Silver Trail Christmas, page 8
“It took me a while to sort it out, but Starr is much more valuable to me alive than dead.”
Zeke told Caleb about all the back and forth between Patterson and the prisoner. He was sure the letters his father had been sending the judge had something to do with this change of heart.
“It’s a good thing, having him work for me. A very good thing.”
Caleb gestured toward the hand. “I never figured you for a man to forget things.”
“It’s business.” Patterson waved toward the window. “Our world is growing quickly. It’s changing. A man like me can’t hold on to slights from the past. I have to think of the future I want. And not just for me. For this town.”
“You own this town. Everything in it. Everyone in it.”
“That’s true, in many ways. I’ve staked my life and future on it. It’s my town, and I don’t plan to give it up to anyone, least of all someone like Eric Goulden.”
The waiter returned with the drinks and placed them on the table. Neither man reached for his glass.
“I thought you settled that back in the summer when all Goulden’s hired killers were shot dead or hanged. You had Starr in jail, ready for trial and hanging.”
“True. But I know Goulden will be coming at me again.”
Patterson sat forward in his chair and smoothed the cloth with one hand. As he talked, he used his index finger to emphasize his points.
“Marlowe, no one knows how much silver is in those hills. Maybe we’re sitting on another Comstock Lode, maybe we’re not.”
Caleb knew that the mines around Elkhorn were continuing to produce vast amounts of precious ore, but he also knew of men like Zeke, whose efforts to dig silver out of the mountain were showing less and less return.
“One way or another, the future of the West lies in its railroads. And the men who build and control them will be the titans of our time.”
As the judge continued, Caleb kept his eyes on the stairway at one end of the room. He noticed that the lobby doors stood open a crack. No doubt Patterson’s bodyguards were keeping a close eye on him.
He wasn’t concerned about them. But he had no doubt his father would kill him without a blink of his one eye.
“There are great riches to be gained from gold and silver, I grant you. But what will happen to those men who fail to find it? Those men who left their farms and trades to chase the fevered dreams of gold?” Patterson spread his hand over the table. “I’ll tell you what will become of them. They will look around them and say, ‘This is land I can farm. Land that’s better than what I left behind.’ They’ll say, ‘These are towns that need a cooper and a blacksmith and a cobbler and a tailor.’ And they’ll stay.”
Patterson pounded his fist once on the table like a gavel.
“And what will provide the lifeblood for the thousand towns that will spring up?”
“Railroads.”
“You’re a smart man, Marlowe. You know the answer. Yes, railroads. Railroads are the future of the frontier. The future of the nation. And that’s why I say Goulden will be back, unless I do something about it first. I’m getting into the rail business myself.”
“You aim to be one of them titans.”
The judge lowered his voice. “You’re damn right. Think about the opportunity that we have if we’re smart enough to grasp it.” He took a deep breath. “You helped me beat Eric Goulden at his own game…but only for the moment. This is war. I outsmarted him on paper, but you outgunned him in the field. If we move now, we can run a rail line from Denver to Elkhorn. And we won’t stop there. We’ll extend that railroad south, past your ranch, all the way to Santa Fe. Think of it, Marlowe.”
The judge looked out at the street again for a moment, and Caleb could see him envisioning an Elkhorn that would rival the great cities to the east. With himself presiding over it all.
“But to do this,” Patterson concluded, “we need to act now. We need men who know rail construction. Men who aren’t afraid to do what is necessary to complete this great enterprise.”
“Men who are ruthless.” Back in Bonedale, Caleb had spoken to a woman who’d been widowed and left with three young children. Starr had killed her husband in cold blood to take their farm. It stood in the path of his rail line. And no doubt there were hundreds like Widow Caswell.
“Yes. Whatever it takes. I don’t need morality. I need commitment. And no one is more suited to the task than Elijah Starr. He’s already proven himself to me.”
As if he’d been conjured from some boiling cauldron, Caleb’s father appeared on the stairs at the end of the dining room. He was holding some papers in his hand. He paused halfway down, stared at Caleb for a moment, and then continued his descent.
Caleb stood and crossed the room to meet him.
Chapter Nine
Close your eyes, Caleb. Pretend you’re asleep. Keep them closed no matter what happens.
Some memories stayed with him for his entire life.
No matter what you hear, Caleb, don’t make a sound. Don’t come out. Hear me?
Caleb’s earliest memories became nightmares.
He’s got his cane. Go out the window. Hide in the barn till I come for you. Go now.
For Caleb’s entire childhood, the heavy tread of Elijah Starr’s boots on the stairs was a sound that evoked fear.
Hearing it now brought out another emotion in him. Rage that he could barely contain. It flowed through him like fire.
Caleb never stopped trying to stand up for her, protect her. Always defiant. Always with his chin high. Always fighting to get between her and the monster. Always braced for the blows that would follow.
Regardless of what he did, regardless of how brave he thought himself to be, it was never enough to stop the beatings they both took. Fists. Boots. Cane. And always, the voice that haunted Caleb’s childhood dreams and his waking hours.
