Outlaw Express

by Gillian F. Taylor

  Outlaw Express

  Sheriff Alec Lawson had never robbed a train before. He’d infiltrated a band of outlaws to help capture them, but when they kidnapped Lacey Fry from the Leadville express, he had no choice but to try and rescue the young woman alone. Alec Lawson didn’t know the territory and he didn’t know the girl. He had to fight his way through the snowy mountains, trying to stay one step ahead of the pursuing outlaws.

  Bill Alcott, the gang’s leader, felt he had been fooled and then betrayed by Lawson, He had to kill him to avenge his brother and keep the respect of his men.

  Lacey Fry had to ride as she’d never ridden before, and travel with a man she didn’t know, who was her only hope of escaping a fate worse than death.

  So the chase was on, through snow and bloodshed, until one of them could run no further and hunter and hunted finally came face to face.

  By the same author

  Rocking W

  The Paducah War

  The Horseshoe Feud

  Darrow’s Law

  Cullen’s Quest

  San Felipe Guns

  Darrow’s Word

  Hyde’s Honour

  Navajo Rock

  Darrow’s Badge

  Two-Gun Trouble

  Silver Express

  The Judas Metal

  Darrow’s Gamble

  Dynamite Express

  Outlaw Express

  Gillian F. Taylor

  ROBERT HALE

  © Gillian F. Taylor 2017

  First published in Great Britain 2017

  ISBN 978-0-7198-2213-1

  The Crowood Press

  The Stable Block

  Crowood Lane

  Ramsbury

  Marlborough

  Wiltshire SN8 2HR

  www.bhwesterns.com

  Robert Hale is an imprint of The Crowood Press

  The right of Gillian F. Taylor to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by her

  in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

  CHAPTER ONE

  They were robbing the wrong train. Alec Lawson’s horse sensed his uneasy mood; the bay snorted and stamped a hind hoof as they waited.

  ‘Easy now, Moray,’ he crooned, stroking his horse’s shaggy neck. It was early April and here in the Colorado Rockies, horses and men alike had thick winter coats.

  Alec flexed his shoulders which ached, after a vigorous session of cutting down lodgepole pines, now laid across the tracks of the railroad, close to where he and the rest of Bill Alcott’s gang waited. As the newest member of the group, Alec had done more than his fair share of the work. He’d done so without grumbling; it was important for him to be accepted by the outlaws. If only he’d managed to gain Bill Alcott’s trust sufficiently to persuade him to go after the Estes Park to Lucasville express, instead of this one heading for Leadville. Alec’s attention was suddenly focused by the puffing of a locomotive approaching along the valley.

  Around him, six other men pulled scarves and bandannas over their lower faces, as did Alec. They couldn’t quite see the train from their place among the trees that grew not far from the rails, but the sound was getting louder. The horses became more alert, raising their heads and pricking their ears as their riders readied themselves. Alec wasn’t afraid, but he felt an undercurrent of unease and distaste about the crime they were about to commit. He wanted it to be over.

  The loco gave a blast on its whistle, followed by the hissing of steam as the engineer hurriedly applied the brakes. Cars rattled to a halt as the riders galloped from the trees, their horses kicking up snow. It seemed just a matter of moments before the engineer and fireman were climbing down the cab under the watchful eyes of O’Leary and Manford, while Hannigan covered the brakeman. Bill Alcott, his brother, Jacob, Houston and Alec opened up the express car.

  To Alec’s relief, the guard made no fuss about opening up the safe. It turned out he’d had little reason to put up a fight. The safe contained a scant five hundred dollars, not the payrolls Alcott had been expecting. While Jacob shouted and swore, Bill Alcott looked around at the other boxes and packages.

  ‘There must be something worth having in some of these,’ he said. ‘Tie him up,’ he said to Houston, indicating the guard. ‘You and me’ll look through these things. Jacob, you and Turner go see what the passengers have got on them. We’ll just have to grab a root with whatever’s on this train.’

  ‘Come on then.’ Jacob Alcott gestured abruptly to Alec as he turned.

