The Valeron Code

by Terrell Bowers

  ‘There might be some added pressure for people not to buy the papers in the first place,’ he stated meaningfully. ‘Think about it, Lynn.’

  Her eyes burned hot. ‘You have no right to call me by my first name, Dealer Gilmore. You are as responsible as Sandoval and Connor for Tommy’s beating. He almost died from his injuries!’

  ‘Buy yourself something nice with the money,’ Dealer replied, ignoring her outburst. ‘And give some thought to what I’ve said. You can earn a good living here in Deliverance. Just curb your poison pen and be civil towards me. I’d hate to see you lose everything you own, just so’s you can malign me and my partner’s reputation.’

  ‘You can’t buy or scare me, Mr Gilmore.’

  Dealer displayed a vulgar sneer. ‘You’re too young and nubile to waste what’s left of your life covering yourself in ink and writing trash, Lynn.’ He purposely accented the moniker. It was a subtle demonstration of her lack of recourse to whatever he and Rutherford did or said. ‘Give it some thought.’

  Remaining outwardly calm, she said: ‘Please leave. I have work to do.’

  Dealer stared at her, not trying to hide his salacious hunger for her. After a few seconds he lifted a hand in farewell and went out the door. Once alone, Lynette nearly collapsed from the strain. Her knees were shaking and her heart was pounding hard enough to crack a rib. She managed to control her trembling long enough to pick up the money. It was enough to pay the doctor for treating Tommy and also the week’s wages she owed the young man. He claimed he had wanted to come back to work for her, but his family feared retribution and had demanded he quit. She couldn’t blame them. Tommy’s life was worth more than a few lines in a newspaper, especially when there was nothing anyone could do about the situation.

  Lynette had grown resilient and independent while helping to raise her brother. The one man in her life had turned out to be a rogue who swept her off of her feet, used her to suit his purpose, then dropped her in the gutter. He ruined her reputation and left her too ashamed to trust another man. Dealer was cut from the same cloth as that deceitful, womanizing cur. He didn’t want a woman as a companion or partner in life, he wanted her for his personal satisfaction, a trophy to show off until he tired of her. Unfortunately, rejecting Dealer only inspired him to try harder. That he was ten years older than her did not matter, he ran the biggest saloon for miles around and considered his position as grounds for a romance.

  Before she could ponder her predicament further, the office door opened a second time. It was Peter, one of the youths who sold papers for her each week. He also worked as a town runner. He was in his early teens and did about any job that would earn him a few cents. He walked up to the small counter and flashed a wide grin.

  ‘Hey, Miss Brooks!’ he greeted. Then he held out a piece of paper from his pocket. ‘This here just come for you. It arrived special at the telegraph office. The sender paid extra for fast, personal delivery, so I brought it straight away.’

  She took the message and offered him a smile. ‘Thank you, Peter.’

  He laughed. ‘No, thank you! The sender of this here wire done paid an extra fifty cents for seeing you got this straightaway.’

  She thanked him again anyway, as he whirled about and went out the door. She didn’t watch after him, but put her attention on the folded piece of paper. It was a communication from her brother. She had mentioned Tommy being beaten in her last letter. It was a surprise to hear from him so soon, especially by telegraph. He said for her not to worry, that he was on his way. He promised to handle things and see everything was settled before he left.

  Thinking of Richard, she was overtaken with incredulity. Her brother was very good with numbers and had worked himself up from bank clerk and teller to the position of vice president. She recalled her last visit with him, before she had used all of her money to leave that city behind and seek her destiny further west. Richard lived in a small house like a chipmunk in a burrow, seldom peeking out of his hole except to buy a few groceries. As a youth, he was picked on for being small and bookish. Timid was not a strong enough word for him. He avoided any manner of conflict and had never learned to fight or shoot a gun. He would be completely out of his element if he showed up and tried to lock horns with the hard-case sorts Rutherford and Dealer had on their payroll.

  ‘Richard,’ she murmured aloud. ‘I love you dearly, but you are not up to something like this. I pray you don’t come here and end up like Tommy . . . or worse!’

