One Step Closer to Justice (Preview)

Chapter One

Tess and Bess Wynquest stood with their dresses knee-deep in water. Their mother had told them to do the washing, and the family had about three loads. The baskets were sitting on the bank of the creek but the sisters were in the water, splashing one another and laughing.

Tess bent down and tossed some water at her sister, a tall, attractive brunette with a ready smile. Bess countered with a kick of her own, splattering her sister’s dress with water and leaving a line of damp spots across the front and the back when Tess turned around.

The Wynquests—at least, John and Rose Wynquest—had traveled to Colorado twenty-two years before, seeking their fortune. The preceding years hadn’t made them rich, but they earned a fine income and their fame had gotten bigger as the years passed.

When they’d gotten started, it was with a forty-acre farm—all they could handle at time. When Bart, the first and only son of the Wynquests, was born, the farm grew to sixty acres, then twenty more were added when Bart marked his first birthday. In a year, when Tess was born, another thirty acres was purchased, and Bess celebrated her first year of life with another two acres belonging to the Wynquest family.

Now, John and Rose Wynquest actually had money in the bank and new furniture this year. Rose had been wanted fine furniture for almost as long as they’d had the house. She loved the blue sofa and the oak desk that she used for bills, and a second oak desk John used for other business. The magnificent wood table used for dinners and on holidays delighted her.

She was also delighted that her two daughters had two gentlemen callers that she thought a great deal of. Tom Garth was a cowhand on Judge Braxton Williams’ ranch. Williams was a former Civil War major—on the Southern side—who’d ventured out West and made good. His ranch was close to five-hundred acres.

He was firm boss, but a fair one. Any man who could work for him was a good man. If a man couldn’t do a good job with integrity, Judge Williams didn’t want that man on his ranch. The fact that Tom had worked for the ranch for three years said a lot about him.

Devon Thomson was a fine, upstanding young man who worked out of the sun. He was vice-president of the local Cattleman’s Bank and he was quite likeable. He was tall and good-looking and seemingly always ready to help, not just bank customers but everyone.

Rose trusted that the futures of her two daughters was assured. She was less sure about her son.

Ranch life did not seem to satisfy Bart. He didn’t pretend to like it, and he seemed more frustrated every day. Rose feared the life of an outlaw was appealing to her son. She shuddered when she visualized Bart, gun in hand, riding down the road in a gallop, firing his pistol and riding the outlaw trail.

He wasn’t a friendly man. He would say a few words to people and then end the conversation. He also didn’t get along with his sisters, a fact that aggrieved Rose. She wanted all her children to get along. She wanted to see the love flow between her offspring. But she knew her two daughters basically stayed away from their brother, and Bart kept away from them.

At times, her son also disappeared from the ranch when there was work to do. It has a trait that was becoming increasing annoying to her, and to her husband.

She was distracted from her thoughts by a glance at her daughters, still frolicking in the creek when they should be working. She gave a half-grin with an exasperated sigh and walked toward the waters.

Tess stood with her back to her mother and tossed some more water toward her sister. Bess saw Rose striding into the water and giggled.

“Do you two plan on doing any work today, or do you intend to just play?” Rose yelled.

Tess jumped up and turned around. “Oh! Mom! Er… we were just playing.”

“Yes, I see that, and you are supposed to be working. We would like to get the laundry done by this afternoon, not next Tuesday.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She walked back out of the creek and headed back to the house. The two girls smiled.

“Well, at least that’s one good thing. It’s a hot day, but we get to work in the cool water,” Bess said. She looked around. “Where is our lazy brother? Have you seen him today? Is he disappearing again?”

“He’d better watch that. Both Mom and Dad are getting a little sick of it. Dad is about to lay down the law on Bart. He’s not going to put up with much more of this.”

Bess shook her head. “Bart’s getting lazy. He’s always trying to get out of work. And when he does do something, it’s second-rate. He’s going to town more and more, and I don’t like who he’s running around with.”

“Yes, well, we say that, but Momma got on us for playing when we should be working.”

