Keeper of the Books (Keeper of the Books, Book 1)

by Jason D. Morrow

  He’d been chasing after Nathaniel Cole for years now, the outlaw always eluding him. Levi would go after some other criminal in between tries to keep food on the table, but if he ever heard any news about the Cole brothers hitting some place, Levi was there as quickly as he could be, ready to pick up the search where he’d left off.

  But Nathaniel Cole had gotten good at sneaking away. He had hideouts dotted all over the map, and Levi had discovered a few of them, but the ones he found were always abandoned and showed no sign of a return.

  Levi had gotten real close this time. He’d picked up the trail again when he got word that Nathaniel had been spotted in El Paso. Then he learned that they were in Penrod. Levi had gotten there as quick as lightning, not having been this hot on the brothers’ trail in a long while. Then there was the bank robbery, and he had even seen Joe riding off. Amos had been caught and that good-for-nothing Sheriff Marston had barely questioned the man. Levi had taken over the investigation and finally thought that he had Nathaniel where he wanted him.

  Then when he’d seen him from the ridge going into Montgomery’s cabin, Levi’s heart had been pounding in his chest. A trot through the canyon, a few cartridges, and a stick of dynamite later, Levi found himself in a different world as lost as he’d ever been.

  He tried to not let this sour his mood. He asked for a match from Vincent who produced one from his jacket. Levi quickly lit a cigar he’d been carrying with him and inhaled the smoke deeply. Looking ahead at the city of Tel Haven, he knew there was still hope even if the trail had gone cold. He was confident in knowing that he had been a lot further off from the brothers than this before. He wasn’t about to give up now.

  When they reached the city, Levi figured he’d have to go somewhere back East to capture the bustling energy that this place emitted. There were some places back home that captured the grand essence of a big city, but not like this.

  The streets were filled with shops and people. The cacophony of sellers and peddlers yelling out their deals and offering free samples of delicious treats threatened to overwhelm Levi, but he tried to take it in stride. For a moment, he even smiled at the commotion of people. Men wore suits and tipped their hats to the ladies in long dresses. The ladies might curtsy or ignore the men altogether. On down a little ways there were the usual saloons with roughnecks taking to the drink too early in the morning, but even they seemed to be doing business with their compatriots.

  The throng of people in the streets made no claim to happiness, however. It was hard for Levi to grasp the mood of them. In Penrod, for example, the moment he’d stepped into the small town, the people seemed downtrodden and sad. It was a town of little hope, where the forgotten found a home and the weary found no rest. Here in the market district of Tel Haven it seemed too busy and too big for there to be any general mood of the populace. It was as if these people were too busy to feel—that every moment counted only if it promised a heavier purse weighed down by coins. Levi was not comfortable dwelling on the scene, but it was interesting to be there and to watch.

  Levi and Vincent had worked out an agreement along the way that Levi wouldn’t tell the authorities about Vincent’s crimes, and would even pay him a little money if the man took him into the heart of Tel Haven. Of course, Levi had no money, so he needed to get to the bank first.

  As they moved past the hustled market district, the noise seemed to lessen and the mood felt more calm, though there was still more going on than Levi had ever seen in one place. Vincent parked the buggy in front of a smaller, less populated saloon and pointed to a building about a hundred feet out.

  “There,” he said. “There’s where you can git my money. That there’s the bank.”

  Levi nodded at him. “I’ll go into the bank and you can get yourself a drink at the saloon. I’ll only be a few minutes, then I’ll join you.”

  Vincent’s smile was wide. “You’ve read my mind!” He reached out to slap Levi on the back, but a stern look from the bounty hunter stayed his hand.

  The two left the cart and Levi walked toward the bank. When he reached the door, he looked back to see Vincent go into the saloon, a stupid smile on his face. He wondered if the man was planning to put the drink on a tab and wait for Levi to bring the money.

