The renegade marshal, p.1
The Renegade Marshal, page 1
The Renegade Marshal
Scott Connor
Published by Culbin Press, 2022.
Names, characters and incidents in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2022 by Scott Connor
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the author.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
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
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Chapter One
U.S. Marshal Lincoln Hawk drew his horse to a halt. A half-mile away two riders were heading toward him and they were clearly being pursued as they were galloping along while constantly checking behind them.
They had halved the distance to him when they noticed that someone was ahead of them. They gestured to each other as they weighed up whether Lincoln might give them even more problems and then veered away toward a nearby creek.
The water was too deep and fast-flowing to be forded so they were likely planning to hole up. They had just disappeared from view over the raised bank when their pursuers arrived.
The three men were riding fast and Lincoln recognized the lead rider as being U.S. Marshal Nevada Stein. Nevada must have spotted where his quarries had gone as the men headed straight toward the water.
Lincoln hurried his horse on, but Nevada and, presumably, his two deputies reached the edge of the bank while he was still around two minutes away. Nevada stopped to consider the scene ahead and then rode on down the bank.
Raised voices could be heard, but Lincoln’s worst fears didn’t materialize and there was no exchange of gunfire, this being the usual result whenever Nevada caught up with his quarries. He carried on at a gallop and when the scene at the water’s edge came into view the five men had all dismounted.
Nevada was facing the two quarries, who had their backs to the water, while his deputies were flanking him and rolling their shoulders, their menacing behavior making the two men edge backward into the shallows. Then they spotted the new arrival and turned to Lincoln, causing Nevada to turn around and sneer.
“What are you doing here, Marshal?” he called.
Lincoln dismounted and made his way down the bank. He didn’t reply until he was standing beside the group on the water’s edge.
“I was in the area and I heard there’d been some trouble,” he said. “I figured my fellow lawman might need my help.”
“I don’t. Everything is under control now.”
For long moments the two lawmen faced each other, their light exchange of views masking their true feelings. Lincoln hadn’t lied about his reason for being here. He’d been in the nearby town of Small Creek when he’d heard about the recent events in Willow Falls.
For several months the Willow Falls stockyard, the main source of employment and wealth in the town, had been targeted with robberies and acts of vandalism. The culprits were careful and had ensured that there were no witnesses to their activities so Sheriff Chitwood had failed to find them or even identify the men involved.
Jordan Newman, the co-owner of the stockyard with his younger brother Blythe, had faith in the sheriff and had been prepared to give him all the time he needed, but then the acts had become more serious. The interests of the people who did business with the stockyard had been targeted, leading to the problem affecting folks from a wider area than just Willow Falls.
So with the sheriff’s agreement Jordan had called in Marshal Nevada Stein to investigate. Nevada had a reputation for being successful, but his methods had several times almost led to him losing his badge.
Lincoln reckoned that if Nevada were to resolve the situation he was more likely to do so by reaching a deal with the attackers in which he’d take a cut of their ill-gotten gains in exchange for only running them out of town. As stating this opinion would be unlikely to help the situation Lincoln only smiled.
“That’s good to hear,” he said. “I’ll be around for a while so don’t hesitate to—”
Lincoln broke off when one of the captives took advantage of the distraction to turn away and walk toward his horse. The nearest deputy stepped up to him, but the man barged him away, the blow making him slip on the wet ground and go down on one knee.
Nevada turned on the hip toward the man and reached for his gun. Then he stayed the movement when Lincoln stepped in front of him.
“Move aside,” Nevada said.
Lincoln shook his head. “I’m not letting you shoot that man in the back before you’ve even questioned him.”
Lincoln had raised his voice and it had the desired effect of making the fleeing man slow down as he accepted that trying to escape wouldn’t be wise. This gave the downed deputy enough time to gain his feet and advance on him from behind.
He slammed a bunched fist down on the man’s back, causing him to stumble. Then, when the man had righted himself, he thudded a low blow into his side that made him drop down on to his knees before keeling over.
As the deputy stood over the fallen man, the other man eyed the situation with concern and then backed away. That small movement was enough for the other deputy to advance on him and hurl a punch that slammed into his cheek and made him fall over on to his back in the shallows.
He then stood over him, waiting for any sign that he hadn’t knocked the fight out of him. When both the prisoners stayed where they were, Nevada grunted with delight.
“Nobody’s going to get shot, although you’ll suffer some pain if you don’t stop interfering.”
Lincoln stepped back. “As you seem to be in control, after all, I’ll leave you to finish up here. When I reach Willow Falls I’ll tell Sheriff Chitwood to expect two prisoners soon.”
Nevada narrowed his eyes, seemingly picking up on Lincoln’s passive warning that he shouldn’t do anything other than arrest these men and then take them to the jailhouse.
