Bloody Sunday (A John Stone Western--Book 11) Read online

  “I work for Clarence Mulgrave.” Spruance looked down at Stone’s matched Colts. “I can introduce you to the man who does the hiring.”

  “You’re a gunfighter?”

  “Why the hell not?”

  They came to the bar, and Spruance ordered drinks. “Here’s to Old Jeb.” They tossed the first round down, and it was Stone’s turn to buy. He pulled his few coins out of his pocket, but Spruance said, “I’ll take care of it.”

  He ordered another round, they carried their drinks to a vacant table. “What’ve you been doing with yourself?” Spruance asked.

  “Saddle bum mostly. How about you?”

  “The same, more or less. Times sure’ve changed, ain’t they?”

  At the bar, Corporal Slater glowered at Stone. The blood stained features of Private Kirk’s face appeared on the wall, nose and ears sliced off by savages. Slater moved toward the table, and Stone and Spruance became aware of hostile movement. They ended their conversation suddenly and arose, hands near their guns. Slater stopped a few feet in front of them.

  “I hear you’re an injun lover,” Slater growled at Stone.

  Chairs and tables scraped the floor as men and women moved out of range. The man in the apron lowered himself behind the bar. Even the soldiers stepped backward, except Sergeant Nichols. He placed his hand on Slater’s shoulder. “Sit down and have a cup of coffee, Private.”

  Slater pulled away from Nichols’s grasp, and his eyes never left Stone’s face. “I ain’t much with a gun,” he admitted, “but you come outside with me, I’ll beat the fuck out of you.”

  “What’s eating you?” Stone replied.

  “I don’t like injun lovers.”

  “Didn’t mean to offend you, soldier. Sit down, let me buy you a drink.”

  “I’ll mop the street with yer ass. Afraid to fight hand to hand?”

  If I don’t fight him, Stone thought, everybody in this saloon will think I’m a coward. He glanced at Spruance. Set a bad example for the younger officers. But I’m not in the mood. “Injuns tried to kill me a few times,” he explained, “so I know how you feel. Let’s have a drink.”

  “You can’t say a white man’s same as an injun, you son of a bitch!” Private Slater charged Stone, whose first instinct was to pull his guns. They were cocked and aimed in a flash. Slater stopped a few feet in front of the gun barrels. “Take away them pea-shooters, and you ain’t shit. And you’re a Reb to boot. I heard Bobby Lee finally died a few months ago. The world’s less one son of a bitch, I guess.”

  Stone felt himself losing control. All he had to do was pull the triggers. But he couldn’t shoot even this intemperate fool in cold blood. He took a step backward and dropped both Colts into their holsters. “Come on.”

  Slater shouted with joy as he dived onto Stone, but Stone caught him with a sharp uppercut to the point of the chin. Slater straightened suddenly, while Stone took a step to the side, and waited to see what the soldier might try next. Slater shook off the blow, lowered his head, and charged again, throwing punches in bunches.

  Stone leaned to the left, angled to the right, stepped back, dodged the blows or received them on his huge shoulders, wondering which of the many flaws in Slater’s defense should be exploited. Slater carried both hands low, so Stone measured carefully, faked a left jab, and threw his best punch, a right hook. It connected with full force, and Slater blacked out.

  Upon opening his eyes, Slater found himself on his face. He’d knocked over the spittoon on his way down, horrendous malodorous substances soaked his beard. He looked at Stone, the rage came over him once more. He staggered to his feet, reached toward the bar, grabbed a bottle, and backhanded it against the counter. Splinters of glass flew in all directions, and Sergeant Nichols grasped Slater’s arm.

  “Private, I think you’d better back off.”

  “Take your hands off’n me, or I’ll carve you a new asshole.”

  Sergeant Nichols let go. Blood filled Slater’s mouth as he raised the broken bottle and advanced sideways. Stone dodged deftly to the side, grabbed Slater’s arm, and twisted hard. A terrible crack resounded across the saloon, and Slater shrieked like a man gone insane. His arm dangled at a crazy angle, he crashed into a table and fell to his knees. The soldiers crowded around and tried to help him as he squirmed on the floor. Stone headed for the bar. “Whiskey.”

