A Bounty of Vengeance (Preview)

Chapter One

Rain was quickly becoming the only constant in Colt Harvey’s life. The steady drizzle fell straight to the ground, pooling on the brim of his hat before spilling over the edges. There wasn’t even a breath of wind in the air, making the Oklahoma humidity almost stifling that morning.

Colt preferred the rain to any winter weather, though winters in Oklahoma were always mild. Still, May and June brought with them heavier rainfall than any of the other months, and with how much his life had been changing by the day, Colt had started to appreciate being able to count on the rain falling from one day to the next.

As a bounty hunter, he was looking for someone more often than not. He’d been all over the country, going as far north as New York and as far west as California. He’d seen both the east and west coasts, and he’d stood on the borders of Mexico and Canada.

That spring morning in 1887, he was standing outside St. James, a small town nestled in the southwestern corner of Oklahoma. Texas wasn’t too far, and within its borders were countless towns and growing cities that could provide an outlaw with endless hiding places. But he was convinced the man he was after was, in fact, spending time in St. James.

“You sure about this?” a voice behind him asked.

He turned slightly, glancing over his shoulder at his young companion.

“He’s here, Marcus,” Colt said. “I know he is.”

The younger man rode his horse alongside Colt, pulling the animal to a stop and looking over the small town with him.

“But what makes you think so?” Marcus pressed. “Those folks we spoke with yesterday said they hadn’t seen anyone come through this way besides us. And the last they heard, Moses was miles from here.”

“And you believe them?” Colt challenged. He gave Marcus a searching look, hoping the younger man would consider what they knew and apply it to what they’d heard.

“Why not?”

Marcus shrugged, the rain dripping from his elbows as he did.

“Didn’t you see the way they kept exchanging looks the entire time we were talking?” Colt asked.

“Maybe?” Marcus asked. “I noticed the younger man was looking at the older one, but it seemed to me he was doing it more than the older man was looking at him.”

“Likely because it’s the older of the two who calls the shots,” Colt replied evenly. “What the younger man was trying to do was check to see whether he was talking too much, or perhaps saying the wrong thing. He was clearly verifying with the older man that the two of them were on the same page, even if neither was specifically acknowledging it.”

“How would you know that?” Marcus asked, not even trying to hide how skeptical he felt. “What makes you think they weren’t being truthful just because the one was looking to the other for reassurance? Put yourself in their position.”

“How so?” Colt asked, finally turning his head to make full eye contact with his companion. The younger man shifted uncomfortably in his saddle, looking down toward his horse and spilling the rain that had gathered in the top of his hat in front of him.

“We were the strangers who approached them,” Marcus pointed out. “Two men camped near the side of a road, then two armed strangers approached them and asked questions. I don’t blame them for being suspicious.”

Colt stared at Marcus for a moment. Then he cracked a smile.

“What’s so funny?” Marcus demanded, his own tone turning from coaxing to defensive. “I’m not joking. I think they were looking at each other the way they were was because they were uncomfortable that we were there. I don’t think there’s anything more to it than that.”

“Or consider this,” Colt said. “Suppose those men had been there more than just the day that they claimed. Suppose they’ve been there two, maybe three days.”

“What makes you think that?”

“The fact they said that they’d recently shot a deer,” Colt said. “The deer that was hanging in that tree next to the campsite had clearly been utilized for more than just a meal or two. You saw it with your own eyes.”

“Perhaps they fed others besides us,” Marcus mused, and Colt jumped on the opportunity to point out his mistake.

“Then you saw with your own eyes they must have entertained more than just us,” Colt said.

Marcus started to reply but closed his mouth before he said anything. He realized he’d just admitted reason to believe those men hadn’t been alone the past few days, and he knew better than to try to defend his stance.

“That was my first clue they weren’t being entirely honest,” Colt said. “And like you already mentioned, they said Moses was supposed to be miles from here, right?”

“Yes?” Marcus asked, cocking his head to one side.

“Do you remember exactly what they said?”

“That the last they heard he was heading down to Houston. He was going to play in that gambling tournament that’s supposed to start today.”

“Exactly what I’m talking about.” Colt nodded. “I know for a fact that’s a lie, and with how specific of a lie that it is, it tells me they were instructed to tell it.”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Marcus said.

“I would put money on the fact that they did, in fact, run into Moses Beesley either yesterday or the day before,” Colt explained. “And Moses paid them off. They fed him, and he paid them to tell anyone who came asking for him that he had gone to Houston. Not only were they to give that very specific name, but they were to give a believable reason as to why he was heading in that direction, too.”

