Strong Convictions: An Emmett Strong Western (Emmett Strong Westerns Book 1)

by GP Hutchinson

  And I can’t wait to see Seth’s face when I tell him I’ve finally vindicated our big brother by killin’ that Eli Strong.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The Next Day

  Emmett was the last person off the railcar. He gazed at the brown hills to the north and recalled catching and arresting old Horace Thompson—a cutthroat stagecoach robber—in those very hills. If luck was on his side, he wouldn’t have to do the catching and arresting this time. He and his pardners could pay the marshal a visit, let Charlie Blaylock spend one more night in El Paso’s crowbar hotel, pass a relaxing evening on the town, and begin to escort Mr. Blaylock back to Austin tomorrow.

  The jailhouse in El Paso was an adobe brick affair with few windows. Must’ve been hot as blazes in the summer. It’d be a few years before the trees planted around the building would offer any appreciable shade.

  Emmett rapped on the front door and let himself in. Juanito and Sikes followed.

  A deputy marshal in shirtsleeves and vest stood up as they entered. His hands hung easy by his sides, not too far from his twin holstered Colt Navy revolvers. “How can I help you all?” he said.

  “Emmett Strong’s the name. Texas Ranger. The day before yesterday, I sent the marshal a telegram asking about a fugitive on the run from Austin—a murderer by the name of Charlie Blaylock. I believe Blaylock was on the westbound yesterday when it rolled into El Paso.”

  The deputy frowned and shook his head. “I’m sorry, Mr. Strong, but I don’t believe Marshal Perry received such a telegram. If he had, I’m real sure he would’ve let me know…” He looked from Emmett to Sikes then to Juanito.

  Emmett cocked his head. “So there’s no Charlie Blaylock locked up in the hoosegow back there then?”

  “Got three guests back there right now—two locals that got drunk and tore up a cantina last night and one out-o’-towner who’s been with us for about a week now.”

  Dangit! What could’ve happened to that telegram? Emmett rubbed his forehead. “Is the marshal here in El Paso today?”

  “Yes, he’s out ridin’ ’round the town somewhere. I’m not sure precisely when he’ll be back.” He wiped his nose with the back of his hand.

  Emmett sighed. “I think I remember where the telegraph office is. Over by the Wild Hog Saloon, right?”

  “Still there.” The deputy nodded.

  “Let me go check with them—and see if there’s some reason why they might not have gotten my message.”

  “All right,” the deputy said. “I’m real sorry. I’ll tell the marshal y’all came in. If you’d like to come back later, I’m sure he’d be pleased to talk with you. And we can always offer y’all some hot coffee.”

  Emmett thanked the deputy and led his friends out. The unseasonably hot afternoon air only added to the souring of his mood.

  Beneath the skimpy shade of a young oak he stopped and faced Juanito and Sikes. “We don’t have much time to make up our minds on this, so tell me your gut-level feeling. We know Blaylock bought a ticket back in Sweetwater. That ticket would take him at least as far as El Paso. Nothing says he had to stay on the train all the way here, though. Since he left his horse in Sweetwater, you think he might’ve doubled back on us?”

  “You mean got off the train somewhere west of Sweetwater, waited for an eastbound, and then got back on to go reclaim his horse?” Sikes asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

  “Something like that.”

  Juanito shook his head. “Why spend so much dinero on a ticket all the way to El Paso then? If that’s what he planned to do, he could’ve bought a ticket to Colorado City, just one county over. Much cheaper.”

  “Maybe he wanted to send us on a wild goose chase. Give himself plenty of time to ride off elsewhere. Might value time more than money right now,” Emmett said.

  “Then you think the black fellow back at the Blaylock place outside of Austin…What was his name? Timothy?” Sikes said. “You think he lied to us when he said Charlie was heading to Nevada?”

  Emmett toed a small, half-buried rock. “No. I think he thought he was telling the truth.”

  Juanito looked around. “Texas may be big,” he said, “but if I shot a senator in this state, I’d want to get as far away as possible, as fast as possible.”

  “Nevada’s pretty far away.”

