The Gallows Tree by James A. Muir

Author:James A. Muir [Muir, James A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Breed Western series, action heroes, Angus Wells, Cowboy Fiction, Piccadilly cowboys, Piccadilly Publishing, Pulp fiction writing, revenge, Western series, Westerns
Publisher: Piccadilly
Published: 2023-02-01T00:00:00+00:00

There was a cloud of dust settling over Main Street when Azul and Lieutenant Simms rode in.

They ignored the discomfort as they dismounted outside Marsh’s store. The door was locked and the lights were off inside, but out back they could see the soft glow of kerosene lanterns and smell chicken frying. They walked down the side of the building to the single-story house built on the rear.

Louise Marsh answered the cavalryman’s knock, her hatchet face smudged with flour and her lips turned down in a grimace of disapproval.

‘Forgive me, ma’am.’ Simms doffed his hat politely. ‘I’m sorry to disturb you, but we’d appreciate a word with your husband.’

‘So’d I,’ was the answer, ‘but he ain’t here. You want him, you’ll need to walk up the street to Henry Brandon’s saloon. Kyle’s in there, like every night.’

She slammed the door before Simms could say anything more and the officer chose to follow her advice.

There was a warm wind coming down from the Mogollons that felt like it was building up to a big blow. It was bringing dust in off the flatlands thick enough to begin clouding out the lamps showing through the windows of the houses. Two Bits was shuttered down against the mounting storm, the few horses tethered to the hitching rails in the street fretting irritably as they turned their rumps into the wind.

Azul and Simms left their own mounts outside the Palace and pushed through the batwings. They paused inside the low-ceilinged room, looking around for sight of Marsh.

The fat man was nowhere about, but there was a sudden buzz of conversation as the drinkers caught sight of Azul. He ignored the curious stares as he walked over to the bar, his eyes steady on the bartender, remembering the shotgun.

It looked as though Ike remembered, too, because he had a bottle and two glasses that were almost clean ready and waiting.

‘Gents.’ His gaze flickered nervously from Simms to Azul and back again. ‘What’ll it be? Whiskey?’

‘Thanks,’ grunted Simms.

Ike poured two measures, leaving the bottle, a watery smile on his pallid face.

‘This is on me, gents. Kinda apologizin’ fer the other night. That little misunderstandin’ we had.’

Azul swallowed the drink and set the glass down. ‘The next time you misunderstand, I’ll kill you.’

Ike went pale as a turtle’s belly, his hand trembling as he poured a fresh measure.

‘What’s the matter?’ asked Azul softly. ‘The thought make you nervous?’

‘Leave him,’ said Simms. ‘We got more important business.’

‘Yeah,’ nodded Azul. ‘It’s scarce worth the trouble, anyway. Where’s Kyle Marsh?’

Ike breathed a sigh of relief that gusted sour breath over the bar and pointed to the door built into the far wall.

‘He’s through there. He came in to see Henry. You gents go right on through.’

Azul followed Simms to the door, stepping through as the lieutenant pushed the thing open. They crossed the walkway and went into Brandon’s private rooms without knocking. The saloon keeper looked up as they entered, frowning at the intrusion.

‘Folks mostly wait to be invited in.’ He set down his glass and looked over to the bulky figure of Preacher Dempster.

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