“I still don’t know why you think they were lying about it,” Marcus said with a shake of his head.

“In the past ten days,” Colt said, “since you joined me, how often have you heard anyone give any sort of specific location for Moses?”

Marcus hesitated, but Colt continued before he could reply.

“And more than that, how often have you heard them give a specific reason for him going anywhere?”

When Marcus once again held back, Colt added, “In all the time you’ve personally spent on the trail for Moses Beesley, or any other outlaw for that matter, how many times have you run into people who were able to give you such detailed information?”

“This would be the first time,” Marcus said, “But that doesn’t mean there’s not a first time for everything.”

“Of course there is,” Colt agreed, “But not this time.”

Marcus was silent, but there was something about the way he held himself that made Colt think he was being defiant. He clearly didn’t like the way Colt had analyzed the situation, and he didn’t seem too keen on going with Colt into town.

“They say that you’re one of the greatest bounty hunters of all time,” Marcus finally spoke up. He scoffed as he said the words. “But after spending the past week and a half with you, I can’t say I understand why.”

“I’ve never claimed to be one of the best of anything,” Colt said, shrugging the insult off with a physical shrug of his shoulders. “The only thing I’ve claimed to be is a good shot. I’ve also got a reliable record of bringing in the men I choose to hunt, though I’m not going to be bold enough to say that I’m the best of anything.”

“The whole reason I asked to join you is because I’ve been under the impression that you’re going to get results,” Marcus shot back. “I know I’m younger than you—shoot, I’m barely nineteen—but even I have more sense than to see issues in information that was so plainly given to us.”

“What are you saying?” Colt asked.

“I’m saying we should go to Texas,” Marcus said, his voice filled with resolution. “I’ve been hunting Moses Beesley for three years, and I won’t let him slip through my fingers now because you have some wild idea that those men lied to us.”

“If you want to go to Texas, go to Texas,” Colt said with a nod toward the south. “Take this road and turn to the left when it branches. That’ll take you right on to Houston in a day or two.”

“You’re not coming?”

“Why would I?”

“Because we’re going after Moses!” Marcus shot back, his impatience showing in his tone.

“No, if you go to Texas, you are not going after Moses Beesley,” Colt said with a shrug. “I’m not going to waste my time going all the way down to Houston only to be told he was never there.”

Marcus looked infuriated, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he shook his head and muttered under his breath before looking the other way. Colt realized they weren’t going to reach an agreement over the issue, but he wasn’t going to change his mind.

The younger man said he’d been after Moses for three years, and that was half the time Colt had spent on the hunt. He’d learned a lot about Moses in that time, and he wasn’t going to fall for yet another one of the outlaw’s many tricks.

“You’re welcome to join me going into St. James,” Colt said, keeping his tone as amicable as possible.

“No sir,” Marcus said with an adamant shake of his head. His breath came out in steamy puffs in the cool of the rain. “I’m going after Moses Beesley, and he’s in Texas.”

Without another word, Marcus spurred his horse forward, heading down the hill toward the road in front of them.

Colt, for his own part, remained right where he was. He wasn’t going to argue with Marcus, and there was little chance of him changing the other man’s mind even if he did. Though he didn’t love the idea of going after Moses alone, he also wasn’t put off by it, either.

He’d brought in dozens of dangerous men on his own. It was why he had the reputation he did. Even if he had never tried to convince anyone he was the best of anything, he knew his reputation spoke for him.

Marcus would learn once he got to Texas that he’d made a mistake, but by then it would be too late. Colt had every intention of arresting Moses right there in St. James, and he’d take him straight into custody once he did.

Alone once again, Colt appreciated the rain as it fell steadily over him and his horse. After taking a deep breath of the fresh, cool air, he spurred his horse forward as well. He could feel in his bones that Moses Beesley was in the small town just ahead of him, and he wasn’t going to move on until he’d seen the truth with his own eyes.

There was only a single saloon in town, with only a single hotel and bed and breakfast besides. Moses didn’t have many places to hide. Colt knew it was most likely that the outlaw wasn’t even intentionally hiding at all.

Moses likely thought any bounty hunter who was after him would fall for the ruse he’d paid those men on the road to enact. But then, Moses likely hadn’t planned on someone like Colt coming for him, either.

Little did he know, Colt would flush him out.

Chapter Two

“Stay here. With any luck, this will be brief,” Colt said as he tied his horse to the hitching post outside the saloon.

He had ridden into St. James as inconspicuously as possible, slowing his horse from a trot to a walk before he reached the edge of town. Though the rain continued to fall steadily, quite a few people were still milling about the streets.