  The bartender filled a glass as wild combat fury surged through Stone’s muscles. Once he started mayhem, it was hard to stop. Spruance joined Stone, and recalled the stalwart company commander from the Hampton Brigade, admired and respected by staff officers, and his troopers would follow him anywhere.

  All eyes turned to the door as Sheriff Barnes arrived on the scene, hat slanted low over his eyes, badge gleaming in the light of the lamp burning behind the bar.

  “Thought I told you to stay out of trouble,” he said to Stone.

  “The soldier jumped me. Couldn’t get out of the way.”

  “That’s the truth,” Spruance added. “Saw it with my own eyes.”

  The sheriff returned his baleful glare to Stone. “Stay out of trouble. We’ve got enough without you.”

  Stone hooked his boot heel lazily on the brass rail, and leaned his elbows on the bar. “Lend me a hundred dollars, I’ll be on my way tonight.”

  “If I had a hundred dollars, I sure as hell wouldn’t spend it on you.”

  Stone and Spruance sat in a dark corner, and Stone blew out the candle. Barnes glowered at them from the bar, and Stone felt like kicking him through the window.

  “His father was sheriff when the town was founded about four years ago,” Spruance explained, “but the old man got shot in a bank robbery during the summer, and they gave the badge to his son. One of these nights, Barnes’ll push too hard, and somebody’ll call his bluff. Then he’ll find out what life is about, but it’ll be too late.”

  “How’d you become a gunfighter?”

  “Things got tough after the war, and I rode with an outlaw gang for a while. One night in a saloon, I got into an argument over a hand of blackjack. The other fellow went for his gun, and I drilled him. Next thing I knew, a gambler hired me to be his bodyguard. Been at it ever since.”

  “What’s the range war about?”

  “Mulgrave’s sold cattle to the Army ever since Fort Lloyd was built. Then Reynolds came along with a lower bid. He’s putting Mulgrave out of business, and Mulgrave won’t take it lying down.”

  “Why doesn’t Mulgrave match Reynolds’s price?”

  Spruance was surprised by the naive question. “Because he’ll make less money.”

  A group of cowboys entered the saloon, led by a barrel-chested middle-aged man with long brown sideburns.

  “That’s Clancy,” said Spruance. “He’s Mulgrave’s ramrod.”

  Clancy spoke with the bartender, then pulled his black gloves off his hands as he headed for the table where Stone and Spruance sat. “Take a walk,” Clancy said to Spruance.

  Spruance strolled toward the bar, and Clancy introduced himself to Stone. “Mr. Mulgrave asked me to offer you a job. What’s yer price?”

  “I’m just passing through Woodlawn, on my way to the Black Hills,” Stone replied. “I don’t kill people for money.”

  Clancy appraised the big broad-shouldered man sitting on the other side of the table. “Let’s you and me understand each other, Mr. Stone. We both know why you’re in town. You’re a-gonna ride fer one brand or t’other, but Mulgrave pays the most, and Reynolds’s on his last legs. With you on our side, he’ll cave right in.”

  “I’m not riding for anybody unless it’s a regular cowboy job with no gunplay. I don’t want any part of your range war.”

  “Are you sayin’ if I offered you a cowboy job right now, thirty dollars a month and found, you’d take it?”

  “Damn sure would.”

  “You’re hired. Ride back to the ranch with me, I’ll assign you a bunk.”

  “Got business in town, but I’ll be there in the mo
rning. Just make sure Mulgrave understands I’m not a hired gun.”

  Clancy held out his hand, and Stone shook it. “It’s a deal,” Clancy said. “Jest ask fer me at the bunkhouse. Somebody’ll know where I am.”

  ~*~

  Leticia sat in her hotel room, trying to read a schoolbook, but couldn’t concentrate. She’d waited for Stone to arrive all evening. Maybe he’s found another woman, or maybe he’s in jail.

  She heard footsteps stop in front of her door, and reached for the gun on the desk. Blowing out the lamp, she moved to a corner and aimed at the door. “Who’s there?”

  “Me,” growled a deep masculine voice. She relit the lamp as a key inserted into the lock. The door opened, Stone stood in the backlight, cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth, saddlebags on his shoulder. “How come you’re still up?”