“We do that occasionally, but Bart is doing it more and more. Mom and Dad didn’t build up this place just to let it go to seed because Bart is lazy. Who does he think will do the work when Mom and Dad are gone?”  She smiled. “Hey, we got two fellas who can do good work and look like they have bright careers ahead of them. Fine-looking fellas, too. We won’t have to encourage either one of them to put in a good day’s work. They do that all by themselves. And when you get hitched, Tom knows how to run a ranch. He’s been learning ranch skills for three years. I’m sure he’s a better ranch hand than Bart is. He could make the ranch better. Under Bart, it will probably go downhill.”

“Well, let’s hope he’ll straighten out. Not that I’m missing him being around. It’s gotten to the point where I really don’t like seeing him around. When he’s here, the day just becomes a hassle and we argue more than anything else. We’ve sort of drawn apart, haven’t we?”

“It’s not our fault. We didn’t leave him, he left us. He goes into town and every time he does, he leaves a little of himself behind when comes back out.”

“Yes,” Bess agreed. “I’ve noticed that. Think Mama has, too. And it worries her, you can see it in her face.”

Tess shook her head. “Well, I’m sorry about the path Bart is taking, but it’s not our fault and it’s not the fault of Mom and Dad, either. They raised us right. We were in church every Sunday, or almost every Sunday. They taught us the Good Book. All three of us kids were treated the same.”

Bess nodded. “That’s right. I don’t why Bart turned out like this. It’s like he’s taken a different curve in the road and is heading the wrong way.”

“We just have to pray for him,” Tess suggested.

Chapter Two

Jim Benson, agent for Wells Fargo, halted his horse and lifted his canteen from his saddlehorn. Most of his assignments from his main office in Yuma City were direct and straightforward, and he usually agreed with them. For that matter, he had agreed with them 99 percent of the time. This particular job was the one percent. He understood what the company wanted, but he didn’t think the vice-president had thought this assignment out.

The mission was a long shot, the longest of long shots. It was true, his official title was investigator—not gunman or security guard—and this job would have him investigating, but there were no clues…

He swallowed another sip of the water and looked toward Canon City. He could see the outlines of the buildings. It was a fair-sized town, and a rather nice one from all he’d heard about it. He knew of the sheriff and the man had a solid reputation as a good lawman. But the sheriff might laugh in his face.

It was a sunny, clear day. The afternoon sun was hot; the clouds had fled the city limits and left the blazing sun surrounded by blue sky. Jim pulled out a pack of tobacco from his pocket and spread some out on cigarette papers. He rolled it up and stuck it in his mouth, then flicked a match. He touched the flame to the tobacco and puffed out smoke.

His mother had always taught him to look on the good side of things. And once he stopped to think about it, there was a good side to this. First, he’d had outlaws shoot at him at times, and the chance that would happen in this lastest case was slim to none. He would likely not be in a lot of danger. He’d probably be in more danger at a church social or Sunday School picnic. For that matter, he could probably do nothing for three weeks or so and tell the vice-president he hadn’t found anything.

Plus, he was on an expense account. So, he could find the best restaurant in the hotel and make it his permanent place for lunch and dinner. He nodded. Perhaps the assignment wasn’t too bad, after all.  The vice-president no doubt knew there was little chance of success, but Wells Fargo was going to take that chance. Oh well, he could take what was basically three weeks off. He’d decided he wanted to go into management. He’d get better pay, and then he would be the guy to give out of these silly assignments.

He took another puff of the cigarette. He wasn’t even sure where he would begin on this job. The other ones were cut and dried: find Tombstone Jack, outlaw and bank robber. So, he’d begin by looking at all the places Mr. Jack frequented. Or he’d be asked to guard a stagecoach or guard the funds on a train. Simple enough.

But this time, Wells Fargo wanted him to find a man who went by the name of Adam Westgate. Benson figured it was fake name and that the man wasn’t using it now, so it would do little good to ask folks if they’d heard about a man with such a name. Besides, the outlaw’s alleged crime was ten years old. Which meant there were few clues left.

He gave a sour grin, then almost chuckled. He didn’t write the rules. He just followed them. If the company wanted to give him a month’s vacation on their pay, he would take it.