“I’d be obliged if you’d do that,” he said with a pleasant tone, but when Lincoln turned away he lowered his voice. “But don’t get in my way again.”
Lincoln stomped to a halt, stood for a moment and then moved on. He carried on up the bank and when he’d mounted his horse he rode toward the town without checking on the situation down by the water again.
Chapter Two
Lincoln arrived in Willow Falls just after sundown. He did as he’d promised and called in at the law office to report that he’d met Nevada. Sheriff Chitwood was pleased that Lincoln was now around to provide more help in resolving the problems at the stockyard.
He was also pleased that Nevada had made progress with his investigation, suggesting that he was unaware of the marshal’s poor reputation. Lincoln figured he should let the sheriff decide for himself whether he should trust him.
Then he went in search of an alternate view of the situation, hoping that an old friend, Kent Todd, still lived in town. He learned that Kent worked in the stockyard office in the mornings and, as he’d finished up for the day, he could usually be found in the Green Plains saloon.
Lincoln headed to the saloon. When he joined him at the bar Kent was hunched over and morose and he greeted him without enthusiasm suggesting that he wouldn’t be the useful source of information he’d been in the past.
The last time they’d met Kent’s trouble-making son Driscoll had just left town. Kent had been worried for his welfare and he hadn’t welcomed Lincoln’s view that he needed time to work out his problems for himself and that as he’d had a good upbringing in the end he would be fine.
“A few weeks ago Driscoll returned and he’d become a responsible and strong-willed young man,” Kent said, his somber tone hinting that this story wouldn’t turn out well. “It took us just a few hours to put aside our problems and after that we got on fine. Then he got killed.”
Lincoln winced. “I’m sorry to hear that. What happened?”
“We were due to meet here one evening, but he didn’t turn up. The next day he was found down by the creek, shot and dead.” Kent sighed. “Sheriff Chitwood is a decent lawman, but he’s made no progress in finding out who did it even after Marshal Stein arrived to help with the stockyard problem.”
Kent then snorted, suggesting that unlike the sheriff he was aware of the marshal’s reputation.
“I’m sure Chitwood has done everything he can.”
Kent gave a tentative smile. “He has, but that’s why I hope that now you’re in town I might get your help. The sheriff does everything by the book, but you go further and get things done.”
Lincoln slapped Kent’s shoulder. “I welcome your faith in me, but I’ll need luck to make progress now. Willow Falls is a town where people come and go. Whoever killed your son is almost certainly long gone.”
“I accept
Lincoln gave a grim smile, acknowledging that he accepted that Kent would do whatever it took to get justice for his son. Sadly, he also feared that Kent was unlikely to get an answer that would satisfy him.
“Do you think his death had anything to do with the recent trouble here?”
“No. The attacks have been on property, not people.”
Lincoln frowned, wondering whether to explain himself further, but he figured that Kent knew him well enough not to be offended if he spoke his mind.
“I didn’t mean it that way.”
Kent sighed. “The trouble is similar to the kind of things Driscoll did when he was younger, but the attacks started before he arrived and they’ve continued after he was killed.”
“In that case while I get myself involved in sorting out the stockyard situation, I’ll see what I can do to help you.”
Kent leaned toward Lincoln and winked. “So a quick resolution to that problem would free you up to help me?”
Lincoln hadn’t meant his offer of aid to be taken that way, but he nodded.
“Do you reckon you know something?”
Kent pursed his lips and took a moment to reply, showing Lincoln that his information was a hunch with no assurance that it would lead anywhere.
“While trying to work out who could have killed my son I’ve come across several newcomers to town who didn’t seem to be looking for honest work.” Kent counted off the names on his fingers. “My most recent leads were Ashley Davis along with two of the Winter brothers, Pryor and Finlay.”
As Kent then went on to provide a description of the men, Lincoln smiled. Ashley wasn’t a name he’d come across before, but he had encountered two other members of the outlaw Winter family, Eli and Sefton, and their brothers were the sort of men who could have caused the trouble that had plagued the stockyard.
“That gives me a place to start.”
“It’s clear they’re hired guns, so be careful. They’re often in the Harvest Moon saloon on the edge of town, although you won’t get no answers there. That saloon is the kind of place you go if you need someone to vouch that you were drinking there when you were in fact elsewhere.”
“I’ll bear that in mind.” Lincoln stood tall and put a hand to his chest. “If this lead helps me resolve the stockyard situation, I promise you that I won’t rest until I find your son’s killer.”
“I trust you to do just that.”
Kent leaned over the bar with his brow furrowed suggesting that he was thinking through other leads he might provide. When he couldn’t come up with anything else, Lincoln headed off toward the Harvest Moon.
