Ballard and McCall 6: Hard Trail from Yesterday

By Neil Hunter

Jess McCall was under threat from an unknown enemy. Then he had to face a shootout with a man he didn’t know. Even then there’s no peace, when he’s lured into a confrontation with hired guns. Only by using his own gun-skill does he stay alive, though severely wounded.
Making it back to town, with his wounds showing infection, it suddenly falls to his partner, Chet Ballard, to step in to face the still existing threat.
Through his dogged persistence, Ballard starts to unravel the mystery behind the attempts on his friend’s life, and learns that they’re facing the desperate efforts of a man from McCall’s past who wants nothing less than McCall’s death as a way of hiding the truth of his near forgotten crime.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Piccadilly
• Release date: Oct 22, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005320706

Neil Hunter

Neil Hunter is, in fact, the prolific Lancashire-born writer Michael R. Linaker. As Neil Hunter, Mike wrote two classic western series, BODIE THE STALKER and JASON BRAND. Under the name Richard Wyler he produced four stand-alone westerns, INCIDENT AT BUTLER’S STATION, THE SAVAGE JOURNEY, BRIGHAM’S WAY and TRAVIS.

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Jess McCall was under threat from an unknown enemy. Then he had to face a shootout with a man he didn’t know. Even then there’s no peace, when he’s lured into a confrontation with hired guns. Only by using his own gun-skill does he stay alive, though severely wounded.

Making it back to town, with his wounds showing infection, it suddenly falls to his partner, Chet Ballard, to step in to face the still existing threat.

Through his dogged persistence, Ballard starts to unravel the mystery behind the attempts on his friend’s life, and learns that they’re facing the desperate efforts of a man from McCall’s past who wants nothing less than McCall’s death as a way of hiding the truth of his near forgotten crime.

BALLARD AND McCALL 6: HARD TRAIL FROM YESTERDAY

By Neil Hunter

Copyright © 2019 by Neil Hunter

First Edition: 2021

Names, characters and incidents in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information or storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law.

This is a Piccadilly Publishing Book

Series Editor: Ben Bridges

Text © Piccadilly Publishing

Published by Arrangement with the Author.

Chapter One

JESS MCCALL SWUNG round hard, right hand dropping to haul his holstered .45 from its holster. He scanned the shadows of the livery. Saw nothing. Heard nothing except the restless sounds coming from the horses in the stalls.

His head swung to the right where the still-quivering knife protruded from the timber beam inches from him.

‘Damn,’ he said.

More out of sheer frustration than fear, or even anger. McCall turned and stared at the knife. Nothing special. Just a thick blade and a worn wood handle. Yet it had been thrown with skill and a great deal of force. At least four inches of the blade were buried in the timber. Whoever had flung the knife had meant it to be deadly. And as far as McCall was concerned the threat was real. If the knife thrower had intended to hit him he would most likely have been down on the floor—and dead.

Jess McCall was no saint. He had upset a few folk along the way but not lately as far as he could recall. Those he had put out would have been more likely to have faced him with a gun in hand. Tossing a knife at a man, with the skill to have killed him, kind of got the Texan wondering who might be upset enough to do such a thing.

McCall tugged the knife from the beam, turning it over in his hand, his mind turning as he tried to work out why someone was playing with him.

‘New knife?’

McCall glanced up at the sound of his partner’s voice. Ballard had walked in from the street, his saddlebags over his shoulder.

‘A gift,’ McCall said. ‘From an unknown party.’ He indicated the hole in the beam. ‘Anonymous.’

Ballard picked up the meaning. Glanced around the livery.

‘Waste of time asking of you seen anyone.’

‘Oh yeah. Come from the far side of the stable,’ McCall said. ‘I looked but didn’t see a damn thing.’

‘Ain’t this becoming a habit?’

‘You could say that.’

‘A near-miss rifle shot the other day. Something you ain’t telling me, son?’

‘Wish there was. I got no idea who. Or why. Just that it’s starting to annoy me.’

