that her husband had denied Elphick. Abby understood the value of the oil yield. That in the near future it would be worth even more than it was now. Elphick wanted to get his hands on the oil, foreseeing the coming boom. It would bring in money. Lots of money and he wanted to have control.
The letter, two pages of neat script, detailed a great deal about Latimer and Elphick’s background. A man who had few scruples when he went after something he wanted.
‘Any information on this Elphick?’ LeRoy said.
‘Not much more than the woman’s letter states.’
‘But you feel there’s something worth investigating?’
Henlow nodded. ‘From her letter she gives the impression of being a smart young woman There’s no hysteria. She puts her case matter-of-factly. Enough that I think we should take a look.’
LeRoy scanned the letter again. He had to agree with Henlow.
Abby Bascombe told her story with conviction.
‘A US Marshal no less.’ Abby absorbed the information with little more than a slight inclination of her head. ‘I am not surprised something is being done to deal with Latimer’s problems, but a little disappointed only one man has shown up.’
‘No point coming in with a whole company and giving away the game,’ LeRoy said.
‘Is your subterfuge working?’
‘Maybe not as definite as I’d like.’
‘Perhaps you are not as good an actor as you need to be. ‘
‘Since I got here I’ve spoken about your husband. Made out we knew each other and I was worried I hadn’t heard from him for a while.’
>
‘That attack?’
‘A warning to back off by people who might have something to cover up.’
‘Do they think you might be a lawmen?’ I mean I figured out you were more than a drifting cowboy.’
LeRoy drank his coffee in silence until Abby, exasperated spoke again.
‘I could be right, couldn’t I? ‘
‘I don’t deny that. But if it’s a case I’m suspected of being a lawman I figure whoever is behind Latimer’s troubles is smart enough to know what would happen if they killed me outright.’
‘Your people would retaliate?’
‘A possibility. If that did happen the guilty would pull back and leave the law with nothing.’
‘You have a point. But what are you hoping to achieve?’
‘I’m working on that right now.’
‘Seeing the state you’re in doesn’t exactly fill me with confidence,’ she said, with a hint of a smile on her lips. ‘You will have read my letter.’
‘Yeah, I’ve seen it. You pen a persuasive story. Enough that my boss sent me to check it out.’
‘I presume you have a name to go with the title?’
‘Alvin LeRoy. ‘
‘You see, that wasn’t so hard now was it.’
He grinned. Painfully. ‘You’ll never know,’ he said. ‘Now bring me up to date with matters.
Abby related a recent incident that had only succeeded in verifying her suspicions.
‘You’ve been talking to the wrong people,’ Jack Kelly said.
‘What do you mean by wrong people?’
‘Let’s not play dumb. We both know who we mean.’
‘Mr. Kelly, you make no sense to me, and who I talk to is my business. I’m not beholden to you … or the man you work for. Please don’t treat me like a fool.’
‘Act like one and life could become, shall we say, difficult.’
‘Threatening a woman must make you feel so important. Is that what you did to my husband? Threatened him and when it didn’t work you made him disappear. If you believe that kind of threat will make me back down you are mistaken. Now if you do not have anything else to waste my time with I suggest you leave. You can use the rear door if you wish. It would suit you better than walking out of the front door.’
