Black Conley

by Shari Dare

  "Well, I-I just thought..."

  "That's your problem, Joe. You tried to think, and you ain't got the mind for it."

  "But he looked a lot like the Crystal Creek Kid. I just got his wanted poster in a couple of months ago, and..."

  "And Black told you that the man is in prison,” Belle interrupted. “I know that Black was a gunslinger. I can tell you that if I were in that line of business I would know where to find any man who might be a threat to me. Now I'll tell you like I told Clayte, you aren't welcome here, so get off my property."

  Clayte and Joe mounted their horses and prepared to leave. Once they were out of sight, Belle turned to Black. “Are you certain the Crystal Creek Kid is in jail?"

  "I should be,” Black replied. “I put him there. I caught up with him in Colorado Springs. Of course he didn't know I was a marshal. Him and me got right chummy. I knew he was wanted for bank robbery and when he tried to talk me into taking one of the big banks in Denver I arrested him. At his trial he broke down and bawled like a baby. Said he was glad he'd gotten caught and not killed. Whenever I'm in Denver, I go over to the prison and look in on him."

  "Did this man resemble the Kid?” Roy asked.

  "I suppose if you were only going on the wanted poster you could say so. He was about the same height and weight and his hair was the same color. That's about as far as it went. I know the Kid and this man wasn't him, not by a long shot."

  * * * *

  Black stomped the snow from his boots before entering the warmth of the kitchen. He knew he had to send a wire to Ed so he could get someone to contact Newman's widow, but he certainly didn't relish going into town.

  "How far is the next town?” he asked, when he and Roy joined the girls in the parlor.

  "Why do you ask?"

  "I need to send a wire to Ed, but I don't want to do it in Larson's Gap."

  "You can send it from here,” Cara said. “We've got a telegraph line to the house for the passengers on the stage. Didn't you see the wire?"

  Black shook his head. How could he have seen the wire when he'd been so occupied with both the rustlers and Belle?

  "You can write it out and any of us can send it for you and we wouldn't even charge you for it,” Kate commented.

  "I'd appreciate that."

  Belle went over to the desk and brought him a pencil and paper so that he could word the wire correctly.

  Ed—Need you to have someone contact Elizabeth Newman in Omaha—Her husband shot and killed in Larson's Gap—Letter with details to follow—Black.

  Belle scanned the wire. “If you get that letter ready, it can go on the westbound stage that's due in on Monday. They pick up mail here and drop it off as well. I usually pick up mail on Sunday when I go into church and drop it off during the week. From here it will go to Missoula, and then on to Denver."

  Black nodded. Once Belle went to send the wire, he sat down to work on the letter he needed to send to Ed.

  Ed,

  Things here are worse than you expected. I'm certain Adamson is behind the rustling and the sheriff is just as bad. Your Pa and me got caught in a raid on Belle's herd, only this time they weren't taking cattle; they were bringing them onto the ranch. There were cows from every ranch in the area, including Adamson's. Luckily the other ranchers were with us, and we killed three of the rustlers and wounded the fourth. Of course, Adamson wasn't with us. He was home in his bed dreaming of framing Belle for the rustling, since he thought the others weren't coming over to check brands until morning. The look on his face when we returned his steers was priceless.

  Today your Pa and me went out to the caves to see if we could find the man who got away. We did, and he implemented the foreman over at the Diamond A. Of course, we told the sheriff the man was dead when we got to him. I certainly didn't want to tip my hand.

  Don't know when this will all come to a head, but when it does, I'll need backup. I'm sure Adamson and his crew are behind this, and the sheriff is in it up to his armpits. He even came out here today to arrest me. He said that the man in the cave was the Crystal Creek Kid and that I'd shot him in the back. Now if that ain't the stupidest thing I've ever heard. The Kid is safe in jail and besides, I'd know him if I saw him and Newman certainly wasn't the Kid. It was a good thing I had your Pa to back me up. It's hard telling what would have happened if that lamebrained sheriff had gotten me in his jail. I don't cotton to necktie parties, especially when I'm the guest of honor. I'm certain that Adamson put him up to it, especially since he was here when the sheriff arrived.

  I'll keep you posted as to the progress of the investigation. If I need help, I'll send you another wire.

  There's another thing I want you to look into. It seems that Belle has a kid back east. She wasn't more than a kid herself when some guy got her in a family way. She had the baby at a convent and the nuns said they would find it a good home. I remember the nuns at the convent down by where I grew up, and they were a greedy bunch. If the baby had been a boy, you can bet they would have found a family all right, but it was a girl. If these nuns are anything like the ones I knew, they would have keep the kid in order to turn her into a nun. If you can find out anything, I'd appreciate knowing about it.

  By the time he signed the letter, Annie called them all to dinner. Even though the girls had changed their clothes, the letter had taken precedence over doing the same. For one night they would have to take him as he was, without the fancy trappings of the suit Belle insisted he wear to meals.

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  Chapter Eleven

  Black had been at the Double Bar B for over a month. In that amount of time, he was no closer to having enough evidence to arrest the men he held responsible for the rustling than when he arrived.

