LeRoy, U.S. Marshal

by Neil Hunter

  He heard shots above the sound of the storm, two, following each other close. He stumbled down on one knee, seeking a target, and framed in the fire’s glare he saw Jack Reno.

  The outlaw, eyes wide and staring spotted LeRoy in the same instant. The big .45 came around, picking up on LeRoy as he angled the rifle round on line with the man’s body.

  Even with the rising drone of the wind his shout reached LeRoy’s ears.

  ‘The hell with you, lawdog.’

  The pistol fired, the wink of flame brief.

  LeRoy felt the slug crease his cheek, leaving a bleeding graze.

  He fired the Winchester, levering a second, a third shot. Saw Reno stagger under the impact, but refuse to go down. The outlaw’s gun was grasped in both hands now, the muzzle shaking. LeRoy fired again before Reno could pull the trigger and the Winchester’s spout of flame sent the .44-40 slug on a direct line that ended as it slammed into Reno’s forehead, plowing on through to lift a wedge of skull. Reno’s last ever shot went into the dark sky as he toppled over on his back, slamming down hard.

  LeRoy touched his fingers to his cheek and felt the stream of warm blood running down to soak his collar.

  Somewhere close by he heard the whicker of a horse. LeRoy peered into the falling darkness and made out the bulk of the animal. It came towards him and he realized it was the black. He saw it carried no rider.

  ‘Spearman?’ he said, raising his voice against the wind.

  Nothing.

  Behind LeRoy the flames from the cabin billowed out, throwing a bright glare against the dust storm. For a moment the orange light showed the area and LeRoy spotted the humped form on the ground yards away. He moved towards it and bending over saw it was Spearman. He had been hit by one of Reno’s shots, the slug in his upper body. There was little blood and LeRoy realized the slug had most likely gone directly into his heart, killing him quickly.

  LeRoy went back to the black. It raised its head and watched him approach. Made no attempt to move aside. He gathered the reins and led the horse away from the cabin, taking them both across to the water source. He let the horse drink, dropping to his knees himself and splashed water on his face before he took a drink himself.

  The bullet tear in his cheek hurt like hell, so did the wound in his side but LeRoy figured he’d got off lightly. Everyone else involved was dead.

  Including the folk in Reverend Tamber’s train. A group of people caught up in the affair through no fault of their own. In truth simply because they had been there at the wrong time. Jack Reno and his outlaw bunch, savage to the last, had decided to end their lives because they had been witness to the diamond delivery. Put to death so Reno could collect the cache of diamonds and pass them along to Dietrich.

  It was a wrong that needed to be corrected. Back in New York sat the man who had set up the whole illicit affair. He had lost his diamonds, though he didn’t know that yet, and when the news reached him, would have to accept that and move on.

  Justice had to be served. One way or another. Trattori might believe all he had lost were the diamonds and money.

  He was wrong.

  He was going to lose a deal more than that. Alvin LeRoy would see to that.

  ~*~

  By dawn the storm had blown itself out. The sky was clear and fresh. It happened after a storm, as if the natural occurrence had cleansed everything. LeRoy had tethered the black to the water tower again and wrapped himself in a blanket, curling up at the base of the tower where he had fallen into a deep sleep, exhaustion catching up. He woke stiff, his wounds still giving him some discomfort, but he decided if he could feel he was still alive.

  He smelled smoke. It was still rising from the remains of the burned out cabin, drifting lazily in what little breeze there was now. On his feet LeRoy led the horse to the water where they both drank until they were satisfied. LeRoy dunked his head into the cool liquid, scrubbing his hands through his hair to rid himself of the gritty dust. He felt the stubble on his face and combined with his wrinkled, grubby clothing, decided he must look a sight.

  The black contented itself by grazing on the strip of grass that edged the pool.

  ‘Glad someone has breakfast,’ LeRoy said.

