by Gary Jonas
Table of Contents
Title Page
NM chapter one
NM chapter two
NM chapter three
NM chapter four
NM chapter five
NM chapter six
NM chapter seven
NM chapter eight
NM chapter nine
NM chapter ten
NM chapter eleven
NM chapter twelve
NM chapter thirteen
NM chapter fourteen
NM chapter fifteen
NM chapter sixteen
NM chapter seventeen
NM chapter eighteen
NM chapter nineteen
NM chapter twenty
NM chapter twenty-one
NM chapter twenty-two
NM2 chapter one
NM2 chapter two
NM2 chapter three
NM2 chapter four
NM2 chapter five
NM2 chapter six
NM2 chapter seven
NM2 chapter eight
NM2 chapter nine
NM2 chapter ten
NM2 chapter eleven
NM2 chapter twelve
NM2 chapter thirteen
NM2 chapter fourteen
NM2 chapter fifteen
NM2 chapter sixteen
NM2 chapter seventeen
NM2 chapter eighteen
NM3 chapter one
NM3 chapter two
NM3 chapter three
NM3 chapter four
NM3 chapter five
About the authors
NIGHT MARSHAL BUNDLE
BOOKS 1, 2 & 3
THREE TALES OF THE UNDEAD WEST
#1. NIGHT MARSHAL by Gary Jonas
#2: HIGH PLAINS MOON by Glenn R. Sixbury
#3: THIS DANCE, THESE BONES by Rebecca Hodgkins
NIGHT MARSHAL: A TALE OF THE UNDEAD WEST
by Gary Jonas
This one is for Debbie and Gail
Thanks for being there every Thursday!
CHAPTER ONE
Silver Plume, Colorado - 1882
Jack Talon eyed the four men like a vulture waiting for the next corpse to fall. He held his cards close to his vest. A pile of cash sat at the center of the table. Large stacks of bills stood in front of Jack, but the other players were nearing the end of their runs. The players studied their cards, but Jack studied the players.
The Silver Plume Saloon sat practically empty in the early December afternoon. The silver miners who made up most of the clientele were still working in the mines. Later, the saloon would be crazy busy, but for now the piano sat silent and the barkeep napped between customers.
Jack coughed hard, sending shudders through his rail-thin body. Life had dealt him some lousy cards, but tuberculosis or no, he intended to find a way to stack the deck in his favor. He watched his lovely wife, Sonya approach the table with a bottle of whiskey. She swept her auburn hair back with a casual flip of her free hand. She wore a fine burgundy satin dress, an explosion of rich color in a drab room.
Sonya set the bottle beside Jack then moved behind him to massage his shoulders. She leaned down to kiss his stubbled cheek, her fingers still working their magic.
Jack coughed again and Sonya handed him a handkerchief. He wiped his mouth leaving traces of blood on the soft white fabric, then smoothed out his mustache.
He tossed a few bills into the pile at the center of the table. “I call,” he said.
Sonya smiled. “I think it’s time for you to get some rest, Jack.”
One of the players, a man named Roy, leaned forward. “He ain’t goin’ no place till we can win back some of our money.”
Jack gave Sonya a wry grin. “Sorry, Love, looks like I’ll be here forever.”
Roy grimaced. “You sayin’ we’re no good at poker?”
Jack coughed again and nodded. “The sad fact, sir, is that Death will take me long before you can ever best me at cards.”
Roy’s face flushed red and he suddenly rose to his feet, knocking his chair over backward with a loud crash. His hand hovered over the Colt in his holster.
“Maybe I’ll help you along to that death you got comin’.”
Jack looked bored. “Can we finish the hand first?”
“You too yellow to face me?”
The other players fidgeted and scooted back.
Jack sighed. “Help me up, Love. I believe I’m being challenged.”
The oldest player, a man in his sixties, shook his head. “Now, Roy, ain’t no call to be killin’ a sick man. I reckon he doesn’t know who you are or that you’ve killed three men.”