  “My guess?” Sikes said. “I don’t think he’s doubled back. I think he’s pressing on ahead of us. To Nevada and to his brother.”

  Juanito said, “That’s what I’m thinking, too.”

  Hearing the locomotive’s bell clanging, Emmett glanced in the direction of the train station. If they were to buy tickets, load their horses, and board the train once again today, they’d have to act immediately. “Then do we even need to check with the telegraph office?” he thought aloud. “If the marshal didn’t get the telegram, he didn’t get the telegram. That’s all there is to it.”

  Juanito too stared toward the sounding locomotive bell. “What difference would a lost telegram make to us now?”

  “I don’t know. But I think I’d rather play it safe than step off a train a thousand miles from here only to find Charlie Blaylock never went that way after all.”

  Juanito nodded. “There’ll be another westbound tomorrow.”

  “Better to err on the side of caution,” Sikes said. “If Blaylock is already outside your jurisdiction and on his way to Nevada, one extra day in El Paso won’t matter anyway.”

  “Shouldn’t.” Emmett took off his hat and wiped his brow with his sleeve. “Let’s go see what we can find out then.”

  Juanito and Sikes went on into the Wild Hog Saloon to get a table while Emmett went to the telegraph office directly across the street. The telegraph operator there was younger than the one he’d dealt with back in Sweetwater. After showing his badge and identifying himself to the gangly redhead, he asked, “In the past couple days, have you had any telegrams coming in from Sweetwater? Or have you sent any out to Nevada? Comstock region in particular?”

  “Matter of fact, there was a fella come in here yesterday to send a message up to Nevada—Virginia City or Carson City, one or the other,” he said, pivoting to thumb through a neat stack of paper forms in a wooden box. “Let’s see…Here you go. To a Mr. Seth Blaylock of Carson City, Nevada.” The young man offered Emmett the paper.

  Emmett accepted it and silently read Charlie Blaylock’s brief message announcing to Seth that he’d be paying him a visit.

  “Hmm. Carson City,” he said to himself, rubbing his chin. “Thought for sure Timothy said it was Virginia City.”

  The telegraph employee waited patiently.

  “Well…this is the Simon pure.” Emmett slapped the paper back down on the counter. “But nothing from Sweetwater?”

  The young fellow searched through the entire stack once again. “No, sir. Nothin’.”

  “Telegrams ever get delayed for some reason? Come in a day or two after they were sent?”

  “Never heard of such. That’d be peculiar.”

  ”Peculiar indeed.” Emmett shoved off from the counter, touched the brim of his hat, and said, “Even so, you’ve saved me a lot of second-guessing. Thanks for your help.”

  Minutes later he joined his compadres in the Wild Hog Saloon—a much more civilized establishment than its name might have suggested. Papered walls. A rich, polished hardwood bar with brass footrails. Beside the left-hand wall stood an upright piano, but at the moment, nobody sat on the piano bench.

  The place wasn’t crowded yet. Three men leaned against the bar, and patrons occupied a few scattered tables. Occasional laughter punctuated the quiet buzz of conversations around the room.

  Juanito and Sikes had gotten a corner table in the cooler, more shaded half of the place. Both men were already nursing beers.

  Sikes had lit up a cigar. “Pretty señoritas in here, Strong.”

&n
bsp; “Angelicas,” Juanito said, wiggling his eyebrows.

  Emmett glanced at the three ladies of the line posing at the foot of the stairs on the other side of the room. “Well, two of them are pretty anyway,” he said. He turned back to his pardners. “Here’s the news: Charlie Blaylock came through yesterday. Sent a telegram ahead to Seth Blaylock up in Nevada. Said he’s coming to stay for a while.”

  “No telegram from Sweetwater?” Juanito said.

  “Nope. Don’t know what happened to that one.”

  Juanito clumped down his near-empty glass. “Too bad. Would have been nice to catch him before he got out of Texas.”

  Emmett nodded. “Missed another break.”

  “Are we dragging our feet?” Juanito asked. “Should we have stayed with today’s train?”

