Rocky Mountain Lawmen Series Box Set: Four John Legg Westerns

by John Legg

  Within moments, the bedroom door opened, and Merry stepped out. Her hair was loose and flowed over her shoulders and down to the top of her buttocks. Merry wore a short, thin chemise. She normally used a long chemise as a nightshirt, but this one was rather special. She had ordered it several years ago, to wear it just for Culpepper, after he had been joshing her about the outfits some of the fallen women over on Blair Street wore. The cotton material was so thin that it hid nothing of her charms if there was a light behind her. She always felt rather licentious— but very womanly—on those rare occasions when she put it on. She had no doubt it would revive Culpepper’s flagging interest.

  She was right. Culpepper’s eyes sparkled with lust when he saw her. He stood and moved to her and pulled her gently into his embrace. “It ain’t many a man who’s got a woman like you to come home to.” He couldn’t help but think that perhaps if more men did, there’d be less trouble in the world.

  “That’s true,” Merry said with a sudden wave of trepidation. “I don’t think many men’d want a woman with such loose morals to come home to.”

  “Don’t you go talkin’ that way about yourself, woman,” Culpepper said roughly. “You’re not a woman with loose morals. You’re a woman who loves her husband more than most women know how to. Or want to. And you’re not afraid to show it in the privacy of our home. And I darn well like you that way.”

  Merry smiled as she pressed her cheek against his broad chest, and she squeezed him hard.

  “Now,” he said huskily, “let’s go tend to business.”

  “You know, Merry,” he said later, “you’re pretty active for an old married woman.”

  “Old...? Married, yes, but old...?” Merry protested. She punched him on the chest, doing no more damage to him than a gnat would do to Bear.

  “Not only old and married, but feisty, too,” Culpepper said with a laugh.

  Despite his joshing with her, Merry knew her husband was tired. “Hush, now,” she said, pressing a finger to his lips. “You need your rest.” She slipped out of bed, naked now, and shivering in the chill of the early spring night. She opened the bedroom door so that Bear could come in and sleep in his accustomed spot on the floor at the foot of the bed. Then she blew out the lantern and hurriedly climbed back into bed. She found warmth—and even more important, comfort—in the strong arms of her man.

  As he drifted quickly toward sleep, Culpepper gave thanks again for having Merry as his wife. It was true that most men did not have such a woman. Trouble was, most men—and women even more so—were so bound by convention that they could not enjoy the intimate knowledge of each other without guilt. That, Culpepper thought, was a pity and a shame. Men and women were made to be intimate with each other. The Good Book even said so.

  He smiled into the darkness. It was just like him to think about how the world would be if he were in charge of everything. But he knew he could do nothing but live his life as well as he possibly could and let God sort out the way of things.

  “Go to sleep, Jonas,” Merry said quietly. She could feel the tension in him, and knew he was having a little trouble falling asleep.

  “Yes’m,” he muttered. But he let the crazy thoughts go, and was soon fast asleep.

  Culpepper woke refreshed—and alone. He patted Merry’s side of the bed and smiled. She had not been up long. Bear bounced into the room and slobbered on Culpepper’s face as the sheriff grinned and petted the huge dog.

  A smiling Merry walked into the room, wiping her hands on a cloth. She wore a regular nightshirt, but her hair still hung loose and free. “I got coffee ready,” she said.

  “Coffee can wait a bit.”

  “Again?” Merry asked in mock surprise.

  “Just get yourself over here, darn you,” Culpepper growled.

  Merry joyfully did as requested.

  Culpepper dressed and then sat eating a leisurely breakfast with Merry. It was something he enjoyed.

  Partway through, Deputy Jimmy Cahill showed up and sat for coffee. He had worked with Culpepper since Culpepper had first been appointed, and then elected as county sheriff, and he knew his boss well—including how much Culpepper enjoyed his private breakfasts with Merry. So he reported that he had checked on the prisoners last night and this morning and that there was little else to report. Then he gulped down his coffee, and left.

  Finally Culpepper finished his breakfast and stood. He stretched and yawned, then grinned as Merry laughed at him in delight. “Well,” he said, “I better get to work. You need me to get anything or do anything while I’m out?”

