Shootout at Bleak Point: McBain, #11

By I. J. Parnham

When the outlaw Nathaniel McBain was finally brought to justice, it was by his old boss and friend Sheriff Cassidy Yates. Nathaniel got seven years in jail and when he finally came out he resolved to go straight.

 

He did just that and with Shackleton Frost he delivered prisoners to his former jail with distinction. Then one day he was given the mission he had dreaded of taking custody of a prisoner from Monotony, Cassidy's town. The prisoner escapes and worse, Shackleton ends up dead. Nathaniel vows revenge, but to succeed in his mission he must team up with Cassidy Yates, a man he had never wanted to meet again.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Culbin Press
• Release date: Jul 18, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201738624

I. J. Parnham

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

Prolog

Before you go I need to tell you something, Nathaniel McBain said.

Sheriff Cassidy Yates didn’t acknowledge that one of his prisoners had spoken to him. Instead, he signified that Nathaniel and Spenser O’Connor should dismount. Both prisoners followed his orders slowly.

Then they moved forward to stand in front of the massive gate to Beaver Ridge jail with their cuffed hands held before them. When they were in position Cassidy moved his horse on and dismounted by the wall.

He hollered for attention. Several minutes passed before footfalls sounded beyond the gate as at least two guards approached. The men stomped to a halt and then a small hatch rattled open.

A man with a grizzled face appeared and he appraised the prisoners and lawman while stifling a yawn. The guard’s bored expression didn’t change even when he noted Cassidy’s star.

I’ve got two more prisoners who want to enjoy your hospitality, Cassidy said.

The guard grunted in affirmation and slammed the hatch shut. Clanking sounded as bolts were drawn before the gate edged open for a few feet. The guard stepped forward. Two other armed guards loitered at his shoulder, looking out for duplicity.

What have they done? the guard asked, as Cassidy handed over the paperwork.

Everything was detailed in the papers, but the guard’s bored attitude suggested they wouldn’t be read carefully.

They’re just good-for-nothing thieves. Cassidy gestured at the two men. Nathaniel McBain got seven years. Spenser O’Connor got eight. I’d have given them life.

The guard laughed, showing interest in proceedings for the first time.

"For many prisoners, a year in here is life."

Cassidy nodded and stepped aside to let the guard usher the two prisoners on. Spenser went through the gate without comment despite the guard’s slap on the back that sent him to his knees, but Nathaniel dallied and tried to catch Cassidy’s eye.

We were thieves, but we’re not good-for-nothings because we accept now that we did wrong, he said.

Cassidy was minded to leave without responding, but with a sigh he turned to Nathaniel.

Don’t lie, he snapped. The only thing on your minds is that you got caught.

Nathaniel gulped, appearing to acknowledge that Cassidy had been right.

No matter what you think of us we’ll serve our time, he said quickly when the guard raised a hand. When we come out, we’ll go straight.

Nathaniel waited for a reply, but Cassidy only folded his arms, so with his head down he headed inside followed by the guard, who gave him a kick to the rump for his tardiness.

You sure will, Cassidy said as the gate slammed shut. Straight to hell.

Chapter One

Eight years later. . . .

Judge Matthews slapped a hand down on his desk with an insistent rhythm until his steady beat cut through the rising hubbub. When everyone in Monotony’s courtroom had quieted, he directed a stern glare at Maynard Holdstock.

Then he stood up and left at a dignified pace for what would probably be a short recess before he received the jury’s verdict. Sitting on the front row Sheriff Cassidy Yates wasn’t concerned as his evidence had been damning, but he feared that the judge might not get enough time to reveal that verdict.

Maynard’s trial had attracted a lot of attention. Everyone in Monotony had wanted to see justice delivered to the only member of Seth Mitchell’s outlaw gang to have been brought to justice.

For the last three months the outlaws had terrorized the area. They’d attacked the silver shipments from the Bleak Point mine that traveled to Redemption before moving on to Monotony.

Most of these attacks had been foiled, so they’d disrupted the building of the railroad that would make transportation from the remote mine easier. As Monotony’s prosperity depended on this trade, everyone wanted the matter resolved.

So over the last few days numerous newcomers had arrived, many of whom were rowdy, making Cassidy fear that somebody would try to free the prisoner. As the courtroom cleared Floyd Wright, his capable deputy, nodded at him.

