Petticoat Marshal by George Snyder

Author:George Snyder [Snyder, George]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Robert Hale
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Cort Packet was put in a jail cell that smelled of stale beer and puke. Marshal Rebecca Rogers took statements from the doc and Jesse Ryan. No question Yucca had drawn first and the gunfighter was just defending himself. Looking on the verge of tears over the back-shooting of her deputy, the marshal unlocked and opened the cell door.

‘Mr Packet, you now have no reason to stay in town,’ she said.

Cort strapped on his gun belt. ‘Lucas gone, you’re outgunned in this town, Marshal.’

‘With two gunfighters I am. But you’ll be gone now. You’ve done what you came here to do. Unless you two gunmen draw down on each other.’

‘No,’ Cort said. ‘You got more than the loss of a deputy to buck up against. You got the ranch owner Blackwell to deal with. Besides his romantic intentions toward you, he’s the majority partner at the mercantile. You got Charles Dugan stealing government property from the Apaches, with help from his brother.’

‘Newt Dugan,’ the marshal said.

Cort nodded. ‘You got Utah Bill Slaughter who’s messing his hand in a lot of pies. He killed Sven and now helps himself to the widow. I’m sure that ain’t with her consent. If Inge has any gumption she’ll do something about it.’

The marshal handed Cort his hat. She went behind the desk and sat in the chair. She frowned at him. ‘What did Yucca Frazel and his riding pals do to you? I know they burned down your place and stole a jewel box and silverware. That wouldn’t be reason enough to hunt them down and kill them. Why, Cort?’

‘They caved in the skull of my son, Billy-Boy, and pistol-whipped him to death. They raped, beat and murdered my wife, each taking a turn. They paid now, every last one of them.’

Rebecca blinked away tears. ‘You have so much hate in you.’

Cort turned for the door. He looked back. ‘How did Lucas get it?’

‘Shot in the back from darkness behind the saloon.’

Cort had his hand on the doorknob. ‘You know who operates like that. Where was Slaughter?’

‘With Inge, the widow. She swears it, not in talk, with head nodding. She doesn’t speak the language well.’

‘If not Slaughter, that leaves the other shooter to kill your husband a year ago.’

Rebecca sighed deep. ‘Yes, Red Jack Wheat. But proof, Cort. I have no witnesses, no evidence, no proof.’

Cort opened the door. ‘He ought to be shot down where he stands.’

‘Don’t go on a rampage. You want to be my deputy?’

‘I wouldn’t stand comfortable with a badge pinned on me.’

‘Then don’t wear a badge.’

Cort stood at the open door. Faded crowd noise reached him from the Sip and Dip toward the end of the block next to the stables. In back of the stables was the small cabin where Inge lived and her constant visitor helped himself. The visitor would have to be dealt with.

‘I might poke around some,’ he said.

‘You aren’t going home?’

Cort paused. ‘Amanda and the boy were my home. With them gone, I got no place to go.

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