  “Just come home safe,” Merry said, as she came around the table to kiss him.

  Culpepper nodded. He put on his gun belt and stuck the knife in it. He slapped on his old hat and, with Bear at his side, headed out.

  Chapter Four

  In the morning, Culpepper made a tour around town, catching up on what had happened while he had been gone. Nothing much had gone on in Silverton, and things remained quiet. It was still rather early for the action to be too heavy in Silverton. Many of the places closed down over the winter and had not yet reopened.

  One of the first things Culpepper did was to hunt out Judge Sam Pfeiffer at the county courthouse and talk to him. Since things were slow, the trial for Tucker Reynolds and Ferd Wiley was scheduled for the next day.

  Afterward, Culpepper began making the rounds of the town, stopping in a fair portion of many saloons in Silverton. One reason he did so was because he liked it, but another was that he was trying to avoid Silverton Marshal Wes Hennessy. Though Hennessy spent a substantial portion of every day in the saloons, he had two or three favorites. Culpepper figured that by keeping on the move—and staying out of Hennessy’s favorites—he could avoid the town marshal.

  Silverton was a booming place, and more and more people were making their homes here all year round, sticking out the harsh winters. With a population of about two thousand five hundred, it had the vast majority of San Juan County’s three thousand residents. The city had, at Culpepper’s last count, almost thirty saloons, and at least as many brothels, not counting the many smaller cribs. Despite that, the town had numerous respectable families and businesses. Before Culpepper had even arrived in Silverton, an imaginary dividing line had been drawn between the two factions of the town. The line split Greene Street. Most of the brothels, if not the saloons, were on or below the east side of Greene Street, with the respectable places holding the west side of it.

  Silverton had grown considerably since Culpepper had been here, since the Denver and Rio Grande Railroad spur had arrived a little more than a year after he had. The narrow-gauge railroad, which ran between Silverton and Durango, fifty miles to the south, had been responsible for bringing in many people, and the town had boomed ever since.

  Culpepper’s favorite saloon was the Arlington. It had been his favorite even before well-known lawman Wyatt Earp had spent part of last year running the gambling in the place. Culpepper had gotten along well with Earp, finding him an interesting man. Culpepper was glad, though, that Earp had not stayed on too long. Such men brought nothing but trouble, and Culpepper suspected Earp would’ve been out looking for his job had he stayed on much longer.

  While sitting in the Arlington, he was found by Wilson Pennrose, one of the several principals of the Anvil Mining Company. The tall, dapper man in the fine suit grinned when he saw Culpepper sitting at a table, and he hurried over.

  “I hear you caught the robbers, Sheriff,” Pennrose said as he sat. He waved imperiously at the bartender, and a drink materialized at his elbow a moment later.

  The bartender also put another beer in front of Culpepper, who nodded his thanks. “I did,” Culpepper said flatly.

  “That’s good. Very good. When’s the trial?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  “Good. Very good.” He paused, as if carefully weighing his next words. “Did you find the company’s silver?”

  “Yep.”

  “Ah, good. All of
it?”

  “I expect most was there. Might be a few bucks’ worth missin’. I can’t be sure.”

  “Good. Very good. When do I—the company—get the silver back?”

  “Whenever the judge—or I—feel like getting it back to you,” Culpepper said. He was not about to be pressured by Pennrose or anyone else.

  “I’ll have to speak to Judge Pfeiffer about that.”

  “Do so. If he goes and gives me a court order telling me to give the silver back today, you’ll get it. If not, you’ll wait until the trial’s over and done with. But I don’t expect he’ll be inclined to let you have it back before the trial.”

  Pennrose scowled, but said nothing. He jolted back the shot of good whiskey and rose. “Well, good day, Sheriff,” he said, before turning and walking out.

  Culpepper grinned to himself. Pennrose was not happy, and somehow, that made Culpepper feel all the better.

  When he left the Arlington an hour later, it was late in the afternoon. He went back to the jail and spent another hour or so talking with Wiley, asking details about the robbery.

  “God damn it, Ferd, don’t you tell that son of a bitch anything!” Reynolds shouted.

