Rocky Mountain Lawmen Series Box Set: Four John Legg Westerns

by John Legg

  Chapter Twenty

  Rhodes chewed a lip a few moments, then said, “Your nephew has been casting unwelcome attentions on a…friend, shall we say. The young lady has quite plainly made known her displeasure at such attentions.”

  Macmillan looked serious, as if he were pondering some deep philosophical thought. He noted, though, that he apparently was not fooling Rhodes. He smiled a little sheepishly. “It’s not the first time Hamilton’s done such a thing,” he said with a sigh.

  “It may be his last.” Rhodes spoke in his normal quiet tones, but the warning was clear.

  Macmillan looked at him for a few moments. “You’re the one who thumped the crap out of him, aren’t you?”

  Rhodes nodded.

  Macmillan laughed a little. “Maybe the son of a bitch has more gumption that I thought. After that drubbing you gave him, he still pestered that girl.” Rhodes shrugged. “Gumption or no,” he said, “he bothers her again and you’ll be plantin’ him in the boneyard.”

  “This is the St. John girl?” Macmillan asked, appearing outwardly to have no reaction to Rhodes’s threat on his nephew.

  “Yessir.”

  “And you are sweet on her?”

  “Yessir.” Rhodes felt no embarrassment at admitting it.

  Macmillan nodded and sighed. “I’ll do what I can,” he finally said. “Hamilton is, I admit, a persnickety devil. To tell you the truth, Mr. Rhodes, I’m surprised as all hell that someone else hasn’t kicked the crap out of him before this. It’s my constant worry—that he will direct his attentions where they are not wanted and someone will kill him” He sighed. He seemed to do a lot of that when the talk was about Hamilton Macmillan. “Still he is my brother’s boy and I have some responsibility for his behavior—and in keeping him safe.”

  “Tell him to stop botherin’ people who don’t want his attentions,” Rhodes said flatly. “That’ll keep him as safe as anything will.”

  “Indeed.” Macmillan looked troubled. “I’ve done what I can to get him to become a man, but nothing has worked.” He pushed himself up. Hands clasped behind his back, he paced. “I’ll speak to him again,” Macmillan said as he stopped pacing and faced Rhodes. “But I don’t know how much good it’ll do. He’s a wayward young man.”

  “Wayward my ass,” Rhodes said with no hint of humor. “He’s a bully and a coward. The only reason he gets away with most of this shit is because he’s your nephew. Most folks here need a job, and they figure that if they were to fight back against Hamilton, you’d fire them.”

  “That’s always a possibility, I suppose, though I’d be more inclined to believe the townsman than I would Ham.”

  “They don’t know that.”

  “I guess they don’t.” He ran a hand along his smoothly shaven cheeks. “I’ll see what I can do about him, Mr. Rhodes.”

  “That’d be wise, if you want him to go on living. I ain’t one of the folks here who needs a job, and while I won’t go to lengths to get on anyone’s bad side, I have a lot less to lose here than many a man, and I ain’t worried about incurring your wrath.”

  “I suspected that,” Macmillan said with a slight smile. “Well, is there anything else I can do for you, Mr. Rhodes? A job perhaps?” He was only half joking, though he could always use a guard to keep the miners—and anyone else—from stealing Ludwig and Macmillan gold.

  “That’s a possibility,” Rhodes said. “But not for me.”

  Macmillan looked at him, eyes wide in surprise, questioning.

  “Miss St. John’s pa.”

  “He the fellow with the game leg?”

  Rhodes nodded.

  “I thought he did work for us.”

  “Used to. Then he mangled his leg. He tried comin’ back to work a while back, but he was told he wasn’t needed, as long as he was gimpin’ along.”

  “Must’ve been Winchell—Fred Winchell, the tunnel foreman—who told him that.” He paused, thinking. “What kind of work can he do?”

  “Near about anything he used to do, I suppose. He’s got a limp, and that makes him a little less spry than some others, but you’ll not find anyone more willin’.”

  Macmillan suddenly nodded. “I see no difficulty in this,” he announced. “Tell Mr. St. John to report to Curley Benton in the mornin’. Curley’s the foreman of the wagons. Mr. St. John can drive one of the ore wagons between the mines and the stamp mills. At his old wage, of course.”

