Rocky Mountain Lawmen Series Box Set: Four John Legg Westerns

by John Legg

  “And the third?” Childress asked.

  “That’s what brought me here to your office, Marshal,” Culpepper said. “He’s over at Doc Parmenter’s gettin’ his leg fixed up from where I shot him. The Doc suggested I spend the night in town, leavin’ my prisoner locked up in your jail. Doc says you’re usually pretty accommodatin’ that way.”

  “I sure try to be,” Childress said with a nod. “There’s precious few enough of us law dogs around these parts. If there’s any help I can give to another, I’m more’n willin’ to do so.”

  “Glad to hear it. Well, Daisy and me’ll take the horses down to the livery, and then…He stopped, then nodded. “There a halfway decent place to eat around here, Marshal?”

  “Brickley’s. Not far down the street. I can take you there, if you’re of a mind.”

  “I think that’d be good. Me and Daisy can eat, then ride back to the doc’s to bring Adler over here. Then we can bring the horses to the livery. Unless that’ll harm any plans you have.”

  “Nope. Come on, I’ll take you to Brickley’s.”

  Daisy urgently grabbed Culpepper’s elbow. When he looked at her in question, she crooked a finger at him, wanting him to bend. He did, and she whispered furiously in his ear.

  Culpepper nodded. “My apologies, Marshal, but I’ve been forgetful—or maybe just thoughtless. Whichever, Miss Greenwalt just reminded me that she’s not properly clothed to eat in public. Is there a dry goods store nearby where she can get something decent to wear?”

  “Sure is,” Childress said. “Come on, I’ll take you there.” Daisy felt considerably more relaxed when she was clad in a plain calico dress, matching bonnet, and new, simple button shoes. Then the three headed to the restaurant.

  Culpepper invited Childress to eat with him and Daisy, but the marshal turned him down. “I’m still full up from lunch. I’ll see you back at the office when you get back. Take your time and enjoy yourselves.”

  As soon as Childress had walked away, Daisy looked at Culpepper with fire in her eyes. “What the hell’d you go and tell him that story for?” she demanded.

  “Watch your mouth, Missy. And order your supper.”

  Daisy bit her lip, but ordered. When the waiter left, she said, “Answer me, damn you.”

  “I told you, watch your mouth.” Culpepper grinned. “Didn’t you tell me last night that you’d like to marry some nice, respectable townsman somewhere and settle down to raise a family?”

  “Yeah, but...”

  “Women ain’t all that populous around here, Daisy,” Culpepper said practically. “A young, good-lookin’, healthy woman like you shouldn’t have any trouble findin’ a marriageable feller hereabouts.”

  “But...but what about my past?”

  “Your past? You’re a young woman whose parents were killed by outlaws, a young woman who’s been treated harshly by life. A woman ill-abused by the outlaws, but otherwise unsullied by man.”

  “You really are loco,” Daisy said. “My real past’ll be sure to come out sooner or later.”

  “Why? What’re the chances of you marryin’ a man here who’s seen you down in Durango? What’re the chances that a feller you marry here will ever go to Durango—and take you with him? Pretty darn small, I’d wager. And even if someone who knew you in Durango comes up here and says somethin’, you just stand your ground and tell him he’s full of beans; that you haven’t even heard where Durango is, let alone spent time there.”

  Daisy looked interested, but she was scared of the idea. It was something she’d longed for for quite some time, but now that it seemed even remotely possible, she was having second thoughts. “Do you really think it could work?” she asked tensely.

  Culpepper was about to answer, but closed his mouth when the waiter came along and began slapping dishes on the table. He went away but returned with more. All the while, Culpepper and Daisy kept mum.

  When the waiter was finally gone for good, Daisy asked nervously, “Well, do you?”

  “Do I what?” Culpepper asked innocently, as he shoveled a hunk of beefsteak into his mouth.

  “Damn it!” Daisy looked around guiltily. She lowered her voice. “Darn it, Jonas, answer me.”

  Culpepper was about to josh her some more, but then he saw the look on Daisy’s face and decided he could not be so cruel right now. “I’ll put it this way, Daisy,” he said quietly, “you won’t know until you give it a try. If it doesn’t work, you can always try something—or somewhere—else. Or, I can take you back to Durango straight off and you can go back to your old life.”