Then, with Cassidy’s other deputy Sykes Caine keeping watch, Wright directed Maynard to the back door and on to the jailhouse. When the deputies disappeared from view Cassidy filed in at the back of the people who were leaving the courtroom.

Many people murmured supportive comments about his part in Maynard’s capture as well as offering their hopes that this trial would mark the beginning of the end. Cassidy nodded, even though it was too early for him to believe it himself.

Once out on the boardwalk he stood at the corner of the courthouse where he had a good view along the length of the main drag. Four men had taken up positions on either side of the main drag and at both ends, and he received the pre-arranged signals from each that they’d seen no sign of trouble.

Nobody else was paying him undue attention except for one man who was leaning on a corner post and ignoring everyone else in a way that was so deliberate he had to be interested in everyone. Then the man pushed off from the post and made his slow way down the boardwalk to stand a few feet to his side.

I’m Shackleton Frost, he said.

Cassidy relaxed. I was told you were coming. I should have some work for you soon.

And even more later from the sound if it.

I’m obliged for your confidence in me, but if the railroad workers or the miners find the rest of Seth’s gang first, there won’t be much left for you to escort to Beaver Ridge jail.

That doesn’t matter none to me. I get paid to take men from the court to the jail, but I’ll be pleased if men like Maynard stop being handed over to me.

Cassidy nodded. Then he turned to the law office while Shackleton concentrated on the other side of town. Aside from the crowd milling around near the courthouse in anticipation of being called back, all was quiet and that worried him.

He flinched, identifying his concern. He’d covered all directions from which trouble could come, and that left only one alternative: that everything was peaceful because the trouble was already here and it had already happened.

He caught Shackleton’s eye to alert him to his concern and then walked briskly down the boardwalk to the law office. He stopped beside the window. There was no movement within and that was odd as Wright ought to be in the main office while Caine patrolled the jailhouse.

Cassidy walked by the window and reached out to rap on the door. It should have been locked, but the moment his hand touched the wood the door was yanked open. Then a hand clamped down on his arm and tugged him inside.

Cassidy went stumbling through the doorway. Men were standing on either side of the doorway in the shadows and one of them stepped forward and delivered a solid blow to the back of his head that sent him to his knees.

He crumpled over to lie on his side with his vision swirling and when his eyes focused, he had been disarmed and standing over him was the man he’d been trying to find for the last three months: Seth Mitchell.

So Sheriff Cassidy Yates is finally lying at my feet, Seth said with an arrogant gleam in his eye.

Cassidy tried to snap back a retort, but his head was still ringing from the blow he’d received and only a groan escaped his lips before he rolled over on to his back. Seth snorted with approval and then delivered quick orders.

Cassidy couldn’t concentrate enough to discern the words, but he understood their intent. Clearly these men had lain in wait for his deputies. Now they had freed Maynard and they were ready to make good their escape.

Footfalls pattered past him as the outlaws congregated beside the door. They murmured comments to each other as they coordinated their move outside and, among the voices, Cassidy heard Maynard urging them to leave now.

Hearing his voice helped Cassidy gather his senses and, moving slowly so as to not draw attention to himself, he placed his cheek to the floor letting him see the forces he would have to take on. Three men had come for Maynard, this being half the numbers Cassidy knew Seth had at his disposal.

The men were standing by the windows, but it wasn’t clear why they weren’t leaving. A few moments later a shadow flittered at the corner of his vision before Shackleton walked past the left-hand window.

Unlike Cassidy, after he’d moved from view he didn’t carry on to the door. The outlaws turned to each other, silently asking what they reckoned he was doing. Cassidy wondered that himself, but he resolved to help him.

He slapped a hand to the floor, brought his knee up and rolled into a kneeling position. He righted himself, but then he made the mistake of trying to stand up and, with his senses still rattled, that unbalanced him.

He went sprawling at the feet of the backmost outlaw, who snorted a laugh at his predicament. The noise made the other three men turn to him and, perhaps fortuitously, Shackleton then stepped up to the open door.

The nearest man received the same treatment that had been meted out to Cassidy when Shackleton grabbed his arm and dragged him out onto the boardwalk. The man’s momentum sent him sprawling away and out of Cassidy’s view.

This sight was too much for Maynard and he burst out after him. Seth followed him as did the other two men, but they had to wait their turn and that