The women carried umbrellas, but most of the men relied on their hats to keep them dry as they walked along the boardwalks. The mud near the sides of the streets was soft and pooling with water, but most of the streets were so packed from travel that water ran over the road and puddled at the sides.

Still, the horses threw up mud with each step, and wagons were even worse. The humidity caused the odor of wet horses to fill the air, but Colt quickly adapted to the smell. It was always a stark contrast coming from out of town, where the air felt cleaner, but he didn’t much mind.

He’d walked into the hotel when he’d first arrived. However, the man behind the counter didn’t seem to want to talk to him about much of anything.

“I can check you into a room, sir,” the clerk said. “But I really can’t offer you a lot of information on the other guests who are here.”

“That’s fine,” Colt said. “I’m not looking for a room. Like I said, I’m on the hunt for an outlaw, and I have reason to believe he’s here in St. James.”

“Are you a marshal?” the clerk asked.

“I’m a bounty hunter.”

“Then I can’t help you,” the clerk replied, closing the ledger on the counter in front of him with a thud. “If you were working for the law, that’s one thing, but as you aren’t, I can’t give you anything.”

“I work with the law,” Colt replied simply. “If this dangerous man is here, then I’ll arrest him and take him into custody. He’ll go right to law enforcement.”

“Sir, I don’t know you from anyone else on the street,” the clerk said. “I don’t know if you’re really a bounty hunter, or if the person you say is here is really here. Or if the person you think is an outlaw is really an outlaw, for that matter. Like I said already, if you worked for the law, this would be different, but you don’t, so this conversation is over.”

To further his point, the clerk tucked the ledger under his arm and walked away from the counter, disappearing into a room with a half-glass door.

Colt, for his own part, remained where he stood. He dripped water onto the dry floor, and he’d left muddy prints from the door to the counter. He was annoyed by the response from the clerk, but times were changing.

More businessmen were concerned with the privacy of their guests than they were helping a bounty hunter, and it frustrated him. In Colt’s mind, it would be far better for the rest of the guests if a dangerous man were taken out of the hotel. But then, he didn’t know for sure that Moses had even tried to stay in one of the rooms.

The clerk had refused to offer information.

Colt stood for a few minutes, hoping his persistence would pay off. It quickly became clear to him, however, that the clerk wasn’t going to come back to the counter until he was gone. So, he headed to the saloon.

He remained on foot, walking his horse from the hotel over to the rowdy business. He could hear the piano playing, accompanied by two fiddles. The sweet voice of a saloon girl filled the air, reminding Colt of the love of his life.

Belinda Victor, a beautiful saloon girl back home, was also a singer. To Colt, she sounded like an angel who had stepped down from heaven. And from the way other men would come to hear her, he felt he wasn’t the only one who thought so.

Colt had felt like the luckiest man in the world the day he proposed to her. He’d been so nervous, even more nervous than he had been the day he’d asked to court her. Even though he knew how much she loved him, and he loved her, he couldn’t say for sure whether she would accept his proposal.

She was a beautiful young woman, twenty-three years old. Her skin was ebony black, her hair just as dark. Her eyes were brown and warm, sparkling with life.

Colt knew their union brought questions in the town. Even with the Civil War long over and slavery illegal, it was still very unusual for a white man to marry a Black woman. There were gossips in town who’d spoken of their coming marriage, but Colt had ignored them and strongly encouraged his bride to do the same.

“Don’t worry about what anyone else thinks,” he’d tell her every time she brought it up. “They aren’t us, and they aren’t going to be part of our marriage. It’s about you and me, and that’s it.”

“It’s just hard sometimes,” she’d said with a tear running down her cheek. “I just want a better life for me and my family. I try to help where I can with money, but I just wish I could make more. And I wish you weren’t always out working such a dangerous job, too.”

Colt understood her point. After all, she was a saloon girl working in a small town, living her generally safe and secure life. He, on the other hand, was out on the trail, trying to hunt down one dangerous outlaw after the next. Every time he left, there was no promise that he would be back.

Colt knew how hard that was on his bride-to-be, so he hadn’t known whether she would actually accept his proposal when he’d gotten down on his knee and asked.

The pair had been engaged for three months, and in another three months, they would be wed. Belinda wanted a beautiful summer wedding, with her emerald-green Sunday Best dress, and a cake she would make herself. Her parents, brother, and sister would be there, and friends she’d made from working in the saloon.

