Left Hand of the Law Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  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

  Teaser chapter

  SERVING JUSTICE

  Both Rosie and Eli had been unaware of the sudden silence that had befallen the rest of the patrons at first sight of the ominous stranger when he walked into the dining room. Lean almost to the point of looking gaunt, he wore a flat-crowned hat pulled low, but still not low enough to cover the vicious scar that ran like a lightning bolt across his face. Forks were suspended halfway between plates and mouths as all eyes fixed on the dark messenger of death as he approached the table by the kitchen door, rifle in hand.

  Eli looked as if he had seen a ghost, for in his mind that was exactly what had appeared before him. The silver chain and heart dropped from his hand as he struggled to get up from his chair, at the same time reaching for his pistol. In his panic, his efforts succeeded only in tangling him in the chair and resulted in causing him to go over backward on the floor. Terrified by the grim figure standing over him, with his unblinking, almost paralyzing gaze, Eli could not wrestle his gun from his holster as Ben’s rifle barrel pointed at him like an accusing finger. The first shot sent some of the patrons scattering for the door. It was followed by five more rounds, cranked methodically one after the other until there was no uncertainty on whether or not the man was dead. . . .

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  First published by Signet, an imprint of New American Library,

  a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  First Printing, July 2011

  Copyright © Charles G. West, 2011

  ISBN : 978-1-101-54315-3

  All rights reserved

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  For Ronda

  Chapter 1

  Ben Cutler looked up and smiled when his six-year-old son, Danny, appeared at the barn door carrying a Mason jar half filled with cider. Ben knew that his wife, Mary Ellen, had no doubt put the thought in the boy’s head to fetch the cider from the spring box in the creek and surprise his father with it. He wouldn’t let on that he suspected as much, because Danny was very proud to be the bearer of the cool refreshment on this hot summer day in the southeast corner of Kansas.

  “Well, bless my soul,” Ben exclaimed. “I was just this minute wishin’ I had a drink of cool cider. How’d you know that’s what I was thinkin’ about?” Danny’s answer was a delighted giggle and he thrust the jar out for his father to take. “Why don’t you have a little drink yourself?” Ben suggested. It wasn’t really hard cider; he hadn’t let it ferment that long, so it wouldn’t hurt the boy. Eager to accept the offer, Danny gulped a few swallows down, smacked his lips loudly, then extended the jar toward his father again. He stood back to watch as Ben took a long draw from the jar and smacked his lips in turn to show his appreciation.

  “Somebody’s comin’,” the boy suddenly announced, and Ben turned to follow his son’s gaze to the head of the lane, where he saw a lone rider coming toward the house.

  Ben put aside the harness he was in the midst of repairing and got up to stand beside Danny. The rider looked familiar, and when he was halfway to the yard, Ben recognized Eli Gentry, a deputy sheriff from Crooked Fork. Ben could not say he knew the man very well, and what little bit he knew didn’t impress him very much. He had what Ben would describe as a weasel face with dark eyes that seemed too close together on each side of a long, thin nose. The thing that set him apart was the cutoff sword he liked to wear on his side. In a scabbard like a long hunting knife, it had once been a cavalry sword until about a third of the blade had been broken off. Sheriff Jubal Creed’s other deputy, Bob Rice, struck Ben as a much more mature lawman. He had to admit that he knew very few people in the settlement at the forks of the Neosho and Lightning rivers, some fifteen miles away from his place on the Neosho. Curious, he walked out to meet Gentry. “Howdy, Deputy,” he called out in greeting. “What brings you out to this part of the county?”

  Pulling his horse to a stop when he was hailed from the barn, Gentry turned to meet Ben and his son. “I swear, Ben Cutler,” he replied with a genuine look of surprise. “Is this your place?” Ben responded with no more than a smile, since the answer seemed obvious. He was amazed that the deputy knew his name. Gentry continued. “You got a right tidy little place here, looks like. I didn’t think you knew much about farmin’.” He looked around him at the barn and the corral. “Looks like you’re more into raisin’ cattle.”

  Ben shrugged. “Well, I guess I do know a little more about horses and cows than I do about raisin’ crops, but that’s what happens to a man when he meets the little woman who’s gonna run his life.” He placed an affectionate hand on Danny’s head. “Mary Ellen got tired of havin’ me gone so much of the time, and wanted us to have a place of our own. Have to admit, she was right.” He waited for the deputy to explain his appearance this far from Crooked Fork, but Eli continued to look around him as if evaluating the progress Ben had made. “Step down,” Ben
invited, “and get a cool drink of water, or some of this sweet cider. You didn’t say how you happen to be out this far. Are you on sheriff’s business?”