  Emmett at last got the attention of the barkeeper. He pointed at Juanito’s beer and held up three fingers. “No,” he said. “Checking with the telegraph office was actually a good choice.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yep. Turns out Seth Blaylock is in Carson City, not Virginia City…according to the telegram Charlie sent, anyway.”

  “That’s worth knowing.”

  Emmett’s mind was already up in Nevada. “Virginia City, Carson City…The law up there should cooperate. But you never know.”

  “Wild and woolly country from what I’ve heard,” Sikes said. “The world-famous Comstock Lode.” He admired his cigar. “People get their hands on the kind of fortunes coming out of those silver mines, some of them seem to think they can buy anything—or anyone—they want, including constables and such.”

  “The richest town in America,” Emmett said. “That’s what Virginia City boasts.”

  “More money, more buying. I wonder whether that’s why Charlie Blaylock thinks he’ll be so safe up there.”

  Emmett nodded. “Maybe.”

  “Back on Blaylock’s tail tomorrow then?” Juanito asked.

  “Tomorrow,” Emmett said.

  Elbows on the table, Juanito steepled his fingers. “Out to California, up to Sacramento, and then back over the Sierra to Nevada, right?”

  “That’s right.”

  Sikes blew out a slow stream of cigar smoke. “Never thought I’d get to see the whole continent so quickly.”

  “You’ll see quite a lot,” Emmett said. “Colorful country.”

  “Been there before?”

  “Not that far north.”

  The bartender set three glasses of beer on the table and picked up Sikes’s and Juanito’s empties. “If you gentlemen decide you’re interested in some sportin’, there’s entertainment available for you.” He tipped his head in the direction of the staircase. There were now five calico queens smiling back at them. “Just let me know. I’ll have the madam make arrangements for you.”

  Sikes’s eyes widened. “Speaking of colorful country, the scenery right here is positively delightful.” He smiled. “A bit of heaven on earth.”

  Emmett glanced back. “They may be pretty, but I’m not sure how many skirted demons like those you’ll find flitting about in heaven.” He chuckled quietly. “You’d better watch out, Sikes. One of ’em just might snatch your soul away to someplace a lot less comfortable.”

  “What?” Sikes was still grinning. “You don’t partake?”

  Juanito leaned back in his chair and eyed the ladies.

  “It’s been a while,” Emmett said. He took a swallow of beer.

  “Come on, Strong. That blonde looks absolutely delicious.”

  Emmett followed Sikes’s gaze across the room. The blonde was indeed attractive. Slender yet shapely. Fair of face. Prettier than most women of any station in life. Yet he felt no desire for her. “Sad truth is,” he said, “if she stays in this trade, you won’t even recognize her inside of two or three years.”

  Sikes’s smile faded. “You’re a cheerful chap.” He turned to Juanito. “Is he always this jovial?”

  Juanito cringed.

  Emmett pulled a silver dollar from his vest pocket and laid it on the table. He stood, emptied his beer in one gulp, and said, “I’m gonna stable the horses. You gents stay as long as you like. I’ll see you at the Hotel Rio Grande when you’re done. Across the street and down two blocks.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  “Did I offend him?” Sikes said once Emmett had left. “Rather thin-skinned for a lawman, isn’t he?”

  “No, you didn’t offend him.” Juanito paused. “This talk of women and heaven…Some time ago Emmett suffered a very difficult loss. I think when she left this world she took his heart along with her.”

  Of all the sappy…Sikes considered giving Juanito a hard time, but something told him to hold up. There might be an interesting story behind all this. Tossing his chin toward the girls near the stairs, he asked, “Was she a…?”

  Juanito shook his head. “Nothing like that. Nothing at all like that. She was my sister.”

  Sikes felt his face redden. “Well.” He cleared his throat. “What an absolute ass I am!”

  “No hay problema. You didn’t know.”

  “I’m truly sorry, old chap.”

  Juanito nodded and took a sip of beer.

  Just then the blonde Sikes had been eyeing sashayed from the stairs to the table. With one hand on a chair back, she hovered over the two. A smile appeared.