“He’s about to find out. Sick or no, ain’t no call for him to insult us.”
“The man is sick, Roy. It’s not a fair fight.”
Jack smiled at the old man. “It’s quite all right, sir.”
Jack pushed himself to his feet, but his right hand did not move toward his gun, which he kept in a crossdraw holster.
“Let’s take this outside,” Roy said.
“Too cold out there, sir. I’d rather kill you here.”
Roy tensed.
Jack doubled over in a coughing fit.
“Fakin’ it ain’t gonna save your life,” Roy said and went for his gun.
Before the weapon cleared the holster, Jack straightened and pulled his Colt .45. Jack held the gun leveled at Roy, who stared in slack-jawed amazement at the sick man’s speed.
“Now, sir, I can squeeze the trigger or we can finish the hand. Which do you prefer?”
Roy swallowed hard.
Jack’s gun did not waver.
The old man stared at Jack’s gun. He noticed the image of a playing card etched into the handle. A Jack with a knife plunging into his head.
“Suicide Jack?”
Roy’s eyes widened further.
“Y-you’re Suicide Jack?”
“Damn right he is,” the older player said. “Done went and killed twenty men.”
“Twenty-five,” Sonya said, “but who’s counting?”
Jack kept his gaze on Roy. “I’m sorry, sir, but I didn’t catch your answer. Do you want to be number twenty-six or shall we play cards?”
“Uh…” Roy let the pistol drop back into his holster. “Cards?”
“Are you quite certain? I haven’t killed anyone in a while and I’m feeling an itch in my trigger finger.”
Roy nodded, sweat beading on his forehead. “I’m sure.”
Jack frowned as if disappointed, but then he brightened.
“What have you got?”
Roy looked confused.
“Your cards, sir,” Jack said. “What have you got?” He still had the gun aimed at Roy’s face.
Roy’s eyes never left the barrel as he turned over his cards. “Two pair. Aces over sevens.”
Jack smiled, slid the gun into his holster and flipped his cards over.
“Excellent. Full house. Kings over Queens.”
The other men threw their cards in. Jack smiled and raked the pile of cash over to his stack.
Sonya placed a hand on Jack’s shoulder.
“I really do think you need a break.”
Jack kissed her. “No, my dear. All I need is you.”
“Then I need a break.”
Jack turned to the players as he gathered up his cash. “Sorry, Gents. You heard the lady. Sonya needs some time to relax. If you’ll excuse us.” He tossed a bill on the table. “Next round of drinks is on m
e.”
Jack put an arm around Sonya and as they walked off, he leaned into her for support.
Once they were out of earshot, Sonya glared at him. “One of these days, you’re going to run into someone faster than you.”
“Perhaps,” Jack said. “But not today.”
CHAPTER TWO
Ted Olsen tugged his coat tighter, held his hat to his head and leaned into the blowing snow as he and his brother approached the Dumont cemetery. He looked at the fifteen men and women gathered before an open grave. They shivered as the snow flurries whipped around them and an old preacher faced them trying to keep snow out of his Bible. A coffin sat before the grave, the lid open to reveal a young woman holding a baby in her lifeless arms. Ted’s misgivings resurfaced.
“I ain’t sure we should bother him now,” Ted said.
Frank didn’t reply and Ted knew he still wasn’t too keen on having to split the silver with him.
“I mean,” Ted said, adjusting his grip on his hat, “maybe we should wait on account of his wife getting buried now and all.”
“What do you know?” Frank said. “You can’t spell dog if I spot you the D and the O.”
“Just don’t seem right,” Ted said. He let go of his hat for a moment and the wind lifted it off his head. He managed to catch it and pulled it back. There were no trees in sight. All of them had been chopped down for at least thirty miles and used for building the towns, shoring up mines, and laying railroad ties. Ted hated how the wind whipped around without anything to break it.