He had some admiration for Adam, or whatever his name was. Nearly ten years ago, Adam Westgate—a tall, black-haired man dressed as a businessman or gambler who frequented high-class casinos—had slipped onto a Western Pacific carrying more than ten thousand dollars in Wells Fargo money. He hadn’t shot anyone or wounded anyone, or caused any type of disturbance whatsoever.  Well, with the exception of a train guard, who was knocked unconscious for about fifteen minutes. Then he’d woken up with little fanfare and only a slight headache.

No one knew how he’d gotten off the train or where he’d gone. The best guess of Well Fargo investigators was that the robber had jumped off when the Western Pacific rounded the curve at a place called Logan’s Bend, tucked away in the mountains and trees. They assumed Mr. Westgate had meticulously planned out the robbery. The money had been in a safe on the train. Westgate had broken open the safe and then jumped out of the train, with no one the wiser. Wells Fargo figured Mr. Westgate had brought up his horse the day before. There was a stream close to the railroad. He had likely left plenty of food for the animal to eat, in addition to the rich cover of grass on the ground and the trees which were also a food supply. After cracking the safe, he leaped from the train, jumped on his horse and rode to… nowhere. There had not been a single clue about the man’s whereabout in ten years.

Now, a decade later, Wells Fargo wanted another go at finding him. After all, the man did have between ten and fifteen thousand dollars of the company’s money. Getting that much money stolen can cause a significant dip in the profit sheets. So, three planners at Wells Fargo had gone over the lack of clues again and wondered if it was possible to find him. They figured, unlike other outlaws who tend to keep robbing stagecoaches and trains, Westgate had never robbed anything else. He’d taken his money and… invested, perhaps, or bought a ranch and changed ‘professions.’ The only clue investigators had, after intently interviewing all of the passengers on the train, was that the man who called himself Westgate had told other passengers that he liked Colorado, especially eastern Colorado, and would like to have a home there. Another gentleman thought he heard the suspected robber mention the name of the restaurant in the town. The Blue Mountain Valley.

It wasn’t much to go on, but it was something. To the Wells Fargo investigators, the robber knew something about Canon City. That was a start. Jim was told to find people who came to the town about a decade ago and find out what happened to them. Did any of them have money? If so, how did they get that money? Would they say? And how did they invest that money? Did they multiply funds, or did they lose it? With fifteen thousand dollars at stake, the company was willing to spend a little time on the case.

Jim ground the cigarette out on the ground and climbed onto his horse. He wondered how he would frame the conversations. “Mr. Smith, do you know of anyone who came into town rich? Think he might have stolen that money from a railroad? No reason, just wondering.”

He would have to start with men who had been in the city a long time. A newspaper editor might be the place to start, especially if he had been in the town for a while. The newspaper’s name was the Shinbone Spur, which was a bit catchy. Maybe the editor could give him a few tips. He could also, of course, make it worth the editor’s while. Wells Fargo offered 15 percent of any reward money to bounty hunters or simply tipsters whose information led to an arrest. Which was a lot of money, especially for a newspaper editor or a cowhand or a worker in a grocery story or clothing store. Could be a minor gold rush of sorts in Canon City.

We will have to see what happens, he thought.

Sheriff Ray Tillis rode into town, looking for the sheriff’s office. He found it in the middle of several office buildings along the main street. He had heard good things about Sheriff Jesse Turner. Turner, a solid veteran, was a decent, honorable man, a man who held the respect and awe of the town.

He climbed down from his mount and walked toward the sheriff’s office. He was a tall man, who usually smoked a cigarette. He was from Boulder, and carried the same type of reputation there as Turner did in Canon City.

He smiled as he walked in. Turner was reading a newspaper, sitting with a coffee cup on his desk. He looked up when he heard Willis enter. He wasn’t often visited by a sheriff and, when he was, he tried to make the man feel welcome.

Tillis stuck out his hand. “Sheriff Turner, I’m Ray Tillis, down from Boulder.”

“Sheriff Tillis, I’m glad to meet you. I’ve heard a lot of good things about you,” Turner said.

“Thank you. But I can think of a lot of bad guys saying bad things about me, too.”

“Sit down, like a cup of coffee?”

“No, no right now.”

“So, what can I do for you?”

