Rocky Mountain Lawmen Series Box Set: Four John Legg Westerns

by John Legg

  Culpepper said nothing. He just turned, stomped outside, and mounted his buckskin. Reinhardt got on a horse standing next to Culpepper’s. The ride was only a few minutes, and then the two, with Bear, entered the Anvil Mining Company headquarters. The clerks had gone for the day, and Culpepper and Reinhardt went straight through the empty office to the boardroom and then inside without knocking.

  Wilson Pennrose’s face fell when he saw Culpepper. But he regained his composure right away. He stood and came toward Culpepper, hand outstretched, a solemn look on his face. “Welcome back, Sheriff,” Pennrose said flatly.

  “What the hell’s going on here?” Culpepper demanded, ignoring Pennrose’s hand.

  Pennrose dropped his arm. He turned. “Out,” he ordered the other principals of the company.

  Without argument, they all filed out the door.

  “Sit, Sheriff,” Pennrose said. He went to a sideboard and filled a large glass with fine Scotch whiskey and set it down in front of a chair. Culpepper had remained standing. “Please,” Pennrose said, indicating the chair with a wave of his hand.

  Culpepper sat and glowered at Pennrose. The mining executive poured himself a drink and then took his accustomed chair at the head of the table. Reinhardt also got himself a drink, but he remained standing, near the door into the outer office.

  “All right, Pennrose,” Culpepper said harshly, “I’m sittin’. All Buster’s told me is that Jimmy Cahill’s dead and that he wanted you to help explain. So I’m here. Now explain.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “All of what I’m about to tell you is my fault, Jonas,” Pennrose said quietly. “If there’s any blame to be laid here, it should rest on my head.”

  Culpepper nodded. “Fine, now that you’ve proclaimed yourself a durn martyr, get on with the tellin’.”

  Pennrose gulped some whiskey. “Just one more thing, Jonas. I want you to let me finish telling it before you do anything. Will you do that?”

  Culpepper swigged a mouthful of whiskey, then nodded.

  “I went to the county jail several times to talk to Marshal Coakley.”

  “About what?”

  “About Ellsworth, of course. I thought that since he was a deputy U.S. marshal and all, he might have a better chance of trackin’ Ellsworth down than you did. The power of the federal government and all that.” Pennrose smiled wanly.

  “So?”

  “So,” Pennrose said with a sigh, “about two weeks after you left, I let Coakley and his two friends go.”

  “You did what?” Culpepper asked.

  The question surprised Pennrose. The executive wasn’t surprised by what Culpepper had asked, but by the way in which it was asked. Pennrose had expected Culpepper to explode, not ask the question in that low, heart-chilling way he had at times.

  “Yes, I let them go.”

  “Jimmy never would’ve allowed that,” Culpepper said coldly. It had already dawned on him that this was how Cahill had died.

  “He didn’t,” Pennrose said flatly. “I had Judge Pfeiffer write out a court order telling him to free Coakley and the others. Jimmy didn’t buy it, so I went back the next day with a half dozen of my toughest miners, all of them armed. We got the drop on Jimmy and made him hand over the keys.”

  “And he resisted and one of your boys killed him. Is that it?” Culpepper demanded, slapping a hand on the table with a loud report.

  “Oh, no,” Pennrose said, almost horrified at the very thought. “No, he gave up the keys readily enough. Especially when I told him that I was accepting all responsibility for Coakley’s release.”

  Pennrose paused, looking as if he was in pain. “Oh, God, I was such a fool,” he wailed. He took a few moments to get control of himself. “Coakley promised me that he’d go to Durango and get up a posse. He’d leave from there and not stop until he had Ellsworth and all his men.”

  “You believed that malarkey?” Culpepper said, somewhat amazed.

  Pennrose nodded sadly. He suddenly looked old and worn. Once again he had to bring himself into control. “I figured the reward the company and the railroad were offering would be enough to keep him on the straight and narrow. That’s neither here nor there now. I let the three of them go. Then Coakley asked to have the other prisoner released, too.”

  “Milt Adler?” Culpepper asked.

  “Yes,” Pennrose said tightly. “I asked why, and Coakley said he overheard you questioning Adler...”

  “Wasn’t hard, since I wasn’t tryin’ to hide anything at the time,” Culpepper said dryly.

