The Devil's Justice

by Chad Cull

“Jace!” Jenna Holt exclaimed with surprise and excitement. She stood framed in the door, backlit by the light of the lamps inside the house. She smiled broadly and her eyes danced with delight. “What brings you here this time of night?” She blushed. “I mean, of course you’re welcome here any time. Oh, I am so glad to see you, but is there something wrong?” She saw the grimness on his face and he was somewhat stooped with the pain of his bruised ribs.

  Before he could answer, he could hear Duncan Holt from the living room. “Come in Jace,” he called, putting down his book on the small table next to the stuffed chair he was sitting in.

  Jenna, backed quickly aside as Jace stepped brusquely inside. Even in the vestibule, Jace could smell the aroma from Duncan’s pipe. He stopped in the archway leading to the living room. Jenna stood behind him, in anticipation. Duncan could see the seriousness in Carlin’s demeanor. “Something wrong?” Duncan asked.

  “No. Morgan Slate is dead.”

  Holt jumped to his feet. There was a pleased expression on his face and his lips curled into a half smile of amazement. “How…..?

  Jace anticipated his concern and answered. “In town in front of everyone, including the sheriff. He started it. I finished it.”

  “Very good, Jace,” he said. “Perfect.”

  Even though Slate had it coming, somehow, Jace didn’t like the satisfaction that Duncan seemed to be enjoying. “So,” Jace said, getting right to the point. “I get my spread back, right.”

  Holt shrugged turned and walked to the writing desk in the corner. He lowered the door that opened flat into a writing surface. He rummaged through the small drawers inside until he found what he was looking for. Jace waited expectantly while Holt sorted out what he wanted.

  Disappointment and anger spread over Carlin’s face as Holt turned to face him. Jace had been expecting a deed, but Holt held out a sheaf of green back bills. “Six thousand, I believe was the agreement.”

  “Six thousand for the land,” Jace said warily. “I’d only have to give the money back for payment, so why don’t we skip the cash and get right to the deed?” He had a sudden dread of what was coming, and he wasn’t wrong.

  “The deal was six thousand for Morgan Slate. Not the land.” Holt said smugly.

  “I don’t want the money,” Jace snarled. “I want my land.

  “Take the money, Jace,” Duncan urged. “You’ve earned it.”

  “Earned it?’

  “Of course. I hired you for a job and you did it. Most satisfactorily, I might add.” “I’m no hired gun,” Jace protested angrily, stepping close to Holt almost, close enough to breath in the smoke from his pipe.

  “Of course, you are,” Holt chided. He let the bills slide from his palm. They fluttered to the carpet. “You’re nothing more than a hired gun and a killer. Now pick up your money and get out.”

  Carlin’s jaw clenched tighter. He stared threateningly into Holt’s face for several seconds. Holt pursed his lips and stifled a smile. He was enjoying this.

  Jace cursed himself for being taken in by Duncan Holt and he knew Holt was right. He was nothing more than a hired gun, afterall. So he made up his mind. Carefully, Jace bent his knees, lowering himself slowly to the floor. Keeping a furtive eye on Holt, he swept the bills together and folded them into a roll as he carefully stood up. He tucked the roll inside his left shirt pocket and buttoned the flap.

  Then, without change of expression or warning, Jace’s right arm came up lightning fast, driving his mallet like fist into Holt’s face, smashing his nose and loosening his two upper front teeth. Holt fell backward against the fireplace mantle, bumped the back of his head and slid to the floor in a sitting position. His hand groped for his bloody face and his fingers came away red and sticky. Duncan’s smugness had disappeared, replaced by shocked awe and fear.

  “You’re right,” Carlin agreed. “I am just a hired gun.”

  He turned and stalked past Jenna and went out the door. He thought he detected a slight hint of amusement in Jenna’s eyes.

  Jace Carlin had slept late and it was midmorning before he arose and ventured out of his hotel room. He had been totally exhausted by the time he had returned to town the night before and returned the rented horse he had used to ride out to the Rafter H, to the livery stable. He had fallen into bed with his clothes on, too tired to worry about the pain of his bruised ribs and his anger with Duncan Holt.