Tillis eased down in a chair. “Sheriff, about two weeks ago, we had a bank robbery up at the Copper City Bank in Boulder. Four guys ran in, drew their weapons and tried to rob the bank. But one got careless. One outlaw fired and, thank goodness, missed. But he shot a lot of others. When the bullets stopped firing, two men were injured, one badly. They got away but the man—or rather, boy—is right now of more interest to me.”

“Go ahead.”

“This is kind of disturbing. The gang wanted to use a young boy in their gang, not have the man as a willing accomplice, you understand, but they were using the boy as a ploy. The boy was a friend of the bank president. To be frank, I don’t quite know the exact reason why they made him go with them. Maybe they figure the men inside wouldn’t be quick to draw if a boy was with the gang. Maybe they wanted to boy outside or maybe it would just cause hesitation with the customers and with the posse.”

“You sure the boy didn’t go along willingly?”

“We talked to him after the robbery was over. We’re certain it was some type of ploy by the robbers. That’s why I’m here—I don’t want outlaws like that to get away. Using children in your crimes is worse than most. I want to get them and put them into prison. Came down here because we heard a rumor that the gang was coming down this year.”

“Shouldn’t even try scum like that. Just catch them and hang them, or shut them away in prison for twenty years. No need to waste time on a trial.”

“You seen anything like this or heard anything about it?” Tillis asked.

“Not a thing. I’m glad we have the old-fashioned robberies. The criminals come in, rob the bank, then ride away and don’t come back. And there’s no sign of children.”

“Hope it stays that way.”

“Where do they get the kids?”

“Up in Boulder, they waylaid a child. He was only about fourteen years old. Just drug him along when they attacked the bank.”

Sheriff Turner shook his head. “I must admit, I hadn’t heard of this twist before. I’ve seen outlaws bring a man with them who had some connection to the crime, he know the combination of the vault or something, but no children. I’m guessing those are mean outlaws, but I’m not prepared to say how smart they are. I don’t see how that is much of an advantage.”

“Neither do—”

A crack of a gun sounded from the street. Both Turner and Tillis jumped up and looked the sound of the shot.

“This way,” Turner said, as he ran for the door. Outside, he headed toward the bank, gun in hand.

Tillis followed his fellow sheriff. Men and women scrambled off as they saw the two men speeding their way. A deputy chased after them. The owner of the hardware store, a tall man with a barrel chest and deep black eyes, ran from his store with a shotgun. Two men fled from the bank, shooting as they went. The lawmen leaped up on their mounts and fired several shots at the escaping criminals.

“Hold it!” Turner yelled.

One robber fired back. The hardware store owner found a clear shot, raised the shotgun and fired. One man was blown off his horse. He bounced on the ground and tried to get up, but his legs couldn’t hold him. Though he tried to keep his feet steady, they seemed clumsy and heavy. His shoes didn’t seem able to lift from the ground. Two other men ran out and then a smaller individual came, but the latter seemed to be dazed and confused.

The first two men leaped on their horses and spurred them on. Turner tried to aim but there was confusion and chaos as the horses neighed and jumped and he couldn’t get a clear shot. A second man fired at Tillis, but Tillis returned fire and a bullet plunked into the man’s chest. The first man roared away, ignoring his partner. The smaller looked confused and disoriented, but he did manage to climb onto his horse. 

He was about to speed away when Sheriff Turner jumped onto a hitching post and launched himself at the third rider. The sheriff slammed into the outlaw and tackled him, spilling him onto the ground. He was surprised at how light the man was as he grabbed him out of the street and back toward the jail.

“Neville, get a posse organized. I’m going to put him in jail, then we’ll go after the other two.”

“How about this one?” Tillis was bent down on the ground, next to the second outlaw. He wasn’t moving. A huge splash of red showed on his shirt.

“This one isn’t going anywhere. The only place he’s be heading to is a cemetery and a cheap grave.”

“Good, that leaves just us,” Turner said.

Sheriff Turner raced to the jail. He slammed the small outlaw into the cell and ran toward his horse. “Don’t go away,” he called back. “And I don’t think you will.”

He ran out, mounted up, and raced toward the road.

Chapter Three

Two hours later, Turner and Tillis came back empty-handed. The outlaws had given them the slip. Still, one was dead and one was captured, so that wasn’t a bad day, Turner thought. And he would find the other two outlaws soon.