  The first car was a Pullman parlour car, as fancy as the lounge of a first class hotel. There was carpet underfoot, tasselled velvet curtains at the windows, and the ceiling was decorated with carved and inlaid panels of polished mahogany. Jacob gave a whistle of appreciation, somewhat muffled by the bandanna over his face.

  ‘This is smart, and then some!’ he exclaimed.

  There were about half a dozen prosperous businessmen in the car, middle-aged and most sporting various styles of important beards, to make up for the declining hair on the top of their heads. Jacob sauntered up to the first pair, his gun pointed casually at them as they watched fearfully. Alec followed, holding a small burlap bag in one hand and his revolver in the other. He remained tightly focused, flicking glances at the other passengers, and keeping alert for sounds from elsewhere.

  ‘Come on, gents,’ Jacob said to the businessmen with great humour. ‘Time to make a donation to my favourite charity, that being myself and my pals.’

  Alec held out the burlap bag as the two men put in their wallets and watches. One or two of the passengers grumbled as they handed over their things, but mostly they satisfied themselves with angry looks as Alec and Jacob moved along the car. It was the last passenger that Alec felt most uneasy about, and his suspicions proved correct. Jacob let out a low chuckle as he halted by the young woman sitting alone.

  ‘Hey, Turner, we got a real prize here,’ he said.

  She looked fresh and young, maybe not even twenty yet. Dark chestnut hair was swept up into an elegant style that kept natural curls under control. Wide-set brown eyes and rounded apple-cheeks made her look like the subject of a romantic painting, as though she should have been wearing a medieval dress with trailing sleeves, instead of a fashionable walking suit in bottle green wool.

  ‘Put yer valuables in here, please,’ Alec said, holding the bag out to her. He wanted to get this over with as fast as possible.

  She retrieved a small, embroidered purse from a pocket hidden in her skirt and dropped that in, then unfastened the jewelled brooch from the lapel of her jacket. She reached towards the bag with it, but Jacob took it from her hand. He held it up so the spring sunlight sparkled on the amethyst and diamond flowers.

  ‘Say, this is a pretty piece, for certain sure, and a swell ring to match an’ all.’ He held out his hand expectantly.

  The young woman glared at him, but pulled the ring off the middle finger of her right hand and thrust it into his palm with a sharp jab. Jacob chuckled, then studied the jewellery thoughtfully, before looking at the girl again. A cunning look spread across his face that worried Alec.

  ‘Fancy jewellery, smart clothes and travelling Pullman class,’ Jacob mused. ‘You’ve got kin with plenty of money. I wonder how much they’d give to get you back.’ He dropped the jewellery in Alec’s bag, then grabbed the girl’s arm and started to haul her from the bench seat.

  ‘No!’ Alec barked instinctively. Jacob turned to him with a scowl, and with an effort, Alec modified his voice. ‘A woman will only slow us down, Jacob. What’s she going to ride, anyway?’

  ‘She can ride one of the packhorses,’ Jacob said. ‘That damn express car hardly had anything worth stealing; we won’t need but the one packhorse for that.’


  ‘Look at her,’ Alec argued. ‘She’s a fancy-dressed Easterner. Taking her’s a mistake. You got to plan something like a kidnapping.’

  ‘You ain’t the bossman of this outfit,’ Jacob said scornfully. ‘Me and Bill run this gang and if you don’t like what we do, you can hand over that bag as soon as we’re off this car and light a shuck out of here on your own. Now come on,’ he said to the young woman, pulling her arm. ‘We’ve wasted enough damn time already.’

  Alec bit down a string of curses and wished more than ever that his boss, the US State Marshal, had asked one of his other deputies to do this job. Bill Alcott and his men had been raiding parts of Colorado for four or five years now, getting bolder and more dangerous as time passed. They hadn’t made any raids in Alec’s county, which was one of the reasons why Marshal Lindstrom had asked him to undertake this deception, as his face would be less well known to them. Last Fall, Lindstrom and Alec had concocted the identity of Colt Turner, and invented a string of crimes he was supposed to have committed. Reports of Turner’s activities had been planted in local newspapers, and rumours spread via talk in saloons. Alec had grown a beard though the winter and spring, letting his dark brown hair get shaggy. It was enough to make him less easily recognisable to anyone who only knew him slightly. He hadn’t bothered trying to disguise his natural, Scottish accent though, knowing he could never maintain another for long. He’d also spent time with his new horse, Moray, building up the mutual confidence needed between horse and rider for the best results. His usual mount was a pale dun, and slightly too distinctive for undercover work.