  Daisy almost shuddered at the thought. She suddenly grinned. “I think I’ll take my chances here.” The grin turned impish. “Besides, maybe that old wife of yours’ll dump you and you’ll come back here to marry me.”

  Culpepper laughed. “Old? She’d kill us both if she heard that.”

  Daisy grew serious again. “How’m I gonna go about all this, Jonas?” she asked, worried anew.

  “Eat your supper, Missy,” Culpepper said gruffly. “We’ll get you set up before I ride out tomorrow.”

  Daisy looked at him skeptically, but the aroma of the food began to get to her, reminding her of how hungry she was. She began to eat with enthusiasm as the possibility of a new life in San Miguel filled her mind with daydreams.

  After eating, they walked back to the marshal’s office, mounted up, and rode to Dr. Parmenter’s. Adler was groggy from the ether Parmenter had given him, and so Culpepper had to carry the outlaw down the stairs over his shoulder. He tossed Adler’s limp figure across the horse, and then rode back to the jail, where Adler was lodged.

  “I’ll show you down to the livery,” Childress said. “I feel the need for gettin’ out again. To tell you the truth, Sheriff, I hate the damn…pardon me, Miss...dang paperwork worse than anything.”

  “You’re not alone, Marshal,” Culpepper said with a laugh. When they were outside and walking up the street, Culpepper said, “I was wonderin’ if you might be able to give us a little more help, Marshal.”

  “If I can. What do you need?”

  “Well, Miss Greenwalt is in a fix. As I told you before, she’s got no more folks, and no place to go. I was wonderin’ if you might be able to find somebody to put her up a while. Just till she gets her feet under her. I don’t expect she’ll have any trouble attracting suitors, but it’d be nice if somebody was to look over her for a spell, sort of make sure the suitors are respectable men.”

  “Well, now,” Childress said slowly, “I don’t expect that’d be much of a problem. I think Mister and Miz Stanton—a nice old couple I know—would be willing to let you roost there a little, Miss.”

  “Are they good folk?” Daisy asked, sounding perfectly innocent.

  “Yes, Miss, they sure are. They run the Stanton House, the finest hotel in San Miguel. In fact, we’ll go on straight over there after the livery, if that’s all right with you. Sheriff, you can stay there tonight.”

  “If it’s the finest hotel in San Miguel,” Culpepper said dryly, “I might not be able to afford their rates.”

  Childress laughed self-consciously. “Truth to tell, Sheriff, it’s the only hotel in San Miguel. We don’t get many travelers out this way.”

  Culpepper nodded. “That’ll suit me fine.”

  “And, Miss Greenwalt,” Childress said, once more ill at ease, “if you weren’t to object too much, I’d like to be among your first suitors.”

  Daisy glanced at Culpepper, who was trying hard to conceal a told-you-so grin. Then she looked at Childress. “Well, Marshal,” she said demurely, “I suppose that’d be all right. But I’ll have to check to see that it’s all right with the Stantons—if they take me in, that is.”

  “That’s good enough for me, Miss!” Childress said. His step suddenly got a little more self-assured.

  Chapter Nineteen

  It took Culpepper and Adler eight days to make it back to Silverton. After more than two days of traveling southeast, still in the arid hi
gh desert, they turned north east along Fall Creek, heading higher into a cleft between the Uncompahgre Plateau and the San Juan Mountains. The next morning they made their way through Dallas Divide, and the next day they turned southeast again, heading into the heart of the San Juans. It was a longer journey this way than if they’d kept going south and east from San Miguel, but it was less wearing on men and horses. It took more than a day to work up to the town of Red Mountain City. The next day took them through Red Mountain Pass. The day after, they rode into Silverton in the early afternoon.

  Adler had given Culpepper no real trouble on the journey, for which Culpepper was at least a little grateful. The traveling in and of itself was hard even without Adler kicking up a fuss. It was bad enough that Culpepper had to do so much for Adler, what with his broken leg and all, plus the fact that Culpepper wasn’t about to let him loose from the handcuffs for any extended period of time.

  Culpepper rode straight to his office and the jail. He stopped outside, a little surprised that Jimmy Cahill was not there to meet him. He shrugged, figuring that Cahill was probably out on business. He eased Adler off his horse and then pushed him gently forward. “Inside,” he said, “while I get the keys to the hoosegow.”