  “I’ve found a job and was preparing tomorrow’s lessons. Meet Woodlawn’s new schoolmarm.”

  “Congratulations.” His smile warm and genuine, he bussed her cheek. “I found a job too. Be leaving in the morning.”

  “For where?”

  “The Mulgrave Ranch.” He hung his hat on the peg, took off his coat, draped it over the chair. Then he unrolled his blankets, dropped to the floor, and lay his head on his saddlebags.

  “Surely you’re not going to spend the night on the floor.”

  “Put out the light when you’re finished.”

  “Why can’t you sleep on the bed? It’s made for two people.”

  “I’m sorry, Miss Leticia, but I can’t vouch for myself under those circumstances.”

  “I’ll slap your face if you get fresh. Now get up from the floor this instant. As soon as your head hits the pillow, you’ll fall asleep anyway.”

  The long journey and saloon brawl took a lot out of him. He dragged himself from the floor, drew a Colt, and collapsed onto the bed. Her prediction came true. Breath wheezed through his nostrils rhythmically. He didn’t even bother undressing, but held the Colt firmly in his right hand.

  She blew out the lamp, put on her nightgown, crawled beneath the covers. He lay like a mountain beside her, smelling of tobacco and whiskey. First time in my life I’ve been in bed with a man, and he didn’t even try something.

  She rolled away, and he sat up suddenly, gun in hand. “Was that you?” he asked sleepily.

  “Sorry,” she replied in a small voice.

  “Do you jump around like that all night?”

  “I doubt I’ll do it again. Are you sure a sheriff isn’t looking for you?”

  He rolled over and closed his eyes, while the warmth of his body radiated against her. She wanted to reach out and touch him, but he might shoot something by mistake. She moved away and closed her eyes, sensing his massive physicality. Either he’s a gentleman, or he thinks I’m ugly. She cringed involuntarily.

  He swung his gun around. “That you again?”

  “Couldn’t help it.”

  “Maybe I’d better move back to the floor.”

  “Promise not to do it again.”

  She told herself to be still, and tried to think of school, but an odd sensation crept up her spine, and her nipples hardened.

  She imagined herself naked in his arms, and covered her face with her hands.

  “I’m sleeping on the floor,” he said, “and if you give me any guff, I’ll get another room.”

  ~*~

  Mayor Blodgett sat in his study, examining deeds, mortgages, and contracts in the light of the coal-oil lamp. He worked late every night, always too much to do, problems kept cropping up, his worst fear the Army post would be closed by Washington, causing the town’s economy to collapse, along with his holdings.

  A knock came from the front door, and Mayor Blodgett took his shotgun down from the wall. “Who’s there?”

  “Sheriff Barnes.” The tall, lanky lawman stood on the porch, smoking his corncob pipe. “John Stone said he’d leave town if we gave him a hundred dollars.”

  “That’s extortion. I think you should run him out of town.”

  “On what grounds?”

  “He’s a public menace.”

  “He hasn’t broken any laws yet, but once the lead starts flyin’, no tellin’ who might get hit. A hundred dollars ain’t much when you compare it to a human life.”

  “In other words, you can’t handle him.”

  “I never claimed to be a fast hand.”

  “Maybe we should give John Stone your badge.”

  “Any town that hires an outlaw fer sheriff usually regrets it in the end.”

  Mayor Blodgett remembered his new schoolmarm. “If Stone leaves, he’ll take his wife with him. She’s one smart little cookie, and we need her.”

  “He’s a lot older’n her. I wonder what she’s doin’ with im:

  “Talk to him, sound him out, let me know what he wants to do. I’d sure hate to lose the new schoolmarm, but we don’t want Stone in the range war. We’ve got enough trouble in this town already.”

  Chapter Seven

  Dawn glimmered through the drapes. Leticia rolled the blankets off, and Stone sat up suddenly, gun in hand.

  “Look the other way,” she said. “I’ve got to get dressed.”

  Lights burned in homes, and a wagon rolled past on the street, its driver half-asleep. Stone heard Leticia wash and put on her dress. “Button me up, please?”

  He fastened the buttons and wanted to kiss the back of her neck.