‘We’ve only been here in Jessup three days. On’y people we dealt with have been Frank Cross from the Circle-C and the feller at the bank. Apart from the bartender at the saloon serving us we ain’t really dealt with anyone else.’

‘Far as I recall I ain’t looked at anyone cross-eyed or stepped on any toes,’ McCall said. ‘Not recent far as I can recall.’

Ballard took the knife. ‘Let’s step down to the marshal’s office. See if he recognizes this. Could be a waste of time but worth a try.’

Chapter Two

JAKE LANDERS, THE law in Jessup, knew both Texans well. A tall, lean man in his thirties he took his job seriously and accepted what McCall told him without question. Seated behind his desk in the jail he turned the knife McCall had offered over and over in his hands.

‘Can’t say there’s anything special about it, fellers. Looks to me like a homemade blade. Pretty sharp, and I’d figure it not an easy one to throw and hit the target.’

‘Whoever did toss that at me had a hell of throwing arm,’ McCall said. ‘It went into that beam a good way. Lucky for me he didn’t favor a good aim.’

‘I can agree to that,’ Ballard said.

McCall told the marshal about the other incident. He told the story straight and simply and the lawman noted it down.

‘Jess, all I can do is check around. See if anyone’s been making bad talk about you. Be honest there ain’t a deal else I can do.’

‘Wasn’t figurin’ much else. All I got is what I said. Looks like I’ll just have to keep my eyes open.’

‘You pick up on anything I can use come see me.’

‘You’ll be the first to know.’

Back on the street they stood for a few seconds before Ballard thumbed in the direction of the town’s best saloon.

‘All this worry has made me thirsty,’ McCall said.

‘You? Worry?’ Ballard said. He grinned. ‘Any excuse for a beer.’

‘Hell, son, it worked though.’

‘It did.’

They crossed the dusty strip that comprised Jessup’s main drag and went inside the Golden Chance saloon. It was a fancy establishment with expensive decorations and fitments. The long bar stretched the length of the saloon and a cluster of tables and chair filled out the main space. Sunlight reaching from the large front windows caught the array of bottles and glasses behind the bar as well as the large mirror hung there. Bright sparkles reflected from the mirror, adding to the brightness of the place. It was close to midday and the customers were starting to fill the place out, a general buzz of conversation rising.

The bartender saw them come in and moved to meet them. A solid, barrel-chested man with a smile of welcome on his face.

‘Ain’t seen you boys for a while,’ he said, holding out a big hand to shake theirs.

‘They keep us busy at the Lazy-C,’ McCall said.

‘You here on business?’ Chase Morgan said.

‘Just delivered a couple of bulls out to Frank Cross. He hired them from the boss man to work on his stock. We need to stay around a few days until he’s done and then we can head back to Lazy-C.’

‘Thirsty work.’

‘You got that right.’

‘I meant the bulls,’ Morgan said.

Ballard nodded. ‘That too. Makes a man want a nice cool beer just thinking about it. All that hard work they got in front of them.’

Morgan turned and picked a couple of bottles from the tub behind the bar, wiping off the iced water he kept them in.

‘Coldest in town,’ he said.

McCall flipped off the spring tops and handed one to his partner. They drank long and deep, sighing with contentment.

‘That is good,’ Ballard said. ‘Let’s have another pair ready, Morgan.’

‘That’s some thirst you boys have,’ Morgan said.

McCall turned and faced the main saloon, his back to the bar, elbows resting on the top.

He had started on his second bottle when the batwings were thrust open, letting a man step inside. He stared around the saloon until his gaze settled on Jess McCall.

He fixed his gaze on the Texian and took a couple of steps forward.

‘You,’ he said. ‘Jess McCall. You ain’t walkin’ away this time, you sonofabitch. I found you an’ I aim to kill you right here and now…’

His left hand dropped, fingers curling around the butt of the big .45 revolver he wore.

He yanked it free, brought it up, and started firing in McCall’s direction.

Chapter Three

MCCALL SAW THE man’s