Blaze! Western Series: Six Adult Western Novels

by Stephen Mertz

  J.D. cleared his throat.

  "Uh, Lieutenant. You mind telling us what happened here?"

  Pearson frowned.

  "We're trying to cipher that for ourselves. Have either of you seen any strangers along the trail? We're stopping and asking everyone. Something strange happened here."

  J.D. said, "Apaches or bandits?"

  Pearson dismounted. J.D. and Kate did the same.

  Pearson said, "Come, take a look if you care to. I warn you though, ma'am, it's not a pretty sight."

  Kate said, "How gallant of you to warn me, Lieutenant," in a voice that could only be called demure.

  "If nothing else, you can help spread the word. There is evil loose in this land." They rounded the rear of the overturned stagecoach. He led them to the line of bodies. "Bandits? No, this wasn't done by white men for the gain of mere money and trinkets. Apaches? Well, I know from the briefing I received from Colonel Hitchcock, my commanding officer, that the Apache is fierce and sadistic. But I believe this is beyond the pale of even a savage."

  Pearson flicked back a pair of blankets.

  Kate gasped. She turned away with a sorrowful moan.

  Two of the bodies. Barely recognizable as human remains. Guts ripped out. Gore. Clumpy blobs of red mud were internal organs splattered here and there. Chunks of arms and legs were missing through torn clothing. Meat chawed off the bone. Each corpse wore a wide-eyed rictus of pure horror.

  Pearson replaced the blankets.

  J.D. said, "In the war I saw men done in by bayonet and cannon fire that didn't look that bad."

  Pearson nodded. "You see what I mean about the ferocity of the attack. It's well beyond anything we could expect from road agents or a roving band of Indians. The stage never arrived in Yonder. I was dispatched to investigate and this is what we found."

  Kate considered the scene as they returned to their horses.

  "The attack frightened the team. The horses bolted and the stage overturned. The attackers cut the team loose."

  They swung up into their saddles.

  Pearson said, "Or the team broke free. We found the remains of one of the horses, not too far from here. He'd been...gnawed on, is the only way I can put it, as if large chunks of flesh had been devoured raw. The other horses must have scattered."

  J.D. said, "So it wasn't bandits and it wasn't Apaches. That poses one hell of a question, don't it? Anything like this ever happen around here before?"

  Pearson nodded. "I've heard barracks talk about the occasional steer or horse that wandered off and was found the next day, gutted and half devoured. Tell you the truth, I thought my fellow officers, and a couple of enlisted men too, were just pulling my leg because I'm the new man on the post. But this...no, nothing like this outrage has ever been reported."

  J.D. pointed. "What's over that line of hills?"

  "Open prairie. The Starlight Mine, another mile or so on."

  "Did any of that butchered livestock they told you about belong to the mine?"

  "No. The mine hasn't been bothered." Pearson considered the draped bodies and the overturned stage. "And now I guess I believe those stories they were telling me back at the fort. Evil is the only word for this."

  Kate said, "The Starlight Mine. Have you met the owner?"

  "No. Few have. Count Vlad is a recluse, for all the wealth and the power that I'm told he wields in this territory."

  "Have your fellow officers mentioned a man named Percy MacNeil?"

  "Not that I recall."

  J.D. said, "He's man who sold the mine to the Count."

  Pearson regarded them with renewed interest.

  "That brings us back to the nature of your visit in these parts. You folks have business at the mine?"

  The fingers of Kate's right hand fluttered to her throat. She murmured a bemused chuckle.

  "Dear me no, my darling Lieutenant. The husband and I are just passing through. Aren't we, J.D.?"

  J.D. said, "Uh huh."

  Kate beamed. "There, you see? We're on our way to Colorado where my husband has been offered employment." She batted her eyes at Pearson. "You're not going to delay us and cause my husband to miss an important job interview, are you? Oh please say you're not. That would break my heart."

  Pearson started to blush again. "Well we certainly wouldn't want that, would we? Very well. Nice to have met you folks and sorry for the inconvenience. You may ride on."