Colt wouldn’t have anyone standing for him. He’d been orphaned when he was fourteen, and he had no siblings. With all the time he spent traveling, he didn’t have much for friends, either. He was on friendly terms with several of the people who were close to his bride, but he’d leave it up to her who she wanted to have with her on her special day.

He pushed thoughts of his fiancée out of his mind as he finished securing his horse to the rail outside the saloon. It wasn’t likely Moses was going to come with him quietly or peacefully, and he had to be sharp.

When he thought about his bride, he was distracted. He just wanted to be home with her, so he couldn’t let himself think about her for the moment.

Walking through the door of the saloon, Colt looked from left to right. He was surprised by the interior of the building. It was a lot bigger than it had appeared to be from the outside, and he realized that was because it went farther back from the street rather than stretch along the street like many of the other businesses did.

Of course, there was no display window for the saloon, so it would make sense that it wasn’t as flashy from the street.

Several of the patrons turned to look at him when he stepped inside, but the lively music kept playing, and the woman who stood on the stage kept singing. She was soon joined by another of the saloon girls, and together, they started the chorus of the song.

The bar was lined with men laughing and talking, and the tables scattered about the room were filled with men playing cards. Doorways lined the back of the room, but only one was open. It led to the kitchen, with more people bustling about inside.

A staircase ascended to the upper level of the saloon, and from the way the lights flickered from the hanging chandelier, Colt could guess what kind of activities were taking place in the rooms above his head. He stepped into the saloon, looking from face to face as he headed for the bar.

He had long since learned the art of being subtle. He scanned faces, looking for Moses. Most of the faces he saw were focused on the cards in front of them, but as he didn’t make a show of looking at anyone in particular, he didn’t draw any attention to himself.

At the bar, he set down several dollar bills.

“Looking for a good time?” the bartender asked when he saw the money. “Or are you looking to drink the afternoon away?”

“I’m looking for information,” Colt said in reply. “And I was hoping this would be enough to get me some.”

“What kind of information?”

“I’m looking for a man by the name of Moses Beesley,” Colt said. “And I know he’s here.”

Of course, he didn’t know for sure that the other man was in the saloon, but he’d learned by making such statements, he was far more likely to get the sort of information he wanted.

“Yeah?” the bartender asked.

“Get me a whiskey,” Colt said. “And tell me where he is.”

“He’s playing cards,” the bartender replied, putting a glass on the counter before filling it with the amber liquid. “He spent the majority of the morning out here, but moved back to one of the private rooms this afternoon.”

“What’s back there?” Colt asked. “A soiled dove?”

“No,” the bartender said. When he didn’t add any further information, Colt pulled out two more bills and placed them on the counter.

“You help me with this,” he said, “and I’ll make it worth your time.”

“He’s in the back room waiting for someone to come challenge him,” the bartender said, grabbing the money off the counter. “He’s beat most of the men out here, but he made it clear before he went back there if there’s anyone who wants to play another hand, he’s ready to take the bet.”

“How many have taken him up on that offer?”

“So far, none,” the bartender said with a shrug. “I don’t know if you’ve seen him play, but he’s not easy to beat.”

“He’s a cheater.”

“Probably so.” The man shrugged. “That’s not my business. All I know is that he went back there with the open invitation for a game of cards. The dealer’s in there, of course, but so far no one else has gone in. You can go back if you’d like, but I don’t know how far you’re going to get without more men playing.”

“I’ve played plenty a hand with just two people,” Colt replied, and once again, the bartender shrugged. Colt added, “With a dealer in the room, you know there’s a lot we can do. Makes me wonder if there’s some other reason you don’t want me to go into that room.”

He looked at the bartender with a hard gaze, trying to get the man to say whether he knew if Beesley was already on the fight, or whether the other man was simply being arrogant in his winnings and his status in the saloon.

The bartender, however, clearly didn’t wish to get involved.

“All I’m doing is telling you what I’ve seen,” he said. “From what I know, anyone is going to make more money walking away from a game with four men than they are two. You can challenge him all you want, but I can’t tell you whether he’s going to even entertain the idea of having a game with you if it’s only you.”

Perhaps the man knew Colt was a bounty hunter. After all, Colt did have quite the reputation. He didn’t consider himself to be famous by any means, but he wasn’t surprised when someone knew who he was.

“I don’t think that’ll be difficult,” Colt said. “How much will it cost me to make sure no one else comes in?”

The bartender raised his eyebrows.

“I have personal reasons to deal with this man,” Colt added. “And I’d like to tend to our affairs without interference.”

“Why don’t you make an offer, and I’ll see what I can do,” the bartender said with a smirk.

