The Morgans
Page 27
He almost felt sorry for the poor fools. They were so ardent in their righteousness. Strident in their belief that they could change the future of Blackstone.
But Adam Hagen knew there was only one man who could do that, and it was not King Charles Hagen. Soon, it would be King Adam Hagen.
He had ordered the porch to be added to his room to aid in his convalescence after having been shot in the right arm by renegade Pinkerton men several months before.
He squeezed the small bag of sand in his right hand again for the countless time that day. He ignored the sharp pain that webbed through his body following each squeeze. His convalescence had taken a toll on him, particularly his looks. His fair hair had begun to turn white in places, though he was just past thirty. His smooth skin, which the ladies loved, now had lines brought about by pain that had not been there before.
A doctor down in Laramie had told him the exercise was his best chance of regaining some use of his right arm. The doctor had been cautious enough to tell him that he was unlikely to ever have full use of the arm again, but with diligent exercise, he might be able to hold a fork again. Perhaps even write his name without much difficulty.
But as for gambling and gunfighting, those activities were out. The doctor advised him to learn how to make do with his left hand for now.
But Adam Hagen had no intention of making do with anything. He had made do long enough as the banished son of King Charles Hagen. And now that he knew the man he had called “Father” all those years was actually his uncle, he planned on going far beyond making do.
He intended on making revenge.
Hagen had almost cheered when Trammel snatched Albertson by the neck. The old man had been baiting him and almost got what he deserved. But Buck was a smart man, quick to anger and even quicker to calm down and listen to reason.
It was why the people of Blackstone loved him. It was the quality Hagen had admired most in his former friend.
And it also happened to be the only weakness in his considerable armor. A weakness he intended to exploit when the time came.
He knew Trammel would rebel at first. After all, Hagen hadn’t nicknamed him Buck without a reason. But eventually he would see that his old friend was right and had given him an embarrassment of riches. Hagen hoped Trammel would be prudent enough to focus on the message and not the messenger. Hagen still owed him for saving his life by getting him out of Wichita the year before.
If he did not, Hagen just might have to kill him, and that would cast a shadow over all he had dreamed these past months in convalescence.
Hagen watched Trammel finish his conversation with that weasel reporter from the Bugle. His first order of business upon taking over the town would be to buy that damned paper and shut it down. But for the moment it served its purpose.
He watched Trammel lumber back toward the jail, which was right next door to the Clifford Hotel. Hagen did not have many regrets in life, but he regretted that he and the big man were no longer friends. Trammel abhorred his selling of laudanum at his saloon and the laudanum he allowed the Chinese to sell in a canvas tent next door.
But he had not regretted it enough to stop selling laudanum. In fact, laudanum played a key role in his plans for revenge.
He saw Trammel cast a quick glance up to his balcony and, upon seeing him, quickly looked away.
Hagen got out of his chair and went to the side railing as he called out, “Behold the return of the conquering hero! That was a mighty impressive sight to see, Buck. They complain about the new saloons on Main Street, but say nothing of the houses I’m building. They’re a fickle bunch indeed. At least you turned them before they got themselves hurt. They wouldn’t have received a warm reception in my saloon.”
Trammel stopped walking and glowered up at him. Hagen had to admit the sheriff was a frightening sight when he was angry.
“I’ve told you not to call me that,” Trammel said. “We’re not friends anymore, Hagen, so quit acting like we are.”
“I’m still your friend,” Hagen said, “even if you’re not mine.”
“If you mean that, then quit selling dope,” Trammel said. “You’ve got half the men on your father’s ranch using the stuff, and most of the coal miners. Quit rotting their brains and you and me can be friends again.”
Adam appeared to think it over, though he had absolutely no intention of stopping the flow of laudanum into Blackstone. If anything, it was just the opposite. He decided to have a little fun with the sheriff. “A wise proposition. Why don’t you come up here so we can talk about it instead of shouting at each other like this?”
“And look like I’m up there to kiss your ring?” Trammel shook his head. “No chance.”
Hagen laughed. “You always see me in the worst light. Even after all we’ve been through together. I’m not your enemy, Buck. You saved my life, and I’ll never be able to repay you for it.”
“Don’t thank me,” Trammel said. “If I’d known what you’d turn into, I wouldn’t have bothered.”
