Benedict and Brazos 14 by E. Jefferson Clay

Author:E. Jefferson Clay [Clay, E. Jefferson]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: westerns, heroes, gunfighters, the, Old, west, Piccadilly, publishing, wild, western, ebooks, James, Reasoner, Ron, Schwab
Publisher: Piccadilly
Published: 2023-03-01T00:00:00+00:00

The man who stared across the desk of his private office at the Medusa Mine was short and sharp-featured, with cleft chin. In his youth, Mitchell Bradburn might have been handsome, but ambition, greed and ruthlessness had cut deep lines into his cheeks and brows. He was expensively but conservatively dressed in a three-piece suit and patterned tie. The Medusa boss also wore a gold watch chain across his vest, and the top of a solid gold pen protruded from his breast pocket. Though still only in his mid-forties, Bradburn was gray at the temples. Six months ago, he could have counted his gray hairs on one hand. The loss of thousands of dollars’ worth of gold dust and the name “Kid Chaney” had been responsible for the gray inroads into his neatly-groomed thatch. If things kept on the way they were, Mitchell Bradburn could be totally gray by year’s end. But though the mining man had taken a severe drubbing lately, adversity hadn’t robbed him of his spirit, and there was plenty of that showing now as he snorted and said:

“Preposterous! It’s the craziest proposal I’ve heard in years, and I’ve heard more than my share!”

A picture of lazy grace as he lit a cigar in his chair across the desk, Duke Benedict drawled, “Not at all, Mitchell. The idea is sound. A little unconventional, perhaps, but solid nonetheless.”

Bradburn glowered from Benedict to rancher Miller Jackson, then back to Benedict again. “Let me get this straight, Benedict,” he grated. “You have the unmitigated gall to walk into my office and suggest that a bunch of outlaws stand guard on my next shipment to San Paulo? I did hear correctly, didn’t I?”

“Almost, Mitchell. I am proposing that Brazos and I, with the assistance of Mack Halligan, ride guard on the next gold train. But your description of Halligan’s group needs clarifying. You call them outlaws—and perhaps that is what they have been. But you will note I use the past tense, Mitchell. Those fellows have failed on the owlhoot and are prepared to mend their ways. All they need is a chance to clear their names and garner a stake so they can go straight. By bringing Kid Chaney to book, they could do both—and do you a great service into the bargain.”

“You really believe all that?” Bradburn said ominously.

“I do. As I told you, I’ve been in the company of the Halligan gang for a week now, Mitchell, and I’d stake my reputation on my opinion that they are completely genuine in their intentions.”

“Then you’re a damn fool, Benedict! Mack Halligan hates my guts. He’s never passed up an opportunity to slander and hurt me since the day I had him kicked out of Rincon. I wouldn’t trust that failure with a quarter, much less with thousands of dollars’ worth of gold dust. Surely only a fool would believe I might.”

“I think you’re bein’ a little hasty, Mitchell,” put in rancher Miller Jackson, a tall, raw-boned man with luxurious handlebar moustache.

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