  J.D. waited until they were about a half mile down the trail.

  "Since when did you acquire a Dixie accent?" He realized that he'd been grinding his teeth.

  "Why, Jehoram Delfonso, I do believe someone is jealous."

  "Do you blame me? That was quite a performance."

  "Oh, stop. We're not sittings on our butts awaiting further questioning, are we?"

  "Well, no."

  "Then that's all there is to it."

  J.D. figured the hell with it and kept his mouth shut.

  They rode on to Yonder.

  Chapter 9

  A wooden sign, nailed to a post, proclaimed the city limits of Yonder. Bullet holes pockmarked sign and post. An errant breeze carried the faintest hint of sulphur.

  Kate made a sniff-sniff sound.

  "Am I the only one who just got a cold chill?"

  J.D. said, "So there's sulphur springs nearby. Don't tell me you're turning superstitious?"

  "I just have a creepy feeling, J.D."

  "Should we turn back?"

  She gave him a dirty look but said nothing.

  He said, "Okay, let's look the town over. Seems safe enough."

  They rode down the single dusty street of Yonder.

  J.D. had rarely seen Kate as driven as she was in her search to find out whatever it was that Holly MacNeil would have found out had she not died in Kate's arms. That sort of compulsion and drive could accomplish a final objective, but could also be a liability along the way if compulsion became like blinders. Then danger could blindside you and become sudden death.

  It wasn't much of a town. A motley collection of false front businesses sprinkled with residences, mostly adobe.

  The town had a ghostly feel even in the late afternoon sunshine, not unlike many mining towns J.D. had been to and through both before and after hooking up with Kate. In the west, where prospectors and silver and gold strikes were a vital part of the economy, most such towns dried up and blew away as soon as the veins of silver and gold dwindled back into barren, worthless rock.

  They drew rein before the only saloon in town. Piano playing and the chatter of conversations drifted out to them.

  "It's not entirely a ghost town," said Kate. "Feel like wetting your whistle, husband?"

  "Sounds like a good idea, wife."

  They dismounted, draping their reins over a hitching rail. They shouldered their way through the batwings and paused inside.

  There was an abrupt lapse of sound.

  Three hardcases leaned against the far end of the bar, throwing back shots of whiskey. A few anonymous loners sat here and there. A sprinkling of saloon girls circulated among the men. A card game was in progress across the room: a pair of cowboys, a prosperous gent who could have been anything from a rancher to a banker, and a lanky man in an impeccable black suit and wearing a matching top hat.

  J.D. and Kate approached the bar.

  The surrounding conversations and the tinkling piano resumed.

  There were times, between jobs when they needed traveling money, when Kate plied her skills as a lady cardsharp, a talent nurtured and honed in the gambling rooms of the Mississippi riverboats. But this was not one of those times.

  The bartender was a cheery, undersized specimen with a fringe of brown hair around the smooth, shiny dome of his head. His broad smile did not reach his eyes.

  "What'll it be, folks?"

  They ordered beer. They were served and J.D. paid. The beer was warm. J.D. didn't mind. Kate made a face.

  J.D. said, "Drink up, hon. It may not be the nectar of the gods
but it will cut through the trail dust.

  The barkeep overheard this.

  He said, "Welcome to Yonder, folks. Been on the trail, eh? Planning on staying awhile? Maybe settle down?"

  Kate said, "Business so slow, they've got you shilling for the Chamber of Commerce?"

  The barkeep sighed.

  "Ain't no Chamber of Commerce. Ain't no commerce. Folks you see here are drinking to forget what this town used to be."

  "And what was that?"

  "Yonder was a boomtown. That is until the Count come in and bought out Mr. MacNeil. First thing he done was to lay off everyone working for him. Business has been shitty ever since. Pardon my French, ma'am. Most people living here, why, they picked up and moved on." The bartender lowered his voice. "Except, of course, for the likes of them." He indicated the gunhands at the end of the bar. "Part of the Count's 'security staff'."

  Kate said, "Just out of curiosity, are there sulphur springs on the outskirts of town?"