  Culpepper shoved the door open, then waited for Adler to hobble inside, followed by Bear. Culpepper’s eyes narrowed in anger when he saw U.S. Deputy Marshal Ned Coakley sitting in Culpepper’s chair, his feet up on the desk.

  Coakley smiled smugly at Culpepper, and said, “Welcome back, Sheriff.” Sarcasm was thick in his voice.

  Culpepper stepped inside, noting the two young gun toughs with badges on their shirts. One was sitting in a chair; the other was standing in the back comer, arms folded across his chest. Bear plunked himself down not far from the two, growling slowly and steadily as he licked his floppy chops. The two deputies looked mighty nervous all of a sudden.

  Culpepper was not sure he could speak, considering the rage he felt inside. He pushed Adler to the side and then strode behind his desk. Shoving Coakley’s feet off the desk, Culpepper reached into a drawer and got the keys to the jail. Culpepper straightened with the ring of keys in his hand. Then he turned and shoved Adler outside. He had said nothing the whole time. Bear followed him.

  Walking Adler next door to the jail, Culpepper went through the laborious process of unlocking the doors and gates and then locking them again once Adler was inside. Then he walked back into the office. “What’re you doin’ here, maggot?” he asked, as soon as he stepped inside. The mastiff took his old position near the two deputies.

  An oily smirk eased across Coakley’s thin face. “I was called here by some of the fine citizens of Silverton,” he said unctuously. “Since you’ve been gone so long, folks figured you were bein’ derelict in your duty. So I came up here and assumed the duties of San Juan County sheriff. In addition to my role as United States deputy marshal, of course. I even brung a couple deputies of my own to help me sort things out here. Lou Boxham and Neil Corcoran.”

  Each touched the brim of his hat when he was named. Boxham was the one sitting; Corcoran was standing.

  “Mighty nice of you,” Culpepper said flatly. “Who was the durn fool gave you the say-so to pull this durn stunt?”

  “Not that it’s any of your concern, but Wilson Pennrose was kind enough to seek my services when you run out on the good people of Silverton.”

  Culpepper nodded. He would see about Pennrose later. “Where’s Jimmy?” he asked.

  “He that stupid ass of a deputy you had?” Coakley asked.

  “Where is he?” Culpepper asked tightly.

  “Around somewhere. Now get out of my office, fatso, or I’ll have my two boys throw you out.”

  Culpepper grinned, but it was not a pleasant sight to Coakley or his two companions. “Tell them to come on ahead,” he said quietly. “They won’t fare no better’n Owen Fauss did.” He got a small jolt of satisfaction at the look of anger that passed swiftly over Coakley’s face. “I got some things to do, and I might not be back here till mornin’. You and those two pukin’ maggots over there,” he said, pointing to the deputies, “had best be gone. Not only from my office, but from Silverton.”

  Coakley laughed. His two companions joined in nervously.

  Culpepper turned to look at the deputies. “If you two got any brains at all, you’ll ditch this pukin’ scoundrel and go your own way.”

  “I think we’ll stick around as long as Marshal Coakley wants us to,” Boxham said with bravado.

  Culpepper shrugged. “Don’t matter none to me,” he said easily. “It’s your funeral.” He turned and with Bear at his side, walked out. Still fuming with anger, he went to the Exchange livery to leave his horse and mule.

  “Welcome back, Jonas,” Art Cassidy said without much enthusiasm.

  “Somethin’ botherin’ you, Art?” Culpepper asked, as he pulled his Winchester out of the scabbard.

  “You been to your office—what was your office—yet?”

  “Yep. That egg-suckin’ scoundrel Coakley told me he come up here and took over my job. That misconception’ll be taken care of by mornin’.”

  “You run out on us, Jonas,” Cassidy said, almost plaintively. “Why’d you ever do that?”

  “That what that skunk told you?” Culpepper demanded, fire snapping in his blue eyes.

  “Him and Wilson Pennrose.”

  “You’ve known me since I arrived in Silverton, Art,” Culpepper said, a little more calmly. “Do you think I’d do somethin’ like that?”