  “Anyway, Coakley said that Adler told you Ellsworth and his men had buried the loot near the Utah Territory border. Coakley said that he’d be able to get more answers out of Adler than you did.”

  “And I suppose he said it with a sneer?”

  Pennrose nodded and gulped down the rest of his whiskey. “It made sense at the time. After all, Adler had been one of Ellsworth’s men, so I agreed and set him free, too.” He sighed, and nodded his thanks when Reinhardt set another glass of whiskey down in front of him.

  “They took what supplies they wanted from Mrs. Maguire’s store—the company paid her for them,” he added hastily. “Then they rode out, heading south. I thought that was the last we’d see of them until they came back to Silverton to collect the reward.”

  “But it wasn’t, was it?” Culpepper asked sourly.

  “No, Sheriff, it most certainly was not.” Pennrose sipped a bit. “They came back a week and a half ago. Coakley had gone to Durango and gotten a posse up, all right—eight gun toughs hired from Durango, Denver, Alamosa, Albuquerque—wherever he could hire them. They rode back into Silverton like an invading army. They practically took over Fatty Collins’s place for a couple days, then looted Mrs. Maguire’s store. The company reimbursed her for that, too.”

  “Jimmy challenged them, didn’t he?” Culpepper said in a dull voice, “Tried to arrest them?”

  “No,” Pennrose said with a faint smile. “He just kept an eye on them to make sure they didn’t cause any real trouble. He told me, though, that since I had been kind enough to accept responsibility for Coakley and his men when I released them, they were now my problem. I tried to talk to Coakley a couple of times, but he wasn’t listening.”

  “Then what happened?”

  “Coakley told me one night that he and his men were heading out the next day, going after Ellsworth. I had no reason to doubt them.”

  Seeing the look on Pennrose’s face, and the sloppy gulp of whiskey the executive took, Culpepper knew the worst part was coming up. He just wanted to get it over with.

  Pennrose glanced at Reinhardt. “Did you tell him?”

  Reinhardt shook his head. “Only about Jimmy.”

  “Tell me what?” Culpepper demanded, not liking this at all.

  “Coakley...he...Coakley...”

  “Jonas,” Reinhardt said from his place at the door behind Culpepper, “Merriam’s gone. Taken by Coakley.”

  Culpepper sat perfectly still for some seconds. Then he roared something unintelligible and bolted up from his chair, hands heading for Pennrose’s throat.

  Pennrose sat there, face frightened, but otherwise calm. But Reinhardt charged forward and grappled with Culpepper, trying to tear the tough sheriff’s hands from Pennrose’s neck. All the while he was shouting at Culpepper to stop.

  Bear got into the act, bouncing around and barking, threatening Reinhardt with bared teeth and harsh growls.

  Culpepper proved to be too strong for Reinhardt, and finally Reinhardt stepped back, pulled a pistol, and whacked Culpepper on the head with it, trying not to do so too hard.

  Culpepper groaned and released Pennrose. He turned enraged eyes on Reinhardt, who stepped back a few paces and leveled the revolver at Culpepper. “Sit your ass down, Jonas, and let Pennrose finish his tale. You gave your word that you’d do that.”

  “Yes, you did,” Pennrose squawked through his injured throat. “And I’d appreciate it if you kept you
r word. If, after I’ve had my say, you still want to kill me, I won’t stop you.”

  Culpepper glared from Pennrose to Reinhardt. Then he rubbed his head, sat down, and gulped down the whiskey. “Finish,” he ordered.

  Bear went back to lying on the floor next to Culpepper’s chair.

  Pennrose took another drink, then coughed several times. When he spoke again, his voice was almost normal. “Nobody knows why he went to grab Mrs. Culpepper,” he said. “But he did. I understand you had asked Jimmy to watch over your wife while you were gone.” It was something of a question.

  Culpepper nodded curdy.

  “Somehow, he got wind that Coakley was heading there, or something. But he raced to your house. Him and Wes Hennessy.”

  “Marshal Hennessy?” Culpepper asked, incredulous.

  Pennrose nodded and then offered a wan smile. “You weren’t the only one who thought Wes was a useless piece of manhood. I don’t know what possessed him, or why he went after Coakley when they grabbed your wife. But he did.” Pennrose shook his head in sadness. “Both of them were killed.”