  Gentry took another look toward the house before dismounting. “Yeah, that’s right,” he answered. “There’s been some raidin’ of some of the farms and ranches in the county, and Jubal sent me and Bob out to look around. He thinks it might be Injuns from down in the Nations.”

  “Is that a fact?” Ben responded. “Well, I haven’t seen or heard of any trouble like that around here. If it’s Indians, I doubt if it’s any of the Cherokees. I talked to Jim White Feather a couple of days ago, and he didn’t say anythin’ about any raidin’ around here.”

  “Huh,” Eli snorted. “I doubt he’d say anythin’ if there was. He mighta been one of ’em doin’ the raidin’.”

  “I reckon I’d have to disagree with you there, Eli,” Ben said. “Jim’s a good man. He’s been a friend to me ever since I started to build this place.”

  Gentry did not reply to Ben’s statement. Instead, he affected a thin smile and abruptly changed the subject. “You are mighty close to the Nations. I expect you’re about the only white family down the Neosho this far.”

  “Where are you headin’ from here?” Ben asked.

  “Back to town, I reckon. I’ve got a long way to ride ahead of me, too long to get home tonight, and I’m short of supplies as it is. But I expect I’ll make me a camp somewhere along the way.”

  Knowing common courtesy called for it, Ben said, “It is a long ride into Crooked Fork from here, and the afternoon’s about played out. You’d be welcome to take supper with us, and you can sleep in the barn if you want. Then you can start back to town in the mornin’.”

  “Well, now, that’s mighty neighborly of you, Cutler.” Gentry was quick to accept the invitation. “That sure would make it a lot easier for me. You sure that pretty little wife of yours wouldn’t mind?”

  “I expect she’d most likely invite you herself,” Ben replied, then turned to Danny. “Run to the house, son. Tell your mama we’ve got company for supper.” Turning back to Gentry then, he said, “Come on. I’ll help you put your horse in the barn.” He led the way to one of four stalls in the barn, hoping that his irritation at piling this on Mary Ellen with no warning wasn’t too evident.

  “Yessir,” Eli commented as he stood between the stalls and looked around him, “you fixed yourself up real fine here.” He cocked his head back to look Ben in the eye and grinned. “Musta cost you a little money, from the looks of the barn and house.”

  “Well, I guess I had a little money put back from my cattle, but I built the house and barn myself, like everybody else in the county, I expect.” It struck him as an odd conversation to have with Eli Gentry, but he supposed that it was just the deputy’s way of trying to make polite talk.

  “If you’ve still got some of that money put aside, I hope you’ve put it away somewhere safe, like a root cellar or someplace where Injuns ain’t likely to look.”

  Not wishing to pursue a subject that he considered his private business, Ben switched to another. “Like I said, you can sleep here in the barn. I can get you an extra blanket if you need it, but I doubt you will, hot as it’s been.” He waited for Gentry to pull his saddle off and spread his blanket on the hay. “We might as well go on up to the house and see how long it’ll be before Mary Ellen has supper on the table.”

  “You know Deputy Gentry, don’t you, Mary Ellen?” Ben asked when they walked into the kitchen.

  “Evenin’,” Eli offered while making no attempt to disguise his thorough study of Mary Ellen’s body.

  “Why, of course I know of the deputy,” Mary Ellen said, with a forced smile, turning her attention to Gentry. “We’ve never met, but I’m pleased to meet you now. Welcome to our home.” When Gentry shifted his gaze to see what was on the stove, she glanced at her husband and rolled her eyes, registering her annoyance. He shrugged and made a helpless gesture. When Gentry returned his gaze to concentrate on her again, she said, “Why don’t you two go ahead and wash up for supper, and I’ll have it on the table by then? You go along, too, Danny. I know your hands could use some scrubbing.”

  Eli stood by while Ben and his son washed up at the pump on the back porch, feeling no compulsion to do likewise. “You know,” he commented, “a drink of likker would go good before supper. You must have a bottle around here somewhere. Ain’tcha?”

  “Sorry,” Ben replied. “I ain’t got anythin’ stronger than cider, and it ain’t even hard cider, but you’re welcome to that.” It was not the truth. He had a bottle of rye whiskey that he took a nip from every once in a while, but he figured supper was enough to waste on the likes of Eli Gentry. It could be, he thought, that he was judging Eli too harshly, but he had heard a few stories about the bullying tactics of the deputy. He guessed it boiled down to the fact that he just didn’t like the man. It was a gut feeling.

  Eli curled his lip in a show of disgust. “I reckon I’ll pass on the cider.”

