Thunder Wagon (Wind River Book 2)

by James Reasoner

  "Sweeney!" Cole exclaimed. "Got to be! I'm going after him, Billy. Ride down there and tell Burdette what's going on."

  "Be careful, Cole!" Casebolt called after him as he sent Ulysses dashing up and along the ridgeline.

  Cole threw a glance over his left shoulder and saw the cavalry surrounding the other riders. Two Ponies and his men were staying up in the pass, which was wise until Burdette got straightened out about what was going on, while Casebolt rode hurriedly toward the soldiers to do the necessary explaining. Cole was a little surprised that the troopers hadn't just opened up on the renegades and cut them down when they had the chance, but he was glad reason appeared to be prevailing.

  There had been enough killing already.

  Sweeney had almost reached the top of the ridge. Cole was close enough now to recognize the broad, florid face of the Irishman as Sweeney cast an angry, hate-filled look at him. The man brought up a pistol and blazed away with a couple of shots, but the bullets sailed far wide of Cole. He thought about pulling Ulysses to a halt and blowing Sweeney out of the saddle with the Winchester, but somehow that seemed too quick and impersonal.

  Sweeney and his boss back in Wind River had made life miserable for Cole, had been responsible for the deaths of over a dozen people, and had come too damned close to starting a conflict that would have killed hundreds, maybe thousands, before grinding to its inevitable end.

  No, a rifle bullet was too good for Bert Sweeney, Cole decided. He jammed the Winchester back into the boot and sent Ulysses surging forward along the ridge.

  Sweeney fired again, this time when Cole was only ten feet away. Cole ducked as the bullet whipped over his head. Ulysses closed the distance with one long, lunging stride, and the sorrel's shoulder crashed into the flank of the horse Sweeney was riding as both animals came together at the top of the ridge.

  Cole left the saddle in a dive and slammed into Sweeney. With an incoherent yell, Sweeney was driven off his horse by the impact. Both men fell heavily and rolled down the ridge as they landed.

  It was like getting punched all at once by a dozen different fists, Cole thought crazily as he bounced down the slope. He had hold of the buckskin tunic Sweeney wore in his masquerade as a Shoshone, and he didn't let go. They traded positions as they rolled—first Cole was on top, then Sweeney, then Cole again.

  They finally came to a stop with a numbing crash against one of the boulders that dotted the slope. Cole found himself on the bottom. Sweeney screamed curses at him and tried to smash his clubbed fists into Cole's face.

  Cole twisted his head to the side, then arched his back and threw Sweeney off him. He was after Sweeney before the Irishman even hit the ground again. Cole drove a knee into Sweeney's groin, then planted his other knee in the man's stomach. His fist crashed into Sweeney's jaw, rocking his head to the side.

  Cole swung again and again, punch after looping punch that jerked Sweeney's head back and forth, battering the man until his features were almost unrecognizable. For a change, though, Cole hadn't lost control during the heat of battle. The red, killing haze that sometimes descended over him at such times was not there now. Instead, the punishment he handed out to Sweeney was brutal but cold, the sort of punishment a man needed who valued money so highly over human pain and suffering, over human life itself . . .

  When he was satisfied that Sweeney was out cold, Cole pushed himself to his feet and stumbled back a couple of steps. He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and panted for breath.

  "My God, did you kill him?"

  The question came from Major Burdette, who had ridden up nearby along with Casebolt. The officer was staring at the bloody, battered face of Bert Sweeney.

  "He's not dead," Cole said harshly. "Not yet, anyway. He's liable to end up on a gallows when this is all over, but that'll be the law's doing, not mine." He looked up at Burdette. "Did Billy explain everything to you?"

  "Yes, Deputy Casebolt told me what you've discovered, Marshal," Burdette said stiffly. "I'm still not certain I believe all of it, but faced with the evidence of my own eyes . . . well, those certainly aren't Shoshone my men and I have been pursuing ever since they attacked us. But as you suspected, they're riding unshod horses and wearing moccasins."

  "So's this one," Cole said, prodding one of Sweeney's moccasin-shod feet with his boot. "His boss is under arrest back in Wind River. We've got plenty of witnesses to his confession. There never were any Indian raids. Langdon and Sweeney and the men they hired were to blame for all of it."