  Four weeks ago, Alec had left his senior deputy in charge of county business, and ridden out to find and join Alcott’s gang. He’d tried to get them to raid another train, one that would have lawmen waiting aboard, but Bill Alcott hadn’t been willing to listen to the newcomer yet.

  Jacob Alcott pulled the young woman’s arm until she slid out into the aisle, her skirts awry. As he began urging her to the end of the car, she found her voice and exclaimed, ‘Oh, please. I need my things.’

  ‘We ain’t taking no trunk,’ Jacob said, hauling her along.

  With a quick look at the cowed businessmen at the other end of the car, Alec holstered his revolver and snatched up the carpet bag from by her seat.

  Lacey was manhandled down the steps from the car to the ground by Jacob. He too holstered his gun and pinned her against his side with his arm around her as he bustled her towards the group of men and horses by the express car.

  ‘Look what I found!’ Jacob called as they got closer.

  Eli Hannigan trotted up, laughing as he inspected Lacey in a way that made Alec’s skin crawl. ‘Say, that’s a fancy piece of baggage you got there.’ The swarthily handsome man laughed as the young woman sucked in a sharp breath in indignation. ‘Do we all get to share?’ he went on, reaching to touch her face.

  She swatted his hand away, provoking a rude laugh.

  ‘She’s got spunk!’ Hannigan exclaimed. ‘I like it when they struggle.’

  The young woman gulped in a deep breath to hide a sob of fear.

  Alec spoke calmly, hoping to reassure her. ‘She’s no’ for messing about with, Eli. Her people will pay well to have her back untouched.’

  ‘They won’t know if we’ve enjoyed her until after we get the money and give her back,’ Hannigan pointed out.

  Alec stepped around the woman to face him. They were much the same height, but Hannigan was broad-shouldered and more powerfully made than Alec, who dropped the carpetbag as he advanced. Alec didn’t hesitate, but glared furiously at the other man.

  ‘This is a decent woman, an’ no one lays a finger on her,’ he growled. He paused, controlling himself. ‘I guess you don’t care about breaking your word to anyone, but I promise you, if ye insult this woman, lawmen will be hunting you – all of us – to hell and high water.’ His accent had got more pronounced with his anger, the r’s exaggerated.

  ‘Hey, break it up!’ Bill Alcott spoke as he approached. ‘What the hell’s going on here, Jacob?’

  Jacob laughed. ‘I done found us something worth taking on this train after all. This gal’s got folks back east that’ll pay a fancy price to get her back again. You should see the purty stones she was wearing, Bill.’

  Bill tilted his head to one side as he studied the young woman. He was a rangy man with the same pale blue, hooded eyes as Jacob. ‘You got family that’ll pay five thousand dollars to get you back?’ he asked suddenly.

  She took a deep breath as she tried to work out what to say. Alec make a quick decision, and spoke up before she replied.

  ‘The brooch and ring she was wearing are worth a few hundred at least. I’d say they’ve got money enough. They’ll pay to get her back safe an’ sound.’

  She turned to look at him with a hurt expression. Alec looked straight back at her, letting his concern show for a moment before facing Bill again.

  ‘Well, woman, ain’t you got a tongue?’ Bill demanded.

  She straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin as she stared at the outlaw. ‘I do, and I have a name. It’s Lacey Fry, Miss Fry to you. And yes, my family will pay well to have me given back unhurt.’

  Jacob laughed. ‘You were right, Eli. She’s sure got sand to burn. Come on, Bill, with the money for Miss Fry here, we won’t need to do another job all summer.’

  Bill abruptly made up his mind. ‘All right, bring her along. But no squawking or fussin’, Missy,’ he warned. ‘Or there’ll be no food and no blankets for you.’

  ‘Come on,’ Jacob said to Lacey, and began walking her to the horses.