  The pain and the anger returned as sleep wore off and he became conscious of the bright morning sun streaming through the window of his hotel room. He cursed himself for trusting Duncan Holt and making himself an enemy with Stacy Merritt. Somehow, he was going to have to recitfy the situation. But how? Returning to the Diamond 8 would not be a smart thing to do. Stacy Merritt had shot at him the last time he had ridden onto her range. Next time, Jace was certain, that she wouldn’t just put a bullet in his hat as warning. She would surely shoot to kill .No questions asked, no answers wanted. And he couldn’t blame her. He knew she was convinced that he was in with Duncan Holt and had set up Morgan Slate to come after him, so the gunman could be done away with legally. Jace, now, knew he was the one that had been set up. He had thought Duncan Holt was his friend, but, he had been deceived. Holt had shown himself to be a ruthless man. If he would treat an old friend the way he treated Jace, maybe he was the one causing all the trouble in the valley. Still, Stacy Merritt had been the first to bring in a hired gun, and perhaps Duncan was merely fighting back. But why would he treat Jace that way? True, he had possession of Carlin’s ranch and he wanted to keep it. Was it worth betraying a friend for it, though? Apparently.

  Carlin was totally confused, desperately trying to figure out just what the situation was. Who was the aggressor and who was the victim. He had just about decided that both sides were equally guilty. The one defining factor was that Duncan Holt had his property and he wanted it back He knew he couldn’t fight Holt alone. That meant that he would have gain Stacy Merritt’s trust and to side with her, if it was at all possible. After the way he had already messed things up, he doubted that he could ever win her over. He would have to try though, even if it meant that she would kill him first.

  Moving slowly and stiffly; his hand held tightly against his aching ribs, he had descended the hotel stairs. The pain was too much for him to think of food, so he passed by the hotel’s dining room, crossed the lobby and went outside to the street. He pretended not to notice people staring at him, moving away and avoiding him; all the while regarding him with an almost revered, but fearful respect.

  Down the street, Will Parmalee had just emerged from the newspaper office with Amy Parker. He had just given her a quick kiss on the cheek and he had left her standing on the porch while he crossed the street to his office. He didn’t notice Jace Carlin watching him. But Amy Parker did. She turned and gazed down the street in Jace’s direction. She lifted her skirts above her shoes and hurried toward him. Jace shuffled forward to meet her.

  As the distance between them narrowed, Amy noticed how slowly he moved and she could see the pain in his eyes. Her first instinct was to feel for his pain, but she fought back the urge to say anything, lest she forget to say what she really wanted to talk to him about.

  “I see you’re still here. Will said he told you to move on,” she said curtly

  “And now you’re telling me, is that it?”

  “No. I’m asking you to. For your own good and everyone else’s. If you stay, there will only be more killing. Maybe next time you won’t walk away with just some bruises.”

  “Jace,” she said, softening her tone. “Alice was a good friend to me. I know she wouldn’t like to see what’s happened to you. For her memory, just go away and stop this awful killing business.”

  “It is for her memory that I came back. And that’s why I have to stay.”

  “No!” Amy snapped. “You want to stay so you can fight and kill again. You’re not the Jace Carlin we use
to know. You’re just a cold heartless killer.”

  “Well, it seems you’re in agreement with everyone else; including me.” He tipped his hat to her and strode away toward the Sheriff’s office.

  Will Parmalee didn’t look surprised when the door opened and Carlin stepped in. “You’re not good at taking advice, Jace,” he said non chalantly and turned his attention back to the newspaper he was reading. “I saw you ride out of town last night. I hoped you were leaving.”

  “You knew better than that, didn’t you, Will?” Jace sneered. He stood silently before Will’s desk, staring down at him.

  After a few moments, Parmalee peeked out from behind his paper, grimaced and threw it aside. “All right,” he demanded with irritation, “What is it?”

  “I rode out to the Rafter H last night.”

  “Didn’t get your ranch back, did you?” Parmalee smirked knowingly. “I told you to forget about it when you first came to town. You didn’t listen.