  Rhodes nodded and stood. “I’m obliged, Mr. Macmillan, for your help and consideration.”

  Macmillan smiled weakly. “In most ways, I should be obliged to you, Mr. Rhodes.” He paused. “Try to go easy on Ham, if you can. That’s all I ask of you, sir.” There was concern but no pleading in the man’s eyes.

  “I’ll try,” Rhodes said quietly. “That’s all I can promise.”

  Macmillan nodded and held out his hand. They shook, and Rhodes walked out of the room. Bonner was regaling the clerk with bloody tales. Rhodes bit back his laughter when he saw the clerk’s pasty, petrified face.

  “Come on, you old coot,” Rhodes said lightly. “You’ve scared the poor lad more than enough for one day.”

  As Rhodes and Bonner rode back toward the livery stable, Bonner said, “I almost forgot I had somethin’ to tell you before, boy. I found us a place to stay.”

  “Boarding house?” Rhodes asked.

  “Naw. Our own little shack.”

  “How much?” Rhodes asked suspiciously.

  “Not a goddamn cent.” He laughed. “Won it in a faro game last night.”

  “I hope you didn’t win a place where we’ll have to toss out a wife and a brood of young’uns.”

  “Hell, what do you think I am, boy?” Bonner protested.

  “I’ll reserve judgment till I know a little more.”

  “Aw, pshaw,” Bonner said. He leaned over the side of his horse and spit tobacco juice. “I went and checked it last night after I won it. It don’t look much worse—and no better—than any of the others around here. It’s kind of droopin’ sideways some and there’s holes big enough to ride a horse through, but it’s better’n stayin’ with the horses like we been doin’. It’s got an old cook stove in it, so it’ll keep us warm enough, I suppose.”

  “No family, though?”

  “Naw. Checked that out, too. His wife and brood run off on him some months ago. Said she couldn’t take it no more, what with all his gamblin’ and drinkin’ and whorin’.”

  Rhodes nodded. “Sounds like a right nice place,” he said sarcastically. “Where is it?”

  “Two streets over from your Miss Hallie’s place toward the east, and half an alley north.”

  Rhodes nodded as they pulled into the yard fronting the livery stable. “I’m going off to Hallie’s” Rhodes said. “I got some news for her old man.”

  “You mean to say you got no other reason for goin’ over there?” Bonner asked. He laughed.

  “Reckon I could find another reason,” Rhodes said without embarrassment. He had given up being embarrassed by Bonner’s crude jokes and such. He knew the old man was just funning him. “I’ll meet you at the house after supper.” He turned and walked the horse along.

  At Hallie’s, he dismounted and tied his horse to a stunted tree out front. Then he rapped on the door.

  “Who is it?” Hallie asked cautiously, voice quivering with nervousness.

  “Travis.”

  The door flew open, and Hallie smiled at him. “Come on in,” she said brightly. She was relieved that it hadn’t been Hamilton Macmillan who knocked. That was a constant worry. She also was just plain glad to see Rhodes. She had never thought she could fall in love with someone so fast. But she had. She vowed to tell Rhodes—soon—just how much she cared for him.

  “You can quit your worrying now,” Rhodes said as he took off his wide-brimmed hat and entered the house. “I talked to Logan Macmillan this morning, and he said he’ll keep Hamilton away from you.”

  She looked skeptical. “Ham’s not a man
to take such advice kindly.”

  Rhodes shrugged. “I told Logan what’d happen if Hamilton bothers you again. He didn’t like it a lot, but he understood it and he’s willing—obviously reluctantly—to accept those consequences.”

  “I still don’t know,” Hallie said, worry wrinkling her forehead.

  “Let’s go outside a minute,” he said quietly

  Hallie looked up at him, then nodded. She no longer found it necessary to ask her father for permission for these things.

  Outside, Rhodes and Hallie went to the end of the boardwalk. Rhodes absentmindedly stroked his horse’s mane. “You have to stop worry in’ about this, Hallie,” Rhodes said earnestly.

  “I know, but...”

  “Don’t you think I’m capable of caring for you?” Rhodes interjected.

  “Yes, but...”

  “Do you think I’d let him—or anyone else—harm you?”