  "Yes, well, I'm sure we'll get it all sorted out." Burdette glanced nervously toward the gap in the hills, where Two Ponies and his warriors still waited patiently. "You're certain those savages represent no threat to us?"

  "Not as long as you don't threaten them," Cole said.

  Casebolt suggested, "I'll ride back up there and tell Two Ponies that him and his folks can go on back home now. The cavalry won't be botherin' 'em . . . will they, Major?"

  "No," Burdette said, a little reluctantly. "Please convey my appreciation for their help to those Indians, will you, Deputy?"

  Casebolt grinned. "Sure, Major." He looked at Cole. "Can you get back to town all right, Marshal?"

  "Don't worry about me," Cole told him. "I reckon the major's men can handle the prisoners."

  "Be seein' you, then," Casebolt said. He flicked a finger at the brim of his hat as he turned to ride back to the Shoshones.

  Still sitting stiffly on his horse, Major Burdette said to Cole, "I suppose all the credit for clearing up this situation will go to you, Marshal Tyler."

  Cole gathered up Ulysses's reins. "I don't give a damn about who gets the credit, Major," he said as he stepped up into the saddle. "I just didn't want a bunch of innocent folks, red and white alike, getting killed in a war that didn't make any sense." He jerked a thumb at Sweeney's senseless form. "If you'll bring that bastard along, I'd appreciate it. I'm going home."

  He turned the sorrel's head toward Wind River.

  Chapter 20

  "A son?" Michael Hatfield repeated in hushed tones as he stared wide-eyed at Dr. Judson Kent. "I have a son?"

  "That's right," Kent assured him. "Mother and child are both doing exceedingly well, and you can go in and see them in just a few moments."

  Billy Casebolt slapped Michael on the back. "Well, congratulations, boy! You ought to be mighty proud."

  "I . . . I am," Michael said, still sounding stunned.

  Cole shook Michael's hand, although the young journalist didn't seem to notice. "Congratulations," he said. "I reckon you've got something else to write about in that paper of yours, Michael. Wind River's got a brand-new citizen this morning!"

  Two and a half weeks had passed since the catastrophe at the Shoshone camp had been narrowly averted. Since that time, Abner Langdon, Bert Sweeney, and the men who had been working for them had all been taken to Laramie to stand trial for their activities. Cole suspected that each and every one of them would wind up dangling from a rope, and that was all right with him.

  Also during that time, word that the so-called gold strike was a phony had reached the mountains, and men who had already been disappointed by their lack of success had given up entirely and come back to Wind River. Once they heard how Langdon and Sweeney had orchestrated all the trouble, including the rumors about Chinese coolies taking over their jobs on the Union Pacific, the workers were a lot more inclined to listen to the promises of General Grenville Dodge and Jack Casement.

  The short-lived railroad strike was over, and all the crews were back at work. The Thunder Wagon, as the Shoshones called it, was rolling once again. The new railhead was scheduled to be at Rock Springs, and Cole was ready to see it move along. Things would be a mite more peaceful here in Wind River once the hell-on-wheels had rolled on downtrack.

  He and Casebolt had been taking a turn around town this morning when they had seen Michael Hatfield sitting on the front porch of his house along with Jeremiah Newton. Both men had looked sober and concerned
, and Cole had naturally paused to ask them what was wrong. Nothing was wrong, it turned out. But Delia Hatfield's time had come, and Dr. Kent was inside the house delivering the baby.

  A few minutes earlier they had all heard the thin, wailing cry from inside, and Michael had shot to his feet. Jeremiah had been forced to hang on to him to keep him from rushing inside. "Wait for the doctor," the big blacksmith had advised.

  Moments ago Kent had emerged from the house, smiled broadly, and given the proud father the good news. Now the doctor rolled down his sleeves and said to Michael, "I'll just see how they're doing, and then you can come in. Can you wait a few moments longer?"

  "I . . . Sure, Doctor. I can wait. But not too long."

  "Not too long," Kent promised.

  When the doctor had gone back inside, Michael turned to Cole and said, "I liked that, what you said a minute ago. About Wind River having a brand-new citizen, I mean."