  "Sure are. Trimble Springs. Why's that, ma'am?"

  "Nothing." She took another sip of her beer.

  J.D. said, "The Starlight Mine. How do we find it?"

  "Mister, you can't miss it and that's a fact. You follow the main road out of town. It forks off toward the fort but stay on it. That road will take you to the mine."

  "Is the mine operational?"

  The barkeep nodded. "Judging from the ore wagons coming and going, the mine's operational as hell."

  Kate said, "If the present owner laid off all of the townspeople when he bought out Mr. MacNeil, who's working the mine now?"

  Before the bartender could respond, one of the hardcases at the end of the bar spoke up.

  "Lady, what the hell business is that of yours? And stickman, you talk too damn much. You don't shut your face, I'll put a bullet through it."

  The bar room abruptly became more quiet than before. No one spoke. No one moved. It was as if the room itself held its breath, waiting to see what would happen next.

  J.D. set down his beer and stepped away from the bar.

  "Mister, I don't much appreciate you talking to my wife in that manner."

  The man who had spoken stepped away from the bar. He faced J.D. He had a lumpy, unshaven face, not unlike the men with him. He wore his gun low, the holster tied to his thigh.

  "Well, I don't much give a fuck what you appreciate or don't appreciate, saddle tramp. And that goes for your gash too."

  Kate eased away from the bar.

  The man's two sidekicks stepped over so they book-ended him, one to his either side. The three of them faced J.D. and Kate.

  Gun hands on both sides hovered near gun butts.

  The barman ducked down behind his bar. Everyone else scattered for cover.

  J.D. said, "We didn't come in here looking for a fight. Leave it alone, fellas, and walk away."

  The talker with the big mouth laughed.

  "Hear that, boys? Three of us, two of them and one of ‘em is a damn woman. Saddle tramp, we ain't walking out of here and neither are you. You're going to die knowin' that your woman will follow you after we've had our fun with her."

  Kate cleared her throat. "Listen up, shit head. My old man might not go looking for trouble but me, I like a good scrap when it comes along."

  The talker with the lumpy face laughed again.

  "Whoo-wee. A chickenshit saddle tramp and a mouthy bitch. This'll be no trouble at all. Take 'em, boys!"

  Chapter 10

  Kate Blaze (nee Aragon) had held a reputation of her own as a deadly shootist well before she ever met J.D. Women gunfighters were not common on the frontier. In fact, Kate was the only one she knew about.

  The three gunslingers slapped leather. But they were not fast enough.

  Kate and J.D. each filled both hands with iron fractions of a second before the gunslicks managed to bring their weapons up. The four six-shooters of Mr. and Mrs. Blaze commenced blazing.

  The ear-pounding thunder of the gunfire came so fast, it sounded like a Gatling gun.

  J.D.'s first round took the gunslick nearest him in the gut. The man doubled up. J.D. put a mercy round through the top of the gunnie's head. Gutshot is the hardest way to die. A long, agonizing death. When this one hit the floor he was already dead, the wall behind him splashed with his blood and brains.

  Kate pumped two rounds from each pistol into the gunman nearest her.

  The bullets staggered that man into the wall. He had his gun drawn. He looked up at the ceiling, fired a round into the floor and then he fell onto his face and did not move.

  That left the talker. He fired at J.D. but the bullet went wild. Then he took eight rounds to the head and torso, lurching under the impact of each bullet as if doing a silly dance. He dropped and did not move. A pool of his blood rapidly spread across the floorboards.

  Silence fell over the barroom. A haze of blue-gray gunsmoke drifted heavy in the air.

  J.D. and Kate stood at the bar and reloaded their guns.

  A mirror behind the bar allowed them to keep an eye on what was happening behind them, where the saloon patrons, muttering amongst themselves, gathered for a curious inspection of the fallen gunmen.

  Kate said, "This Count apparently doesn't much care for people asking questions."

  J.D. holstered his guns.

  "Reckon three dead is evidence of that."

  The bartender rose from behind the bar. He stared at the carnage with mouth agape.

  He said, "Holy moly."

