Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The braying of the preacher outside was loud enough to draw Judge Patterson to the window. He glanced down at the crowd gathered around the makeshift pulpit on the back of the wagon out in front of the jail.
Frank Stubbs was a drunken lout and boor, but at least he contained his antics largely to the saloons and brothels. This loudmouth brother of his, however, was starting to get under the judge’s skin. It was high time for him to be moving on.
Patterson looked over and found Elijah Starr had positioned himself at the next window of the office and was also looking out at the commotion. His new Director of Rail Construction had returned from Denver late yesterday.
“This Amos Stubbs fellow can draw a crowd,” Starr said. “Even in the cold.”
“I believe there are twice as many people listening to him today.”
The judge had wanted to meet with Starr last night, but the ladies of the Event Planning Committee for the Christmas Gala wouldn’t be put off. Unfortunately, the prettiest flower in that particular bouquet, Doc Burnett’s daughter, had been absent from the dinner meeting.
“He’s starting earlier than usual today,” the judge said. “Has the transaction been completed regarding the property he inherited from his brother?”
“The deal is done.”
“At the price I wanted?”
Starr nodded, still watching the street. Something had caught his eye. “It’s all done just as you wanted. He’s planning to get back on the road right after Jordan’s hanging.”
Patterson tried to see what Starr was so interested in. The answer was what he’d expected. A tall rider in an elk skin coat was coming slowly down Main Street.
About time. It had been two days since they spoke. Marlowe was taking his time. Another annoyance, but perhaps the gunman needed the extra day to think everything through before accepting the offer.
“When is it going to be, Judge? The hanging?”
Patterson looked across at his man. Starr had taken a step back from the window, but his attention was entirely focused on the street—watching Marlowe’s every move.
The hate that existed between father and son was unlike anything the judge had seen between blood relatives.
He couldn’t understand it. They both had such formidable talents.
The son had lightning speed and accuracy as a gunman, along with peerless tracking skills.
The father had the ability to enact a plan and he was ruthless in seeing it through.
Together, those two men would be a force to be reckoned with.
He stifled a sigh. He’d tried, but Marlowe would have none of it. It had been an interesting and productive conversation, nonetheless. If the gunman didn’t want to work for him, the judge didn’t need Marlowe’s righteous attitude around once their plans firmed up and construction started.
Looking out at the gunslinger, the judge recalled the accusations Marlowe had made.
“Starr, do you know anything about a thousand head of cattle being stolen around Pueblo?”
“I’m not in that business, Judge. Cattle doesn’t interest me…unless it’s sitting on a plate in front of me at supper.”
That was not really an answer, Patterson thought. “How about a fire at Marlowe’s ranch this past week?”
“Fire?” Starr turned to him, his one eye piercing. “I wasn’t in town. I was in Denver conducting your business.”
“You weren’t in town when your gunmen tried to shoot me on Main Street this past summer.”
A deadly silence stretched between them, and Patterson thought about this man he’d hired. He had that lean and hungry look that Julius Caesar warned about. Such men are dangerous.
He glanced over at his two guards, standing inattentively by the door. Moments like this made Patterson think that perhaps he’d acted too quickly and recklessly in coming to terms with Starr.
“I had nothing to do with any fire. Caleb is not worth my time.”
Patterson turned his attention back to the street. Marlowe had dismounted in front of the jail, and the preacher was directing verbal attacks at him.
“I want you to leave him alone,” he told Starr.
“Caleb could ruin our plans. He’s dangerous.”
He fixed his gaze on the other man. “So are you.”
A smile pulled at Starr’s thin lips, but it never reached his eyes. “But I work for you.”
“So you say,” Patterson replied, not trusting a single thing Starr had said or done for him so far. “And I’m telling you to leave him be.”
“Whatever you say, Judge.”
“And for your information, Marlowe is selling his ranch to me. He’s leaving town.”
“Same old coward, that boy of mine.” Starr snorted. “Leaving his partner to hang.”
“No. I’m letting Henry Jordan walk as soon as they sign the papers.”