  "Town's growing," Cole said. "I reckon it's going to be a mighty fine place."

  "Are you going to stay here? I remember you said when you took the job you were only doing it temporarily."

  Casebolt frowned. "Yeah, that's right. You ain't goin' to leave now that things are startin' to settle down a mite, are you, Marshal?"

  Cole looked at Casebolt and Michael and Jeremiah, thought about Simone McKay and Judson Kent and Rose Foster, the Paines and Stan down at the railroad depot, and all the others he had come to know in the months he had spent in this settlement. Good folks, most of 'em. True, there were a few horses' rumps around—Kerrnit Sawyer and Hank Parker sprang to mind—but there was always a little bad mixed with the good.

  He had taken the job reluctantly, Cole remembered, and he had fully intended to ride out of Wind River as soon as he got the chance. But now . . .

  He smiled and said, "I reckon I'll be around for a while."

  WIND RIVER SERIES:

  The compelling frontier saga of a Wyoming town at the crossroads of destiny!

  #1 WIND RIVER

  No sooner does the very first train roll into Wind River than mayhem erupts, and a prominent citizen lies dead on the platform. Marshal Cole Tyler finds himself facing a ruthless killer as Wind River becomes a town with its own brand of justice.

  # 2 THUNDER WAGON

  Trouble is brewing in Wind River. The Irish and Chinese are up in arms, and the friendly Shoshone stand accused of stealing cattle. Marshal Cole Tyler sets out to track down the saboteurs-lighting a fuse that will set off a bloody massacre.

  #3 WOLF SHADOW

  A stranger brings a blizzard of trouble to Wind River. Two men are dead, and hell freezes over as Cole Tyler investigates the case. But as the bullets fly, Tyler learns it is one thing to stop the slaughter—and another to learn the truth.

  #4 MEDICINE CREEK

  Things don't stay peaceful for long in Wind River as an ancient Shoshone legend sparks a deadly rivalry. Cattlemen face off against each other—and the mysterious powers of Medicine Creek.

  #5 DARK TRAIL

  No one is laying out the welcome mat for the latest visitors to Wind River. These revenge-seeking New Orleans natives send bullets flying in a deadly showdown that could change the face of Wind River forever.

  #6 JUDGMENT DAY

  Not everyone is glad to see the railroad coming to Wind River. Caught in the middle of those for and those against, Marshal Cole Tyler must keep the peace even as events force him to choose sides in the battle for the future of the town.

  About the Authors

  A lifelong Texans, James Reasoner and L.J. Washburn have been husband and wife, and professional writers for more than thirty years. In that time, they have authored several hundred novels and short stories in numerous genres.

  James is best known for his Westerns, historical novels, and war novels, he is also the author of two mystery novels that have achieved cult classic status, TEXAS WIND and DUST DEVILS. Writing under his own name and various pseudonyms, his novels have garnered praise from Publishers Weekly, Booklist, and the Los Angeles Times, as well as appearing on the New York Times and USA Today bestseller lists.

  Livia J. (L.J.) Washburn has been writing professionally for over 30 years. Washburn received the Private Eye Writers of America award and the American Mystery award for the first Lucas Hallam mystery, WILD NIGHT.

  They live in the small Texas town they grew up in.

  Other EBooks By James Reasoner

  THE HUNTED

  COSSACK THREE PONIES

  THE WILDERNESS ROAD

  UNDER OUTLAW FLAGS

  REDEMPTION: KANSAS

  RANCHO DIABLO:HANGROPE LAW as by Colby Jackson

  DRAW: THE GREATEST GUNFIGHTS OF THE AMERICAN WEST

  TEXAS WIND

  DIAMONDBACK

  DUST DEVILS

  DEATH HEAD CROSSING

  Other EBooks By Livia J. (L.J) Washburn

  HALLAM

  WILD NIGHT

  DEAD-STICK

  DOG HEAVIES

  GHOST RIVER

  MENDING FENCES

  SPIRIT CATCHER

  ALURA’S WISH

  YESTERDAY’S FLAME

  WITCH GOT YOUR TONGUE