Montana Gundown Read online

  But now he had met his match. He just didn’t know it yet.

  Baldridge left the room. Laura didn’t know if he went downstairs or to the adjoining room. She made sure the corridor door and the door between the rooms were locked, then loosened the collar and top button of her traveling gown, opened the window to let in some fresh air, and stretched out on the bed. Although she often used tiredness as an excuse when she didn’t want to do something, she really was weary after the stagecoach journey from Great Falls.

  It would be so much easier once the railroad came through here, she thought. And she was the one who was going to make that happen.

  She had been resting for only a few minutes when a soft knock sounded on the door. She sat up, swung her legs off the bed, and stood up.

  “Who is it?” she asked quietly through the door.

  “Me.”

  Recognizing her son’s voice, Laura turned the key in the lock and opened the door. Brady looked furious as he came into the room.

  “Where have you been?” Laura asked as she closed the door. “I saw Frank leave town with those other men a while ago, so I expected you back sooner.”

  “I had to take one of my men to the doctor’s office. Morgan busted his shoulder with a bullet, but at least he’ll live. The others are dead. Then that damned marshal cornered me and started reading me the riot act again,” Brady said. He took off his hat and threw it on the dressing table next to his mother’s hat. The contrast between the expensive chapeau and the dusty black Stetson was striking. “It would have been easy to put a bullet in his ugly face. It was mighty damned tempting, too.”

  “We’re not going to kill any lawmen unless we have to,” Laura said sternly. “I have work to do here, and having my son be a wanted murderer would make it a lot more difficult.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t want to do anything that would interfere with your business.”

  Laura felt her face flushing with anger at the contemptuous tone of his voice.

  “Don’t forget that my business is about to make us rich,” she reminded him.

  “You’re already rich.”

  “It’ll make us very rich,” she said. “Once we bring the railroad through to those mines in the mountains northwest of here, there’s no limit to the profits we can make.”

  Brady shrugged and said, “I don’t care that much about the money.”

  Laura knew that was true. What Brady liked was the killing. Standing in front of another man and knowing you were about to end his life, looking into his eyes and seeing the fear there that told you he knew it, too ... That was what mattered most to Brady, proving himself in the most elemental fashion there was.

  “You’re certainly your father’s son,” Laura said quietly as Brady stepped to the window. “Frank never cared that much about money, either.”

  He whirled back toward her. “Did you know he was going to be here?” he asked fiercely. “Did you?”

  “Brady, I swear to you I had no idea Frank Morgan was anywhere in this part of the country. When I stepped off that stagecoach this morning and saw him standing across the street, it was a complete surprise to me.”

  He frowned, and for a moment she thought he didn’t believe her even though this was one of the times she was actually telling the truth. But then he shrugged and nodded and said, “I guess we just got lucky.”

  “I’m not sure it’s all that lucky. He seems to be on the opposite side. And Frank Morgan is a formidable enemy, Brady. Never forget that.”

  Brady grunted and waved off the warning. “You’ll just work your magic on him and bring him over to our side.”

  Laura shook her head and said, “I don’t know if that’s going to be possible.”

  “Then I’ll kill him if he gets in our way.” Brady’s face, normally so savage and brutal, softened slightly as he went on. “It’s what he deserves, anyway, for what he did to you.”

  Laura smiled. So many times when he was a baby, she had thought about abandoning him somewhere. She had heard that if you left a baby on the steps of a church, the preacher or the fools who attended services there would find a home for it. Someone would always take in a baby.

  But she hadn’t done that, and later, as he began to grow, even though she still thought from time to time about trying to pawn him off on somebody, she had come to realize just how valuable he really was. He was hers, to mold and shape any way she wanted to. To fill his head with stories about how his father was Frank Morgan, the famous gunfighter, and how Frank had deserted them because he didn’t love either of them. To carefully cultivate the hatred that began to blossom inside the boy, watching it grow stronger and stronger until it was part of him, the thing that drove him, the thing that made him who he was.