  Wiley looked hesitant about speaking, especially under Reynolds’ verbal assault. So Culpepper turned his baleful gaze on Reynolds. “I can dig up that old gag again, if you’ve got a hankerin’ to wear it, Tuck,” he warned.

  “To hell with you, Sheriff.”

  “You are one fractious skunk, ain’t you?” Culpepper said. “I’ve tried to be nice to you, but... well, I’m done with it. Open your mouth again, and I’ll put the gag back in your mouth and the cuffs back on your hands.”

  “Big goddamn deal. You can’t do shit to scare me, Sheriff. I’m gonna get sentenced to hang tomorrow. What more can you do to me?” He sounded almost smug.

  “I can gag you now and leave you that way through the trial. Or,” Culpepper added after a moment’s thought, “I could save the hangman the trouble.”

  “Shit, sheriff—you didn’t drag me all the way back here to kill me yourself. No, sir, you want it to be all nice and legal, as if that makes you somethin’ goddamn special.”

  “It’s a fact that I want things legal. On the other hand, you could’ve tried to jump me while I was checkin’ on your welfare, and so I was forced to beat you to death.”

  “Shit, you still don’t scare me.”

  Culpepper nodded. “What a strong and brave man,” he said sarcastically. “But I wonder just how long you’d be that way if I was jumpin’ up and down on that stove-up leg of yours.” Reynolds knew from the look in Culpepper’s cold blue eyes that the San Juan County sheriff would do what he’d just threatened. He scowled but shut up.

  Culpepper leaned a shoulder against the bars and turned his gaze back to Wiley. “Look, Ferd,” he said, “I don’t know if there’s one durn thing I can do to help you at the trial tomorrow. But with the help you’ve given me already, I promise I’ll speak up on your behalf in court. And if you tell me what happened in stealin’ that silver, well, I think Judge Pfeiffer’ll be disposed to look a little more favorably on you. That’s the best I can do, and I think it’s going to be the best deal you can get.” Wiley nodded. “There’s nothin’ much to tell, Sheriff. Tuck and I knew that while the company had most of its silver in the bank’s vaults—especially at this time of year—we also knew that there was generally a fair portion of it in their offices up the street there. They usually didn’t guard that silver too much. So he talked me into goin’ partners with him. You mind I smoke some?” he suddenly asked.

  “Not if you have the fixin’s. I don’t indulge.”

  “I’ve got ’em.” Wiley made a production of rolling and lighting a cigarette. With it going, he finally said, “We got us half-drunk over at Goode’s Saloon and then we snuck up to the company’s office that night. We was some surprised to see a goddamn guard. Well, not a guard, really, just one of the company’s goddamn clerks, workin’ late. Tuck knocked him on the side of the head with his pistol butt. I thought he’d killed him—’til I heard him moan. Then, while I kept a watch out, Tuck filled two small bags with silver.”

  “Those two bags I took from Tuck?”

  Wiley nodded.

  “That wouldn’t hold you very long.”

  Wiley shrugged. “We couldn’t carry more than that anyway. Besides, that’d be more goddamn money in hand than I’ve ever seen before. It’d carry me a long ways.”

  “You must’ve been more than a little drunk.”

  Wiley shrugged again. “We got on our horses and lit out. A couple days later, Tuck says he’s goin’ out to hunt. He’s gone for a while, and then I start to wonder. Not bein’ a normally suspicious man, it took me a while, but I finally checked our supplies, and goddamn if my share of the silver is gone. Next thing I know, you come walkin’ into my camp there.”

  Culpepper nodded and stood. “Like I said, Ferd, I ain’t sure I can do you any good, but I’ll give it a try before Judge Pfeiffer tomorrow.” He walked out, locking the cell door behind him. He turned back to look at Wiley. “And don’t let that pukin’ scoundrel over there”—he pointed at Reynolds—“bother you too much tonight. There’s not a damn thing he can do to you other than make a lot of noise.”

  “I’ll try to keep that in mind, Sheriff,” Wiley said. Culpepper looked at the pitiful excuse for a man and shook his head as he walked away.

  The next morning, Culpepper and Cahill—with Bear tagging along—marched the two handcuffed prisoners the short distance up Fourteenth Street to Greene Street and then up Greene to the County Courthouse. Quite a crowd watched the procession, many of them hooting and laughing.

