Legion of Fire Page 3

  “Meaning no offense but, speaking honest, I personally would be glad to get rid of both you and Craddock. The sooner the better,” Burnett said. “The thing is, though, my personal opinion and my legal obligation might be at odds.”

  It was Luke’s turn to frown. “How so? You are the law in Arapaho Springs, aren’t you?”

  “Be nice to think so. Time was, that was the long and the short of it. But times change, Jensen. For the better, some say.” Burnett’s tone clearly conveyed a lack of conviction on that point. “One of those improvements, believe it or not for a little town like Arapaho Springs, is the addition of a lawyer in our midst. A real ambitious fella by the name of Jules Mycroft. He’s an almighty stickler for the letter of the law—especially for the law as applied to those sworn to uphold it.”

  “You sound like somebody who’s found Mycroft to be more of a thorn in your side than an ally,” observed Luke.

  “Those are your words, not mine,” replied Burnett, though not exactly disputing them. “Let’s just say that any minute now, as soon as he hears I’ve returned to town, I expect Mycroft to be showing up here. First, I expect he’ll lecture me and take issue with me having left town and ventured beyond my jurisdiction to go after those rustlers we discussed earlier. He’ll be disappointed that I failed to arrest any of them so he could provide representation to defend their rights. I’m sure he’ll also be primed to look into the matter of your Mr. Craddock and the circumstances of him being behind bars.”

  “I can fix that in a hurry. I can take Craddock out from behind bars and head for Amarillo right now.”

  “Uh-huh. You see, that’s where my personal feelings and my legal obligation might have to butt heads. With Dr. Whitney saying it wouldn’t be fitting and proper to move the injured prisoner and Mycroft poised to swoop down like some kind of legal eagle if I was to ignore that advice and let you go ahead and haul him off—”

  The door to the marshal’s office burst open before Burnett could finish or Luke could begin to state his objections. A very pretty young woman came quickly through it. Trailing rather timidly behind her was a tall, lanky young man wearing an uncertain expression.

  “Father! Thank heaven you’re back safe from chasing those rustlers,” the young woman exclaimed, rushing past Luke and going straight to Burnett. The marshal managed to rise up out of his chair and meet her in a mutual embrace. In the midst of this, the girl’s tone turned half-scolding as she added, “You left so suddenly and were gone for so long, I was worried half sick!”

  When the embrace ended, Burnett’s eyes cut back to Luke and he said somewhat sheepishly, “In case you haven’t figured it out, Jensen, this is Millie, my worrywart of a daughter.”

  Chapter 4

  Millie Burnett turned to look at Luke as if noticing his presence for the first time. In the moments she took to regard him, Luke also had the chance to appraise her more closely. And the pleasure was all his.

  Not more than twenty years of age, Millie already possessed a very full set of womanly curves displayed nicely by her simple attire of a hip-hugging corduroy riding skirt and an amply filled white blouse. Above this was a delicately featured face highlighted by a wide, lush mouth and luminous brown eyes, all framed by a tumbling spill of wheat-blond hair. Luke had encountered many lovely women in his travels but few, if any, more stunning than the young beauty facing him.

  “I beg your pardon, Mr. . . . Jensen, is it?” Millie said in a voice as lilting and pleasant as the rest of her. “I didn’t mean to barge into the middle of your discussion with my father. I just got back into town myself and I was so anxious about . . . well, I guess I already blurted that part. Please forgive my interruption.”

  “Certainly,” Luke said. “Think nothing of it.”

  Placing a hand on his daughter’s shoulder, Burnett said, “But I have a question for you, missy. If you were so concerned about my well-being, what were you doing out of town yourself while I was away?”

  “I explained that to you two days ago, Father. Don’t you remember?” Millie replied. “I told you that Russell had been tasked with delivering some very important legal documents to Mr. Ramsey out at the R-Slash as soon as they were ready. Being relatively new to the area, he wasn’t sure of the way out to the Ramsey ranch, so I volunteered to guide him. As far as going with him today, I figured I could worry about you just as well out of town as I could staying here fretting.”