  He drained his canteen and filled it with fresh water. Checked his weapons and reloaded them. He wandered across and stood looking at the burned out cabin. It had collapsed in on itself sometime during the blaze, leaving a mess of skeletal rafters and blackened timber. Heat still rose from the debris. Somewhere in there were the diamonds. LeRoy wasn’t about to go and look for them. He walked back to where the black was still chewing on the grass and went through the saddlebags. Found a couple of strips of jerky. There was most likely food in the supplies scattered around the area. LeRoy hadn’t the inclination to go and find out. As he worked the tough meat between his teeth he made his decision. Mounting he took up the reins and swung the horse away from Buckmann’s Folly, figuring that the place had certainly lived up to its name, and pointed it in the direction of the distant fort.

  It was fair ride, but it would be worth it. At the military outpost he would be able to receive medical help, food and proper rest. He poked around in his dirty shirt and found a crushed cigar. Then he realized he had no matches so had to content himself with chewing on the tobacco. As the sun rose and it started to become hot LeRoy called himself a fool for not picking up one of the discarded hats that had been lying around.

  ‘Hoss, I ain’t about to go back. Just have to tough it out. The both of us.’

  Later he pulled a shirt from his saddlebags and draped over his head and shoulder. It was far from elegant but in his current condition he didn’t care.

  ~*~

  As a military establishment Fort Bellman was passable. It was situated around the spring that provided water – which was the reason it was in existence – and the scattering of buildings, a mix of timber and adobe was a welcome sight to LeRoy when he rode in. It was not his first visit to the place.

  He drew rein and slid from the saddle, leaning against the black. He felt weaker than he had earlier, became aware of wetness along his side. The wound had opened during his ride and was bleeding freely.

  ‘LeRoy…’

  He barely recognized the voice. The face was familiar. Sergeant Lew Tolliver. The man appeared at LeRoy’s side, taking hold of his slumping figure.

  ‘Kelso. McAndrews. Help this man to the infirmary. Quick as you like.’

  Overcome by a sudden weakness that drained his reserve. He had little memory of what happened next…

  ~*~

  The wound had become infected. The fort’s doctor had to open and drain it a number of times. A fever came, LeRoy succumbing to the poison. It took him two days to overcome the resulting fatigue, and it was only on the third day he woke to find Laura Wakefield sitting beside his bed in the infirmary, applying a moist cloth to his hot forehead.

  ‘Well, look at you. Awake at last,’ she said. ‘Alvin LeRoy, you had us worried.’

  ‘Water,’ he said. His voice was reduced to a croak.

  She filled a tin cup from a jug on the small locker beside the bed and lifted his head so he could drink.

  ‘Fresh from the spring,’ she said.

  LeRoy stared at her, seeing a different image from the last time he had seen her. Instead of her rough clothing she was wearing a blue dress, her hair brushed and even shiny.

  ‘Who are you?’ he said. ‘You remind me of Laura Wakefield…but…’

  ‘You must be getting well. Humor even.’

  ‘I’m not dreaming am I?’

  ‘The wife of the commanding officer has helped me. This dress is part of her attempt to civilize me.’

  ‘Well, it’s doing a good job.’

  ‘How are you feeling today?’

  ‘Tired. Weak. But I’m hungry.’

  ‘You haven’t eaten for three days so I am not surprised. We’ll see what the doctor says.’ Laura started to rise. Paused to stare at LeRoy. ‘Tolliver only
told me a few things. I wanted to hear it from you, Alvin. That they are all dead. I suppose that sounds terrible coming from me.’

  ‘You witnessed what they did. Why should you hide your feelings. Just remember what I told you at the time.’

  ‘Their time is coming.’

  She remembered. Recalled the expression in his eyes and knew she need not ask any more.

  ‘I will go and speak with the doctor. You just rest.

  LeRoy stared out the room’s single window. He could see a patch of clear blue sky. For the moment he was content to simply lie there, though his mind was crowded with thoughts over the whole affair. And what needed doing to finish it. As far as LeRoy was concerned there was a final matter he had to exercise. He held no doubt as to what that was. He also understood it would not be anything his superiors would approve of so he had not made any mention in the telegraph message sent from the fort.