  “You didn’t tell me Duncan Holt had moved onto my spread.”

  “I didn’t want to add disillusionment to your pain. I knew you thought Holt was your friend.

  “What’s happened to Duncan? He didn’t use to be like this.”

  “Oh, you’re wrong there, Jace. He’s always been a selfish son of a bitch. He was just always good at conning everyone.

  “I’m surprised to hear that from you. I thought you were on his side.”

  “My job is to keep the peace. As long as Duncan Holt gets his way, that makes my job easier.

  “What about Stacy Merritt?”

  “She’s just trying to hold on to what’s hers.”

  “But she brought in a hired gun. And what about Randy Poole?” Jace said.

  “There was no proof that she had anything to do with Randy Poole’s death. As for bringing in a hired gun, it seems to me that Holt brought in his own hired gun.” The meaning was strong in Parmalee’s eyes.

  “Meaning me?” Carlin said bitterly.

  “Yes. Meaning you.”

  “Then you knew it was a set up to force Morgan Slate into a gunfight.”

  “Of course.”

  “And you went along with it.”

  “Like I said, as long as Duncan gets his way. Besides, what’s one less gunman to me?”

  “Even though he might have killed me instead?” Jace remarked flatly.

  “Like I said, what’s one less gunman to me?” His gaze remained level on Carlin’sface. There was a hint of a chuckle in his voice.

  Jace remained silent. He guessed he had it coming.

  “I understand you’ve been talking to Russ Shaw,” Parmalee said, changing the subject.

  “I suppose you could call it that,” Jace said. “Neither one of us had much of anything to say to each other.”

  “Well, neither do we, Jace. I’ve already said all I’ve got to say. There’s nothing I can do to help you. Stay around here and I can’t be responsible for what happens to you.”

  “That’s alright,” Jace said. “You don’t have to be. I can handle it myself.” He turned on his heel and made for the door.

  “I’m sure you can, Jace Carlin,” the sheriff said as Carlin closed the door behind him.

  The buggy and team passed him by in the street. Jenna holt pulled the matched team to a halt, turned on the seat and waited for Jace to catch up. He glanced angrily at her, then stared straight ahead and continued to walk on by.

  “Jace!” She called. “I need to talk to you.”

  Carlin halted and looked up at her. “I don’t think we have anything to talk about. Duncan already made it clear that you’re not my friends.”

  “You’re right, Jace. Duncan is not your friend. He’s not anyone’s friend. Not even mine,” she said with a hurried clipped frenzy. Then her voice softened. “But I’m still your friend, Jace. I’ve always cared about you. You know that.”

  When he didn’t answer back, she said, “Go for a ride with me. I’ve got something to tell you.”

  Jace thought better of it and told himself not to get suckered into something he would be sorry for. “Please,” she pleaded. “It’s important.”

  He started to walk on. She said quickly, “If you want your land back, ride with me.” She waited for his answer.

  “Alright,” was all he said and climbed into the carriage.

  Jenna whipped up the reins and clucked to the horses. Neither Jenna nor Carlin spoke as they rode through town. Jace felt uneasy as he noticed townspeople watching. Jenna seemed to be ignoring them.

  When they reached the edge of town, Jenna turned the team onto the east fork in the road. Only the sound of the horses’ hooves and creak of wagon wheels prevailed until they were well out of town into the country. Jenna pulled the team off to the side of the road and parked the buggy in the shade of a large sycamore tree.

  Jace waited for her to start the conversation. Finally she said, “I want to help you, Jace.”

  “And what do you want from me in return?” He said coolly.

  “Do you have to be so cynical? There was a time when we were close. Don’t you remember?”

  “Yeah, I remember,” he said somberly.

  “It could be that way again,” she said plaintively. “Seem to me you already have a man.”

  “If you can call him that,” Jenna said. “He’s changed a lot over the years. Greed has gotten the better of him. He’s become ruthless and hungry for wealth and power.”

  “I’ve been told that he’s always been like that.”

  “Yes, but I didn’t recognize it at first.” Then she said, “You didn’t either. You still thought he was your friend up until last night. Now you know better too.”