“I don’t remember ever asking you.”
“I’m just volunteering my thoughts.”
As they neared the group, they could hear the preacher speaking.
“… Bid farewell to Mary Wilkins and her stillborn daughter, Josephine.”
The snow fell harder. Two men rose and closed the lid on the casket.
Ted grabbed Frank as they reached the edge of the crowd. “Ain’t right to interrupt.”
Frank sighed. “Ted, I told you—”
Ted shook his head. “Plus, you don’t want anyone else to overhear.”
Frank slowly nodded then stopped and listened to the preacher go through his whole ashes to ashes dust to dust routine. Ted was glad they wouldn’t be interrupting.
The small crowd formed a line so Ted and Frank fell in at the back. The wind shifted, blowing snow into Ted’s face. It also carried the words from the front of the line so he could hear the mourners give their condolences to the Mayor.
“I’m very sorry for your loss, Lucas. Mary was a wonderful woman and we’ll miss her terribly.”
“Thank you, Beatrice,” Lucas said.
And so it went until Frank and Ted reached the front of the line.
“If there’s anything we can do for you, just let me know,” said the man in front of them.
“I appreciate that, Charlie,” Lucas said, shaking the man’s hand.
Charlie moved off and Frank stood face to face with Mayor Lucas Wilkins. Lucas was a tall, slender man wearing a dark, but stoic look that went well with his long black overcoat and top hat.
“Howdy,” Frank said. “I understand you’re the mayor of Silver Plume.”
Lucas nodded. “I am.”
“I also hear tell you own a silver mine.”
Lucas frowned. “This is hardly the time to talk about a mine.”
Ted punched Frank in the arm. “Told ya it was outta line.” Ted turned toward the mayor. “Sorry your wife and daughter died on ya.”
“Hold up now. We hear that mine’s been sittin’ silent nigh on three years. We want to work it.”
“This is not the time or the place to discuss this. If you’ll excuse me,” Lucas said and walked away.
“Rude sumbitch, ain’t he?” Frank said, watching the man leave.
“Might want to cut him some slack seeing as how he lost his wife and daughter in one fell swoop.”
“Don’t give him the right to be rude. Let’s get to the mine.”
“Ain’t got his say-so yet, Frank. I vote we head on back to Silver Plume and go to the saloon.”
“Nobody gave you the right to vote. What I say goes, and I say we head on up to the mine.”
* * *
Frank and Ted approached the mine on horseback. The horses moved along the path, their hooves crunching on the gravel beneath the blowing snow. The trail was mostly clear, but snow began to accumulate along the sides. There were hundreds of mines in the area, but Frank had done his research and knew where to go. Two run-down buildings stood before the adit—one was the mining office and the other was the blacksmith. Down the hill, they could see the mill where the ore was run over the grizzly and crushed and prepared to take over to the train to Denver. Three ore carts sat abandoned and rusting in the weather at the front of the adit.
Snow whipped around and the flakes grew larger as they tied off the horses and carried a sledgehammer and long steel drill to the mine. Ted wasn’t thrilled about being a shaker, but he knew Frank would never let him swing an eight pound sledgehammer in his direction. Frank tugged on one of the boards nailed to the entrance. A sign hung on the boards that read: CONDEMNED.
“What’s that say?” Ted asked.
“Says come on in and get some silver.”
“All right. Let’s get outta the damn wind. I’m freezing my balls off.”
“Like you ever had a pair.” Frank tugged harder and the wood splintered a bit. “Help me out, Ted.”
The two men yanked the boards free and tossed them aside. Ted grabbed a bag of tools, slung it over his shoulder, and they entered the mine.
Once they were out of the wind, Frank brushed snow off his coat then stopped Ted, made him turn around. He dug in the bag and pulled out a lantern. As soon as he managed to light it, they moved into the darkness.