  J.D. said to him, "Tell us what's going on around here that these 'security men' lost their lives trying to run us off?"

  Kate added, "I don't like people trying to kill me. Makes me mean."

  J.D. had always thought that his wife was one of the sexiest creatures on earth, especially when she was building up a head of steam like she was now.

  He leaned an elbow on the bar and confided to the bartender, "Believe me, brother, you do not want to see the missus when she gets mean."

  The bartender avoided their eyes.

  "You've caused enough trouble here." His eyes swept the blood and brains on the wall. The blood on the floor. The bodies. "This is going to be hell to clean up! Good help is hard to come by, y'know."

  Kate said, "Tell us about the Count and Mr. MacNeil. What about him dying right after he signed over the mine? Kind of suspicious, wouldn't you say?"

  The bartender's face and bald dome grew a whiter shade of pale.

  "You're wasting your time with me. I told you how to get to the mine. That's got to be enough or I'll end up as dead too. I don't know a damn thing anyway. Ask anybody."

  Kate said, "Fair enough." She raised her voice to get their attention. "Can anyone speak up for this man? We're trying to find out about the mine?"

  The patrons remained fascinated by the sprawled bodies. They did however offer mutterings that collectively confirmed that, "Lem's like us. He don't know nothin' about that place."

  "There, you see?" said the bartender. "The mine has long been off limits to everybody except the chosen few, and that don't include us townsfolk."

  Kate sighed her disappointment.

  "Okay, I believe you."

  "Uh, personally," said the bartender, "I'd consider it a favor if you two would vacate the premises of this establishment without further ado. Soon as the Count finds out what happened," he grimaced at the sprawl of bodies, "well, he's going to send more men. They find you here, there's going to be more killing. More shooting. Bullets flying all over the place."

  J.D. nodded. "You're right. No need to put innocent lives in a cross-fire."

  The barkeep snorted. "There are no innocent lives in Yonder." He indicated the high mirror that stretched the length of the bar. "Had this beauty shipped all the way around the horn from New York and then transported the rest of the way here by rail from San Francisco. Cost me a shitload. Please understand, folks. I don't want to lose my mirror to a stray bullet."

  J.D. said, "Reckon we can't blame you for that.
You've had enough trouble for one night. We'll make ourselves scarce."

  Kate added, "For now."

  Outside, they mounted up. The gunfire had drawn people who crowded around the batwings and the windows for a view of where the shooting had just occurred. No one recognized or tried to stop J.D. and Kate, so intent was their interest in the saloon's interior. J.D. and Kate rode out of town without anyone hailing them or trying to stop them.

  J.D. waited until they were beyond the town limits before speaking.

  "When it comes to this Count feller, we've got a choice to make. We give him a wide berth, or we get ready to go toe-to-toe with him on his own ground, against what sounds like a private army."

  "I'll tell you something, husband. The further we ride down this trail, the more I want to know what it is that Holly MacNeil would have run into when she got here."

  J.D.'s brow was furrowed.

  "Those gunnies in the saloon were ready to shoot down a couple of curious strangers. Wonder what it is they're trying to hide at that mine."

  "I'll wager it has something to do with the workers in town being let go right after the Count took over. Whatever he's is so all fired concerned about has something to do with who's working his mine. What if it's workers he doesn't have to pay?"

  J.D.'s brow remained furrowed. "You mean...slaves?"

  "Tell you the truth, I'm not sure what I mean. But that would be one hell of a reason for giving the boot to honest laborers worthy of their pay, wouldn't it? If the Count could run that mine with an unpaid workforce, the profit margin would be enormous."

  J.D. nodded. "It could be that way, the way you're parsing it."

  "Damn right it could. Something tells me that if Holly hadn't caught that load of buckshot in Whiskey Bend, she might not have survived her first night in Yonder, dropping in unexpected and all." A trace of that brooding sadness laced her words. "I'm sorry the poor thing is dead but I'm glad it's you and me riding in to fix what needs fixing around here, J.D., and not some unsuspecting kid from back east who they could disappear and no one would be the wiser."