  The lanky young man who’d arrived with Millie stepped forward. He was dressed in a gray suit with a matching vest and maroon bowtie. The hat he’d removed from his head upon entering, revealing a thatch of straw-colored hair, was a gutter-creased homburg with a silk band that matched the color of his tie.

  “Millie insisted on fulfilling that commitment, Marshal Burnett,” he said, “even though I told her it wasn’t necessary in light of you being away and all. I offered to find someone else to show me the way or attempt to manage it myself, but I’m afraid your daughter is . . . well, rather headstrong when she makes up her mind about something.”

  Burnett arched an eyebrow. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  “Never mind that,” Millie said. “How did it go with your attempt to catch the rustlers, Father? Did you have any success?”

  “In a manner of speaking. We got Whitey Mason’s cattle back. I guess that’s the main thing.” Burnett paused, frowning, then added, “We shot and killed a couple of the thieving skunks, but the rest got away.”

  “How unfortunate,” Russell said.

  The marshal turned his frown on the young man. “Unfortunate how? That we killed some or that some got away?”

  “Why, the whole event,” Russell managed to answer, though clearly caught off guard by Burnett pinning him down with the questions. “I mean, it’s unfortunate that kind of lawlessness still takes place—the stealing of cattle and whatnot—and that violence has to be the answer for it.”

  “Yeah, you’ve the outlook of your boss ingrained in you real good, don’t you?” Burnett said, half sneering. “But you’re right about one thing—violence is the only answer for lowlife scum who make their way preying on others. Whitey Mason and his whole family have worked hard for a lot of years to make a go of their little ranch. I wasn’t about to stand by and let a bunch of thieving bastards rob them blind just when they’re starting to get a leg up on things!”

  “Father! Your language,” Millie objected.

  Burnett ignored her, keeping his attention focused on Russell. “And speaking of violence—did it happen to occur to you, Mr. Quaid, that with the rustlers on the prowl it was hardly a wise decision on your part to pick such a time for a ride out of town? And especially to drag my daughter along, no matter how headstrong she can be?”

  “Father, that’s not fair,” Millie said. “Russell was given a job to do. He could hardly refuse. And as far as me going along, you’re the one who taught me that a commitment is a commitment. As it turned out, it was a good thing I did accompany him. The bridge over Yellowtail Creek is washed out and he would have never known about the old north ford if I hadn’t been there to show him.”

  Burnett scowled. “Maybe so, but were these legal documents so blasted important they couldn’t have waited another day or two? You both knew that rustling had been taking place. Curly wolves who’ll stoop to robbing cattle are capable of other things, especially where a pretty young gal is concerned. What if you’d crossed paths with them?”

  “That’s a rather silly notion and you know it, Father. You told me the rustling was taking place on the Mason spread, to the west. The R-Slash is well to the east. I don’t see where there was much chance of us encountering any trouble out that way.”

  “And in the event there had been any kind of trouble, I assure you, sir, I would have defended Millie with my life,” Russell stated firmly. “As to the legal documents I delivered to Mr. Ramsey, they represented the resolution to a long-contested matter involving some false claims by distant relatives on a portion of his pr
operty. Mr. Mycroft deemed it important I present the good news to Mr. Ramsey posthaste, especially after yesterday’s rain delay, in order to finally relieve his distress over the matter.”

  “If it was so important, why didn’t Mycroft deliver the papers himself?” Burnett wanted to know.

  “Mr. Mycroft’s time is best spent addressing complex legal matters,” Russell said rather stiffly, worrying his hat in his hands. “It falls to me to take care of more mundane things like serving as the occasional courier.”

  “By the way, Mr. Jensen,” Millie said, suddenly addressing Luke, “please allow me to belatedly introduce my friend Russell Quaid. Russell is the legal clerk for our town’s most prominent lawyer.”

  “Our town’s only lawyer,” Burnett was quick to correct. “Don’t make Mycroft out to be more than he is—he does a good enough job of that all on his own. Besides, I already gave Jensen here the lowdown on him.”

