by A. T. Butler
Outlaw Country
A Jacob Payne Adventure
A.T. Butler
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Many Thanks
Also by A.T. Butler
About the Author
Chapter One
Jacob Payne, a bounty hunter in the Arizona Territory, heard the altercation in the crowded saloon before he saw it.
He crossed the threshold into the Golden Saddle Saloon in Tucson, and let his eyes adjust to the dim light. On the right side of the room, nearest where he walked in, the bar was packed with men elbowing each other for space. A half dozen of Holly Merritt’s girls squeezed in between, entertaining their guests and helping them drink all the beer that the bartender could serve. The bright colors on the women stood out against the dirty leather of the men and Jacob smiled to himself to think about how each one of those men planned to end their night.
It was a Saturday, and it seemed as though every person in Tucson was in the saloon trying to fit in as much sinning as possible before the Lord’s day the following morning. Past the bar, throughout the rest of the room, tables were crowded with men playing poker, drinking, grabbing at passing women, laughing and telling stories.
But on the far side of the room, back where the gamblers Lucky and Abe had virtually been living for the last couple of weeks as they took all the other men’s money, a shoving match had broken out.
“I’ll show you—” an angry voice called above the noise.
Jacob pushed through the crowd to get to the skirmish before it could spread. His broad shoulders and more than six feet of height made him a formidable force; men saw him coming and got out of the way. In a few purposeful strides, he had reached the brawling gamblers. He hesitated, and in that split second a short and stocky, but fit, red-headed man Jacob didn’t recognize landed a punch right to Lucky’s cheekbone.
“You son-of-a—” Abe yelled as he pushed the short man back.
Jacob stepped in between them, and put his hands up to ward off the gambler. In spite of the shorter man’s hit, two on one would never be a fair fight.
“Hold on here,” he said.
“What’s all this?” a deep, gravelly voice asked angrily.
Randall Hall, the owner of the saloon, glared at Jacob. “You causing trouble in my establishment, Payne?”
Randall stood up to his full height. Though several inches shorter than Jacob, Randall wielded his wide barrel chest, taking up as much room as he could as he asserted his authority. Holly Merritt waited just behind him, her warm brown curls piled on top of her head, and a gold shawl pulled tightly around her. She surveyed the damage to the saloon with an anxious look.
“No, sir,” Jacob answered patiently.
Before he could explain any further, the short man Jacob had intended to be protecting knocked into him from behind as he made to go after Lucky again.
“Hey!” Jacob said.
He stumbled to his left; the unknown man threw himself at the gambler, pummeling him in the ribs with punch after punch.
“That’s enough,” Randall said, grabbing for the shorter man.
Jacob regained his footing and again stepped between the brawlers. This time, with Randall’s help to hold the one back, they succeeded in ending the fight.
“What is this all about?” Randall asked, severely. “Mr. Timson, I would never have thought a man of your profession and class could be involved in a common barroom fistfight.”
“What did you boys do to him?” Jacob asked the gamblers.
“Nothing,” Lucky said indignantly, shaking off Jacob’s grip.
The bounty hunter was almost inclined to believe him, seeing as that denial was literally the only word he had heard the man say in the several weeks he had been in Tucson.
“You did, you cheating snake,” Timson sputtered. He writhed in Randall’s grasp, trying and failing to break free from the man almost twice his weight.
“Is that true?” Jacob asked.
Lucky glared at him but Abe held Jacob’s gaze. The gambler spit a long stream into a nearby spittoon before answering with a sly smile.
“We simply used our considerable skill at cards to relieve this man of some of his paper. Really, we’re doing him a favor. Less weight to move when he inevitably leaves town.” The gambler grinned mockingly at Timson, wide enough that Jacob noticed he had a gold tooth on one side.
Jacob shook his head and sighed. “Come on, Abe. We both know what you’re capable of. Did you cheat?” Jacob’s eyes darted over the man, looking for a sign he was hiding cards, but saw nothing out of place. He glanced to the table, where the cards were still strewn about after the last hand. He raked over the edge of the poker table, and even underneath, looking for a mirror or any other clue.
Lucky and Abe had been playing in Tucson for weeks, and though they had been accused of cheating many times, none of the other men had been able to prove it. Jacob was beginning to think they really were just extremely talented players.
As he looked over the men, he noticed the crowd that was gathered around, watching them. Most of the saloon’s patrons had lost interest once the fight had been broken up, but two men continued to watch. The taller one, thin as a rail but taller than Jacob, leaned against the back wall, biting the nails on his filthy left hand and pushing back his stringy dark hair as he took in the scene. The other, a blond, was as average-looking a man as Jacob had ever seen, but wore distinctive moss green cowboy boots. His face remained passive, and he hovered just behind Holly while he listened. Jacob had never seen these two strangers before and at least three dozen questions and suspicions popped into his mind.
He filed all these details away, just in case, but forced himself to stay focused on the situation at hand.