“Yes, you would,” Hagen told him. “You’re a natural hero, Sheriff Trammel, and this world needs heroes. It always has and always will.”
Trammel looked like he was going to say something more but didn’t. Instead, something in the distance captured his attention.
And when Hagen looked in the same direction, he understood why. Dr. Emily Downs was getting into her wagon.
Hagen imagined some might call her pretty. He had always thought of her as elegant, with an agile mind that made for pleasant company.
She had captured Trammel’s heart from the moment they had arrived in Blackstone and, for a time, they had been a very happy couple.
But their relationship had soured after Trammel’s troubles with the Pinkertons at Stone Gate. She had been a widow once and had no intention of becoming one again. She’d shut her heart to Trammel, and Hagen knew it had wounded the big man deeply. It had hardened him in a way that had made Hagen angry. She had given up Trammel because he could no sooner change who and what he was than Hagen could grow a new right arm. He had expected more from a woman of science, but as a widow, he could not fault her reasons.
Hagen watched Trammel forget the world around him as Emily released the break and snapped the reins, bringing her horse to a quick trot. He saw Trammel stand a little straighter and something of a smile appear on his face as she steered the wagon toward Main Street. Even the sight of her was enough to make him happy, and Hagen’s heart ached for him.
She would pay for hurting him, and soon. But not that day.
She sat ramrod straight and made a point of keeping her eyes forward as she approached the Clifford Hotel. Hagen knew she could hear him as he called out, “And a blessed day to you, our fair Dr. Downs. Our humble town is grateful for you gracing us with your presence.”
“Mr. Hagen,” she said as she rode by, then added, “Sheriff Trammel.”
Buck tipped his hat, entranced as she rode by without the slightest glance his way. “Nice to see you, Emily.”
She said nothing more as she continued on her way.
Hagen pitied his former friend. He waited until she had passed out of earshot before saying, “Quite the peacock our Dr. Downs has become since throwing you over. I wonder how she’d fair if she lost her plumage.”
Trammel slowly raised his head and looked at Hagen. “If you touch her, I’ll kill you.”
Hagen had no doubt he would and forced a laugh. “Why would I touch a hair on her head? I happen to like Emily. Besides, she has the virtue of being the only doctor in town. But cheer up, my friend. Fate is a great equalizer and, sooner or later, she’ll regret having treated you so poorly.”
Hagen watched Trammel’s anger fade away before he turned to enter the jail. “Just leave her alone. And quit calling me ‘friend.’”
Hagen decided he had given the sheriff a tough enough time already and let him go without another word. He went back to his chair and resumed squeezing the small bag of sand.
/> He cast an eye up the long hill to where King Charles Hagen’s ranch house sat. It was a mighty place that lorded over all beneath it like a behemoth. It looked indestructible from here, but Adam knew nothing built by man would last forever. He looked forward to the day when he watched that house burn to the ground. No, he would not attack the house from the front. He would attack his father’s empire at its foundation and watch it fall in on itself.
Yes, King Charles Hagen’s end would come soon. But first, Buck Trammel would receive his reward, and sooner than he thought. And Emily Downs would learn what happened to those who displeased him.
He winced as he squeezed the bag of sand tighter as he looked at the Hagen ranch house on the hill and remembered a verse from the Bible. “Your glory, O Israel, lies slain on your heights. How the mighty have fallen!”
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
WILLIAM W. JOHNSTONE is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of over 300 books, including the bestselling series Smoke Jensen, the Mountain Man, Preacher, the First Mountain Man, MacCallister, Flintlock, and Will Tanner, Deputy U.S. Marshal, and the stand-alone thrillers The Doomsday Bunker, Tyranny, and Black Friday.
Being the all-around assistant, typist, researcher, and fact-checker to one of the most popular western authors of all time, J. A. JOHNSTONE learned from the master, Uncle William W. Johnstone.
The elder Johnstone began tutoring J.A. at an early age. After-school hours were often spent retyping manuscripts or researching his massive American Western History library as well as the more modern wars and conflicts. J.A. worked hard—and learned.
“Every day with Bill was an adventure story in itself. Bill taught me all he could about the art of storytelling. ‘Keep the historical facts accurate,’ he would say. ‘Remember the readers—and as your grandfather once told me, I am telling you now: Be the best J. A. Johnstone you can be.’”
Visit the website at www.williamjohnstone.net.