The two sheriffs walked back into the jail and opened the jail door. The outlaw lowered his hat so his face wouldn’t be seen.

“This is kind of a scrawny one. He doesn’t look too big.”

Sheriff Turner opened the cell and he and Sheriff Turner eased inside.

“Take your hat off, boy,” Sheriff Turner ordered.

When the ‘boy’ did, the sheriff stared at the inmate. He gulped and his eyes widened. With the hat removed, what flowed from beneath it was golden, wavy hair. The eyes and features were not male, either—they were decidedly female.

“Think I was just talking about a particular type of robber. We’ve just another like the one I had up in Boulder,” Tillis said. “What are they? Moving down the street?”

“May be.” He looked at the girl and was astonished at how lovely she was. Lovely but frightened. He could tell that. The eyes were scared. Her hands trembled and shook, and she breathed shallowly.

“What’s your name?” Turner asked her.

“Amilee Jode. Me and my folks have a place about five miles from town. I’m sorry about all those but I didn’t see… what else I couldn’t have done.”

“Why don’t you tell me how this happened?”

“The bank manager, he only lives about a mile away from us. We talk to him occasionally. He drives to town every day, and every once in a while he give us a ride to school. I talk with him at times. The outlaws, they thought we knew him well, and could help with the bank robbery. Thought we might know some information that would be useful. We didn’t. The robbers wanted my brother. But he’s younger and I was scared for him. I said I would do it. They turned me down at first but later changed their minds. I had to do it or they would have taken Chip. That’s my brother.”

“What did the two outlaws call themselves?”

“The leader, Blackjack, was killed. That’s all I know. The second man was called Curly Bill, although the guy ain’t much curly. He’s losing his hair on his head, for that matter.”

Turner looked at his fellow sheriff. “Did we find out our much the two got?”

“Not down to a precise count. I don’t think it was much. That one outlaw was carrying a money bag when he got shot. Think a second bag slipped from an outlaw’s hand. Those two don’t see to be all that good in what they did.”

Turner nodded. “That’s fine with me. If we must have outlaws, let’s have incompetent ones.”

“Who were these two outlaws, ma’am?”

“They call themselves Wyatt and Ward Meeker. They’re brothers. Look a bit like each other, too. Can’t tell you much about that. Until a few days ago, I hadn’t seen hide or hair of them. Then they hit the ranch house. Everything came out of that.”

Turner shook his. “Who would be stupid enough to cast their lot in with those brothers?”

“Guess a lot of people are desperate,” Tillis said.

“But anyone should have a little common sense.”

“The prisons are full of people who don’t. Cemeteries are full of such people, too.” Turner turned back to the girl. “Miss, now that I think about it, I think I have seen you and your folks.”

Amilee nodded. “We don’t come in town often. This is a big county and our ranch is about thirty miles away. That’s a long ride. But once in a while we make it.”

“You strike me as a young woman who outlaws took advantage of. What they did was despicable. But you were still involved in a bank robbery where people injured. Thankfully, no one was killed, but there were several people wounded. I cannot set you free. You will have to remain here in jail while I check out your story. We are not set up to accommodate women, but we will do the best we can.”

Deputy Bud Harkin, one of Turner’s two deputies, gave an affectional glance at the girl. “There might be another way to do that, sheriff. Jane Longstreet has always helped us in the few times we’ve had women prisoners, and under these circumstances I’m sure she would help out again.”

“What do you mean?” Turner said.

“Mrs. Longstreet helps Pastor Seagull with the orphanage. They always need more help over there. There’s always something to do. Jane could ride herd on her while we allow her to help with the orphanage and help out around the church. Sure Judge Arledge would approve that, if needed.”

Turner thought about what his deputy had said. He nodded. “We were just talking about common sense, and I always thought you had a lot of that, Bud. I like that idea. I think, under the circumstances, the judge would be please to allow the young woman out. The pastor can always use the work. Bud, could you go over to the courthouse and see if the judge can come over here?”

“Sure will, sheriff.”

As the deputy almost ran out the door, Turner looked toward his colleague.  “I want to thank you for the help. Anytime we can take out two outlaws, it’s a good day.”