“I can’t have any more disturbances in here, boys,” Holly said with a teasing lilt. “Ruins the mood, you know.”
She caught Jacob watching her and winked. Though he had never personally been a customer of Holly’s, they had always had an easy repartee. He respected the way she ran her business, and she respected the way he did his own work.
Timson’s chest still heaved as he caught his breath again. His anger seemed to be abating.
“Just give me back my money, fellas, and we’ll forget all about this.”
“Not a chance,” Abe said.
Instead of responding with words, Lucky simply glared and left the mob gathered. He pushed through the crowd and Jacob lost sight of him.
Randall moved to follow, but Timson stopped him.
“Let him go. It’s this other one that actually has the cash. I saw him scoop it up when I first pushed his friend. Whatever it is they’re doing, they’re in this together. I just want my money.”
Timson reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his billfold. Jacob couldn’t help but notice it had a small red rose embroidered in the corner of the leather. He had never seen another billfold like it, either here in the territory, or back when he lived in Virginia.
“You’re not from around here, are you?” he asked.
Timson looked at him in surprise and shook his head. “No. Just passing through. I come from Boston, by way of about three dozen smaller cities between there and here.”
Before he could explain any further, the conversation was interrupted yet again by a familiar voice.
“Jacob Payne, why do I always find you in the middle of trouble?”
Jacob grinned and greeted Deputy Tobias Lowry with a warm handshake. “Trouble seems to find me, sir.”
“Don’t I know it,” the deputy said pointedly. “Is there anything the matter here, Mr. Hall?”
Randall looked from Abe to Timson and back again, weighing his next words. Jacob didn’t envy him this position. The former had been a paying guest in the apartments above for weeks; the latter just arrived but spending just as much money and even faster.
“I think we may have just had a misunderstanding, Deputy,” he said finally.
“But—” Timson began.
Randall put his hand up to stop the protest. “Mr. Timson here may have just paid for a very expensive poker lesson, but I’m sure he won’t make the same mistake again.”
Jacob was surprised to hear Timson growl under his breath. But then, it was usually the shorter men who had the most fight in them.
“I’m not going to stand for this,” he said. “Do you know who I am? I’m leaving on the first train out of here.”
“Um. Sir?” Jacob cleared his throat. “Tucson isn’t on any rail yet. Didn’t you notice when you got to town?”
“What—? But— Goddamn it!”
“I’m sure you can hire a stagecoach, though. On Monday. Or —”
“Nevermind,” Timson said with a huff. He glared at Abe, Randall and Jacob all in turn before turning his back on them and disappearing into the crowd.
“That’s a shame,” Holly said lightly. “I was counting on his business for another week or so at least.”
Randall shook his head. “I’ll go try to talk some sense into him.”
With Timson gone and no longer making a fuss, the watching crowd dispersed, including the two strangers Jacob had noticed.
“Did you see what happened, Jacob?” Deputy Lowry asked under his breath.
Jacob shook his head. “They were already fighting when I got here. Lucky had been the one actually absorbing the punches, actually, but I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. What do you think, Holly?”
The woman shrugged daintily. “Those boys have been here every night, have managed to irritate most of the men in town, and yet no one can pin anything on them. I’m inclined to believe they’re just better at what they do.”
“It is all they do, after all,” the deputy agreed. “Well, Miss Merritt. I’m sorry you’re losing that income this week, but it’s probably for the best.”
She nodded. “I’m sure you’re right. I’ll go see if I can smooth his ruffled feathers.” She grinned at Jacob and flashed a dimple. “You boys behave, now.”
Once Jacob and Deputy Lowry were alone, he chuckled. “Trouble really does seem to find you, doesn’t it Payne?”
Jacob grinned. “I can handle it.”
“You can. Thank the Lord for that. But if you could see to it that you don’t attract any more trouble in the next few weeks I sure would appreciate it. The US Marshal has left for St. Louis for some meeting or some such, so it’s just us for a bit.”
“Santos is gone?”
“Yeah. It’s nothing we can’t handle, of course. I’m just asking you not bring in anything extra.”
“I’ll do my best, Deputy,” Jacob said.
“We’re counting on you,” he joked. “Gotta keep those outlaws in line. Well, friend, I’ll leave you to your night. None of these boys will have any fun if they know a deputy is hanging around.”
Jacob watched Lowry cross the room and head out the door into the dusky evening. He took a deep breath and looked around. With the adrenaline rush of breaking up a fight, Jacob felt like he needed to run for miles. He assessed the room and the people he had pushed past when he first entered. His friend Edwin was playing cards over by the front window. He recognized another circle of men drinking and laughing in the corner nearby. Jacob had come to the Golden Saddle Saloon to relax for an evening and that hadn’t happened yet.
He needed a beer.
Before he could take more than two steps toward the bar, he was interrupted by a scream piercing the night.
“Help! Please, help!” a familiar voice cried.
