STRONG SUSPICIONS
Emmett Strong Western #2
GP Hutchinson
The author would like to thank Karla Van Horne of Purdy Gear Custom Leather Goods (www.purdygear.com) for her gracious permission to incorporate the image of her Double Shuffle gun rig into the cover art for this novel.
Cover design by Steven Novak (www.novakillustration.com).
Copyright © 2016 The Hutchinson Group, LLC
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior express written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Strong Suspicions (Emmett Strong Western #2) is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, businesses, places, and events are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
ISBN-13: 9781512200225
ISBN-10: 1512200220
Library of Congress Control Number: 2016902284
CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform
North Charleston, South Carolina
To Weezie, with all my love and with heartfelt appreciation for your enthusiastic and expressive support
Strong Suspicions
Emmett Strong Western #2
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
CHAPTER FIFTY
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
TO THE READER
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
CHAPTER ONE
May 1881
“I can hardly believe what you’re asking me to do.” The heavyset judge flicked a bit of lint off the sleeve of his dark-brown frock coat. “You being a Texas Ranger—a lawman—you should know better, Mr. Strong.”
Emmett wasn’t the least bit shocked by Judge Lanier Wilcox’s obstinacy. He’d almost expected it. Nonetheless, it chafed him. He glanced at Li Xu to see how she was holding up and was pleased to find her perfectly poised, chin up, brows relaxed. Pretty as ever, too, with those gorgeous deep-brown eyes and her dark, silky hair in an elegant braid.
The judge’s desk chair creaked beneath his weight. “Joining a white man and a Chinese woman in holy wedlock,” he said. “Why, that would be patently immoral.”
“I can assure you, Your Honor,” Emmett said, “I’ve discussed this at length with a man of the cloth, and there’s nothing whatsoever immoral about it. Looked it up in the Good Book—chapter and verse.”
“I’ve no idea what sect this so-called man of the cloth represents, but no upstanding minister I know would preside over such a union.” The judge’s lip twisted ever so slightly as he eyed Li. “Besides, if he was so comfortable with violating the laws of God and man, why didn’t he tie the knot for you two?”
“We wanted to be married in the state where we would reside, so there would be no—”
Dipping his head and extending both palms toward Emmett and Li, the judge said, “I’ll hear no more of this, Mr. Strong. If you decide to continue your corrupt cohabitation with this woman despite my admonition, well, it’s your soul at stake, not mine.”
Emmett wanted to wring the tan Stetson he was holding, prize possession though it was. “We haven’t been cohabiting, Your Honor.”
“And if your neighbors should take exception to your illicit relationship and resort to some sort of action against you”—the judge used his stubby index finger like a gavel on the thick book that lay open on his desk—“I can’t see where it would be incumbent upon the law to guarantee you any kind of protection.”
“You’d condone violence against us?”
“Condone? Not precisely. Let’s just say I couldn’t fault folks for taking certain measures against you—should you persist in flaunting your immorality.”
Emmett returned his hat to his head. “Your jurisprudence is as weak as your theology, Judge.” Offering Li his arm, he glowered at the magistrate. “Good day, sir.”
Li dropped the short veil of her straw hat over her face, took Emmett’s arm, and said, “Good day, Your Honor…regardless.”
The couple turned and headed out of the judge’s office into the blinding El Paso sunlight. Emmett was certain that if he opened his mouth, words would flow that a man oughtn’t say in the presence of a lady, so he determined to dally his tongue.
They’d hardly taken a dozen steps when Juan Carlos Galvez trotted up onto the boardwalk to meet them. Juanito was the brother of the young Texian beauty to whom Emmett had been married five years ago, a girl whose life had been cut tragically short in a shoot-out gone awry. Noting tight lips where Juanito usually wore a quick smile, Emmett braced himself for another dose of bad news.
“You and I had better get over to the Wild Hog pronto, hermano,” Juanito said.
Emmett cocked his head.
“The saloon has a new owner,” Juanito continued, “and he’s not taking our British amigo’s proposition very well.”
Turning to Li, Emmett said, “Will you be OK getting back to the hotel by yourself?”
She met his gaze and, with a grin playing at the corner of her mouth, said, “I don’t suppose I can go to the saloon with you?”
It heartened him that she could be so cheerful, even after having been treated so poorly by Judge Wilcox. He forced a smile. “Not dressed as you are.”
“Be careful then, Emmett.” She gave his arm a squeeze and then, with a lace-gloved hand, clu
tched the skirt of her new etamine dress and turned for the hotel.