  “Sleep well on the floor?” she asked tauntingly. “You should’ve come to bed. I wouldn’t’ve bitten you.”

  “But I might’ve bitten you.”

  Knuckles rapped against the door, and Stone and Leticia looked at each other. Stone yanked his gun. “Who’s there?”

  “Sheriff Barnes.”

  Leticia opened the door, and Barnes looked at Stone. “Had a talk with the mayor last night. He’ll pay you one hundred dollars to keep your nose out of the range war.”

  “When can I pick up the money?”

  “I’ll tell the mayor you’re agreeable. But he don’t want you to leave town. We need our new schoolmarm.”

  With a wink, the sheriff departed the hotel room. Stone puffed his cigarette. “I think he liked you.”

  “Will you leave when you get the money?”

  “I’m on my way to the Black Hills. If you want to come along, you’re welcome, but I don’t think you’d like the life. Injun women work awful hard.”

  “When you’re alone tonight at the ranch, just bear in mind you could be sleeping in my bed.”

  Stone splashed water onto his face. Her rose-petal fragrance lingered in the room. Maybe I ought to give this some thought.

  ~*~

  Mulgrave sat in his office, drinking coffee and scratching arithmetic on a sheet of paper. He had massive jowls like slabs of beef, and a potbelly. The door opened and Clancy entered. “Guess who I hired last night? John Stone, for thirty dollars a month.” The ramrod laughed sardonically as he took out his tobacco.

  “How’d you do that?”

  “He don’t hire his gun, or so he says. I think he’s a-waitin’ fer you to offer him real money, a-fore he wipes out Reynolds.”

  “I’ll pay what he wants, even give him a piece of the ranch. When’s he showing up?”

  “This mornin’.”

  “Tell him I want to see him.”

  Mulgrave lit a cigar and returned to his arithmetic. His wife, Eunice, visited next. Tall and severe, her graying hair tied behind her head in a bun, she crossed her arms and said, “What’s this I heard about you offering somebody a piece of the ranch?”

  “John Stone,” Mulgrave replied. “A gunfighter. Clancy hired him.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Now you listen to me, Clarence. You don’t offer a piece of this property to anybody. I don’t care who this new fellow’s supposed to be. Treat him like everybody else.”

  “Just baiting the trap, that’s all.”

  ~*~

  Mayor Blodgett tapped his fingers on top o
f his desk, while his clerk filed deeds in a cabinet. Bright sun streamed through the windows, and fire crackled in the potbellied stove. The range war worried Blodgett, because it was bad for business. The Army didn’t want to get mixed up in civilian disputes, and Woodlawn could get wiped out in the process.

  The door opened, and Sheriff Barnes appeared, tin badge pinned to his jacket. He sauntered toward the desk, thumbs hooked in his belt, acting like his father. “Thought I’d tell you the latest on John Stone. He got hired by Mulgrave last night. I offered him a hundred dollars to get out of town, and he said he’d take it. His wife didn’t seem eager to move on, though. I think there’s somethin’ strange betwixt ’em. Don’t ask how I know.”

  “We’ll raise the money within a few days. You can give it to Stone.”

  “What’s to stop him from takin’ the money and hiring his gun to Mulgrave anyway?”

  “You don’t think he’s a man of his word?”

  “How can you trust a hired gun?”

  “I’ll size him up myself. If he’s not trustworthy, we can’t do business with him.”

  “What if he starts shooting people?”

  ‘That’s the sheriff’s problem.”

  ~*~

  The new classroom was the top floor of a building used as a warehouse. Chairs were donated by the community, and desks were being crafted by the carpenter whose relentless hammering could be heard all over town.

  The students read silently, not daring to remove their eyes from their books, fearful of Mrs. Stone’s temper, and desperately wanting to please her so they could get cookies and cakes prepared daily by Mrs. Blodgett, her all-important contribution to the educational process.

  Leticia gazed at the students, studying their personalities, probing for weaknesses to strengthen. She wanted to mold them into intelligent responsible citizens. It made her proud to think she could, in a small way, improve the world.

  Teddy raised his hand. “Ain’t we a-gonna git recess?”

  “That’s aren’t, not ain’t, and what time do you normally get recess?”