  It had been almost a month since he'd written the letters to Ed and his grandparents and sent the wire to Ed. He was pleased that he didn't have to go into town to send something out in the mail. With the stage stopping twice a week, he was able to put his letter in the mail sack without having to answer a lot of questions. He had told his grandparents to contact him through Ed, and knew that Ed would send any mail for him to Roy and Annie to avoid suspicion. No one would question a letter from Ed coming to them, but if one came to Black, it would arouse suspicion as to who the hell he really was.

  He had to admit, it was one of the easiest assignments he'd had in a long time. There was no need to worry about anyone guessing he was a marshal, and living and working at the Double Bar B was far from hard to take. Annie's meals were wonderful, and Belle's bed was even better. That woman was learning things the most practiced whores were ignorant about. It was entirely possible that the girls were lending their assistance in her education, but he knew he had a hand in it as well.

  The snow that had fallen the first week he was at the ranch continued until the entire countryside was covered with the white stuff. It was weather like this that made him question the reason he'd left East Texas in the first place. Snow and cold were not to his liking, not one bit.

  Every day he rode out to check on the herd, but found no tracks other than those of the girls and himself. He also rode up to the far east end of the ranch in order to check on the fence. It was something he felt he had to do, even though he knew there would be no more activity by the rustlers until spring. Once the cattle were moved to the better pasture afforded by the east range, Clayte and anyone else who was involved in this scheme of his would feel more comfortable about taking Belle's cattle.

  "Got a couple of letters for you,” Roy announced when he arrived with Annie so that she could fix supper.

  Black got up from his chair in front of the fire and went to greet the older man. “You must have heard from Ed."

  Roy nodded. “His letters to us are usually pretty chatty, but don't say a hell of a lot. It would make Annie happy if he wrote to say that he'd met a wonderful woman and they were planning on having a passel of kids."

  Black held his tongue. He knew that would never h
appen. Ed wasn't interested in anything other than his job, and he certainly wasn't interested in women. Black was pretty sure that was one of the reasons he'd become a marshal in the first place. It gave him an excuse for not getting married. There weren't many women who wanted to be married to a U. S. Marshal because of the risk involved in the job. For one thing you never knew where your next assignment would take you and for another a bullet could end a marriage quicker than scat.

  Roy took the chair on the other side of the fireplace, while Black opened the letter and began to read. In no time, Roy was snoring contently, his feet propped up on one of Belle's needlepoint footstools to take the best advantage of the warmth from the fire.

  Black,

  We located Newman's wife. She sent me a letter from her husband that was written just before the last raid. It gives you a lot more information concerning the people who hired him to run those cattle from the Diamond A to the Double Bar B. That's the reason it took so long for me to send you an answer. I was waiting to get the letter from Deputy Marshal Davidson.

  As for that other matter you wanted me to look into for you, I found that Belle's daughter was never adopted. She's living at the orphanage where Belle gave birth to her and is being raised by the nuns. I've got all the information about it, if you want to do anything further.

  I'm also enclosing a letter that came to the office for you from Mexico. Got it on the same day as I did the one from Nebraska.

  Black shuffled the papers, slipping the rest of Ed's letter to the back of the stack and looked for the letter from Elizabeth Newman. The other news from Ed could wait. This letter was more important to the case than anything else Ed might have to say.

  The penmanship on the paper left a lot to be desired, but Black was able to make it out, even though it was stained with the tears of a wife who wanted her husband home with her.

  Dear Lizzy,

  Ain't struck it rich in either gold or silver, but did get a job today. I was at the saloon in town when this big galloot came up to me and asked me if I'd like to make some easy money. Paddy and Ian, you know, them boys I met up with from Ireland, were with them, so were me and Slim and we all agreed it was easy money. The man who hired us told us we only had to take the cattle from one end of his boss’ ranch, the Diamond A, to the other, but it had to be done by night. At this point I don't care if it had to be done in a blinding snowstorm. My share of the money is twenty-five dollars, and that's enough to get me home to you before winter sets in. If this hadn't come along, I would have had to go out to the Diamond A and ask them for a job. I wasn't looking forward to that. From what I've heard, Adamson is a real bear to work for.

  We're to leave to do this job tonight, so I'll finish this letter up and get it to the postmaster before I leave. I love you and can hardly wait to get back to civilization. If I ever say I want to go looking for gold again, please give me a good swift kick in the pants.

  "Something interesting in that letter?” Belle asked as she entered the parlor.

  "There sure is. I think there's enough evidence to accelerate the investigation. The description of the man who hired him coupled with this letter, I think we've got more information on Clayte than we did before it arrived."

  "So when do you arrest him?"

  He could sense a hint of sadness in her voice. The sooner he arrested Clayte, the sooner he would be leaving the Double Bar B for good. “It won't be happening until he makes the next move. It looks like you're stuck with me until the spring thaw when we drive those cattle back to the east range."

  "In that case, I'll have to go and have a talk with Cara before we eat supper. That should give you time to finish reading your letters.” She winked slyly and went out to the kitchen to give Annie a hand with the preparations for supper.