Emmett hesitated just a second, watching her go. She stole a peek back at him and waved with her fingertips.
“Oh,” Juanito said to her, his grin reappearing momentarily, “with all the trouble down at the saloon, I almost forgot to tell you the good news.”
“Save it till you and Emmett are done with helping Sikes,” she said. She waved again and hurried away toward the hotel.
Emmett turned and stepped off with a long stride. “So the new owner’s not happy with Sikes’s proposal,” he said to Juanito. “What’s Geneve say?”
“Things are different for Geneve—even in the few weeks since we last saw her.”
“Different?”
“Somebody’s given her a busted lip. She’s got bruises on her arms. I suspect her clothes cover up more of the same.”
Once they rounded the corner, Emmett spied the Wild Hog Saloon two blocks straight ahead. “Think the new owner’s the culprit?”
“Can’t say for sure. But judging from the way he’s talking to Sikes, I wouldn’t put it past him.”
“What kind of backup does he have?” Emmett adjusted his gun belt.
“He’s got a new bartender. Don’t know if he keeps a scattergun behind the counter like Gus did. But there’s a fellow with a shotgun perched on a lookout chair down at the end of the bar now.”
“Amazing how fast things can change. You ready for business if it comes to it?”
Juanito frowned. “So quickly you’re thinking of throwing down on them?”
“You’re the one who fetched me to back Sikes’s play.”
After they’d passed a poor farmer leading a burro loaded down with huge baskets of freshly picked corn, Juanito said, “You look angry, hermano—not a good way to walk into something like this.”
An image of the stocky judge giving Li a disdainful glance flashed through Emmett’s mind. The magistrate’s reckless words echoed in his ears. “I am angry. Judge back there put me in a horn-tossing mood.”
Juanito clapped him on the back. “Forget the judge. I’ve found somebody else to take care of marrying you to Li.”
Emmett glanced at his brother-in-law. “Is that the good news you mentioned to her a minute ago?”
With an enthusiastic nod, Juanito said, “He can tie the knot for the two of you as soon as we get Sikes and Geneve out of this Wild Hog mess. So don’t go do anything in there to ruin the wedding, you hear?”
CHAPTER TWO
Emmett and Juanito were half a block away when Sikes slung open the Wild Hog Saloon’s batwing doors and stormed out into the street. Considering a bullet had messed up his thigh only a few short weeks ago, he was marching toward them with plenty of pluck. Emmett waved him over to the boardwalk.
“The bloke’s beating her.” Glaring from beneath his crimped black Stetson, Sikes stepped up, then turned and spat into the dusty street. “Tells her she’s holding back, avoiding certain customers.”
Emmett hung his thumbs on his gun belt and cocked his hip. “How’d this new fella come to replace the one that owned the saloon last time we passed through?”
“According to Geneve, the former owner seems to have fancied himself a real card sharp. The truth is he wasn’t all that good. Lost the place to this Franklin Taft chap—a fellow with a mean streak as wide as this street.” Sikes thrust his thumb toward the broad, dirt thoroughfare.
Emmett pulled his long-barreled Colt from its holster, spun the cylinder, and inserted a sixth bullet. “Geneve want out?”
“Without question. She’s afraid of him.”
“And this Taft fella—he’s not inclined to let her out.”
“I offered him five hundred dollars. Not to buy the girl, you understand. Just to satisfy him so he’d let her walk away from it all, free and clear. He turned me down.”
“You reckon he’s trying to play you for a higher price?” Emmett holstered his gun again and flexed his fingers. “Or do you figure he aims to keep her at all costs?”
“I think he realizes Geneve is some pretty special calico. Doesn’t want to lose her.”
Juanito had already put a sixth bean in the wheel of the revolver he wore in his holster. As he worked on his hide-out gun, he said, “The hombre may own the saloon, but he doesn’t own the girl, no matter what he thinks.”
“You ready to go back in, Sikes?” Emmett asked.
“If you two will back me up.”
Emmett gave a single sharp nod. “Besides the lookout man Juanito told me about, are the others heeled?”
“Don’t know whether the bartender keeps a weapon back there, but Taft wears a revolver on his hip.”
Emmett turned to Juanito. “Let’s go in hard and fast, just like the old days, brother-in-law. You close on this Taft fella. I’ll take the lookout with the scattergun.”
“Como dices, hermano,” Juanito said. As you say, brother.
“Sikes,” Emmett said, “I’m assuming Geneve is upstairs.”
“That’s where she was when I left.”