  Fort Bellman was one of the few that boasted a telegraph line. It had been established for almost a year and connected the army post to the outside world. As soon as his recovery allowed him to think straight LeRoy asked for a message to be sent to his distant headquarters, detailing his ending of the pursuit of the Reno bunch. Over the sending and receiving of a number of messages LeRoy had brought his superior up to date. He was told to take whatever time he needed to recover. It was what LeRoy had been hoping for.

  Sergeant Tolliver informed him that the fort’s commander had ordered a troop to ride out to Buckmann’s Folly to deal with the aftermath and attempt to recover the diamonds if possible.

  ‘Al, we seem to be following you around and cleaning up after you of late. It’s starting to get tedious.’

  ~*~

  Luchino Trattori stepped back from the window of his study, a frown creasing his broad face. Rain streamed down the glass panes, dropping from a leaden, heavy-clouded sky. The downpour and the gloom matched his somber mood. Trattori had a great deal on his mind. Uppermost was the loss of the diamond cache he had been expecting from Texas.

  He had been anticipating success with the gaining of the large collection of priceless stones. He had plans to expand his enterprises into the western states, mainly California and Nevada, where there were limitless opportunities. His earlier excursion, in Arizona with the High Grade copper mine had been thwarted and he had lost heavily there. Despite a further attempt to recoup his hold over the enterprise he had finally decided to cut his losses and move on with other schemes.

  The disruption of the High Grade business, which had been taken over by the woman who took control on the death of her brother. He had been trying to have her killed so he could control the High Grade mine. He had been in league with a woman named Beth Arling, a successful madam and saloon owner, and when a man named Bodie had confronted them. He had wounded Beth Arling. Angela Crown’s brother had died as well. Sided by Bodie, Angela Crown, proved to be too much of a problem, so Trattori backed off. Other considerations took the place of the High Grade mine.

  Trattori had a personal score to be settled with the man who had been instrumental in wrecking his deal in Arizona.

  Bodie.

  It had taken Trattori time to track down the man hunter and when he did he assigned the man called Silva to go after the man.

  Silva was Trattori’s assassin. A man who had few equals. Silva had worked for him a long time and was considered to be one of the best. A craftsman who had even built his own handgun. Unfortunately it had not saved him from Bodie. They two had clashed in the Pullman car carrying Bodie and a girl called Eden Chantry back to her father, Major Owen Chantry at Fort Huachuca. She had been kidnapped by a half-breed called Coyote. Bodie had taken her from Coyote. After a long pursuit by Coyote and his men Bodie had killed the outlaw. Taking a train that would return them to Fort Huachuca Bodie had been confronted by Silva and despite being shot the man hunter had killed Silva.

  It became a matter of honor for Trattori to have Bodie tracked down and killed. His death hurt Trattori. Whatever else he might be Luchino Trattori respected tradition and it was in that spirit he was honor bound to have the killer paid in kind.

  Trattori’s second in command, a young man called Fabio, had been given the task of finding Bodie and ordering his death. During his search Fabio had come across written reports from High Grade, especially details of Bodie’s clash with Beth Arling. Arling was ambitious and enterprising. She had bought an ailing saloon in High Grade, allied herself to Raymond Crown, and worked to profit from his desire to take over the High grade copper mine. Her association with Raymond Crown had ended in gunfire, him dead and she wounded by Bodie. Soon after she had left High Grade, selling the saloon and moving further west.

  Fabio’s people had heard about Arling and her story, and though he was primarily seeking information on the man who had interfered with the diamond delivery, he realized she had a connection to the man called Bodie.

  Beth Arling admitted she wanted a chance to get even with Bodie and Fabio’s offer to assist in her latest acquisition, a saloon-gambling house in Nevada, gained her interest and cooperation. It was a twofold gesture. Trattori was looking to expand. Nevada was growing and buying into Arling’s enterprise was an easy way in. The plus side was both Arling and Trattori had a mutual desire to deal with Bodie. Pooling their knowledge and resources would, hopefully, increase their efforts.