  “Shit,” Culpepper breathed, the harsh, flat obscenity revealing the depth of his anger. “Then what happened?” he asked.

  “Coakley and his men rode off, taking Mrs. Culpepper with them. When Mister Reinhardt heard what had happened, he came to me and asked—no, he damn well demanded—that he be deputized, either as a county deputy sheriff, or as a deputy town marshal. Then he wanted to lead a posse out after those outlaws.”

  “But you couldn’t bring yourself to allow that, could you?” Culpepper said bitterly.

  “That’s not true. I did deputize him—as a deputy county sheriff—but I wouldn’t let Mister Reinhardt lead the posse.”

  “Was there a posse at all?” Culpepper asked harshly.

  Pennrose nodded. “Mostly miners.”

  “Who was in charge of it?” Culpepper demanded. “One of Hennessy’s useless deputies?”

  “Mister Pennrose led it, Jonas,” Reinhardt said quietly.

  Culpepper continued to stare at Pennrose, not sure he believed it. Then he nodded. “Trying to regain my good graces, is that it?” he asked roughly.

  “I deserve that,” Pennrose said. “And it’s even true to some extent. I feel terrible about all this, Sheriff. I don’t know if you can understand how deeply horrified I am at all that’s occurred because I was such a damned idiot. I can never make up all that has happened. I can’t bring Jimmy or Wes back. I thought I could get your wife back, so I led out a posse after Coakley. Yes, I was doing it to make me look better to you and everyone else in town. But I was also doing it because of deep regret. I don’t expect you to understand that, or to forgive me, but it is the truth. I wish I could’ve done more.”

  “You’ve done plenty,” Culpepper said unmercifully.

  “I suppose I deserved that, too, Sheriff,” Pennrose said in a small voice. “But there is one small piece of good news in all this.”

  “Oh?” Culpepper asked, surprised.

  “We—the posse, that is—did catch up with Coakley. Unfortunately, we were unable to spirit Mrs. Culpepper away from them. We lost two men, but we killed one of the outlaws. And we captured another. He was wounded, but alive.”

  Culpepper’s interest perked up considerably. “He’s still alive?”

  “Yep,” Reinhardt said. “He’s over in your own goddamn jail.”

  Culpepper grabbed his hat and slapped it on. He shoved himself up. “I’m going to talk to that pukin’ scoundrel. You two want to come?”

  “I’m goin’,” Reinhardt declared.

  “You, Pennrose?” Culpepper asked.

  “Yes,” Pennrose said tentatively. “Yes, by God, I think I will.” He suddenly sounded stronger, more sure of himself. Almost back to his own arrogant self.

  The three men and the dog walked outside. Culpepper mounted his horse, as did Reinhardt. “Come on, Mister Pennrose,” Reinhardt said, holding out a hand. Pennrose looked at the appendage blankly for a moment. Then nodded, took the hand, and let Reinhardt help pull him up behind him on the horse.

  They rode to the jail and went inside, working through the series of locks. “You know, Jonas,” Reinhardt said, as he undid the last of the locks, “this is a pain in the ass. We need to get rid of at least half these goddamn locks.”

  “Later,” Culpepper growled, in no mood for humor. Finally he was in the cell with the outlaw. “What’s your name, maggot?” he asked. When the outlaw did not answer right off, Culpepper grabbed him by the throat with one hand, hauled him up, and slammed the back of his head against the bars. “I ain’t of a mind to play games here, you pukin’ maggot. You either answer my questions, or I’ll grind you into the floor. Now, what’s your name?”

  “His name’s...”

  “Let him tell me, darn it!” Culpepper roared.

  “Lonnie Oates!” the man shouted. Sweat glistened off his pale, round face.

  “Good. Now, where’s Coakley going?”

  “I don’t know.” Then, when Culpepper squeezed his throat a little more, he added, “Wait.”

  Culpepper eased the pressure. “You won’t get any more chances, maggot,” he said quietly.

  “I’m not exactly sure,” Oates said, when Culpepper had let go of his throat. “He hired me and most of the rest of the boys down in Durango. He had two men with him. Well, three, actually, but one of ’em wasn’t one of us, if you know what I mean,”

  “Were their names Lou Boxham, Neil Corcoran, and Milt Adler?” Culpepper asked.

  “Yeah,” Oates said in surprise. “How’d you know?”

  “It doesn’t matter. Just talk.”