  “No,” Cassidy said. “But when Pennrose…”

  “I’ll deal with that pukin’ scoundrel, too.” He paused, then asked, “Where’s Jimmy been through all this?”

  Cassidy suddenly looked immensely uncomfortable.

  “Tell me, durn you.”

  “He tried to prevent Coakley from takin’ over, sayin’ that you’d never run out on us…” Cassidy said weakly.

  “Nice to know I got one friend in Silverton,” Culpepper said dryly. “So what happened to him?” A sudden blast of cold touched his insides, as he thought of Coakley’s comment that Cahill was “around somewhere.” That could as easily mean Hillside Cemetery as anything else.

  “Didn’t Coakley tell you?” Cassidy asked, surprised.

  “Nope.”

  “He’s in the town jail.”

  “The what?” Culpepper exploded. “What in Hades is he doin’ there?”

  Cassidy shrugged nervously. “I ain’t sure. But I think Coakley cooked up some charges to hold him for a while.”

  “Why not in the county jail, then?”

  “Don’t know.” He paused. “Look, Jonas, I don’t know what’s goin’ on around here. All I know is what I see or hear.”

  Culpepper nodded and stuffed the Winchester back into the saddle scabbard. “Take care of my horse. I’ll be back for the rifle and saddlebags after a little while.” Then he and Bear strode out, heading north up Greene Street and then east on Twelfth Street. In minutes he was entering the marshal’s office jail.

  Town Marshal Wes Hennessy looked up, surprise stamped on his fastidious face. “Well, howdy, Jonas,” he said, not quite cheerily. “When did you...?”

  “Is Jimmy here?” Culpepper demanded.

  “Jonas, that you out there?” Cahill called, from one of the cells in back of the office.

  Culpepper glowered at Hennessy. “Release him.”

  “But, Sheriff,” Hennessy protested, “Marshal Coakley wanted him locked up. Said there was a number of charges pending against him. And Mister Pennrose...”

  “I don’t give a good goddamn who said what to you, Wes,” Culpepper growled. “You let Jimmy go now, or I swear to the Good Lord above that I’ll gut-shoot you and then go let him loose myself.”

  One look at Culpepper’s face let Hennessy know the county sheriff was deadly serious. He jumped up, grabbing his keys. He almost ran to the cells and unlocked the one housing Jimmy Cahill.

  “My pistols, you putre
fyin’ son of a bitch,” Cahill snapped at Hennessy.

  The marshal gave Cahill’s his gun belt and pistols, then sank into his chair. “I’m confused by all this, Jonas,” he said weakly.

  “Well, when I get it straightened out, I’ll come explain it to you,” Culpepper said harshly.

  Culpepper, Cahill, and Bear left. As they were walking up the street, Culpepper said, “What’s happened here, Jimmy?”

  “You know anything?”

  Culpepper nodded. “I stopped at the office to get the keys to lock up a prisoner. Coakley and two other maggots were there. Coakley said he took over since I’d been derelict in my duties as county sheriff. Art Cassidy said he had you locked up in the town jail. That’s why I went over there. That’s about all I know.”

  “There’s not much more to know,” Cahill said. “I was up in Charlottesville to run down a gambler who wound up stabbin’ one of the girls of the line—Long-Tooth Annie—and then run off. He didn’t want to come back here and pulled a gun on me, so I had to plant him. When I got back, Coakley was at the office and told me he had taken over. I objected, of course, and he arrested me for gettin’ in the way of a marshal’s sworn duty. He and his two friends disarmed me and marched me over to Hennessy’s.”

  “Why?”

  “I asked that myself. Coakley said the county jail was plumb full up—a sign of the good job he was doin’.”

  “I just put my prisoner in there. He’s alone.”

  “Damn,” Cahill snapped. “He’s sure got the wool pulled over everyone’s eyes. You know, Jonas, I don’t think Hennessy really knows what went on with all this. I think he’s been duped just like most everyone else.”

  They were at the livery stable, and Culpepper gathered up his rifle and saddlebags. Then he and Cahill, with Bear, left again.

  “I’m going to straighten this all out tomorrow,” Culpepper said. “But for tonight, I want some of Merry’s cooking—and her company. If I were you, I’d lie low for a bit. That scoundrel Coakley sees you walkin’ around town, there’s no tellin’ what he might do.”