“So it is.”

“You staying around here long?”

Tillis nodded. “Might. Depends on how long it takes to track down those other two men. I don’t want for them to keep running.”

The door opened and a slender man in a dark coat walked in.

“Judge Arldege. Glad to see you.”

“You needed me, Sheriff.”

Turner nodded. “Sure did.” The sheriff explained the situation to the judge. “Since this jail isn’t really fit for a woman, I was wondering if we can let her out on her own recognizance or something like that.”

The judge nodded his head.  “Yes, we don’t have to leave a woman in here unless it’s absolutely necessary. And in this case, you’re telling me it’s not necessary.”

“Not at all, judge. I think this young woman was trapped in a situation not of her own making. She was doing this to keep her brother out of trouble.”

“Are you convinced her story is true? I’m sympathetic to her, but I have to be careful letting out a prisoner who participated in bank robbery. But if you tell me you believe her story, I can make the ruling.”

“I do believe her story. And if you’d like to double check, check with Mr. Tillis, here. He’s down from north Colorado with a story very much like this. A gang pulled a similar type of robbery.”

Tillis nodded to the judge. “Yes, your honor. I think she had to be in the robbery or a member of her family would have been killed.”

“Good enough. Okay, it’s a very quick hearing and I will write the order when I get back to the courtroom but as of now the young lady… wait, what’s her name?’

“Amilee Smith, your honor.”

“Thank you. Amilee Smith is cleared for release on her own recognizance and will help local folks at the local orphans’ home and will work with the local pastor. She is to keep in contact with the sheriffs here and is not to leave town.”

He slapped his hand on one of the books on the sheriff’s desk.

“So it is say declared on this day of… well, on whatever day it is, it is so declared and is officially legal.”

“Thank you, judge,” Turner said.

The judge tipped his hat as he left the office.

“That’s what I like,” Tillis said. “A judge who doesn’t waste time.”

“Judge Arledge has always had a reputation for moving right along. He doesn’t like to waste time or words.”

Tillis waved goodbye.

“Thanks again, friend,” Turner said.

Chapter Four

Benson unhitched his horse, Arizona, and walked him across the street to the motel. He walked in and the clerk behind the desk looked incredibly happy to see him.

“Going to be with us for a while?” the man wondered.

“I will be. The job I’m doing may take a while. But I’m on an expense account. I’ll take the best room in the house.”

The clerk nodded. “That would be number nine. It’s that last room on the floor but it’s larger than the other rooms. You got a little extra space.”

“Sounds good. How much are the rooms?”

“A dollar a day. You can add a dollar and eat your meals here. The cook here is real good and will make you some fine meals. You eat down the hall in what we call the dining room. Always tend to have some good conversations, if you want.”

Benson smiled. He lifted out his wallet. “Seven dollars for the week and seven dollars for meals.” He handed the cash to the clerk.

“Dining begins at six o’clock and we keep serving until eight.”

“Thank you.”

Benson took his bedroll up to his room, then walked Arizona down to the livery stable. He told the owner to provide the best food for the horse and to give him a weekly rubdown. He had a soft spot for children and horses. With his traveling, Tillis understood more than most men that in the West, a man is lost without his horse. Arizona had been the best one he ever had, a gold and white gelding.

As he walked back toward the hotel, he opened the door to the local newspaper office. The newspaper’s editor was inside sitting at his desk. When Tillis came in, the editor stood up and offered his hand.

“Bob Richards, editor of the Shinbone Spur,” he said.

“Hello, Mr. Richards. I’m Jim Benson, Wells Fargo agent.”

“What is a Wells Fargo agent doing here? Does the town have some great mystery to be solved? Sit down and tell me about it.”

Tillis eased into the chair in front of the editor’s desk.

“I don’t think there is a deep, dark mystery here, but the company does have me on assignment. I was wondering how long you’ve been here, Mr. Richards.”

“Call me Bob.  Close to about twenty-two years now. Been running the newspaper for almost seventeen years.”