The two most promising leads weren’t there so he moved on to ask about the Winter brothers elsewhere. Nobody knew anything about them, but he learned that Ashley Davis was staying in the cheapest hotel in town.
After confirming that Ashley was, in fact, in his room, he accepted that it was now getting late and he’d learned enough that day. He retired for the night, taking a room on the same corridor.
The night passed quietly, but the next morning Ashley’s door was open and the room empty. The receptionist reported that he had left town at first light, heading south, so Lincoln wasted no time before getting ready to leave.
He rode out of town and headed in the same direction. Although at first he failed to find his quarry, he soon found two recent signs of damage: a fence that had been cut and later a small building that had been torched.
The fire hadn’t gotten out of hand yet suggesting the perpetrator had been panicked into abandoning his plans. Sure enough, when Lincoln scouted around it didn’t take him long to pick up a recent trail and that led him to a campsite that was guarded by a semicircle of rocks.
Lincoln edged through the gap between two large boulders to reveal the scene ahead. Ashley was pottering around trying to rekindle a fire, even though it was still early in the day, suggesting he often holed up here when he was out of town.
Ashley gave no sign of being aware that he’d been followed, but Lincoln presumed that with all the problems that had been caused recently he would have help and that person could be here, too. So he stepped back before he was noticed and perused the nearby terrain.
Aside from the two boulders flanking him many of the rocks were large enough for someone else to hide behind with ease. So Lincoln cautiously explored behind the rocks, confirming that his assumption was wrong. and then made his way back to the boulders that were nearest to his quarry.
He slipped through the gap again and to his irritation Ashley was no longer beside the fire. Lincoln waited, hoping that his quarry had only temporarily moved out of sight, but when he didn’t reappear he stepped backward.
At that moment a shadow flickered on the ground to his side. Lincoln jerked away to put his back to the boulder and then turned toward the shadow. The movement had stopped, but after craning his neck to either side he worked out that it must have come from above him, and that meant his quarry had clambered on to the top of the boulder he was standing against.
He moved sideways and when he reached the other side of the boulder there were numerous smaller rocks that provided an easy passage upward. Crouched over he started climbing, gaining a position a few feet below the flat top of the boulder in a matter of moments.
He rolled his shoulders and then with his gun thrust out before him he rose up. He had planned to duck back down when he had checked out the scene, but as it turned out Ashley was lying on his front on the far side of the boulder and facing away from him.
As Ashley seemed to believe that his pursuer was still at ground level, Lincoln edged forward, taking each pace with care. He gained the top of the boulder without Ashley reacting, but he stopped when his shadow was darkening the rock beside his quarry’s feet.
“This is U.S. Marshal Lincoln Hawk,” he declared, making Ashley tense up. “Your days of causing havoc end here.”
“You sure took your time in finding me,” Ashley said. “I heard that you got called in a week ago.”
“That was Marshal Stein and being sneaky enough to evade him isn’t hard, but I’m a different proposition, Ashley Davis.”
Ashley chuckled. “So you found out my name, but that’s fine. You’ll do well to remember that name as one day soon Willow Falls will be mine for the taking.”
Lincoln snorted. “You could be right, but first you’ll spend some time admiring the inside of its jailhouse.”
Ashley sighed, seemingly resigning himself to being arrested. Then, without being asked, he rolled on to his side, edged his hand down to his holster and tipped out his six-shooter.
With his hands raised Ashley then shuffled around until he was kneeling. Lincoln stepped forward to kick the gun farther away, but just as he raised his foot, Ashley abandoned his apparently placid demeanor and leaped up with his arms rising as he attempted to grab Lincoln around the waist.
Lincoln backed away and Ashley’s arms closed around air, causing him to mutter in irritation and then take a clawing swipe at him. Lincoln ducked under the aimed blow and when he rose up he delivered a wild swipe of his own that slapped against Ashley’s shoulder and sent him spinning away.
Ashley tumbled over the side of the boulder, a thud and a pained screech sounding a moment later. Lincoln stepped up to the edge of the boulder and when he leaned forward on the ground below Ashley was lying face down and spread-eagled.
The man wasn’t moving, but Lincoln wasted no time before turning on his heel and making his way down to ground level. When he reached the gap between the two boulders, Ashley had gained his feet and was making an attempt to flee, but he was hobbling and moving only slowly.
Lincoln loosed off a gunshot that tore into the ground beside the fleeing man’s feet. Ashley carried on, so Lincoln fired a second time, this time kicking dirt only a few inches from Ashley’s right boot.
This time Ashley slowed to a halt before slumping over and flopping down on the ground. He lay on his back for a few moments and then sat up and faced him.
“Don’t shoot,” he whined while rubbing his ankles.
“Don’t give me cause to and I won’t,” Lincoln said. He moved on to stand beside him. “You can start to make amends by telling me where the rest are.”
