The Renegade Marshal: Lincoln Hawk, #11

By Scott Connor

When U.S. Marshal Lincoln Hawk investigates a string of attacks on the Willow Falls stockyard, he doesn't take long to track down the culprits. A gunfight ensues and four men bite the dirt, but with his dying breath the last of the hired guns claims that he works for one of the stockyard owners.

 

Although there is no evidence to link him to the claim, Lincoln presumes that it's Blythe Newman, a man with a checkered past. Before this becomes a problem, Blythe is arrested on a separate charge of murder, but the victim's father isn't convinced that the right man is now behind bars.

 

Even though finding the real killer will result in an evil man being freed, Lincoln sets out to uncover the truth and what he'll find will test his faith in the law to breaking point.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Culbin Press
• Release date: Apr 25, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201940874

Scott Connor

Ian Parnham was born in Nottingham, England and now lives in N.E Scotland. He is the author of 37 western novels published as I. J. Parnham, Scott Connor and Ed Law.

Book preview

Chapter One

U.S. Marshal Lincoln Hawk drew his horse to a halt. A half-mile away two riders were heading toward him and they were clearly being pursued as they were galloping along while constantly checking behind them.

They had halved the distance to him when they noticed that someone was ahead of them. They gestured to each other as they weighed up whether Lincoln might give them even more problems and then veered away toward a nearby creek.

The water was too deep and fast-flowing to be forded so they were likely planning to hole up. They had just disappeared from view over the raised bank when their pursuers arrived.

The three men were riding fast and Lincoln recognized the lead rider as being U.S. Marshal Nevada Stein. Nevada must have spotted where his quarries had gone as the men headed straight toward the water.

Lincoln hurried his horse on, but Nevada and, presumably, his two deputies reached the edge of the bank while he was still around two minutes away. Nevada stopped to consider the scene ahead and then rode on down the bank.

Raised voices could be heard, but Lincoln’s worst fears didn’t materialize and there was no exchange of gunfire, this being the usual result whenever Nevada caught up with his quarries. He carried on at a gallop and when the scene at the water’s edge came into view the five men had all dismounted.

Nevada was facing the two quarries, who had their backs to the water, while his deputies were flanking him and rolling their shoulders, their menacing behavior making the two men edge backward into the shallows. Then they spotted the new arrival and turned to Lincoln, causing Nevada to turn around and sneer.

What are you doing here, Marshal? he called.

Lincoln dismounted and made his way down the bank. He didn’t reply until he was standing beside the group on the water’s edge.

I was in the area and I heard there’d been some trouble, he said. I figured my fellow lawman might need my help.

I don’t. Everything is under control now.

For long moments the two lawmen faced each other, their light exchange of views masking their true feelings. Lincoln hadn’t lied about his reason for being here. He’d been in the nearby town of Small Creek when he’d heard about the recent events in Willow Falls.

For several months the Willow Falls stockyard, the main source of employment and wealth in the town, had been targeted with robberies and acts of vandalism. The culprits were careful and had ensured that there were no witnesses to their activities so Sheriff Chitwood had failed to find them or even identify the men involved.

Jordan Newman, the co-owner of the stockyard with his younger brother Blythe, had faith in the sheriff and had been prepared to give him all the time he needed, but then the acts had become more serious. The interests of the people who did business with the stockyard had been targeted, leading to the problem affecting folks from a wider area than just Willow Falls.

So with the sheriff’s agreement Jordan had called in Marshal Nevada Stein to investigate. Nevada had a reputation for being successful, but his methods had several times almost led to him losing his badge.

Lincoln reckoned that if Nevada were to resolve the situation he was more likely to do so by reaching a deal with the attackers in which he’d take a cut of their ill-gotten gains in exchange for only running them out of town. As stating this opinion would be unlikely to help the situation Lincoln only smiled.

That’s good to hear, he said. I’ll be around for a while so don’t hesitate to—

Lincoln broke off when one of the captives took advantage of the distraction to turn away and walk toward his horse. The nearest deputy stepped up to him, but the man barged him away, the blow making him slip on the wet ground and go down on one knee.