“You go straight on up to fetch her. Don’t take time to gather belongings. Just be sure she’s got proper clothes on. Juanito and I should have matters taken care of by the time you two come back down.”
“What about the bartender?”
Emmett scanned the street. It was only a little past noon. Already hot as blazes. Not many folks out. “Don’t worry about the barkeep.” He stepped down off the boardwalk. “Let’s get this done, gents.”
As the three walked in silence toward the Wild Hog, it occurred to Emmett that if he, Juanito, and Sikes were gunned down while attempting to cut Geneve loose from this new saloon owner, Li Xu would be all alone, a thousand miles from anyone she knew. Something deep inside told him to turn on his heels—now—and hurry hell-for-leather back to his newfound love.
But that wouldn’t do. Granville Sikes had followed him all the way to Nevada to help him chase down his big brother’s murderer. He’d helped him rescue Li, too, and had gotten himself shot twice in the process. No, Emmett had to back Sikes’s play today.
He gave his head a shake. Going in distracted like this could get him killed faster than just about anything. Hell, it could get them all killed.
Emmett and Juanito hit the saloon doors side by side, Sikes right behind them.
Only three tables were occupied. A neatly trimmed fellow wearing a derby and a gray-striped vest rose from the table nearest the bar. “I thought I told you to get the hell outta here and not to show your ugly face around here again.” His hand hovered over his pistol grips.
Trusting Juanito to handle the spokesman—Taft himself, no doubt—Emmett kept right on moving, straight for the mustachioed shotgun man seated on a stool just beyond the far end of the bar.
Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the bartender rush toward the same end of the polished counter.
The lookout man hoisted the long-barreled scattergun, thumb on one of the twin hammers.
Emmett never slowed. His gaze locked on the lookout’s eyes. This yack won’t shoot unless his boss clears leather. And Juanito won’t let that happen.
The lookout’s eyes flicked toward Taft. And that was all Emmett needed. He snagged the shotgun’s twin damascus barrels and shoved them hard toward the tin ceiling. By the time he slammed his chest into the lookout man, his Colt was shucked and planted firmly against the fellow’s ribs.
“Let go of my pardner!” The bartender had grabbed a handgun and was now drawing down on Emmett from over the bar.
“Drop it, barkeep.” It was Juanito.
From where Emmett stood, holding the lookout man against the wall, he could see that Juanito had one of his Colts pressed hard into Taft’s throat and the other into the saloon boss’s gut.
The bartender hesitated.
“I don�
��t wanna kill you today, barkeep,” Emmett said, “but so help me, if you don’t drop that LeMat—and pronto—I’ll dispense with your pardner here and burn you down in the next heartbeat.”
“Drop the damn thing, Willie,” Taft said, his voice tight from the pistol barrel pressed against his vocal cords.
The barkeep still wavered.
A wooden stair tread creaked. A well-dressed, middle-aged woman paused on the stairs with Geneve—still in her underwear—one step in front of her. The woman had her arm around Geneve’s neck and a pocket pistol pointed at the young blonde’s temple. “Hang on to your gun, Willie,” the madam said. “If they pull a trigger, I pull a trigger.”
Wondering what had happened to Sikes, Emmett instinctively pressed his Colt harder into the lookout man’s side.
“Well, Mr. Taft,” Emmett said, “looks as if we’ve got ourselves a situation here, doesn’t it?”
“Call it what you like.” Taft’s voice was still tight. “Only, it appears it’ll be a mite more complicated for you to walk away from it than it was for you to come waltzing into it.”
Emmett kept his grip tight on the shotgun barrels. “Not so complicated—if that woman on the stairs pulls the trigger, you die. Your lookout man here dies. Maybe your barkeep and the madam too.”
For a moment nobody said a word.
“Is Geneve worth your life to you, Taft?”
Silence once again, except for the pulse whooshing in Emmett’s ears.
“What’s to stop your Mexican here from shooting me after I let the girl go?” Taft said.
“I’m Texian, not Mexican,” Juanito muttered as he pushed Taft’s neck back another inch with his Colt. “And we didn’t come here for blood. We came for the girl.”
“Where’s my British friend, ma’am?” Emmett asked the woman holding Geneve.
Before she could answer, Sikes spoke up for himself from upstairs. “I’m fine, Strong. Just had to set down my revolver and give the lady a little room when she surprised me with a pistol of her own.”
After a brief pause, Taft said, “Miss Lindsey, throw that trollop out into the street. She’s gone cold on us anyway.”
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