Colt grabbed a few more bills and set them on the counter. Then he looked back up into the bartender’s face. “I can’t help but think that’ll do it.”

The other man hesitated, and Colt knew he was debating whether to give him the right room and prevent anyone else from going in, or if he was going to ask for more money. He knew he had the upper hand in that he could provide Colt with what he wanted. On the other hand, he could try to get more money out of Colt before helping him.

If he pressed too hard, however, Colt could well put the money back in his pocket and walk away. Colt kept the same, even gaze as he held the bartender’s eye contact. He didn’t flinch, waiting for the bartender to react.

Then the man grabbed the money off the counter and motioned to one of the doors.

“He’s in there,” the man said. “I’ll make sure you’ve got twenty minutes to yourself, but that’s all I can promise. I’ve got a job to do, and it doesn’t include watching you work out your issues with someone else.”

“Much obliged,” Colt said with a nod.

He threw the rest of the whiskey back in a single gulp before setting the glass on the counter with a clunk.

He strode to the door the bartender had indicated. His heart rate increased, and he had to force his breath to steady. For a brief moment, he wished he had convinced Marcus to come with him, though he quickly dismissed that thought from his mind.

The other bounty hunter had abandoned him, and he didn’t deserve any of the bounty that would come from taking Moses into custody. At the same time, it was the closest Colt had been to Moses in months, years even. He knew what a dangerous man Moses was, and it would be more difficult trying to take Moses into custody on his own.

As his hand closed on the doorknob, however, Colt didn’t hesitate. He had a job to do, and Moses was just inside that room.

It was time to make the arrest and take the dangerous man into custody. And he would do it violently, if necessary.

Chapter Three

“Hit me,” Moses said to the dealer.

The man tossed down another card, and Moses swore loudly. He then laughed and ran his hand over the back of his head. “Hit me again, why don’t you? Why the hell not?”

“It’s your money,” the dealer said with a shrug. Moses put down several more bills, and Colt started his approach. Neither of the men heard him walk into the room, but when he took a step further inside, the dealer looked up from what he was doing.

Colt pulled his pistol out of its holster as he took another deliberate step closer. Moses, for his own part, turned in his chair and looked back at Colt. His eyes went from Colt’s face to his gun and back to his face, and he smiled.

“Is this another challenger?” he asked. “Did you talk to the boys out in the other room? Did any of them tell you I’m undefeated?”

“I’m not here to play cards with you, Beesley,” Colt said sternly. “I know who you are, and I know all the crimes you’re accused of committing. I’m here to take you into custody.”

“If you’ll excuse me,” the dealer said as he took a step back.

“Hands up!” Colt barked, pointing the gun at him.

“I’m not part of this,” the dealer shot back. The man put his hands in the air, but he didn’t look afraid. He looked angry. Of course, Colt could appreciate the idea that the man dealt with situations like that one more than he cared to, but he still didn’t trust anyone. He wouldn’t give the man the chance to get a weapon and try to defend Moses.

Not when he finally had the man in the same room, just a few feet ahead of him.

“Then get out of here, now!” Colt barked. “Get back there and shut that door behind you!”

He indicated with his own gun the door at the side of the room, taking three steps to the side himself to give the dealer plenty of berth in the process. He looked back to Moses, who had simply gone back to shuffling the deck of cards in front of him. Colt wasn’t surprised over how unbothered the other man seemed to be.

Moses had been an outlaw for twenty years, and he was good at the things he did. Colt wouldn’t at all have been surprised to hear that there were bounty hunters who had died once they had finally caught up with Moses, and he knew for a fact that Moses was responsible for the deaths of five different US Marshals.

It wasn’t hard to imagine that meeting with either a bounty hunter or marshal was just another inconvenience in Moses’s world.

The door closed behind the dealer, and Colt immediately turned his attention back to Moses himself.

“Why don’t you put that gun down,” the outlaw asked, “and play a game of cards with me?”

“I’m not in the mood to play cards,” Colt replied. “I’ve been after you a long time, Beesley, and I’m not going to waste any more of that time taking you into custody.”

“Oh, come now, what’s one more game?” the outlaw asked. “You know as well as I do that I’m going to hang for my crimes. I might not get another chance to play another game.”

“There’s cards in prison,” Colt said.

“But who is to say they’re going to let me around anyone else?” Moses asked. “With my charges, I’m going to be locked up tight. I don’t think any of the guards are going to be too keen on playing with me.”

“I don’t care one way or the other whether they do,” Colt shot back. “Put your hands in the air, Beesley, or I’m going to shoot you in the back of the head and collect on your dead body.”