“Well, I’m going to be open and honest. Two years ago, a man named Adam Westgate robbed a Western Pacific train filled with Wells Fargo money. Twenty-five thousand dollars was stolen. He fled the train and disappeared, and nothing has been seen or heard from him since. Wells Fargo people figured he has spent the last decade spending his money or increasing his money and keeping track of his interest payments.”

Richards nodded. “Must be a rather intelligent individual. Most outlaws spend their money and then go broke.”

“So, the executives wanted to look into any man who suddenly showed up new and showed up rich. If something like that happened, we’re wondering how the money was made or found or stole.”

“I see. So if you have been here for more than 20 years, perhaps you could recall any new people in town and can also recall if those new people showed up rich.”

“What you could do is buy an ad,” Richards suggested, laughing. “Let people know you’re interested in information. That would set the town abuzz.”

“To be honest, I thought of that, but that’s not the way I want to go. If I put an ad in the paper, the town would be abuzz, and everybody would be looking at me and making questions. I’d prefer to keep the investigation a bit more discreet, if possible. But there is a reward for the man.”

“Really?”

“Yes, any information that will be used to help recover the funds. There’s a ten-thousand-dollar reward. So it could be very profitable “

“Ten thousand dollars. That is a lot of money.”

“So, can you think of anyone who fits the bill,” Tillis said.

“Let me see…” He opened a drawer and pulled out a whisky bottle. Then he fished out a glass and placed it on his desk and slowly filled it. “Well, the first name that comes to mine is Ben Adair. He came here right about ten years ago.

“He did show up with a little bit of money. Was and is a very likeable chap. He bought a small ranch out north of town. As I recall, the owner was having some bad luck and he was ready to get out, and let it go for less money simply because he wanted to get out of Canon City. Then Ben bought another slice of land that increased his side by a third. He kept picking up pieces of property until he had gotten himself one of the biggest three property in the county.

“He’s a nice guy and he’s very shrewd. He has made some clever financial risks and they have paid off. Has two children now, two boys and a girl. I think Jodie is the youngest, she’s about seventeen. Her brothers, Clay and Clark, are nineteen and twenty-one. And that’s about it. He has lived a peaceful life since the time he came here. Signed up for the Cattlemen Association and has been of service on some of the civic communities in the area. I think most people in the region like Ben and agree he’s been a fair, honest man in dealing with other people around here.

“Some years ago, Nate Bumpers thought Ben had cheated him in a land deal, but don’t people didn’t see it that way. Ben drove a hard bargain, but this is cattle country. Everyone drives a hard bargain at here. Did Ben cheat in any way? No, I don’t think so. And he has done more than his share of good.

“About five years ago, a smaller rancher name John White got hit with some bad times. Got hit with disease that wiped out almost half his cows. White got hit with some sickness, too, as did one of his children, a hard-working boy named Emmitt. Everybody expected that John would go under and have to sell the ranch. But he didn’t, he hung on.

“People figured he was able to stay by the skin of his teeth. Turned out John was secretly given a loan by Ben, and at a very low interest fee. In two years, John had paid off the load and was back on his feet, making money. But he wouldn’t have survived without Ben. I don’t know if that’s the personality of a train robber.”

While talking with Richards, Benson wondered if he had not been too skeptical about the assignment. A ten-year dead cold-case robbery didn’t have a lot of potential but for the first time, he wondered if searching for the mysterious bandit was a good idea. If a man has money when he comes to a community, that has to be known. Men with money do attract attention. If a rich man goes bankrupt, that creates attention. And if a man comes to town with money, that attracts attention, too.

Maybe there was a chance to catch the man. Richards sipped more of his drink.

“Jim, this conversation has jogged my mind. I thought of something that I haven’t thought of in years. There’s a second man who came to town about 10 years ago. Unlike Ben, Chase Sanford did not keep his head down, speak politely or generally great people nicely. Chase was a large man. He’s six-two and weight about two hundred pounds. He has a large head of red hair that usually flows down his neck.  As might be expected, he’s a bit loud.

“Ten years ago, for a short while, don’t think people know what to make of him. He bought up a large ranch over on the west side of town. He got a good deal because the previous owner wanted to go to California, so he was willing to sell at a loss. Chase moved in and renovated the place, got him a few fancy rooms, and fancy grounds and some fancy horses. He like horses and he runs all his running mares at local events. He’s shown some good talents in breeding horses. Remodeled the farm and made the Red Soldier into a very good horse breeding place.