  Jace nodded his agreement with a grimace.

  “You want your land back and I want to be rid of him. Together we can both get what we want.” She emphasized theword‘together’ and the meaning was clear. “Without Duncan, you can have your land back, maybe even the Rafter H if you want it.

  “Meaning you and me.”

  “Yes”, she almost whispered.

  “In other words, you want me to kill him?”

  “Well, I wouldn’t want to put it that bluntly. But yes, I guess so.”

  “So you’re hiring me, is that it?”

  “No. I was thinking of a partnership. A partnership of a permanent nature.”

  “I guess the price of my gun is getting more expensive,” he mused.

  “Don’t look at it that way, Jace.”

  “How else should I look at it? First your husband hires my gun, then you hire it. I don’t guess you’re both wrong about me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m just a hired gun afterall.”

  Stacy Merritt, Zeke Austin and a half dozen Diamond 8 riders were in town when Jace Carlin hoofed back into town. He had wanted to walk back rather than have Jenna drive him back. He had told her it would be best if they were not seen together, any more than necessary, but the truth of the matter was he was angry. Angry at Jenna Holt’s cold blooded plan and angry at himself for agreeing to it. But this would be the only way to get his ranch back The law was not going to help him and once again, if he were to get justice, he would have to mete it out himself, even if it was the Devil’s Justice. It was better than no justice at all, he told himself. Or, maybe Amy Parker was right. Maybe he only wanted his land as an excuse to fight and kill again.

  When he had ridden into Contention Springs a few days ago, he had told himself that he wanted the killing behind him, but did he really? He had already killed again; leaving Morgan Slate dying in the middle of the street and now he was planning to kill Duncan Holt.; a man he had once trusted and had called friend. Would the killing end with Duncan Holt? There was still the Diamond 8 to contend with and what about Will Parmalee?

  Stacy Merritt and Zeke Austin were just emerging from the Sheriff’s office when Jace spotted them. Their men had been waiting outside on their horse
s. Stacy and Zeke climbed into their saddles and started to turn them when they noticed Carlin in the street. Stacy said something to her men and they reined steady. She nodded to Zeke and they both urged their mounts forward toward the walking man.

  As they neared him, Jace could see the anger in Stacy’s eyes and the grimness in Zeke Austin’s expression. They reined to a halt in front of him, blocking his path. “I’m surprise at you, Jace,” The old man said gruffly. “Throwing in with Duncan Holt.”

  “It was mistake, Zeke,” Jace said apologetically. “He lied to me. I know that now.”

  “Seems to me, you’ve whistled that tune before,” Stacy Merritt put in angrily.

  “Just a minute, Stace,” Zeke urged calmly, holding his palm up in a halting fashion. “Let’s hear what the boy’s got to say. Then you can horsewhip him if you like, but right now let him have his say.”

  Stacy settled back in the saddle. Her eyes flashed. “He’s got one minute,” she sputtered.

  “Alright, boy,” Zeke said. “Let’s have it.”

  “Duncan told me you were rustling cattle and driving everyone out of the valley,” He said quickly. “I was already believing that you were the one who stole my place. I saw cattle with Diamond 8 brands there.”

  “It was Duncan Holt that took over your land,” Stacy Merritt came back.

  “I know that now,” Jace said. “He offered me a way to get it back.”

  “Meaning Morgan Slate?” Zeke put in. Jace nodded.

  “Yes,” he said.

  “But he didn’t give it back to you, did he?” Stacy chided.

  “I always thought he was my friend.” There was sadness and disappointment in the words.

  “I’m sorry I never said anything about it, before, son,” Zeke said. “Duncan’s always been a sneak. I just never wanted to be the one to tell you. I figured you’d find it out soon enough.

  “Guess I never was very smart,” Jace said.

  “No boy, you just liked to see the good in people. You always wanted to give them a fair shake and the benefit of the doubt.”

  “Not anymore, Zeke.” Carlin’s eyes narrowed. He stepped around them and walked away.

  *****

  Chapter Eight