  Of course, all that effort would have been wasted if it turned out Brady was weak. But he wasn’t. He was strong, and he was fast on the draw, and he had whatever it took to make a man laugh when he pulled the trigger and blew the guts out of another man ...

  Laura stepped closer to her son, lifted a hand, and rested it lightly against his cheek.

  “Sooner or later, Frank Morgan will get what’s coming to him,” she promised.

  Chapter 17

  It was late in the afternoon before Frank, Salty, Hal, and Carlin reached the headquarters of the Boxed E. The ranch dogs pitched a barking fit, as usual, but Dog just sauntered out of the barn, parked his haunches on the ground, and gave Frank a look that seemed to ask when they were going to get out of here and back on the trail again.

  The commotion brought Jubal Embry out of the house. He stalked across the yard to the barn as Frank and the others led their mounts inside.

  “Took you long enough to deliver a couple of corpses,” Embry snapped.

  “We stopped for dinner at the Feed Barn,” Hal said. “And then ... well ...”

  “What is it?” Embry asked. “Dadblast it, I can tell something happened. None of you seem to have any bullet holes in you, anyway.”

  “Yeah, but the same thing can’t be said of the other hombres,” Gage Carlin put in.

  “Damn it! There was another shootin’?”

  “Brady Morgan and four of his men rode in while we were in town,” Hal explained. “They found out what happened to the two who tried to attack Faye.”

  “Tell me one of you killed Brady,” Embry breathed. “Please tell me.”

  Hal shook his head. “He stayed out of it this time. But three of the other men are dead, and the other one is wounded bad enough he won’t be doing any gunfighting for a long time, if he ever does again.”

  “Well, that’s three more of the buzzards gone under,” Embry said. He looked at Frank. “I’ll bet you did for most of them.”

  “I don’t keep count,” Frank said. “Killing’s never been anything I’m proud of.”

  “That ain’t all,” Salty said. “Brady’s ma is in town. She come in on the stage, and ol’ Gaius Baldridge met her. Looked to me like he’s sweet on her.” The old-timer glanced over. “Sorry, Frank.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Frank said as he shook his head. “Whatever was between Laura and me was over a long time ago. More than twenty years ago.”

  Embry tugged at his beard and frowned. “So Baldridge is mixed up with this lady who’s Brady Morgan’s ma,” he said. He looked at Frank. “And you are the boy’s pa. But you still claim you’re on our side.”

  “It’s not just a claim,” Frank said. “I am on your side, Mr. Embry. I’ve thrown in with you, and I’ll stick. So will Salty.”

  “Life sure can get in a tangle, can’t it?”

  Frank nodded slowly. “You can say that again.”

  Faye Embry emerged from her room for supper that night and seemed to be back to her usual self, which didn’t surprise Gage Carlin, according to what the cowboy told Frank and Salty in the bunkhouse after the meal.

  “Figured she’d bounce back pretty quick,” Carlin mused. “I’ve been ridin’ for the Boxed E ever since she was a little girl, an
d she’s always been full of fire. Never bothered her a bit standin’ up to her pa and her big brother. Maybe I’m a mite out of line for sayin’ so, but I don’t think Miz Embry ever knew quite what to make of her.”

  “I’m just glad she’s gotten over being shaken up by what happened,” Frank said.

  Carlin glanced toward the other end of the bunkhouse, where a card game was going on between half a dozen of the punchers. With a nod toward them, Carlin went on quietly, “Miss Faye went ’round and ’round with her folks and Hal when she got it in her head that her and Bill Kitson were sweet on each other. The boss said there was no way his daughter was gonna take up with some forty-a-month-and-found cowpoke. Miss Faye was so mad about the whole thing, I halfway expected her and Bill to run off to Great Falls together and get hitched, just to spite the old man. But she changed her mind, and that was the end of that. You can’t force Miss Faye to change her way of thinkin’, but once she does it on her own, she won’t budge any more than a mountain does.”