  Levi went into the bank and made his way to the nearest open teller. The man smiled at him with big white teeth. “How can I help you today?”

  Levi leaned against the counter and blew a cloud of smoke into the air above his head. He kept his voice low so the others in the room didn’t hear him. “I need to know where the sheriff’s office is,” he said. “I’m new to town and have an issue I need to take care of.”

  “Of course,” the teller said. “You’re actually in luck. If you leave the way you came in and turn right, you’ll find the sheriff’s office on your left about a hundred paces.”

  Levi nodded at the teller and walked away from the counter without another word. He found himself in the bustling street again and stole a glance toward the saloon. He was pleased to see that Vincent hadn’t come out. Now, Levi could see the sheriff’s office plain as day. He walked toward it, all the while hoping the lawmen had word on Nathaniel Cole’s whereabouts.

  On a board on the outside wall were postings for all kinds of wanted individuals. Sketches of various faces with bounties ranging from a hundred coins to a thousand covered the board. What struck Levi the most were the faces of individuals who didn’t even look human. Vincent had told him about the various creatures throughout Galamore. Elves…ravagers…gnomes…dwarves… This was the first time he’d had a chance to see what one of them might look like. Of course, these were crude drawings and the probably didn’t capture a true representation of what they really were. But there were a few drawings of people whose ears were as long as a dagger. These were elves, based on the description Vincent had given him. Another—a male with more hair on his face than Levi thought possible—was a dwarf. But mostly, the board consisted of men with various shades of anger etched on their faces.

  But one stood out in particular. Right in the middle of the board was a drawing of a man who looked an awful lot like Nathaniel Cole. With all the others there had been names too. This one said that he was unknown, but information leading to his arrest was worth 500 coins.

  Levi reached for the drawing and ripped it off the wall. He then stepped into the sheriff’s office quickly. There were two men in the smoke filled room, puffing away at their fat cigars. Neither of them bothered to even look Levi’s way as he entered. One of the men leaned against the back wall, humming a tune to himself. The man closest to the entrance sat leaned back in a chair with his feet resting on the desk in front of him.

  “I need to speak with the sheriff,” Levi called out.

  The man on the back wall continued to hum, while the man closest to him shook his head. “Sheriff’s on a break right now.”

  Levi’s eyes traveled down to the man’s vest and saw the brass badge declaring that he was the sheriff.

  “I don’t suppose you’d mind to come back to work so I can talk to you about this fugitive,” Levi said.

  “No can do, partner,” the man said. “The sheriff should be in in about an hour. You can come back then.”

  Levi looked toward the man at the back of the room. He had a badge as well, and Levi assumed this was the deputy. “What about you?” Levi nearly shouted.

  The man ignored him, humming away, stopping only to inhale the smoke his cigar produced.

  Levi knew this kind of law enforcement. They were often elected into office only to sit around and do nothing while the outlaws did as they pleased.

  Levi’s teeth ground together and he stepped forward, grabbed the sheriff’s boot by the toe and slung it off the desk. The sheriff and his deputy jumped with fire in their eyes and guns drawn almost immediately, but they stopped in their tracks when Levi held up the paper at eye level.

  “Ya’ll know who this man is?” Levi asked.

  The sheriff looked
at the paper and his look of anger was wiped away suddenly.

  “By golly!” the deputy said. “That’s the man who helped Marum escape!”

  “We don’t know who the man is,” the sheriff admitted. “But finding him would get me out of a heap of trouble, that’s for sure. Do you know who he is?”

  “What’s his story?” Levi asked, ignoring the question.

  The sheriff sniffed. “What’s it to you, anyway? You can’t just come in here like you own the place. I could arrest you for assaulting an officer of the law for what you just did.”

  “You wouldn’t get that chance,” Levi said coldly. His stare into the lawman’s eyes dared him to try anything.

  The sheriff holstered his gun and looked away toward his deputy who still had his gun drawn. He waved the man off and the deputy shoved his pistol into his holster, stomped a few feet back, and leaned against the wall again.