  There were six men in the outlaw gang besides Alec. Lacey did her best to avoid catching their eyes, or hearing the comments passed about her, as she was led to the two pack horses. One horse already carried some blankets and a pair of half-filled packs, the other merely had a hard leather pad with metal rings and straps attached.

  ‘Up you get,’ said Jacob, shifting his grip on her.

  ‘She canna ride a pack saddle,’ Alec objected, having kept behind them. ‘It’ll give her sores, an’ she’ll fall off and slow us up if we go out of a walk. You don’t just throw a five thousand dollar statue in the back of a buckboard; it’ll get broken.’

  Jacob snorted and thrust Lacey at Alec, who had to drop her carpetbag in order to catch her. ‘Give me the valuables,’ he demanded, holding out his hand for the bag with the stolen goods in it. ‘Iffen you care so much about her comfort, she kin ride your hoss, and you can ride the packhorse.’ He took the bag and stormed off.

  The outlaws were getting ready to leave. O’Leary and Houston had already mounted and were watching the train, guns in hand in case anyone tried to fight back. Alec pulled the neckerchief from his face and looked at Lacey.

  ‘Just stand here quietly,’ he said softly. ‘I’ll do my best for you.’

  She looked back at him, eyes wide, making Alec self-conscious of his appearance.

  He thought himself to be ordinary looking, though he was actually rather handsome, with large brown eyes and fine regular features that were saved from boyishness by straight, strong brows and a high, arched nose. Lacey broke off her stare, her cheeks flushing. Alec turned to business rather abruptly.

  He strapped her carpetbag to the back of the packsaddle, then turned to her and looked at her thoughtfully.

  ‘I’m sorry, Miss Fry, you’ll have to get rid of your bustle. We’ve got to do a lot of riding, and all those wires will make you pretty uncomfortable.’ He paused, and added more hesitantly. ‘Can you remove your . . . hoops, wires . . . without taking your skirt off?’

  She quickly hid a smile, amused at his discomfort at having to mention unmentionables, and turned away.

  ‘Yes, I think so,’ she replied, facing his horse.

  Alec turned away from her, watching the other men as Lacey bent to pick up the hem of her skirt and petticoats. There was a lot of rustling, and a mutter that sounded like an objection to corsets. Mor
e rustling and a sound of satisfaction followed. A few moments later, she said.

  ‘I’m done.’

  Alec turned and an assembly of wires and tapes lay on the ground in front of her, and the back of her dress hung oddly, trailing behind her. He picked the hoops up, moving to throw the bustle towards the railroad tracks. ‘We don’t want the horses catching their legs in it,’ he explained. He studied her again. ‘I don’t reckon your skirt’s full enough to cover your legs when you’re sitting cross-saddle. It’ll ride up some, mebbe to your knees. If I slit your skirt front and back, it’ll hang down, and you can wrap it around your lower legs to keep your modesty and stop the saddle fenders from rubbing.’

  Lacey looked as though she wanted to protest: the walking suit of jacket and skirt was clearly new. However, she could see the sense of Alec’s suggestion.

  ‘Go ahead,’ she said, rather faintly.

  With a soft apology, Alec drew the knife from his belt and carefully cut the woollen skirt front and back, from a little below her hip level, to the hem. With that done, he adjusted the stirrups of the saddle for her, then held out his hands to leg her up into the saddle. As she adjusted her petticoats beneath her skirt, the bay horse shifted its weight slightly. Lacey grabbed for the pommel of the saddle.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Alec asked.

  ‘Yes, thank you.’ Lacey relaxed a little. ‘It feels strange, not having the horns of my sidesaddle keeping me secure. And sitting astride feels . . . rather vulgar.’ She looked faintly shocked at her own words.

  Alec chose to ignore the last part. ‘Moray’s got smooth paces,’ he assured her, patting the bay’s neck. ‘Just hold onto the pommel if you need to.’

  There was a shout from Bill. ‘Hurry up, dammit! We need to go.’

  As Alec turned to the packhorse, Lacey had a sudden thought.

  ‘There’s a shawl in my carpetbag. You can use that to pad the pack saddle.’