  Chapter Two

  Richard stood with his arms hanging limply at his sides, gasping for air, his chest heaving from the vigorous exertion.

  ‘Look, dummy,’ Mason criticized him. ‘You’ve got no power to your punches. When you hit a man, it has to be hard enough to scramble his wits. If you don’t put him down with a few well-chosen licks, he’ll come back at you and do some damage of his own.’

  ‘I’m hitting the punching bag – mattress – whatever this wadded-up thing is.’ He gasped before finishing. ‘I’m done. Exhausted. I can’t even lift my arms!’

  ‘I chose this bag because your hands are soft. I prefer a sack of grain, because that toughens your knuckles too. You might not have time to put on a pair of gloves. You have to protect your hands.’

  ‘But what’s with this jabbing stuff?’ Richard complained. ‘Simply sticking a fist in the other guy’s face won’t knock him off of his feet.’

  ‘A jab keeps your opponent off balance, so he can’t set himself to knock you flat. You poke him between the eyes or in the nose hard enough that he can’t see your next punch coming. That’s when you bust his chops and lay him out on the ground.’

  Richard stood before Mason, chest heaving to regain his wind, with his hands on his hips. ‘This is a total waste of time. I thought you were going to teach me to—’

  Without warning, Mason launched a sharp left jab to Richard’s breastbone. It knocked his feet out from under him and he landed on his rump. It took a few seconds before he could catch his breath. Then he began to rub his chest.

  ‘Holy Hannah! That hurt!’

  Mason glowered down at him. ‘Imagine that mild tap hitting you in the nose. You would be totally exposed and helpless when I unleashed a roundhouse and knocked you heels-over-shoulders flat on your face. The fight would be over.’

  ‘B-but, how do you manage to get that much power behind such a short poke?’

  ‘By doing just what I’ve been teaching you to do.’

  Richard slowly got to his feet. He continued to rub the tender spot as he regarded Mason with a narrow appraisal. ‘How long did it take you to acquire such a great deal of force for your “mild tap”?’

  ‘I worked at it for several months, all the time I was fighting with the carnival.’

  ‘Then I say we forgo these lessons. We need to get going. I’ve wasted two days and learned nothing . . . other than not to engage in fisticuffs.’

  Mason sighed in agreement. ‘All right, buster. We’ll start out first thing in the morning. Let’s go down to the general store and pick up the supplies we’ll need. You can buy an extra hundred rounds of ammo so we can practice your shooting each night.’

  ‘A hundred rounds?’

  ‘I use that much every month. Usually twice that. You don’t get good at something unless you practice.’

  ‘I’m for a bath to soak my aching muscles.’ He looked at Mason.

  ‘Wouldn’t hurt you to also get a bath, haircut and shave.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘So you don’t frighten my sister when she gets a look at you.’

  ‘It doesn’t sound like we are heading for a beauty contest.’

  ‘Funny you should mention that. My sister actually won a contest at a local fair once, for being the most attractive girl, back when we were still living at home. I also won a first-place ribbon – it was a math competition.’

  ‘The only math you should be concerned with is how many men in Deliverance will be pitted against the two of us.’r />
  ‘According to one of Lynette’s letters, it’s mainly the banker, mayor, a saloon owner and their hired men. Unfortunately, by virtue of holding the deeds, they control most of the farms, ranches and businesses in the valley.’

  ‘Could be, your sister’s on a fool’s errand. Why on earth does she insist on bucking such high odds with no chance of winning?’

  ‘Lynette is not your usual damsel in distress,’ Richard answered. ‘She has a dogged determination to try and right wrongs when she sees them. Even when we were both living at home, she was always taking up for some social cause – you know, underpaid workers, indentured help, even the poor treatment of prisoners at the local jail. I lost count of how many times we got a rock through our window or a warning letter on our doorstep. I admit, I was relieved when she finally left. It allowed me to live in peace.’

  ‘And now you’re riding to her rescue like a big brother should.’

  Richard chuckled. ‘Yeah, she’ll probably get a laugh out of that. Being three years older than me, she was the one who had to stick up for me growing up.’