  The courtroom was packed, mostly with men who worked for the Anvil Mining Company. It had been the company’s silver that Reynolds and Wiley had taken off with, and they meant to see that justice was done. Wilson Pennrose had a prominent seat in the first row, right behind the prosecutor.

  It really didn’t take long to find both Tucker Reynolds and Ferd Wiley guilty. The clerk who was knocked out that night— Leroy Monteith—testified and positively identified Tucker, though he was unable to identify Wiley.

  Still, Wiley confessed to his part in the robbery, and that, combined with Culpepper’s testimony, sealed it. The jury deliberated only forty minutes before they pronounced both men guilty.

  Judge Sam Pfeiffer nodded, then announced that he was ready to sentence the two criminals—“Unless any of you’ve got something to say,” he offered as a matter of course. He really didn’t think anyone was about to add anything.

  “I’ve got something to say,” Culpepper said. “Unless you’d rather I kept my peace.”

  “If you got somethin’ to say, Jonas, you just speak up,” Pfeiffer said.

  “I know both these miscreants’re guilty as all get-out, Judge, but I’d like to speak a few words in defense of Ferd Wiley.” He ignored the low buzz of annoyance around the courtroom. “He gave me the details of what happened in the robbery. And he ’fessed up here today. More important, though, at least to me, is that he saved my life. If he hadn’t a called out a warnin’, Tuck Reynolds would’ve shot me square in the back.”

  “That all, Jonas?”

  “Yessir.”

  Pfeiffer nodded. “I’ll take that into account.” He paused, making sure no one else had anything to add. “I’ll be back in a few minutes with the sentences. Court’s recessed,” he said, trying to mask his annoyance. He had planned to just hand out two death sentences and be done with it. That was what he figured was fair, and it was what the principals of the Anvil Mining Company wanted. Now, Jonas Culpepper had to go speak up in defense of one of the men. That put him on the spot as he was about ready to render his decision. The judge knew that if he ordered Wiley hanged, Culpepper—the best sheriff San Juan County had ever had—would be disgruntled and might just slack off on the job. On the other hand, if Pfeiffer did not order Wiley hanged, then Wilson Pennrose and the other principals
of the mining company would be outraged. Pfeiffer did not like being in such a position, but there was no getting out of it now.

  Pfeiffer sat at his desk and poured a drink. He raised the glass in something of a salute. “Damn you, Sheriff Jonas Culpepper,” he muttered with a lopsided grin before downing the shot. He sat for a while longer, but then rose. There was no putting this off.

  Pfeiffer went back into the courtroom and sat. “Reynolds, Wiley, stand up,” he ordered. When the prisoners had done so, Pfeiffer said, “Tucker Reynolds, I sentence you to hang by the neck until you’re dead. The event’ll take place two weeks from tomorrow, at eleven in the morning.” He looked at Wiley. “Ferd Wiley, I sentence you to a period of twenty-five years in the state penitentiary. You’ll start that sentence as soon as Sheriff Culpepper can get you there, or arrange for you to be brought there. Court’s adjourned.”

  The smacking of the gavel sparked a little outburst of annoyance in the courtroom. Pfeiffer headed for the sanctuary of his office, a sanctuary he figured would be violated in minutes.

  Culpepper and Cahill walked the prisoners back to the jail—under the watchful gaze of Silverton’s citizenry—where they would be held until their sentences could be carried out.

  Chapter Five

  It was the biggest entertainment event in Silverton since the previous summer, when the Denver comet band had come to town to present an evening of music for the rowdy residents of Silverton.

  Culpepper and Jimmy Cahill slowly drove a small carriage with Tucker Reynolds between them toward the gallows built behind the county courthouse. As they did, Culpepper figured that everyone who lived in San Juan County must be here. For many, this was something of a festival. Though bits of winter still lurked in the air, or covered the ground, the people knew that spring was coming. It was time to kick up one’s heels. And what better way to get the rite of spring off right than a proper hanging? It was because of the many people in attendance that Culpepper had opted to take a carriage. With Reynolds’ broken ankle, walking to the courthouse amid the swarming throngs would be dangerous for Culpepper and Cahill, as well as for Reynolds.