  Sikes waited for her to proposition him, though he now felt conflicted. He looked her full in the face and wondered how such a young and pretty woman could end up doing what she did for a living. Plenty of men would line up for the chance to marry a girl with her looks…were she not a soiled dove. Even so, there had to be some decent bloke out there who’d be all too happy to snatch her out of this shady business, cherish her, and provide for her.

  “Your friend,” the girl said. “The one with the broad shoulders. Why’d he leave so soon? The place has hardly even begun to get lively.”

  It surprised Sikes, but he was actually relieved that she asked about Strong rather than about whether he was game to take her to bed. “Can we buy you a drink?” he offered. “Perhaps my friend Juanito here could tell us both the story of that broad-shouldered fellow you’re asking about.”

  That’s exactly what Sikes realized he wanted—to have this pretty girl sit close beside him while he learned the history of Emmett Strong and Juan Carlos Galvez—the two men he’d signed on with for this unforeseen adventure across the American West.

  She glanced over her shoulder. The madam wasn’t out with the girls, and the bartender was busy polishing glasses.

  “I suppose they wouldn’t mind if I had a quick drink with you,” she said, “since it’s early yet.”

  Sikes took in her scanty attire. Lots of black lace tulle. A corset that squeezed her where it ought and lifted where—in truth—it needn’t have bothered. Bare arms. Legs showing from the knees down. Her bustle rustled when she sat.

  She scooched her chair close to his and hung on his arm. Following another glance over her shoulder, she said in a low voice, “Miss Lindsey may not fuss at me if I act like you and I might end up upstairs after all.”

  He considered asking her how she wound up in this line of work, but decided he’d wait. “What do you like to drink, Miss…?”

  “Geneve,” she said. “But you can dispense with the ‘Miss.’ Just call me Geneve.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” Sikes said, inclining his head. “Sikes is the name.” He extended a hand across the table. “And this is my friend, Juanito.”

  “Encantado,” Juanito said, tipping his hat.

  “Nice to meet you both. I’ll just have a beer since that’s what you gents are drinkin’,” she said.

  Sikes signaled for the barkeeper.

  “So like I asked before,” she said, “why’d your friend leave so early?”

  Sikes gave a sly grin. �
�Perhaps I should be jealous. You keep asking about my friend, but not about me.”

  “Now whose arm am I holdin’ on to?” Her blue eyes sparkled. “If I didn’t find you appealin’ at all, Mr. Sikes—believe me, I’d be hangin’ onto the banister over there with the other girls.”

  Was this trade talk, he wondered, or was she really pleased with what she saw?

  The barkeep stopped by the table.

  “Mr. Sikes wants to buy me a beer, Gus,” she said to him.

  He cocked his head. “If Miss Lindsey comes around with her dander all up, don’t you go blamin’ me.”

  Sikes patted Geneve’s knee. “If Miss Lindsey is out of sorts, just direct her to me,” he said. “Miss Geneve and I may be together here at the table for a while. There’s more than one kind of female companionship a man needs.”

  “True enough,” Gus said. “Be right back with the beer.” He tossed a wink at Geneve.

  “Now, Juanito,” Sikes said, “this may be the first time you and I have had the chance to talk about Emmett without Emmett being right alongside to object. So Miss Geneve and I would like to hear his story. If you don’t mind.”

  She slapped Sikes’s arm playfully and said, “I told you it’s just Geneve, not Miss Geneve.” Then turning to Juanito, she said, “And yes, I am interested in Mr. Emmett’s story.”

  Juanito leaned forward and folded his hands on the table. “Perhaps the best start,” he said, “is to tell you that Emmett hasn’t always been the serious-minded man you see today. Back when he first met my little sister, he was full of mischief. He laughed a lot more.”

  “What happened?” Geneve asked.

  Sikes sat back in his chair and let Geneve rest against him.

  “Emmett and his brother, Eli, are grandsons of one of the founders of Texas. My grandfather was one of the original Texians too. Our grandfathers fought side by side against Santa Anna at San Jacinto.”

  “And formed the great nation of Texas as a result,” Sikes said, smiling over his beer.

  “That’s right. And then Emmett’s father was a military man—a West Point man. He’s the one who taught his sons to shoot, only he didn’t have to do much teaching when it came to Emmett.”