  ‘Circumstances would suggest you have picked a one-sided fight to prove your manhood to your sister.’

  Richard took on a serious mien. ‘I want to thank you for joining me, Mason. I am candidly aware of my lack of abilities when it comes to a fight. I’ve never even hit another person in anger before. I doubt I’ll be much help.’

  ‘If Konrad wanted you to take me along, he likely knew the odds and the troubles we were going to find. Let’s hope you can learn to shoot. It sounds like we’re headed to a place where I will need someone backing my play.’

  ‘I’ll do my very best,’ Richard vowed.

  His promise didn’t lessen Mason’s concern. Facing a host of powerful men didn’t sound like a walk through a wheat field. Konrad had once told him he was the most able man he’d ever hired. Well, this time he might be in over his head.

  Harve Rutherford ordered his housekeeper to bring out a couple glasses of apple brandy and took a chair on the veranda. There was a small table with several chairs along the wall of the house. Sometimes he and Dealer would have a couple of his men or guests over to play cards, when the weather was comfortable for sitting outside. The roof over the porch had been added after he took possession of the house. He enjoyed his position as king, the ultimate ruler of an entire town.

  ‘It’s been a good few months,’ he said to the mayor. ‘We’ve gained control of this valley and are in a good position to make a lot of money. There’s plenty of traffic from travellers, a main stage route going in three different directions, and the possibility of getting a rail spur to the mainline of the Union Pacific railroad. Everything is going our way.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Lafferty agreed. ‘Most everyone has fallen in line, other than the woman editor.’

  ‘Dealer is hot on her heels.’ Rutherford uttered a grunt. ‘As if the Brooks woman would ever let him touch her.’

  Lafferty agreed. ‘She’s pretty high and mighty. Don’t scare for nothing either.’

  ‘I don’t like to shut down our only newspaper, but that unmanageable wildcat is making a real nuisance of herself.’

  Lafferty didn’t speak, as the housekeeper brought out two drinks. (She was an elderly widow with no family, so she had taken on the chore of a live-in cook and housekeeper.) He took a sip and enjoyed the coolness of the drink. He envied Rutherford and Dealer, who lived with as much luxury as could be bought. They had added an ice house out back of their two-story dwelling that provided them with cold drinks year around. He often resented being a third wheel, not involved in the decision-making or overall profit from their mutual endeavours. However, Dealer and Rutherford ran the gang, always had. He had to be satisfied with the position they gave him, and being mayor of the town paid well, without a lot of physical work.

  ‘I never was much for apple jack,’ he told Rutherford, ‘but serving it cold . . . by Jingo!, that hits the spot.’

  ‘Money has its advantages.’

  ‘Dealer seems to be doing well at the saloon too.’ Lafferty snorted.

  ‘Yeah, you fellows sure know how to take charge of a town.’

  ‘Dealer only has one weakness,’ Rutherford criticized. ‘He never saw a pretty woman he didn’t want for himself. His interest in our lady editor is the only reason she isn’t gone.’

  ‘Got to admit, she’s a cut above most daisies.’ He gulped and hurried to say, ‘Still, she’s a real pest when it comes to writing those stinkin’ newspaper articles.’

  Rutherford got down to business. ‘What’s the latest on her?’

  The mayor twitched. ‘I stopped by the newspaper office, but she refused to talk to me. She was busy setting print. Looks as if she’s going to put out her weekly paper on schedule.’

  ‘Your two chowder-head flunkeys didn’t do one bit of good. Beating up her apprentice only makes us look like bullies.’

  ‘Sandoval and Connor did what they could. You said not to hurt the woman, so they put the kid out of action for a couple weeks.’ He added: ‘It worked a little, ’cause his folks made him quit.’

  Rutherford did not let up. ‘I pay you well to handle these kinds of things. It doesn’t look good for me and the bank, her bashing me in every edition for gouging people on interest or foreclosing on farmers. Something has to be done.’

  ‘If need be,’ Lafferty lowered his voice, ‘we can arrange for a fire. A little lamp oil, a match – we can burn the building down around her ears.’