“Back at that time, people were wondering where he got his money. A few were squawking about that when he can to Canon City. Chase never really said. Told folks he had a lot of fingers in different pies, had different investments, things like that. Then he stated telling me that he made his money in poker, in Las Vegas and other cities. Said he had a couple of big hands in San Francisco that cleaned out most of the players. Well, that could be. I’ve seen two or three poker players clean up from time to time.”

Richards paused for a minute. He lifted a cigar from his shirt and stuck it in his mouth. He lit a match, then let it shine for a moment. The air seemed to hold the tension for a moment. Then, he lit the cigar. “But I just thought of this, as you were talking. Once in a while Chase did drop into the local saloon. Not often but once in a while. But the thing is, he never scored very good. He looked every time he sat down at a poker table. Chase was one of those men who didn’t seem all that comfortable at a poker table.”

“Since he didn’t win big, did he lose big?” Benton wondered.

“No, but he generally didn’t stay too long or he might have.”

“Hmm… well, more than one person has walked into a town and suddenly showed a lot of money. No one ever seems to know how the man got it. Some of those men kept their money, from wherever it came from. But a lot did not.

“How has Mr. Chase done the past well the last ten years.”

“He’s been all right. But he’s generally stayed away from poker tables.”

“Does Chase have any good friends in town, or does he tend to stay at his house?”

Richards took another sip of his drink. “Chase is not much for socializing.  Once in a while he will attend a social or business gathering. But he’s not much for partying. He’s married a nice looking woman named Annabelle. Very classy lady who shares her husband’s passion for riding. She has two horses of her own at the ranch, and she knows as much about horse racing as he does.”

“Did she have money?”

“Not sure. I think she had a fair inheritance. She has proved a pretty good money manager herself. Once a year, July I think, the ranch doesn’t put on a summer festival, let’s call it. They have a horse race and betting and food and punch and the finest dresses in the state. Everybody has a good time.”

“Has anyone asked what the man was doing before he came to Canon City? Anyone solved the problem with the money?”

Richards shook his head. “No, no one has mentioned it, to the best of my knowledge. And still, no one knows where he made his money. Maybe he stole a bank vault. Maybe invested in a gold mine. Nobody knows. And right now, I don’t think anyone cares. He’s a prominent member of the community, and that’s all that matters.”

Benson smiled. “Anyone else come in the town rich and set up shop?”

“Give me a day and maybe I can think of someone else. We’ve had some steady population growth. It was about ten years ago when we began something of a growth spurt. We might have one or two more people in that category.”

Benson stood up and thanked the editor for the information. “Appreciate it,” he said.

Benson opened the door and walked out into the street. He didn’t think it would be easy to catch the culprit. But he didn’t think it was as harebrained a scheme as he had earlier that day.

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Sheriff Jesse Turner of Canon City watches over a peaceful town, where townsmen have nothing to worry about. Little does he know that this serene place will soon be at risk, threatened by vicious criminals. When a team of outlaw brothers commit a bank robbery, the Sheriff’s life is turned upside down, as he needs to find the criminals and prevent their next heist. Will Jesse Turner manage to accomplish his most challenging mission and arrest the outlaws before it’s too late?

When the Sheriff captures one of the robbers, he will be shocked to find out that the outlaw is actually a very beautiful young woman. For her own shake, the Sheriff is convinced of her innocence, but unfortunately, her nightmare is not over yet. Her life is in terrible danger, as a mysterious stranger wants her dead at the earliest opportunity. Will the Sheriff be able to protect her while also chasing the ruthless outlaws who spread fear wherever they go?

Even though Jesse wants to be by Amilee’s side, he has no time for romance. In the meantime, the two brothers have hired a vicious gunman to help them with their next attack. Sheriff Turner will have to work fast to corral the outlaws, or the peaceful town of Canon City may run red with blood. Will he complete his mission successfully, protect his town, and save the woman who stole his heart?

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“One Step Closer to Justice” is a historical adventure novel of approximately 80,000 words. No cliffhangers, only pure unadulterated action.

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