  Luke acknowledged Russell with a tip of his head. He felt a little sorry for the young man, standing there enduring the remarks of the annoyed marshal. The father in Burnett certainly had every right to worry about the safety of his daughter. Still, expecting two grown people to halt their going and coming from town because of some outlying rustling problem seemed a bit much. And to expect Russell or any other red-blooded male to cancel plans of going for a long, leisurely ride with the likes of Millie was even more so.

  “If you want to know about violence and the kind of trouble that can be found out on the trail,” Burnett added, “then you need to talk to Jensen here. He’s a bounty hunter. He deals with the worst owlhoots to be found. Hell, he goes looking for ’em.”

  Millie’s widened eyes bored into Luke. “My goodness. Is that true?”

  “It’s true that I’m what most people refer to as a bounty hunter, yes,” Luke conceded. “But I don’t exactly see it as going looking for trouble. More like I seek to remove trouble by hunting down wanted men who’ve demonstrated their disregard for the law and their willingness to harm others who get in their way.”

  “My goodness,” Millie said again. “Does that mean you’re here in Arapaho Springs on . . . business?”

  “He sure is,” Burnett answered. “Or, to put it more accurately, he was. So happens his business here is concluded and the result is locked up back in one of our cells.”

  Millie’s eyes fell to the wanted poster spread out on the corner of her father’s desk. “And this is the fugitive he apprehended?”

  “None other.”

  Russell moved forward to examine the paper along with Millie. “Wanted dead or alive,” he read aloud. His eyes lifted to Luke. “Does that mean you shot him?”

  Luke shook his head. “You heard the marshal say he’s back there in a cell. When I shoot a man, there’s seldom any need to lock him up afterwards.”

  “Not that Jensen didn’t have every right to shoot the varmint and settle his hash permanentlike,” Burnett said. “In addition to the crimes listed on the dodger there, this Craddock tried to ambush Jensen right out on Main Street. Nearly blew his head off—after he’d already brained Swede Norsky, I might add, so he could use the doorway of Swede’s blacksmith shop to do his shooting from.”

  “Good lord,” Millie said. “When did all this take place?”

  “A little before noon, while I was still out of town,” her father answered. “By the time I got back, it was all over. Jensen had captured his man in that drainage ditch out back of the blacksmith shop and Fred Packer, acting as my deputy while I was away, made a cell available for the prisoner.”

  “Has Mr. Mycroft heard about this?” Russell asked. “Has the prisoner received proper representation?”

  “I’m his representation—me and that wanted poster,” Luke said. “That’s all that’s necessary. Until I get him back to Amarillo, that is, where he’ll go before a judge.”

  Russell looked concerned. “But in the meantime . . . When do you intend to take him to Amarillo?”

  “Heading out tomorrow, I hope. Just as soon as the doctor says his injuries are healed enough for him to travel.”

  “Injuries?” Russell’s look of concern deepened. “I thought you said you didn’t shoot him?”

  Irritation starting to become evident in his tone, Luke said, “In order to get Craddock to stop trying to kill me, I had to be a little more forceful than just asking him politely.”

  Russell blinked. “Yes. Yes, I suppose so.”

  “According to everything listed here,” Millie said, continuing to study the wanted poster, “this Craddock is one dangerous character.”

  “Nevertheless, due process is owed everyone,” Russell said stubbornly.

  “Due process,” Burnett groaned, rolling his eyes. “Jesus Christ, son, I’m afraid you may already be past helping. You’ve spent so much time hanging around Mycroft and breathing in the ink fumes from his musty old law books that you’re coming down with a serious case of lawyeritis!”

  Russell lifted his chin. “You’re entitled to your opinion, Marshal. But I would argue that there certainly are worse things to aspire to than becoming a good lawyer.”

  “A good lawyer—maybe,” Burnett allowed. “But that’s not the same as becoming another Jules Mycroft.”

  At which point, as if responding to some silent, invisible cue, the front door to the office opened and a tall, dapper-looking man strode in. One glance, well before any introductions could be made, was all it took for Luke to know the newcomer was Jules Mycroft.