  ‘Not yet, Mike. But it might come to that.’ Rutherford then put a curious look on him. ‘You made this visit for a reason. What’s on your mind?’

  ‘A second telegraph message arrived a couple days ago from Lynette Brook’s brother. It could be why she ain’t packing her belongings. He is on his way here.’ With a serious expression, ‘He said he was going to “help her” with her problems.’

  ‘I thought her brother worked in a bank, back east or the like?’

  ‘Yes, his first wire came from Omaha. I believe that’s where he lives. However, this second wire was sent from Denver.’

  ‘A bank clerk shouldn’t pose much of a problem.’

  ‘No, sir,’ Lafferty agreed. ‘Even so, I wanted you to be aware of what is going on . . . in case we have to deal with the guy.’

  ‘Maybe he’ll be smart and take his sister back with him to Omaha.’

  ‘You want for us to give the editor another push, before he gets here?’

  Rutherford rubbed his brow in thought. ‘A little encouragement might not hurt, but remind your men not to do her physical harm. Have them make the point – we’re running out of patience. Whenever her brother does arrive, you make sure he feels unwelcome too.’

  ‘I’ll see to it.’

  Rutherford finished his drink and got to his feet. It forced Lafferty to do the same. Then the man placed his empty glass on the table and headed back to Main Street.

  Watching him go, the bank owner ground his teeth. Why was it so few men could handle a job that needed a little ordinary logic? Perhaps the saying was wrong. From the people he’d encountered there were very few men with the ability to think and act rationally and appropriately to any given situation.

  ‘Ought to rename it “rare sense”,’ he muttered. ‘There sure isn’t all that much common sense around these days.’

  Teaching a dog to dance on stilts would have been a breeze compared to trying to make a marksman out of Richard. He had no coordination, lacked the eyesight for a shot at anything more than thirty feet away, and – seeking speed – he kept pulling the trigger before he was ready.

  ‘What can I do?’ he lamented. ‘I can’t seem to get everything to work in the right order.’

  ‘Best advice: use what little coordination you have to duck quick and find cover,’ Mason told him curtly.

  ‘When you do it, it seems so easy. You just draw and shoot. Bam! You hit the target every time.’ He uttered a deep sigh of regret. ‘Even when I get the
gun out and try to take aim, the bullet goes flying off to who knows where! I tell you, Mason, it’s extremely depressing.’

  ‘We agree on that much.’

  ‘What are we going to do?’

  Mason decided they had practised long enough. ‘We’re going to have something to eat and hit the blankets for the night. At the next town or trading post, we’ll pick you up a double-barrel shotgun and head for Deliverance.’

  ‘Is that easier to shoot – a shotgun?’

  ‘It has more of a kick, buster, but you only have to point the barrel in the right direction. Even if you don’t hit anything, the sight of one makes your adversary downright skittish.’

  ‘Think we’ll make it to Deliverance by tomorrow night?’

  ‘We should get there by early afternoon. I reckon you and your sister will be reminiscing by suppertime.’

  ‘I haven’t seen her since she got mixed up with a wandering gambler,’ Richard admitted. ‘He treated her badly and I don’t think she ever got past it. Anyway, I was too busy working to spend much time with her.’ As they started the walk back to camp, he narrated how their folks had been poor. His father worked at a tannery and barely paid the bills. When his wife passed, his own health turned bad. He followed their mother to the grave a few months later.

  ‘Lynette had enough schooling that she began to teach the local kids. It didn’t pay much and I went to work at sixteen so we could keep our house. A year or so later, I landed a job at the bank. Soon as I was able to pay my own way, Lynette sold all of our folk’s possessions, bought herself a printing press, and left town. We write back and forth all the time, but I haven’t seen her in three years.’

  ‘How come you haven’t found a girl for yourself?’

  ‘I’ve just attained a position of some importance. I wanted to be a good provider – no worrying about being able to afford food and clothing. You know?’

  ‘Makes sense.’

  ‘Soon as I buy myself a nice house, I’ll start looking for an eligible lady. When and if I do marry, I’m going to be a better provider than my father.’