  “Coakley beat the shit out of that Adler fella to get him to talk. Adler was one of Mack Ellsworth’s gang, from what I heard.”

  “Did Adler tell Coakley anything?”

  Oates nodded. “You mind if I smoke?”

  “Not as long as you keep on talkin’.”

  Oates rolled a cigarette and fired it up. “Since I was a new man with Coakley—though I knew him a little back in Denver—he didn’t tell me too much, but I gather that Ellsworth buried the loot from that train robbery a while back. I heard he also robbed a bank in Grand Junction a couple weeks ago. That loot was supposed to be buried, too.”

  “I know all this. What I don’t know is where he’s buried the loot, and when they’re all going to get together to divvy it up.”

  “Adler said it was in a place a little southwest of Grand Junction. There’s some area up there supposed to be very odd, with wind-twisted trees and all. I’ve never been up that way. They’re supposed to get together right around the time fall arrives.”

  Culpepper nodded. “What happened to Adler?”

  “Coakley killed him.” Oates sounded quite nervous. “Beat him to death.”

  Culpepper nodded again. “You’re lucky to have gotten away from him, maggot,” he said.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  “I’m leavin’ as soon as I can get some supplies,” Culpepper said, as he stopped outside the jail.

  “I’m ready,” Reinhardt said.

  “No, Buster,” Culpepper said quietly. “You’re needed here. And I can travel much better on my own.”

  “But…”

  “No arguin’, Buster,” Culpepper snapped. “I’ve made up my mind.”

  “What can I do to help?” Pennrose asked.

  “Still tryin’ to get in my good graces for all the trouble you’ve caused me, you pukin’ rascal?” Culpepper said harshly.

  “That was uncalled for,” Pennrose said stiffly.

  Culpepper shrugged, unconcerned about Pennrose’s feelings. “If you really want to help, go to Maguire’s and get me enough supplies to last me a couple of weeks and have someone load them on my mule there.” He pointed to the hitching rail in front of the office, where the mule was still standing, lazily munching on the sparse grass. “Caroline Maguire’ll know pretty much what I need. And pay for them, of course.”
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  “That all?” Pennrose asked.

  “I suppose. Come back to the office here when you’re done with that.” When Pennrose had hurried off on foot, Culpepper said, “Buster, come with me.” He quickly went to the office, sat at his desk, found paper and a pencil. Then he wrote a few moments. “What I need you to do right now is go to the telegraph office and have Steve wire this to my brother in San Miguel, over in Montrose County.”

  “I was wonderin’ where he was,” Reinhardt said, as he took the piece of paper. “In the rush of everything, and in the pain of tellin’ it, I never did get a chance to ask. What’s he doin’ in San Miguel, if you don’t mind my askin’, Jonas?”

  “I don’t mind. He found himself a woman there he’s thinkin’ of marryin’. So he went back to try to talk her into bein’ foolish enough to tie the knot with him.” A thought suddenly came over him, and he saddened anew. “How’s June Ladimere?” he asked.

  “She took Jimmy’s death hard,” Reinhardt said glumly. “She’s still in mournin’, of course, seein’ as how’s it’s only been a week and a half since he was killed.”

  “You been watchin’ over her any?”

  Reinhardt shrugged. “A little.”

  “Vera givin’ you a hard time about it?”

  “Nah. I just ain’t got the time.” He smiled weakly. “I’ve been pretty busy lately.”

  Culpepper nodded. “It’s a pity, durn it all. She and Jimmy would’ve made a fine couple.” Culpepper sighed. “All right, Buster, go on and get that wire sent.”

  Reinhardt looked down at the piece of paper. The writing simply said: “Jody. There’s been big trouble in Silverton. Stay in San Miguel. I’ll be there in a couple days, Jonas.” Reinhardt looked at Culpepper. “What’re you gonna be doin’ while I’m off on these chores?” he asked.

  “Go shave and put on some fresh clothes. I’ve been wearin’ these since I left. Then I suppose I’ll go to Moldovan’s for some food.”

  “It’ll be dark by then, Jonas. You ought not to be leavin’ in the dark.”

  “There’ll be enough moonlight for me to see where I’m going,” Culpepper said flatly. “I’ll be going over Red Mountain Pass. I could make that trip blindfolded. Night ain’t going to make a difference.”