Nevada turned on the hip toward the man and reached for his gun. Then he stayed the movement when Lincoln stepped in front of him.

Move aside, Nevada said.

Lincoln shook his head. I’m not letting you shoot that man in the back before you’ve even questioned him.

Lincoln had raised his voice and it had the desired effect of making the fleeing man slow down as he accepted that trying to escape wouldn’t be wise. This gave the downed deputy enough time to gain his feet and advance on him from behind.

He slammed a bunched fist down on the man’s back, causing him to stumble. Then, when the man had righted himself, he thudded a low blow into his side that made him drop down on to his knees before keeling over.

As the deputy stood over the fallen man, the other man eyed the situation with concern and then backed away. That small movement was enough for the other deputy to advance on him and hurl a punch that slammed into his cheek and made him fall over on to his back in the shallows.

He then stood over him, waiting for any sign that he hadn’t knocked the fight out of him. When both the prisoners stayed where they were, Nevada grunted with delight.

Nobody’s going to get shot, although you’ll suffer some pain if you don’t stop interfering.

Lincoln stepped back. As you seem to be in control, after all, I’ll leave you to finish up here. When I reach Willow Falls I’ll tell Sheriff Chitwood to expect two prisoners soon.

Nevada narrowed his eyes, seemingly picking up on Lincoln’s passive warning that he shouldn’t do anything other than arrest these men and then take them to the jailhouse.

I’d be obliged if you’d do that, he said with a pleasant tone, but when Lincoln turned away he lowered his voice. But don’t get in my way again.

Lincoln stomped to a halt, stood for a moment and then moved on. He carried on up the bank and when he’d mounted his horse he rode toward the town without checking on the situation down by the water again.

Chapter Two

Lincoln arrived in Willow Falls just after sundown. He did as he’d promised and called in at the law office to report that he’d met Nevada. Sheriff Chitwood was pleased that Lincoln was now around to provide more help in resolving the problems at the stockyard.

He was also pleased that Nevada had made progress with his investigation, suggesting that he was unaware of the marshal’s poor reputation. Lincoln figured he should let the sheriff decide for himself whether he should trust him.

Then he went in search of an alternate view of the situation, hoping that an old friend, Kent Todd, still lived in town. He learned that Kent worked in the stockyard office in the mornings and, as he’d finished up for the day, he could usually be found in the Green Plains saloon.

Lincoln headed to the saloon. When he joined him at the bar Kent was hunched over and morose and he greeted him without enthusiasm suggesting that he wouldn’t be the useful source of information he’d been in the past.

The last time they’d met Kent’s trouble-making son Driscoll had just left town. Kent had been worried for his welfare and he hadn’t welcomed Lincoln’s view that he needed time to work out his problems for himself and that as he’d had a good upbringing in the end he would be fine.

A few weeks ago Driscoll returned and he’d become a responsible and strong-willed young man, Kent said, his somber tone hinting that this story wouldn’t turn out well. It took us just a few hours to put aside our problems and after that we got on fine. Then he got killed.

Lincoln winced. I’m sorry to hear that. What happened?

We were due to meet here one evening, but he didn’t turn up. The next day he was found down by the creek, shot and dead. Kent sighed. Sheriff Chitwood is a decent lawman, but he’s made no progress in finding out who did it even after Marshal Stein arrived to help with the stockyard problem.

Kent then snorted, suggesting that unlike the sheriff he was aware of the marshal’s reputation.

I’m sure Chitwood has done everything he can.

Kent gave a tentative smile. He has, but that’s why I hope that now you’re in town I might get your help. The sheriff does everything by the book, but you go further and get things done.

Lincoln slapped Kent’s shoulder. I welcome your faith in me, but I’ll need luck to make progress now. Willow Falls is a town where people come and go. Whoever killed your son is almost certainly long gone.

I accept that so I just need a lead as to where that someone went. Kent patted his holster. I’ll do the rest.

Lincoln gave a grim smile, acknowledging that he accepted that Kent would do whatever it took to get justice for his son. Sadly, he also feared that Kent was unlikely to get an answer that