and pulled free an envelope.
“What in the world? These two are wanted murderers. Arrest them, Poe.”
“Don’t even think about it, Poe.” Checker’s hard face attacked the Ranger captain with his eyes. “I’ve had more of you than I can handle.” He walked over to the surprised governor’s desk and tossed the envelope on his desk.
“Here’s your train ticket. To New Orleans,” the tall Ranger said. “You are resigning as of right now. Lieutenant Governor Morse will assume leadership. He’s waiting outside—with half of Captain Temple’s Ranger force. The other half are taking prisoners to prison. All of them are criminals you made into Rangers.” The heat of his glare made the governor look away.
“What the hell are you clowns talking about? Get out of here,” the balding, narrow-faced governor said. “Can’t you see I’m having a meeting with one of my Ranger captains…and, and an important citizen of the state? They are asking me to run for the U.S. Senate.”
Checker reached across the desk, grabbed the governor by his shirt and yanked him to his feet. “I only see a spineless son of a bitch who has no business in this office or any other—or the state of Texas.”
“Ranger Checker, this is extremely out of order,” Captain Poe said, waving his arms.
“Shut up, Poe—or you’re leaving, too.”
Standing in the doorway, Rule recited what had taken place in Caisson—and that the Rangers waiting outside, and in Caisson, were waiting to be officially reinstated. The new governor would be doing that. He would also be dropping the charges against Captain Temple and officially restoring him to his proper rank and authority
“Lots of changes in Caisson and around there,” Rule said. “Town’s looking for a new bank owner. New saloon owner, too. Could use an attorney—and somebody who knows about land titles and the like.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “They’re going to vote on a new sheriff. Spake is serving as their lawman for now. Same with the mayor. Mrs. Loren’s the acting mayor. I’m sure she’ll be voted in. Going to get a new town council while they’re at it. Oh yeah, the new city judge is, oh, I can’t think of his name, he owns the gun shop.”
The gunfighter glanced at Checker, returned his attention to Citale and Poe. “Holt’s ranch is going to be split up. Pieces sold off. Emmett Gardner and Charlie Carlson are buying pieces. Others, too. Judge Jones is overseeing the effort.”
Checker shoved his hands into his gun belt. “Holt’s servants and chef have left. Gave each one a month’s salary. From her account. Looks like there’s going to be enough left over to build a church. My friend has agreed to be their preacher until they get one of their own.”
“That big herd’s being divided among the new owners,” Cordell added. “Not sure what’s going to happen to her foreman. He’s not wanted, though. He and his men were real cowmen. Heard he was going to buy a chunk of her land. Don’t know that for certain.”
Rule’s right hand slid from resting against the door frame to his gun belt. A stone earring wiggled below his ear. Poe and Citale saw the stem attached to the lapel of his long black coat and wondered what it was.
He continued with what had happened. Morgan Peale, a local rancher, and her employee, London Fiss, were murdered by Holt’s men. They were buried in a quiet place where they had earlier buried Ranger A. J. Bartlett, who was also killed trying to stop the Holt gang. Lady Holt’s men, under her direction, had also murdered Jimmy Benson, the blacksmith who served as the temporary sheriff. It appeared that Henry Seitmeyer, the newspaper publisher, was going to make it, in spite of a severe head blow.
Lady Holt had been tried by Judge Roebuck Jones, the district circuit judge and convicted of murder, rustling and land embezzlement. Sil Jaudon, Tapan Moore, Luke Dimitry and Eleven Meade, all hired by her, were dead. Her other gunmen were on their way to federal prison, escorted by Rangers.
The businessman coughed and stood. “I believe my business can wait. For the new governor.”
“Wait a minute, Mr. Kreig. This is just a silly misunderstanding. These men have no authority to…” Citale rubbed his fingers across his fine mustache and looked at the envelope resting on the desk.
“We have all the authority we need,” Checker growled, and drew his Colt. “Your greed has cost me the lives of two friends—and the woman I love.”
Frantically, Citale pulled open the right-hand drawer of his desk, to reveal a gold-plated revolver with ivory handles. Checker’s challenge stopped his movement toward it.
“Pick up that gun. Please. I want you to. I imagine Sil Jaudon gave it to you when you appointed him captain. He killed my lady.” Checker leaned forward. “Pick it up, Citale. Come on, you bastard, pick it up. Or can’t you handle doing evil things yourself? I’ll get your assistant in here. Maybe he can try.”
“Easy, John.” Rule drew his revolver. “They were friends of mine, too,” he said to Citale. “You and Lady Holt tried to run over some good folks. One of them is my uncle. I didn’t like that, either.”
“Wh-who are you?”
“I’m Rule Cordell.”
His face dark with fury barely controlled, Checker nodded toward the gunfighter in the black long coat. “I asked my friend to come with me today, to keep me from tearing you apart. You’re getting a break with that train ride, Citale. If I ever hear you’ve stepped onto Texas soil again, I’ll find you—and kill you.”
“B-but, but what’ll I say? What’ll I tell the newspapers? I’ve got state projects we’re working on. Important things. For Texas. Tell them, ah, Kreig. I’m running for…the U.S. Senate.”
The businessman paused at the doorway. “Nothing that can’t wait. You aren’t running for anything.” He looked at Checker, then Rule. “I didn’t know.” He hesitated and continued out of the office. Outside, the frightened assistant was sobbing.
“Your health is the reason for the sudden resignation,” Rule said. “That’s what the new governor will tell them. You can tell them anything you want.”
“But there won’t be any time for that, Citale. The train leaves in an hour. We’re taking you there,” Checker said, slamming the desk drawer shut.
Citale’s eyes blinked four times and it looked as though he was going to vomit. “Wh-where’s L-Lady Holt now?”
“She’s in the Caisson jail, waiting to be hanged.”
“H-hanged?”
“Yeah, she asked to be burned, but Texas doesn’t do things like that,” Checker said. “Something about being a phoenix.”
Captain Poe swallowed and blurted, “I almost forgot.” With the two gunfighters’ permission, he reached inside his coat pocket and produced a letter. “Came for you, John. From Dodge City, Kansas. It’s from a Mrs. Amelia Checker Hedrickson. Know her?”
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