Nightriders (Wells Fargo Trail Book #2) , livre ebook

Baker Publishing Group - James Walker

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156 pages

English

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The Gold Bandits Struck with Impunity, But Zac Cobb Could Not Abide InjusticeWith rumors swirling around a series of stolen gold shipments, Wells Fargo sends Zachary Cobb to the California gold fields to investigate the unsolved robberies. A gang of vigilantes called the Vindicators have taken it upon themselves to prosecute men suspected of the hold-ups, but while innocent people are being lynched, the real bandits seem able to strike with impunity any time they choose.Maintaining his undercover status by visiting a cantakerous aunt who lives nearby, Zac discovers that the Vindicators are controlled by corrupt federal officials. He also discovers the judge to be a former commander of a Union prison camp where two of his brothers were imprisoned during the Civil War.Emily Morgan, whose fiancé was lynched by the vigilantes and whose brother is the local sheriff, helps Zac in his search. She is determined to bring all those involved to justice, even if it includes her own kin.But when Jenny Hays shows up at his aunt's house and is pulled into the mystery, Zac has much more than a dangerous investigation to solve!

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Publié par	Baker Publishing Group
Date de parution	01 novembre 1994
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781441261915
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0202€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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Books by Jim Walker
Husbands Who Won’t Lead and Wives Who Won’t Follow
T HE W ELLS F ARGO T RAIL
The Dreamgivers
The Nightriders
The Rail Kings
The Rawhiders
The Desert Hawks
The Oyster Pirates
The Warriors
The Ice Princess
The Wells Fargo Trail, Book 2
The Nightriders
Jim Walker
© 1994 by Jim Walker
Published by Bethany House Publishers
11400 Hampshire Avenue South
Bloomington, Minnesota 55438
www.bethanyhouse.com
Bethany House Publishers is a division of
Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan
www.bakerpublishinggroup.com
Ebook edition created 2012
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means for example, electronic, photocopy, recording without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
eISBN 978-1-4412-6191-5
This book is dedicated to the one who shows me the resurrected Jesus on a daily basis
my wife, Joyce.
JIM WALKER is a staff member with the Navigators and has written Husbands Who Won’t Lead and Wives Who Won’t Follow . He received an M. Div. from Talbot Theological Seminary and has been a pastor with an Evangelical Free church. He was a survival training instructor in the United States Air Force and is a member of the Western Writers of America and the Western Outlaw-Lawman History Association. Jim, his wife Joyce, and their three children, Joel, Jennifer, and Julie, live in Colorado Springs, Colorado.
Contents
Cover
Books by Jim Walker
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
About the Author
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 1
The saddle leather squeaked in the rain as the men rode down the narrow path and toward the cabin that rested beside the fast-moving creek. The rain beat a steady staccato rhythm on the bright yellow rain slickers before pouring off the riders’ backs in sheets. To keep the chill off, several of the men sucked on their tightly wound cigarettes while others blew on their fingers. Two of the riders who were lagging at the rear of the slow-moving column pulled up on their reins and passed a bottle back and forth while the others snaked on down the canyon ahead.
“I never would have know’d Tom Whipple to be in on something like this,” said one. “He just don’t strike me as no road agent. Him being all sweet on the marshal’s sister and all. That Emily girl’s pretty enough to straighten any man out.”
“Naw, it don’t figure to me neither. Now that old man Joe’s a mean cuss. And that other little one Mouse, is it? he’s as shifty a sort as I ever did see; but I wouldn’t ’zackly make ’em out to be no highwaymen.” The second rider held the bottle still and looked perplexed.
“Here, give me another pull on that.”
“Go easy, we got to catch up with the rest of them, pronto. If Old Rube and Toby thinks them boys is guilty, then I guess it ought to be good enough. Still, hanging some men you done know’d without no trial or nothing gives a body pause.”
“Shoot fire, I don’t care ’tall about that. It’s that shiny double eagle in my jeans that persuades me.”
“Well, maybe so. Still, I hear tell them boys is showing good color. ’Fore you know it, this here whole wash will be filled with cabins, saloons and such. Can’t figure out why they’d want to go and take it off the stage, when they’re getting it out of the ground. Just gives a body pause, that’s all.”
The men slapped their spurs to the flanks of their horses and quickly took their place in the meandering line on its way down the muddy slope. There was a terminal and sobering silence to the night, invaded only by the driving rain and rushing water no birds, no frogs, no crickets, only the sound of water on oilskin and swirling torrents rushing past boulders, long toms, and sluice boxes.
Pulling up outside the darkened cabin, the men swung down from their horses and squashed the mud under their boots. Two of the unofficial posse held the reins of the animals while the men slipped their revolvers from their wet holsters and cautiously opened the cabin door.