  Black turned back to the sheets of paper in his hand. The one he had least expected to receive drew him like a magnet.

  My Dear Grandson,

  Your dear grandmother and I have said so many prayers and lit so many candles for you over the past fifteen years. It is with great relief that we read of your life.

  When I told Theresa about receiving your letter, she too was relieved. She said to tell you that she and Manuel are so happily married and they have you to thank for it. When you left, she was carrying your child and it was Manuel who said he would be proud to be her husband and the father to your son. He is a fine boy, and your grandmother and I see him often.

  Manuel and Theresa have many other children and only those of us who know the difference can tell than Manuel is not the father of Jose. I can see so much of you in him. I wonder what you were like at fifteen. By that time, you had killed your first man. Jose is a fine scholar and has a desire for an education. I have told his parents that any of their children that want to go on to school can do so and I will pay for it, as I would have paid for your education if you'd wanted it. Jose will be going to Mexico City next year in order to study at the university. It is my prayer that he will become a fine doctor, or perhaps a lawyer.

  Never fear, for there is still more money than I will ever spend in two lifetimes. When the time comes, my lawyer has been informed to find you and make certain that this rancho becomes yours. Even if you do not come back to Mexico, Manual and Theresa will be more than fair in their management of the property and will make you a very wealthy man.

  I did know that you had killed Slade, long before we received your letter. News travels quickly and I did meet the man who bought your mother's ranch. He has done a good job with it, and we are in touch on a regular basis. He keeps me informed on everything he hears about you since the news from Texas is sometimes very slow in getting to this remote rancho.

  Now that you have broken your silence, I pray that you will keep in touch with us and tell us of the life you are leading. I know it may be too much to ask, but perhaps God has sent you to this assignment, as you call it, in order to find a woman to love. You are no longer the young boy who left us so long ago. You are a man, and as such you deserve a settled life with a good woman by your side. That is what I wanted for your mother, but her lot in life was never to be a well-loved wife and mother. Never be ashamed of what she had to do to provide a home for you. She was a proud woman and would not take money from me. As such, she led a hard life, but I feel she gave you an education that was far superior to any you could have gotten from most parents.

  You remain in our prayers.

  Roy snored loudly and jumped in the chair across from Black. He was glad the letter was written in Spanish. It probably wouldn't do for folks around here to get wind of the fact that at any time he could go back to Mexico and live the life of a country gentleman.

  "Guess I fell asleep. Damn, I hate it when I snore so loudly that I wake myself up in the process."

  Black agreed, but couldn't stop thinking about the son he would never know. With the news, his worst fear had become reality. He and Belle weren't so different after all. They each had a child they would never see. He knew it tore at her, just as the news now tore at him. At least Manuel was a good man. The boy could have a worse man for a father. When Black had first come to Mexico after the death of his mother, Manuel had been very good to him. Black wanted to work out his frustrations, and the older man gave him all the hard work he could handle. It made the days easier to handle. It was Manuel who taught Black to shoot and spent hours with him as he practiced for both a fast draw and an accurate aim.

  "Supper's ready,” Belle called, interrupting his thoughts yet again.

  As he got up to head for the dining room, he decided it was best for his son continue to think Manuel was his father, and his real grandfather was nothing more than a generous patron. It was far better to be the son of a respected vaquero and ranch manager than of Black Conley, the gunslinger.

  * * * *

  Belle immediately noticed the change in Black's disposition. She couldn't help but wonder what he learned in the letters he had received from Ed.

  "What did my son have
to say in his letter?” Roy asked, once they were seated and had their plates loaded with roast beef, mashed potatoes and vegetables.

  "He sent me a letter he'd received from Newman's wife. It seems he wrote to her just prior to the raid. He did everything but put names to Clayte and his foreman. With this information, all that Clayte has to do is make one false move and we'll have him right where we want him."

  Where do we want him? Belle silently questioned. Even though I know he's the one doing the rustling, I have such mixed emotions. Nettie and I were good friends. I don't want to raise her children, and yet they deserve much better than Clayte for their father.

  It had been over a month since she'd spoken with any of the girls about the orphanage, but with the closing of the stage line, it would be a way to keep the girls on the ranch. She certainly didn't know what she would do without them.

  Around her, the table conversation jumped from topic to topic until at last Black went out on the porch for a smoke. Leaving the cleanup of the kitchen to the girls and Annie, Belle grabbed a heavy shawl and went out to join him.

  "Was there bad news in the letter from Ed?” she asked.

  Black turned to face her. For a moment she though she saw tears in his eyes, but dismissed the idea. Black wouldn't be crying over a letter from his boss. It was the moonlight playing tricks on her.

  "I have a son, Belle. He's almost fifteen, and I'll never know him."

  "A son?"

  "Do you remember me telling you about Theresa?"

  "The girl in Mexico?"

  Black nodded. “She lost her virginity on the night that I took her to my bed, and so did I. When I left, she was carrying my child. Now my son calls the man who taught me to use a gun Father, and thinks of my own grandfather as a kind patron rather than his great-grandfather."