His father stopped before reaching the bottom stair and lingered there. As Caleb fixed his killing gaze on the man, he felt the blood racing in his veins, but everything else in the dining room slowed. Light and shadow and color and sound became as sharp and crisp as an autumn dawn.
He didn’t look like a man who’d spent three months in jail.
Starr’s clothes were finely tailored, stylish enough that he could be mistaken for a banker or a lawyer. And they were new. No doubt bought at the judge’s expense. His suit was blue, dark as the midnight sky, with subtle, gray stripes running vertically in the fine cloth. His double-breasted vest was silk brocade of a deep-maroon color, and his blue tie matched his coat and pants. A stick pin with a large stone, clear and sparkling, held the tie in place. He was clean-shaven, his dark hair slicked back.
Starr’s free hand rose to his face, and his fingers ran just under the black eye patch before skimming over the scarred flesh that marked the left cheekbone all the way to the ear. The gesture was intended for Caleb, reminding him that Starr remembered who had marked him.
If only the sixteen-year-old Caleb had stayed back and made sure he finished the job.
Caleb focused on the eye patch. How many times as a child had he wondered if there was no flesh behind it, only a black hole? A glimpse into a devil’s cauldron.
Judge Patterson appeared to Caleb’s right, leaving some space between them. His voice cut through the sharp silence that had fallen over the room. “I recall what happened on my account at your ranch, Marlowe. I know there’s ill will between you two because of it.”
Starr, like the rest of them, was unarmed. He rolled the document he was carrying lengthwise and tucked it into his coat.
“It’s time for you two to let the past go.”
Caleb and his father were approximately the same height and size. But he knew he was stronger and faster. He’d bested his father in the cabin and would have killed the older man with his fists alone if Sheila hadn’t stopped him.
“You and I outside. Now.”
Starr didn’t move from the step, resting one hand on the railing. The corner of his mouth lifted in a smirk of superiority. He was gloating. He was conveying to Caleb that he was in the victorious position.
“Neither of you two are going anywhere. I don’t expect you to like each other. But you’ll need to get along. I’ve hired you before, Marlowe, and I’ll need you again.”
Twice he’d worked for Patterson in recent months. Both times, it had been in Caleb’s own best interests to do so. He kept his gaze on the tall man on the stairs. That wouldn’t be happening again.
“Civility is all I ask,” the judge continued. “For our enterprise to succeed, I need you to work together. You’re now on the same side.”
“Never,” Caleb said under his breath. He called out to Starr. “You and I need to finish this.”
“I’m done with you.”
“Get your guns.”
“I won’t fight you, Caleb.”
The sound of his given name on Elijah’s tongue was like the twist of a blade in his gut.
“You’ve been looking for me. Here I am. You’ll fight, or you’ll die the coward that you really are.”
Starr shook his head. “I spent three months in Elkhorn’s jail. I had time to think, reading the Good Book, rediscovering the man I once was. Soldier, teacher, devoted husband, and father.”
“You mean liar and murderer.”
Elijah Starr’s eyes narrowed, and then he scoffed.
The judge cut in. “You two knew each other before the ranch? Before the bloodshed?”
Patterson’s words buzzed in Caleb’s ear, but neither man responded.
“Your fate is between you and me, and we’re going to settle it today,” Caleb said.
“You are far too puffed up with your own importance, son. If a judgment is to be made about fate, I’m the one to do it. You are the one who has transgressed the laws of God and man. You are the one who savagely wronged both me and my wife.”
“The wife you beat to death with your own hands?” Caleb took a step closer. He thought about dragging the man into the street right now.
“Lies again, Caleb? Don’t forget, there are no sinners in heaven; no forgiveness in hell. Have you forgotten everything that I taught you, son?”
“What’s this, Marlowe?” The judge’s voice had an accusatory tone. “You never said anything about being Elijah Starr’s son.”
Starr’s laugh was dry and mirthless. “Then I assume he’s said nothing of his misspent youth as a violent troublemaker. Or that he ran away after setting fire to the home where I raised him, leaving his loving mother to die in that fire.”
“You killed her.”
In the blink of an eye, Caleb’s hands were around Starr’s throat. He slammed his father into the stairs and then dragged him down onto the floor.
All the burning hate of a lifetime come flooding back. Liquid fire scorched his brain and raced through his veins into every corner of his being as he dug his thumbs into the man’s throat.
Elijah’s lies about him meant nothing. Caleb wasn’t interested in setting the record straight. He had only one thought. Kill this monster. Wipe this evil from the face of the earth.
Shouts rang out around him. Hands clutched at his arms and shoulders, yanking at his vest and collar. Still, he hung on.
His father’s one eye bulged from its socket. The pale face went red and then blue around the scars he carried from burns and beatings.
Someone looped an arm around Caleb’s neck as another managed to pry his fingers free.
The judge’s bruisers were dragging him away, and Caleb twisted his body in their clutches. Finding his footing, he turned and lashed out at the closest face, finding the point of a chin with his fist.
As the face disappeared, Caleb spun, firing a left hand at another attacker. Hawk Eyes, blood spraying from a mashed nose. The bushy face of Zeke appeared in the mix, only to disappear when Caleb caught him with an elbow to the side of the head.
