Until the Daybreak by Al Lacy

Author:Al Lacy [Lacy, Al]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-307-81444-9
Publisher: The Crown Publishing Group
Published: 2012-01-18T00:00:00+00:00

MARSHAL STONE MCKENNA WATCHED THE COVERED WAGON move on down the street, then walked over to the drifter he had coldcocked and found him sitting up with his back against the wall of a building. He was rubbing his jaw and muttering to himself. When he saw the marshal’s shadow fall across him, he looked up and gave a wicked scowl.

“Should’ve done what I told you,” Stone said. “Think you can find your horse now?”

The man nodded grudgingly. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. Do it.”

The drifter struggled to a standing position, using the wall to steady himself.

“Here, let me help you,” said McKenna, offering his hand.

Still scowling, the drifter took his grip and the marshal led him onto the boardwalk. “Where’s your horse?”

The man ran his glassy gaze along the hitching rail, studying the horses tied to it.

“Better get the right one, pal,” said McKenna. “You know the penalty for horse stealing in these parts, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” said the man, raising a hand and pointing a shaky finger. “That’s her, there. The gray mare.”

“All right, let’s get you in the saddle. Can you find your way out of town?”

“Yeah.”

“Then do it.”

The marshal watched the man slip and slide from one side of the saddle to the other as the horse carried him south out of Tombstone. When he was out of sight, Stone turned and headed for his office. As he made his way down the street, he thought of Tom Gillette’s interest in Bernadette Flanagan and the disappointment he showed when he found out she was a saloon girl. He grinned as he remembered how the smile had melted from Tom’s lips.

In his loneliness and his thoughts about looking for a prospective wife, Stone had considered lovely Bernadette himself but couldn’t let himself get serious about her. It wouldn’t look good for the town’s leading lawman to court and marry a saloon girl.

Bernadette was indeed a nice girl and shouldn’t be working in a saloon. At least now he understood why she was doing it.

Stone was at his desk, doing some paperwork, when his deputies came in with the three wounded drifters who were bandaged and looked quite pale. When they scowled at him, he said, “Don’t look at me like that, boys. You were told to drop your guns, but you took it on yourselves to resist. Now you suffer the consequences.”

“You want them in one cell, Marshal?” asked Hank Croy.

“Be fine. Put them right next to Billy Braxton’s ex-pals.”

“Will do,” said Croy. “Let’s go, boys.”

When Croy and Whitman returned to the office, Croy said, “I need to go water my horse, Marshal. I was going to do it when I got back to town, but with the trouble at the Silver Slipper it didn’t get done.”

“Sure,” said McKenna.

When Croy was out the door, Ed Whitman sat back down at his desk. “Marshal, I hope the judge throws the book at those three dudes. They don’t even show any remorse for killing Clate and Hector.”

“If I know Judge Furman like I think I know him, they’ll stretch rope.

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