  Chapter 5

  “Well now. How fortunate,” said the dapper man. “Everyone I hoped to have words with is present here in one spot. Providing, that is, that you, sir”—he turned his attention to Luke—“are the rather notorious bounty hunter, Luke Jensen.”

  “I’m Jensen,” Luke agreed. “Can’t say I lay claim to the notorious part.”

  “Oh, trust me. You are all of that. Your escapade in our town earlier today was proof enough, even if your name wasn’t already familiar to several of our citizens. Inasmuch as I do not share your wide recognition, however, and since introductions seem to be slow in coming, allow me to handle it personally.” The man’s right hand was extended. “I am Jules Mycroft, attorney at law.”

  Luke hesitated slightly before taking the offered hand. Mycroft was a bit above average height, fiftyish, trim and solid looking, with a thick head of brown hair shot with streaks of gray around the temples. He, too, was dressed in a three-piece suit, pale blue in color, though much better cut than that of his young clerk.

  The strength of his grip came as something of a surprise to Luke, who said as they shook, “As a matter of fact, I’ve heard of you also.”

  Mycroft’s eyes cut automatically to the marshal. “Yes, I can imagine,” he said coolly. Then, abruptly, the lawyer shifted his gaze to his subordinate. “Before getting to the business that brought me here, Russell, I must say that I am somewhat surprised to find you present. I should have thought you would report directly to me upon returning to town.”

  “I only just arrived a few minutes ago, sir,” Russell was quick to explain. “If you recall, Miss Burnett accompanied me to show me the way to the R-Slash ranch. When we got into town and she saw her father’s horse at the hitch rail out front, she was anxious to stop and see how he’d fared with his investigation of rustling activity. I’ll admit I tarried a bit extra when I heard about the street shooting and the apprehended fugitive, but I was just about to—”

  “Never mind. I understand,” Mycroft said, cutting him off.

  Looking on, Luke judged that the lawyer’s main purpose had been to show his authority by making his subordinate squirm a bit in front of the others. Having accomplished that, he didn’t really care about the explanation or even the fact the young man was tardy with his report. He showed all the signs, Luke concluded with his hackles prickling, of being not only the pompous ass Burnett had painted him as, but also a bully.

  “It really was my fault Russell got detoured from reporting to y
ou right away, Mr. Mycroft,” Millie said in defense of the young man. “But, like he said, we’ve only been in town a few minutes.”

  “I understand,” Mycroft said again, smiling at her. “I understand furthermore how reluctant anyone in Russell’s position would be to part company with your lovely self, Miss Burnett.”

  Russell’s face turned bright red. “It wasn’t anything like that, sir. It wasn’t that I wanted to prolong my time with Millie . . . That is to say I didn’t want to not spend time with her, either . . . But when we—or rather she, that is—”

  “For crying out loud, son, put a sock in it.” This time it was Burnett who cut him off. “Stop. Stop, before you get your tongue tied in a knot you’ll never get untangled. How will you ever be a lawyer then?”

  The color in Russell’s face stayed bright, but he knew when to quit. He made as if to lift his hands only to let them drop loosely to his sides again in an exasperated gesture.

  Burnett’s eyes went to Mycroft. “You say you came here to discuss some business matters, Mr. Attorney-at-Law. I doubt we’ve covered any of them so far so I suggest you get to it. And I’ll warn you right up front that I’ve had a long, wet night and a dry but equally long morning, which has left me full of no sleep or hot food or coffee . . . meaning I’m in no mood for any of your long-winded prattling.”

  “Very well.” Mycroft harrumphed. “Let us start with the reason for your uncomfortable night and morning. Once again you were engaged in activities far beyond your legal jurisdiction. Activities which, to my understanding, left two men dead. Do you deny this?”

  “Yup. Wrong on every count. For starters,” Burnett said through gritted teeth, “the only things that got killed were two lowdown cattle thieves. Only by the flimsiest definition could anybody call them men.”

  “You place such low value on human life that you can make light of it?”