  “No, but...” Her head was awhirl. She had lived in fear for so long that it was not easy to free herself of its lingering ravages.

  “Do you doubt that I love you?”

  “No, but—” She stopped, blue eyes wide and bright in the sunshine. “You what?” she asked. The fear inside her grew. She half suspected that she had wanted to hear those words and so had created them in her head. She was worried now that she would be rebuffed. At the same time, her heart sang with hope.

  “I said, do you doubt that I love you,” Rhodes said quietly and firmly.

  “You’ve never said that before.” She was so excited she could hardly stand still.

  “I thought you knew. It ain’t easy for me to say that.”

  A little chill wormed its way into Hallie’s insides. “How many times’ve you said it before?” she asked.

  “Once,” Rhodes said with a small smile. “I said it to Netty Cornwall one time.” He could see the hurt building in Hallie’s eyes, and was sorry for it, but he could not resist. “We were about five at the time,” he added.

  It took a moment or two for that to sink in. Hallie’s eyes widened again in surprise, then narrowed in anger. “Why you no-count, overgrown big ox,” she said, hitting him in the chest with her small fists. “You rotten, grumptious, baitin’ devil, you.”

  She planned to continue the tirade, but Rhodes swept her into the cocoon of his arms and pulled her tight to him. “There ain’t anyone but you, Hallie,” he said quietly as he stroked her soft, brown hair. “Never was before, and I expect there’ll never be again.”

  “Ain’t you gonna ask me to marry you?” she said into his shirt.

  “One day, Hallie. One day.” He paused, dreams of what life would be like with Hallie as his wife. “But I’ve got to get myself set up first. Right now I don’t have a hell of a lot of prospects.”

  “Well, find somethin’ soon,” Hallie whispered. “I don’t want to wait till I’m an old maid before you take me to wife.”

  “Me neither.”

  “Good. Now kiss me.”

  “What about your neighbors?” Rhodes didn’t much care for himself, but it might ruin Hallie’s reputation.

  “The devil take them,” Hallie said firmly. She tilted her head back a little and waited.

  Rhodes fulfilled her request.

  “You comin’ in for a bit?” Hallie asked when they parted lips.

  “No,” Rhodes said, a little befuddled by all that had occurred in the past five minutes. “I’ve got to go take care of the horse.” Then he stopped, “Yeah, I will come in. I have something to tell your pa.” They walked into the small, shabby house, hand in hand. “Mr. Rhodes says he has somethin’ to tell you, Pa,” Hallie said.

  Jim St. John looked from his daughter to his—he assumed—future son-in-law. “What is it?” he asked nervously. The news for the St. Johns had been bad for so long that he could see nothing else anymore.

  “You’re to report to a Curley somebody up at the mine tomorrow morning.”

  “Curley Benton?” St. John asked. Fear and hope fought for dominance.

  “That’s him.”

  “But...why?”

  “Why do you think? You can’t drive an ore wagon sittin’ here.”

  “I’m hired on?” St. John asked, incredulous.

  “Yessir.”

  “Oh, praise the Lord,” St. John said, overcome. “I don’t know how to thank you Travis. I —”

  “No thanks are needed. All I did was to ask those folks to hire you on again, that’s all. You’ll have to show them you can handle it.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Rhodes and Bonner spent a couple of days fixing up the old shack Bonner had won. It was not a great place, but with a little work, it was serviceable. They plugged most of the bigger chinks in the wall, repaired the chimney, made sure the stove worked, piled up some firewood, and stocked the cabin with such foodstuffs as they had been inclined to buy for now.

  “Ain’t exactly home, sweet home, is it, Joe?” Rhodes asked, laughing, as the two men stood looking at the outside of it.

  “I been in a heap worse spots,” Bonner said. “I ever tell you about the time I—”

  “Yes, goddamn it,” Rhodes said, laughing a little more, “About a hundred times.”

  “You didn’t even know which tale I was gonna tell,” Bonner said, feigning injured pride.

  “It don’t matter none,” he ribbed his friend. He was determined to get back at Bonner for all the teasing Bonner had been doing about Rhodes and Hallie. He figured this was a good chance. “They’re all the same. The great Joe Bonner conquers all—Injuns and bad men, outlaws and mountain men, grizzly bears and cougars.” He was laughing even more now. “And all of ’em a pack of lies bigger than any I ever heard before.”