  Frank listened to the story with interest. It might be nothing more than idle gossip, but he had learned over the years that it was best to know as much as you could about whatever situation you found yourself in.

  They turned in not long after that, and early the next morning rose to eat breakfast and ride back into Pine Knob for the inquest, as Marshal Trask had insisted. Frank put his saddle on Goldy this time and told Dog to stay there and keep Stormy company. The big cur didn’t look happy about it, but he followed Frank’s orders, as always.

  When Hal came out of the ranch house, his father was with him. Jubal Embry was dressed for riding, and as Frank saw the cattleman approaching the corral, he guessed that Embry planned to attend the inquest, too.

  That wasn’t all Embry had in mind. In his usual bellow, he started calling out names of the ranch hands. When a dozen of them had assembled, Embry said, “Saddle up. We’re all goin’ to Pine Knob this mornin’.”

  Hal frowned. “I knew you were coming along, Pa,” he said, “but you didn’t tell me you figured on taking most of the crew with us.”

  “Baldridge’s bunch of gun-throwers are all liable to be in town,” Embry said. “I ain’t takin’ any chances. They might be plannin’ to bushwhack the four of you when you show up for that sham of an inquest!”

  Frank said, “That doesn’t seem very likely to me, Mr. Embry. Baldridge acts like he wants to keep the peace in town.”

  “No man who hires a bunch of cold-blooded killers wants to keep the peace,” Embry snapped. “Sooner or later things’ll bust wide open.”

  Frank suspected he was right about that, and it was hard to predict when the explosion might occur. But it seemed to him that taking most of the Boxed E hands to town and confronting Baldridge’s men was sort of like lighting the fuse.

  Hal obviously felt the same way, because he said, “This is a bad idea, Pa. It’ll make it seem like you’re looking for trouble. I agree with Frank. Brady Morgan won’t try anything in front of the marshal, the coroner, and everybody else in town who shows up for the inquest.”

  He might as well have been talking to a stone wall. Embry turned to look at the men he had assembled and said, “Didn’t you hear me? Get your horses, damn it! We’re goin’ to town.”

  Hal looked at Frank and Salty and shook his head. There was nothing he could do, he seeming to be saying.

  Frank went back to tightening his saddle cinches on Goldy.

  They rode out a short time later, leaving a skeleton crew at the ranch. That worried Frank. If Baldridge really did want to attack the Boxed E, this would be the time to do it.

  On the other hand, if Embry was right and Brady Morgan and the rest of Baldridge’s hired guns showed up for the inquest, at least the odds would be closer to even if trouble broke out.

  When the group reached Pine Knob, Frank noticed quite a few horses tied at the hitch racks in front of Corrigan’s Casino. Even the Popular Saloon, which usually wasn’t, seemed to be doing a brisk business today despite the fact that the hour wasn’t noon yet. With that many men in town, Frank thought there was a good chance Embry had been right about Brady and the others coming to attend the inquest.

  They crossed the bridge into the eastern part of the settlement. Frank turned to Hal and asked, “Where will they hold this thing?”

  “At the town hall,” Hal replied. “It’s the only place big enough except for the saloons, and Judge Woodville is a teetotaler. He doesn’t even like to be around where they serve liquor.”

  “Woodville’s the local magistrate?”

  “That’s right. Deputy coroner, too. He was appointed to the job so the real coroner wouldn’t have to come all the way up here every time there was a killing.”

  Salty said, “Yeah, in this part of the country a fella would be on the road all the time just tryin’ to keep up with the dead men.”

  “That’s the way it used to be,” Hal agreed, “but things have settled down quite a bit in recent years, according to Pa. At least, they had until here lately.”

  Hal looked at the Feed Barn as they rode past. Frank figured he wanted to stop and see how Katie was doing today, but Embry glanced over his shoulder and said sharply, “Don’t lag behind, son! We don’t want to be late.”

  Frank didn’t think that was likely. Judging by the number of horses tied up at the saloons on the other side of the creek, Brady and his men were still down there. They would be along before the inquest started.