Chairs and tables overturned. Silverware and glasses tumbled and crashed in every direction. He was fighting them all, still trying to get to his father, who was pulling himself up from the floor, coughing and waving off the judge’s help.
“I won’t tolerate this, Marlowe.” Patterson’s irate voice cut through the riot. “Hold him.”
Suddenly, he was on the floor, fighting off the weight of a dozen men. Caleb caught a glimpse of Starr, looking down on him with the same infuriating smirk.
“Zeke, do your job,” the judge shouted. “Lock him up. I’ll deal with him after he cools off. He has a lot of explaining to do.”
As they hauled Caleb upright, he managed to throw off two of them and land another punch.
The butt of a revolver thudded sharply on the back of his head, and the spinning world around him grew bright for an instant before the darkness closed in completely.
Chapter Ten
The sheriff and his gang of worthless deputies were carting the unconscious gunhawk out of the dining room, heading for the jail. As he watched the door of the dining room close behind them, the judge stared across the table at the untouched glass of whiskey.
The fact that Marlowe was Starr’s son had come like a lightning bolt out of a clear blue sky. This was a problem he hadn’t foreseen.
Damn Marlowe.
“…clear since he could walk, Caleb was heading for the fiery pit. His mother did nothing to help. I recall a time…” Starr hadn’t stopped talking since he sat down.
Patterson raised his empty glass, motioning to the waiter to replenish his drink. Father and son. Together, they could have been great use to him.
Elijah Starr knew how to lay down the tracks of a rail line. He knew how to clear the way for the construction crews. He knew how to purchase and supply materials for the workers. He also knew Goulden’s plans and secrets. He had real value.
“…and when I found her, the victim of my son’s callous violence…” Starr continued to drone on.
Caleb Marlowe was as tough and indestructible as ironwood root. He was cool and courageous enough to take on a dozen armed men and smart enough to whip them. He handled a gun with more speed and expertise than any gunslinger Patterson had ever seen. And he did not hesitate to kill a man when the situation warranted it. He too had real value.
“…I could have sent the law after him. He should have hanged…”
Starr was arrogant and self-righteous, and he was as indifferent to brutality as a Roman centurion. The judge frowned at the scar on the back of his hand. The place where Starr had driven his knife through his flesh still caused him pain whenever he tried to make a fist.
Marlowe was stubborn, and it was difficult to gain his allegiance. Despite their differences, however, the gunhawk had been smart enough to save Patterson’s life. But he had his flaws. He had a sentimental weakness that drove him to protect the weak and helpless. A stray dog, an orphaned boy, a partner with too much baggage to be any good to him. How he’d ever thrived on the frontier was a testament to his toughness.
“Caleb is a dangerous man, Judge. There’s no way your railway plans can proceed with him around. He’ll interfere. Let me take care of—”
“Stop,” Patterson snapped. Of the father and son, the younger man was the more trustworthy. But sometimes a man had to deal with the devil. The trick was knowing you’re in league with Old Nick. “I’ll handle Marlowe. I’ve told you what I want from you. Do it.”
As the judge took a sip from his replenished whiskey glass, he hoped to hell he was banking on the right Starr.
Chapter Eleven
Caleb opened his eyes and immediately closed them. His stomach turned from the pain in his head.
He slowly pried his lids apart again, taking in his surroundings. He was lying on his side on a dirt floor that smelled of piss and puke.
He pushed himself upright and stayed there until the room stopped tilting and whirling around him. Late-afternoon shadows from the bars on the window played across the hard-packed floor.
Damn.
This wasn’t the first time Caleb had spent time in Elkhorn’s jail. Once, to settle an old score, Grat Horner, the last sheriff, locked him in here overnight just because he could.
And there were other towns. Other jails. As a very young man, before he got his head on straight, Caleb had done more than his share of drinking, fighting, and general carousing. Somewhere along the way, though, he’d come to realize it was more than looking for a good time that was steering him into the path of the law. He was trying to forget Elijah Starr. He was choosing the hard road, hoping to forget the brutality his mother had endured until it killed her. Guilt and anger create a thirst that can never be slaked with liquor, but that doesn’t stop a man from trying.
He didn’t know how long he’d been out cold. Maybe only an hour or two, if it was still the same day. The last thing he recalled was fighting the men trying to drag him away from Starr’s throat.
Caleb touched the back of his head. His fingers came away bloody. Whoever had delivered the blow, they meant business. Voices came to him from beyond his cell door. He gingerly pushed himself to his feet and lurched toward it as footsteps approached.
The scruffy puss of a sheriff’s deputy appeared. “Folks here to see ya.”
Caleb had no interest in seeing anyone, but he had every intention of knocking the deputy on his scrawny tail as soon as he opened that door. Then he’d be back in that hotel if he had to shoot his way in.
That plan changed as soon as he saw Doc Burnett behind him, carrying his medical case. Sheila trailed them, looking pale and worried.
Damn.
He took a deep breath and stepped back from the door. He didn’t like having her see him like this.
The deputy looked in and jingled the key. “Don’t get no funny ideas, Marlowe, or…”