The lantern threw flickering light on the walls and the sound of the wind faded as they moved farther into the mine. Wooden beams shored up the walls. The ceiling was so low they had to duck their heads in places, and Ted nearly twisted an ankle on the rail for the ore carts. The temperature felt pleasant, but Ted wasn’t sure if it was just because they were out of the wind, or if the air inside the mine was warmer. He’d heard that mines stayed about the same temperature year-round.
“How far in we gotta go?” Ted asked.
“Quit your bitchin’. Ain’t much farther.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I’m smarter than you.”
Ted shrugged. “Okay.”
The mine opened up a bit and they were able to stand. Smaller passages led off from the main tunnel, but they weren’t shored up.
“What’s this?” Ted asked.
“A drift,” Frank said. “They probably found a vein here and followed it. I don’t think there’s anything more right here, so let’s go farther in.”
They continued down the tunnel. The sound of dripping water echoed through the passageway. The rocky walls pressed in so close at one point that they had to walk single file, then opened up again. This time they saw a small excavated area with a steam powered hoist.
“They got lower levels to this mine, too,” Frank said. “Hell, it might have upper levels. This area was doing bang-up business.”
“Why’d the mayor close it down then?”
Ted looked behind him and couldn’t see the exit and he couldn’t see more than a few feet ahead of the lantern. He wanted to leave this place and never come back. He’d much rather rob banks or steal horses. This mining stuff looked like too much work.
The tunnel led farther into the mine, but the next drift opened into a much wider area. Frank held the lantern high.
“Bet this was the mother lode.”
When Frank lowered the lantern, Ted caught a glimpse of something white.
He pointed and Frank moved the lantern over toward the far wall of the tunnel. Three skeletons were nailed to the shored beams by wooden stakes and drill-steels. Though dusty, the skeletons wore fine clo
thes.
“Check out the duds on them dead folk,” Frank said. “Bet they’ll clean up nice.”
“Why are they here?”
“Mayor must have killed ‘em. Probably his partners in the mine. Wanted to keep it all to hisself.”
“You sure?”
“Sure, I’m sure. What else could it be?”
“Thieves? Maybe they tried to sneak extra silver out with them?”
“Not that easy. They gotta change clothes in the forge out there and in a silver mine, they get paid in gold. ‘Course in a gold mine they get paid in silver. Keeps ‘em from thieving too much unless they want to shove ore up their butts or pay off a runner to sneak it out with their shit. Let’s get these guys outta the way.”
Ted looked around, rubbed his face. His eyes darted back and forth as if he expected some authority figure to step out of the shadows and blame him for the murders. Frank set the lantern on the floor and moved to the skeleton in the center. He pulled on the stake. It wouldn’t budge.
“You just gonna stand there or are ya gonna help me out here?”
Ted grinned. “I was just gonna stand here.”
“Get your ass over here.”
Ted obeyed and took hold of the stake. The two men pulled with all their strength. They twisted it around, yanked, and finally pulled it free.
The skeleton toppled over on top of them, arms draping over their shoulders.
Ted screamed.
“Shut up,” Frank said and shoved the skeleton into Ted’s arms.
The bones rattled as Ted tried to push them away.
Skeletal fingers twitched and the right hand clutched his coat. He wanted to scream, but realized it was just caught. It was stupid to think a skeleton could move on its own.
“I’m hung up here. Help.”
“You dumbass.”
Frank moved to help. He took hold of the skeleton. The skull turned and the jaws opened to chomp down on Frank’s hand, breaking the skin.
“Goddamn it!”
The skeleton reached up, grabbed Frank by the shoulders, pulled him down and bit into his neck. Frank screamed, and struggled to pull free, but skeletal hands held him in place. Blood poured over the dusty bones.
As the skeleton gnawed, the blood dripped and flesh began to grow back onto the bones. Veins and sinews slithered around the hands and face, slowly at first, then faster. Frank twitched, groaned and went silent. His face grew pale. A moment later, the skeletal figure tossed Frank’s corpse aside.