  Levi hadn’t even drawn his weapon and already he was taking control of the situation.

  “That man right there showed up in death row yesterday,” the sheriff said, turning back to Levi. “Nobody knows how he got there. Nobody knows who he is. Nobody knows where he came from. But he released all the prisoners which has the Rangers breathing down my neck. Gibbons questioned me for four straight hours last night.”

  “So, he was here yesterday,” Levi said, his heart giving a sudden leap.

  “That’s right,” the sheriff said. “You know anything about him?”

  “More than I want to,” Levi said. “I’ve been after this man for ten years. He’s good at what he does.”

  “Why would he want to release Marum? He was seen with her.”

  “Couldn’t tell you,” Levi said. “All I know is this man is dangerous. And with a little bit of help, I can get him for you.”

  “You a bounty hunter?” the deputy called out from the back.

  “That’s right,” Levi said. “But I don’t know this part of the country very well. I’ll need some help navigating.”

  “Oh, don’t you worry about that,” the sheriff said. “We’ll get you all the help you need. What’s his name?”

  “Nathaniel Cole,” Levi said. “Goes by Nate. He has a brother that’s here somewhere. His name is Joseph, but Nathaniel is my priority.”

  “You’re really saving my neck,” the sheriff said.

  “Another thing,” Levi said. “A man brought me into Tel Haven here. His name is Vincent. He’s got a cart parked out in front of the saloon across the way. It’s full of stolen goods. Vincent ought to be about halfway through his second or third drink by now. Just thought you should know. I plan on taking his horse if it’s all the same to you.”

  “You can take the shirt off his back if you can help us get to this Nathaniel Cole,” the sheriff said. He reached out a hand. “The name’s Strand. Albert Strand.”

  “Levi Thompson,” he said, reaching out to shake hands with the sheriff.

  Strand looked behind him at the deputy. “Eric, take care of Vincent at the saloon. I gotta set up a meeting with the Rangers.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Levi said to the deputy. “I need that horse of his.”

  Devlin

  Autumn, 903 A.O.M.

  Devlin lay in a bed, his head still throbbing from his fight with the gray elf, Marum, and the man she’d escaped with. Of course, this was the story he told to the other Rangers of Tel Haven. This was surely what had been told to President Jacob DalGaard. Devlin had been made to retell the story again and again, and he was careful to keep it straight every time he told it. Gibbons was terribly angry that a Ranger could be so easily beaten by two people. Devlin had not talked to the head Ranger directly, but this is what Ranger Colten had told him. Ranger Rickston had been the one to find him miles from Tel Haven, unconscious and bleeding. According to Rickston, Devlin looked so bad, he had put him on the horse and sprinted back to Tel Haven the entire way. The old Ranger had been afraid that Devlin was not going to survive the trip. But Devlin had survived with little more than deep cuts, painful bruises, and a particularly nasty knife wound to the shoulder.

  “You’re lucky they only used a regular knife on you,” Colten told him as he sat on a chair next to Devlin’s bed. “Could have been an enchanted knife to make you feel like your eyes were on fire or to cause your arm to rot off.”

  Devlin only gave a slight smile to Colten. The Ranger was little more than a boy, just barely a man, but he had passed his training better than most Rangers ever had, or so Devlin had heard. He was the only one out of the nine other Rangers that did not turn his nose up at Devlin as he passed. Devlin felt like he belonged with them whenever he was with Colten.

  “I really wish I would have seen them coming,” Devlin said. He tried not to look at Colten for fear of being discovered. He did not want his eyes to give him away. He did not want the only Ranger who seemed to like him be disappointed at his cowardice.

  “I bet she was ruthless,” Colten said. “The president should have just ordered the execution when they caught her. Then we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

  “I agree,” Devlin said. “Marum is a danger.”