  Supper was a silent affair for the most part. Mary Ellen and Ben tried to engage in some polite conversation at first, but there was no response that amounted to more than a grunt from Gentry. His attention was focused strictly on his plate as he stuffed his face with food.

  “Well, I reckon I’ve put you folks out enough,” Gentry finally said. “I’d best get out to the barn and hit the hay.” He looked at Mary Ellen, who was already clearing the table. “Thank you for the supper, ma’am. I ain’t et that good in a while.” Then he smiled at Ben and said, “You’re a lucky man, Cutler.”

  Ben grinned. “I reckon I’m aware of that.” He winked at Mary Ellen. “She won’t let me forget it.” He got up from the table then and walked Gentry to the door. “I don’t know how early you’re thinkin’ about startin’ out in the mornin’, but you’re welcome to some breakfast with us if you want.”

  “Just might do that,” Eli replied, casting a quick gaze in Mary Ellen’s direction. “Just might do that,” he repeated, then stepped out the door.

  “I’ll send Danny out to get you when breakfast is ready,” Ben called after him. He turned back to find Mary Ellen facing him.

  “I’ll be glad to see that man gone from here,” she said. “He’s got a look about him that makes my skin crawl.”

  “He ain’t what you’d call housebroke, is he?” Ben replied, shaking his head as he thought about the awkward mood around the supper table. “I reckon he’s all right. I guess we can stand him for one night and breakfast in the mornin’.” He clasped his hands together over his head and took a good long stretch. “I guess I’m ready to turn in. I’ve got a big day tomorrow if I’m gonna get the lower field plowed.” He winked at his wife and shifted his eyes toward his son, who was emulating his father’s stretching. Mary Ellen smiled and nodded her head.

  Ben had already gone into the bedroom by the time Mary Ellen had finished cleaning up her kitchen. The evening had already faded from twilight to make way for the deep darkness that would soon follow when she paused at the back door before hurrying across the yard to the outhouse. Ben would probably laugh at her, but she didn’t feel comfortable with Eli Gentry in the barn. Although she was sure he was not up and about, she still felt as if his eyes were somehow on her. As soon as her business in the outhouse was finished, she almost ran back to the house. Once inside, she quickly barred the door and made straight for the bedroom, never feeling at ease until she was snuggled up against her husband’s back.

  In spite of her sense of concern, the night passed as other nights before it, and she woke at first light and slipped out of bed. She would start the fire in the stove and put the coffee on to boil before waking Danny. Ben would already be awake. He was always aware when she left the bed. She rolled out her dough and formed her biscuits to be ready when the oven was hot enough. While they baked, she sent Danny to the henhouse to gather eggs while she cut strips of bacon. A thought occurred to her that it might not be a good idea to prepare such a bi
g breakfast. It might encourage Eli Gentry to visit again. But then he might tell everyone in Crooked Fork that Ben Cutler’s wife was a sorry cook.

  Ben came in when she called to him from the kitchen. He poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down to await breakfast. He was into his second cup when Mary Ellen sent Danny out to tell Gentry breakfast was ready. Baked biscuits, a large bowl of scrambled eggs, and a plate piled high with bacon were all on the table and in danger of getting cold when Mary Ellen paused and looked toward the back door. “Where in the world is that boy?” she exclaimed. “How long does it take to walk to the barn?”

  Ben chuckled. “Probably forgot why you sent him out there. I’ll go get ’em.”

  Gentry was standing near the barn door when Ben walked in. “Mornin’,” Ben said. When there was no sign of his son, he asked, “Where’s Danny? He was supposed to tell you that breakfast is ready.”

  “He did,” Gentry said. “He’s over in that back stall.”

  “Danny!” Ben called. “What are you doin’, boy?” When there was no answer, he walked back to the stall to see what the rambunctious boy might be up to. “What are you do—” he started to repeat, but was stopped cold by the sight of the boy lying facedown in the middle of the stall. “Danny!” he uttered fearfully, and rushed to drop to his knees beside his son. Only then did he see the blood-soaked hay beneath Danny’s head. “Danny!” he cried again, forgetting all else in his panic, his only thought to save the boy’s life. The horror of the discovery sent his mind reeling with a paralyzing jumble of thoughts. He turned Danny over and started to pick him up, but was staggered by the sight of his son’s neck gaping from a bloody slit from ear to ear. Still, in an effort to save him, he struggled to his feet, his only thought then to get to Mary Ellen, praying she could tell him what to do to save Danny’s life. With Danny’s body in his arms, he turned to be met with the full force of Gentry’s half sword across his face. The blow rendered him unconscious. Dropping to his knees, and still clutching the still body of his son, he fell over on his side.