Jacob darted through the crowd toward the sound, adrenaline pumping once more.
Chapter Two
“Help!” Holly cried. “Oh, please, someone! Help!”
She had rushed down the stairs from the floor above and leaned far over the railing, calling for anyone to come to her aid. The men closest to the stairs looked at her in stunned bewilderment. That might have been the whiskey dulling their reactions. Jacob ran to her side and clasped her outstretched hand.
“What is it? What has happened?”
“I found …” She burst into tears and shook her head, unable to say another word. “I found…” she tried again.
“Show me,” Jacob said gently.
Holly nodded and wrapped her fingers around his bicep as he led her back upstairs. Jacob leaned into the hysterical woman and tried to soothe her. Clearly whatever she had found or witnessed was traumatic for her and he wanted to help calm her just for her own sake. But, also, if he needed more information, he certainly wouldn’t get it out of her in this state.
When they reached the top of the stairs, Jacob noticed that one of the doors halfway down the hallway was standing ajar. Though he had not been a client of Holly’s girls the whole time he had been in Tucson, he knew enough to find that invasion of privacy out of the ordinary.
Holly clutched Jacob’s arm harder, digging her fingernails into his muscle and froze in place at the top of the stairs. The bounty hunter looked from her face to the open door and back again; her fear was unmistakable.
“Are we going to that room?” he asked.
She swallowed and nodded, still not averting her eyes from the target. He began to take a step down the hallway but she held him in place.
“Holly,” he said gently. “Do you want to stay here?”
She finally dragged her eyes away from the open door to look at him. With a shaky smile and another nod, she finally let go of his arm.
“Okay,” Jacob said. “I’ll go check it out. I need you to do something for me, though.”
Holly nodded.
“I need you to make sure no one else goes in there. Check on your girls in these other rooms; don’t let anyone come up the stairs. I need your help on this, okay?”
“Yes. I can do that.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.
“Thank you.” Jacob put his big hand on her shoulder and gave her a reassuring squeeze. He hoped that giving her a responsibility like this would help distract her from whatever horror he was about to walk into.
The open doorway was still far enough down the hall that from this angle he had no idea what was inside. The door was ajar about a foot. As Jacob took the final step and stood in the doorframe, he inhaled deeply, steeling himself.
He reached out and slowly pushed the door all the way open.
As it swung in the half circle, the door snagged on something lying on the floor. Another gentle push from Jacob and it pulled clear of the obstacle and opened completely.
Jacob’s breath caught in his throat.
Sprawled across the floor lay the man Randall had called Timson, on his stomach, with a growing pool of blood spreading toward the bed.
Jacob rushed forward, using both hands to turn the man over. He was still warm. Whatever had occurred, Holly had only just missed being part of it. Jacob passed his hands over the man’s injuries, identifying what appeared to be several different stab wounds. His bloodied fingers felt Timson’s neck for a pulse.
“He’s dead,” a deep, gravelly voice said.
Jacob whirled around, acutely aware that his hands were covered in blood. In the doorway stood Randall Hall.
“Call a doctor!”
“There’s no point, Payne.”
“How do you know?”
“I checked. Don’t forget this is my establishment. I heard Holly scream before she ran downstairs and came to see what was upsetting her.”
>
Jacob raked his eyes over the saloon-owner’s appearance. He spotted a small, dark spot on the man’s right cuff, but he otherwise seemed untouched. “How did you manage to check he was dead and get so little blood on you?”
Randall shrugged. “I just stayed away from the wounds. I checked for a pulse first.”
“You didn’t try to see if you could save him?”
“With that amount of blood lost?”
Jacob nodded grimly. There was a pragmatic logic to that, even if it went against what he himself had done instinctually.
“Well, did you see anything else?” he asked. “If you were here right after Holly, surely you saw someone leave the room.”
“Only Holly,” he said pointedly.
“Alright,” Jacob said. He didn’t want to pursue that line of investigation just yet. “What can you tell me about this man?”
“Bob Timson? What have you heard?”
“Nothing,” Jacob said, ignoring the suspicion he heard in the other man’s voice. “I only just met him tonight. Downstairs. When he was getting into that fight. He didn’t make a great impression on me, to be honest.”
“Yeah, he seems to have a bit of a temper.” Randall leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms in front of his chest.
“You’ve seen him in other fights?”
Randall shrugged. “Sure. But, most of the men downstairs I’ve seen in at least one fight. Timson’s no different.”
“Any idea who might have done this then?”
“Nope.” Randall dug a fingernail in between his two front teeth. “Not that I can tell. The man has only been in town a week.”
“Right. And, I’m sorry, I never did catch why he was in town. He wasn’t planning to stay?”
“Nope,” Randall said again. “He’s a salesman. I think those trunks in the corner are full of his wares, brought out here from the east. I heard him say there’s more money to be made selling pick axes to miners than there is in the gold they’re mining.”