  Fabio had Arling brought to the east coast to discuss the future venture. As well as being beautiful the young woman was sharp and it did not take her long to understand Trattori ‘s desires. She got the story from Trattori. His anger at the way in which he had lost his diamond cache was still growing. Luchino Trattori was a proud man. A vengeful man. Retribution against anyone who slighted him was a tradition that went back a long way. An insult had to be put right. Weakness was not something he could allow to go unpunished. It was a mark against him. Something his rivals would seize on and use to ridicule him and that was something Trattori would not allow.

  During the long discussions Arling had with Trattori a connection was made between the man called Bodie and the lawman, Alvin LeRoy. Arling maintained a line of informants who regularly fed her with information. Only recently she had learned that LeRoy and Bodie had met during an incident that involved them both. Arling had learned of their association. It interested Trattori. Now he had a link between the two and as he realized Beth Arling had knowledge of Bodie and LeRoy he saw a possible opportunity to settle his grievance with them both.

  Using his own considerable lines of communication Trattori tasked Fabio to follow through investigations of US Marshal Alvin LeRoy. As usual the man came back with useful information on the lawman.

  LeRoy emerged as a highly dedicated individual who had a reputation for doggedness when it came to following through with his assignments. He would handle them thoroughly, yet he would be the first to admit to any mistakes he made. His tenacious streak came through as he tracked his quarry and he had no problems delivering hard justice to lawbreakers. Few who braced him lived to tell the tale. The men he went against were hard and violent. With little regard for human life. Bred on the frontier they took what they wanted and gave little in return. Their world was wild and often brutal and it took men like LeRoy to stand against that.

  The more he learned about the man the more respect Trattori had. He saw a dedicated lawman who believed in what he stood for. Such a man would make a formidable opponent. LeRoy would not be swayed from his path. Nor would he be intimidated or bought. Such a man, Trattori realized, would fight to the last.

  Fabio came to Trattori’s office, a buff colored paper in his hand.

  ‘This has come from our informant in Texas. He has received information from a source in Fort Bellman. It is where LeRoy is being treated for his wounds. It is going around the fort that there are many dead at Buckmann’s Folly. The Army sent soldiers to bury them. It would appear there were no survivors except for this man LeRoy.’

  ‘The diamonds?’

  Fabio shook
his head. ‘No mention. If the Army found them they are not disclosing anything. But I will continue to search for information.’

  Surprisingly Trattori showed little reaction. He leaned back in his ornate chair letting go a deep sigh. His hands, spread out across his desk, flexed briefly.

  ‘All that effort,’ he said. ‘Having these diamonds taken from Mexico and passed to that priest, Tamber. Hiring the man Reno and his people. And then to lose them before Dietrich could take possession. All wasted because of that dammed lawman LeRoy…’

  After Fabio had left Trattori and Arling continued their discussion.

  ‘How was it that a priest became involved?’ Arling said.

  ‘He had little choice,’ Trattori said. ‘He used his position to allow him unnatural practices with his younger brethren. When his secret became known to one of my people it was an easy thing to persuade him to help collect the diamonds after they were brought over the border from Mexico. Tamber concealed the cache in his wagon and transport them across Texas to a rendezvous with Jack Reno. After dealing with the occupants of the wagon train Reno was to deliver the diamonds to my emissary. It went well until this cursed lawman showed up.’

  ‘I have heard of this man LeRoy. A resourceful US Marshal.’

  ‘His association with Bodie puts him at the top of the list.’

  ‘Where are the diamonds from?’

  ‘Gathered by various methods from a number of sources,’ Trattori said. ‘In Mexico there are still collections of them from the days of the Aztecs, who used them for decorations of their costumes and in trade. My agents sought out these collections and collected them for me.’