  “Such talk’s likely to cut deep into an old man’s pride,” Bonner said, though he was laughing, too.

  “You ain’t got any pride—or decency either.”

  “Lordy, Lordy, I been cut to the quick,” Bonner said. He was leaning against the cabin wall trying to catch his breath from laughing so hard.

  “Come on, gramps,” Rhodes said, still laughing, “let’s go get us something to celebrate our new abode with.”

  “Now, that’s the kind of tale I like to hear, boy. Plumb shines to this ol’ chil’.”

  They walked softly down the relatively quiet side street toward the main section of town. Bonner carried his rifle, and had a Colt Dragoon revolver in his belt. Rhodes had both Whitneys in his belt and carried the shotgun. It was seldom when they headed toward the business district of Intolerance that they did not go heavily armed. Neither had had a call to use his weapons, and Rhodes figured that was because they were so heavily armed. A very light snow was falling and the temperature was not much above freezing.

  They had come to calling one saloon—Hornbeck’s, which was right next to the restaurant owned by Emil Hornbeck—their second home. It was not the fanciest saloon in town, but it was far from the worst, either. Hornbeck cut his whiskey a little less than his competitors did, and his girls were among the youngest and prettiest of all the Cyprians plying their trade in Intolerance. There were enough wheels, faro tables, poker games, and other forms of gambling to occupy most men, and he had a band playing once or twice a week. It was a comfortable place, and both Rhodes and Bonner liked it.

  They grabbed a bottle at the bar and then worked their way toward the back where the tables not used for gambling were. The place was going pretty good, but there were a few empty tables. Rhodes and Bonner took one. Rhodes set his scattergun on the table, while Bonner rested his rifle against the table.

  Rhodes pulled the cork and poured each of them a full glass of whiskey. The two had let it be known right from the start here that a shot glass was not a proper glass for drinking. Now that the bartenders all knew them, they would have two full-size glasses waiting for them.

  Bonner took a healthy swig, and smacked his lips. Then he leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs at the ankle, resting his feet on the table. He held the whiskey
glass on his stomach. Rhodes followed Bonner’s example. They were quiet, listening to the cacophony whirl around them.

  Rhodes almost fell asleep where he sat. Finally he roused himself from his lethargy and poured another drink for the two. As they sipped, Bonner looked at his friend. “Somethin’ botherin’ you, son?” he asked.

  Rhodes shrugged. He didn’t feel comfortable talking about it.

  “You once told me that when a man needed some help that he could always count on a friend. You remember that?”

  “I expect,” Rhodes retorted sourly. “I must’ve been in my cups, though, if I said it to you.”

  “Hog shit,” Bonner snapped. “You can’t josh your way out of everything. Now, if you got somethin’ troublesome stuck in your craw, boy, you best let it out.”

  “It ain’t so much troublesome,” Rhodes said slowly, feeling his way as he went along. “More of a puzzlement, I’d say.”

  “Troubles or puzzles, boy, it don’t make no difference if it knocks you off your feet.”

  Rhodes smiled a little. “I’ve been smitten,” he said quietly.

  Bonner almost couldn’t hear him what with all the noise in the saloon. “You’re just worryin’ about that now?” he asked in surprise.

  Rhodes shook his head. “It’s just that I aim to marry that gal, and that’s got me all flabbergasted.” Bonner chuckled. “Thinkin’ of gettin’ hitched’ll do that to a man.”

  “I know.” Rhodes reached into an inner pocket on his long coat and pulled out a cigar. He lit it and sat puffing, his elbows on the table top, as he stared in Bonner’s general direction.

  Bonner fired up his pipe. “What’re you gonna do about it, boy?” he asked when his pipe was emitting clouds of noxious smoke.

  “I ain’t sure. That’s what’s got me so puzzled. I know I got to get a job, but I ain’t cut out for much.”

  “Don’t fret on it, boy. The harder you look and press, the less likely it is that somethin’ll come your way. Do like you do out on the trail, and keep your eyes and ears peeled.”

  “Reckon so.” He puffed a few moments. “You think marryin’ her’s the right thing to do?”