  “I wonder why they didn’t kill you,” Colten said. “If you were unconscious from the first blow, don’t you think they would have just cut your throat?”

  Devlin shrugged. “Who knows how gray elves and crazy men think? Perhaps she was just trying to get out as quickly as possible. Maybe they wasn’t looking when they stabbed me, thought they stabbed my neck instead of my shoulder. I can’t even really guess.”

  “Perhaps it would have been more noble,” came the voice of Ranger Gibbons at the doorway, “if you had been shot off your horse and killed instantly.”

  Ranger Colten stood from his chair at attention.

  Gibbons nodded at the young Ranger. “Let Devlin get some rest.”

  “Yes sir,” Colten said. He gave a sympathetic look to Devlin and turned to exit the room, leaving Devlin alone with the president’s right-hand man.

  “Would you have preferred my death?” Devlin asked him.

  Gibbons shook his head and walked slowly toward his bed. He pulled the chair to him, sat in it, and crossed his legs, seemingly making himself comfortable. “Regardless of how you came to be among the most talented Rangers ever to exist in Galamore, you are still part of us. I would never wish harm upon one of my brothers unless he were meaning harm against my president or country. Of course, if you wished such a thing, you would no longer be considered one of my brothers.”

  “I could never wish such a thing,” Devlin said.

  “I should hope not.” Gibbons looked Devlin up and down from his head to his toes and shook his head. “I know you have talked to the other Rangers, and I know you need your rest, but I need to hear from you what happened at the bridge. How is it that Marum and that man maimed you and stole your horse? How is it you are still alive?”

  “They was quick,” Devlin said. “I bent over to look at some tracks near the riverbank. I thought they might be theirs. I wasn’t sure if they might have already passed before I got there. The moment I looked at the grass, one of them came at me with a rock. I was stunned. I don’t remember much after that. I walked some distance, but I can’t recall it. I woke up on Rickston’s horse with a terrible pain in my shoulder and face.”

  “You said you think they missed your neck and hit your shoulder by accident?” Gibbons asked with an eyebrow raised.

  Devlin shook his head. “It’s speculation. Your guess is as good as mine. You asked for my report, I haven’t had the chance to contemplate the motives of Marum or the other man. I don’t know why they didn’t kill me. Perhaps to feign innocence. Marum had always claimed it. It wouldn’t help her case to kill a Ranger of Galamore.”

  “It would not,” Gibbons agreed. He bent forward and rubbed his eyes with his palms. “I have spoken to President DalGaard about it already. He is most displeased at Marum’s ease of escape.”

  “I do apologize, sir. I didn’t
see the attack coming.”

  “Well,” Gibbons said, his face very serious, “if you had been trained as a Ranger like all the others instead of being appointed based on popularity, then perhaps you might not have been so careless.”

  “A point well made, sir.”

  Gibbons stood from the chair and began pacing the floor. “Marum is a powerful enemy, and it was very important to President DalGaard that she be executed. The act was meant to be a message to her brother that we were not going to take his insubordination lightly. Now we have been made to look weak and foolish.”

  “I’m very sorry, sir.”

  Gibbons held up a hand. “I don’t want anymore apologies. It is not your fault that we have not trained you.” He stopped his pacing and faced Devlin. “It is a sign that the position as a Ranger of Galamore is of lesser importance than it used to be. But as long as I lead the men, I will not allow it to be that way.”

  Devlin struggled to sit up from the bed. His head pounded as he sat straighter, but his concern for what Gibbons might say next was too much for Devlin to take lying down. The leader of the Rangers watched him as he rubbed the side of his head.

  “How old are you, Devlin?”

  “I have walked this land for almost fifty years.”

  “You are far too old to begin training as a Ranger,” Gibbons said. “For you to go through official training would make a mockery of the position. Since you saved the president’s life in the Annual Hunt, all the citizens think you are already an accomplished warrior. That is why they wanted you to fill our vacant spot so badly.”