A groggy voice sounded out from the far corner. “Who is it? That you, Mouse? Have you quit for the night?”
The men stood inside the open door and allowed the part of the rainstorm they still carried on their backs to drip onto the dirt floor. The wick of a lantern had been turned down to burn dimly and one of the nightriders reached over and turned up the wick to brighten the room. The fresh glare revealed a man huddled in the bed at the far corner of the cabin, rubbing his eyes. Another miner was fast asleep in the bed closest to the door, while a third cot was off to the side, empty.
A large man stepped to the front of the pack. He took off his dark hat and swatted it on his silver-studded chaps to knock off the rain. Even in the dim light, the badge pinned to his red vest blinked out from under his dark oilskin coat. “No, Tom, we represent a group of citizens known as the Vindicators. You better wake up Joe. We’re here to try and hang you men as road agents.”
Tom sat bolt upright. “Road agents! Us? Why would we want to do such a thing?”
The dark-eyed, long-haired peace officer replaced his hat and drew his revolver from across his body, pointing it first at the cowering figure in the corner and then at the sleeping man on the bed. “Like I said, Tom, you wake up Joe and don’t go trying anything foolish. We plan to make this thing as easy and painless as possible.”
Tom cautiously laid back his covers. Maintaining eye contact with the massed group, he inched toward his snoring cabin mate. He shook the man. “Joe! Joe! Wake up, Joe! These men say they are here to hang us!”
Joe snorted awake with a loud series of coughs. He scratched his long white hair and gawked at the mass of wet intruders. “What? What the blazes!” He blinked back the drowsiness from his eyes and rubbed his eye sockets before staring at the men through the glaring globe of the lantern. “Who in the sense of corruption is this?”
“They call themselves the Vindicators, Joe. But it’s Toby Summers and some of the boys from Volcano and they’re here to hang us. They say we’re road agents!”
The gray-bearded miner sat straight up in the bed and kicked at his blankets. “Road agents. You boys is plain crazy. You all know us. Toby, we don’t even spit on the floor at the Cosmo. What’s this all about?”
“Where’s Mouse? We know he’s in on this with you.”
The two miners looked at each other and blinked in disbelief. “In on what?” Joe asked. “I done told you we ain’t done nothing.”
Tom broke in, “Did Breaker send you boys up here? Is this all about Emily? ’Cause I can tell you, we ain’t done nothing wrong. In fact, I plan on marrying her.”
The big deputy marshal grabbed Tom by the neck of his long johns and pulled him up from beside Joe on the bed. “I done told you, this don’t concern you and Emily Morgan. It’s about your gang of hold-up men.” He pulled Tom closer. “Now, what we want to know from you is who else is in on this with you, and where is the gold you done took? You answer that and you stand a good chance for a clean high drop. You don’t, it might be long and slow.” Tom leaned backward to try to wrench free from the frozen grip.
“You boys all know us.” Joe Johnston pulled the deputy’s hand away from his frightened partner and stood between the two men. He looked around the room at the others who were passively watching. “We been showing some color, but the only thing we been spending is placer gold and some bench placer stuff. We ain’t seen an eagle in months. Where did anybody get the idea we’d hold up a stagecoach?”
The deputy snarled, “We got our sources and they say you’re guilty as sin, so you might as well own up to it. It’ll go a lot better on your consciences.”
Tom stammered, “Bbb … boys, it’s your consciences you’d better worry about. I tell you we’re innocent men. We’ve had nothing to do with no stagecoach robberies.”
One of the nightriders muttered from the rear of the room, “Come on, Toby. If we’re gonna do this, let’s get on with it. I wanna get on to bed.”
“All right, Jake, tie ’em up. Let’s take ’em out and get it done.”
Joe dropped his head to his chest and slumped down on his cot. Tom, though, backed away from the men who filled the cabin and pressed against the far corner of the room. He spit out his protest with a jerky motion of his head. “You can’t do this! We’re innocent. We ain’t held nothing up. Everything we got, we done dug outta the ground or brought it up in a pan.”
He sank to the floor in the face of the approaching group. “Don’t do this, don’t do this!”
Several men were tying Joe Johnston’s hands behind his back. “It’ll go a mite easier on you boys if you tell us where the loot is hid.” The deputy pulled the mattresses up from the cots and tossed them onto the floor. He seemed to be halfheartedly conducting a search.
“I tell you, Toby, there ain’t no loot.” Tom dropped his chin and stared at the floor. “Why? Why? Why is this happening to us? Toby, there ain’t no loot.”
Several of the nightriders lifted Tom from the floor, spun him around, and tied his hands. Tom craned his neck, directing his words to the deputy. “Toby, tell the marshal he’s hurt his sister enough. Breaker can’t keep controlling her life forever.”
The deputy turned from his search. “Now, I done told you, Tom, this don’t have nothing to do with Emily Morgan. Jes’ get that out of your head. It’s about you two fellas, that scrawny little Mouse character, wherever he is, and the gang of gold thieves you’re all riding with. Tie him up tight, men, and br