  Jubal Embry drew rein in front of a large wooden building with a high front porch. Some of the townspeople were already waiting there, eager to sit in on the proceedings and enjoy a break from their everyday routines, even though the cause of it was the deaths of three men.

  The riders from the Boxed E dismounted and spread out to tie their horses at hitch racks in front of the town hall and the adjacent buildings. As Frank was looping Goldy’s reins around the rail, Salty nudged him in the side and said quietly, “Baldridge just come outta the hotel, and the lady’s with him.”

  Frank looked up and saw Baldridge and Laura walking arm-in-arm toward the town hall. They seemed mighty companionable, he thought.

  And Laura looked as pretty as ever, in a green dress and hat this morning. No matter what was going on around her, she always looked cool and unruffled. She had been that way back in San Antonio, and the years since then hadn’t changed her.

  “I reckon they’re planning on attending the inquest, too,” Frank said. “Baldridge has got a right to be there. Those three men worked for him. He was in town when it happened, too.”

  Since Frank, Salty, Hal, and Gage Carlin had the most riding on the outcome of these proceedings, the rest of the group from the Boxed E moved aside for them. With the exception of Jubal Embry, who clenched a fist and pounded on the locked door of the town hall.

  “Open up in there!” he shouted. “Let’s get this damned thing started!”

  “Take it easy, Pa,” Hal advised. “There’s no point in putting a burr under the judge’s saddle before he even calls the inquest to order.”

  “This is all a waste of time,” Embry grumbled. “Any son of a buck who rides for Gaius Baldridge deserves to be shot!”

  Baldridge’s British-accented voice said, “I don’t believe you’ll find that written anywhere in the statutes, Jubal.”

  The crowd had parted again to let Baldridge and Laura approach the hall’s front door. Embry glared at his longtime rival, but Baldridge just regarded Embry levelly with a cold-eyed stare.

  Laura smiled and said, “Good morning, Frank.”

  Without thinking about what he was doing, he reached up and took off his hat. “Hello, Laura. I hope you’re not feeling as tired today.”

  “No, I’ve been able to rest and I feel much better now,” she said.

  Baldridge frowned, and so did Embry. It appeared that neither of them particularly liked the idea that Frank and Laura were carrying on a conversation.

  A key rattled in the lock, and the door swung
inward. But before the crowd could press forward into the hall, Marshal Roy Trask stepped onto the porch. The double-barreled shotgun in his hands made people step back instead. Some of them stepped back in a hurry. The twin muzzles of the weapon had that effect on folks.

  “The judge will be calling the inquest to order soon,” Trask announced, “but before he does, I’ve got something to say. The town council got together early this morning and passed a new ordinance. From now on, no guns are allowed inside the town hall.”

  A few of the townspeople exclaimed in surprise, and some angry, defiant muttering came from the Boxed E cowboys. Embry put a stop to it with a sharp sweep of his hand.

  “You don’t have the authority to do that,” he challenged Trask.

  “You weren’t paying attention, Jubal. I’m not doing it. The town council is. And since the town hall belongs to Pine Knob and those gents run things around here, I reckon they’ve got every right in the world to say whether or not folks can bring in guns. The answer now is no. They can’t.”

  From the corner of Frank’s eye, he spotted movement from the western end of town. Brady Morgan and a number of other men had emerged from the saloons and were swinging up in their saddles. They turned their mounts and trotted toward the town hall.

  “What about Brady and his bunch?” Frank asked. “Does the same rule apply to them?”

  “Applies to everybody,” Trask said. “No exceptions.”

  “In that case,” Frank said to Embry, “I suggest we abide by it. But I’d leave half your men out here, if I was you.”

  “That’s what I was thinkin’,” Embry said with a note of grudging respect. He pointed out half of the men he’d brought with him. “You fellas take your guns off. You’re comin’ inside with me. The rest of you stay out here.”

  Trask said, “Put your gunbelts in the back of that wagon over there. I parked it there for just that reason.”