“Murder?” she gasped. “You can’t believe I had anything to do with that!”
“You started it all, ma’am. You were the instigator, and as such you’re the most guilty of all. The truth of the matter is, ma’am, that nobody would commit a crime if they expected to get caught. Every criminal believes he is going to get away with it.”
“But I never did anything like this before! Marshal, it was my first offense, and believe me it will be my last. Doesn’t that count for anything?”
“I will do as much for you as you will for Holstrum.”
“But he’s dead!”
“That’s right, ma’am. So is Mr. Carpenter. All because a greedy, selfish girl wanted more than she had. When you can bring them back to life, ma’am, you come and ask me for help. Every man and woman should consider the consequences of his or her actions, and those actions should be considered beforehand, not after. I’ve no use for crybabies, ma’am, male or female.”
The pleading, woebegone look was gone from her eyes. What Shanaghy saw now was pure hatred, but he wasn’t talking any more and he wasn’t listening any more.
When he closed the door behind him, he didn’t feel any better. Suddenly all he wanted was to be finished with it all. He wanted to sit down to a quiet meal and a cup of coffee, and most of all he wanted to see Jan.
They would be taken east somewhere for trial. No doubt he would be called upon to testify, as would Greenwood, Judge McBane and others. And Burt…who had turned state’s evidence.
When Shanaghy came out of Holstrum’s store, Josh Lundy was standing in front of Greenwood’s with Joel Strong and Judge McBane. Greenwood came out as Shanaghy appeared.
All were armed. “What is this?” he asked. “Another war?”
“It could be. Those are Childerses up there. They say they are hunting you.”
“Thanks, gentlemen, but that’s my problem.”
“Not if there’s four of them and you’re our marshal.”
Tom Shanaghy had taken no more than half a dozen steps when there was a rustle of movement and the soft pound of hoofs. Several riders brushed by him. Others came through the intervals between the buildings, slowly converging on the hotel.
He caught a glimpse of the Childers men on the hotel porch, and then they were blocked out by at least twenty riders in the street.
Shanaghy paused, and between the horses he glimpsed the Childers men being escorted toward the station by a dozen riders, all with Winchesters.
One of the other riders turned and rode toward him. It was Red, the Vince Patterson rider he had seen at their chuckwagon. “We’re just a’showin’ those boys some horse-pitality,” he said, “guidin’ ’em to the deepot, like. We surely can’t afford to let a man get shot who offered to stand for drinks for the crowd now, can we?”
“This was my fight,” Shanaghy objected.
“What fight?” Red asked, innocently. “Come on, Irishman, keep your derby on. Let’s just head back down to that drinkin’ establishment I see yonder.”
Shanaghy turned and walked back to Greenwood’s. He had scarcely reached the bar when Vince Patterson strode in. “Everything all right, Marshal?”
“Sure, everything’s all right. Have yourself a drink. As Red here reminded me, I’m standing treat.”
“With pleasure.” Vince Patterson accepted the drink and then said, “A couple of my boys found the body of your storekeeper a few miles south. We brought it in. He’d been shot in the back of the head at close range.”
“It’s been a trying time,” Shanaghy said, “a most trying time.”
“My boys are glad to be here,” Vince assured him, “and I am sure they will cause no trouble.”
“Red,” Shanaghy said, “will you boys hang up your guns here until you leave town?”
Red shrugged. “Looks like we got no choice.” He grinned. “I wouldn’t want to get mowed down by those feerocious townspeople you got here.”
Tom Shanaghy finished his drink and walked outside with Vince.
“Why don’t we ride out to the Pendletons?” Vince suggested. “I hear there’s a young lady out there who is most anxious to see you. And,” he added, “she has a gentleman who is recuperating from some serious wounds, a man named Rig Barrett who would like a firsthand report from a deputy he never heard of.”
*
IT WAS LONG after dark when Tom Shanaghy rode into town, and Josh Lundy met him in the street. “Pin McBride escaped!” he said. “Somebody got the door open and let him out.”
Shanaghy dismounted and handed his horse to Josh. “Put him up, will you? We’ll go hunting for his body in the morning.”
“Body?”
“Rig Barrett was out at the Pendletons. Jan got Coonskin Adams to help her get him out there to her place, where they could take proper care of him.”
“What about Pin?”
“No trouble. I am sure you’ll find his body out east of town not far from that water tank. Just look for the carcass of a dead burro. His will be right close by.”
About Louis L’Amour
*
“I think of myself in the oral tradition—
as a troubadour, a village tale-teller, the man
in the shadows of the campfire. That’s the way
I’d like to be remembered as a storyteller.
A good storyteller.”
IT IS DOUBTFUL that any author could be as at home in the world re-created in his novels as Louis Dearborn L’Amour. Not only could he physically fill the boots of the rugged characters he wrote about, but he literally “walked the land my characters walk.” His personal experiences as well as his lifelong devotion to historical research combined to give Mr. L’Amour the unique knowledge and understanding of people, events, and the challenge of the American frontier that became the hallmarks of his popularity.
Of French-Irish descent, Mr. L’Amour could trace his own family in North America back to the early 1600s and follow their steady progression westward, “always on the frontier.” As a boy growing up in Jamestown, North Dakota, he absorbed all he could about his family’s frontier heritage, including the story of his great-grandfather who was scalped by Sioux warriors.
Spurred by an eager curiosity and desire to broaden his horizons, Mr. L’Amour left home at the age of fifteen and enjoyed a wide variety of jobs including seaman, lumberjack, elephant handler, skinner of dead cattle, miner, and an officer in the transportation corps during World War II. During his “yondering” days he also circled the world on a freighter, sailed a dhow on the Red Sea, was shipwrecked in the West Indies and stranded in the Mojave Desert. He won fifty-one of fifty-nine fights as a professional boxer and worked as a journalist and lecturer. He was a voracious reader and collector of rare books. His personal library contained 17,000 volumes.
Mr. L’Amour “wanted to write almost from the time I could talk.” After developing a widespread following for his many frontier and adventure stories written for fiction magazines, Mr. L’Amour published his first full-length novel, Hondo, in the United States in 1953. Every one of his more than 120 books is in print; there are nearly 270 million copies of his books in print worldwide, making him one of the bestselling authors in modern literary history. His books have been translated into twenty languages, and more than forty-five of his novels and stories have been made into feature films and television movies.
His hardcover bestsellers include The Lonesome Gods, The Walking Drum (his twelfth-century historical novel), The Iron Marshal, Last of the Breed, and The Haunted Mesa. His memoir, Education of a Wandering Man, was a leading bestseller in 1989. Audio dramatizations and adaptations of many L’Amour stories are available on cassette tapes from Bantam Audio publishing.
The recipient of many great honors and awards, in 1983 Mr. L’Amour became the first novelist ever to be awarded the Congressional Gold Medal by the United States Congress in honor of his life’s work. In 1984 he was also awarded the Medal of Freedom by President Reagan.
Louis L’Amour died on
Bantam Books by Louis L’Amour
NOVELS
Bendigo Shafter
Borden Chantry
Brionne
The Broken Gun
The Burning Hills
The Californios
Callaghen
Catlow
Chancy
The Cherokee Trail
Comstock Lode
Conagher
Crossfire Trail
Dark Canyon
Down the Long Hills
The Empty Land
Fair Blows the Wind
Fallon
The Ferguson Rifle
The First Fast Draw
Flint
Guns of the Timberlands
Hanging Woman Creek
The Haunted Mesa
Heller with a Gun
The High Graders
High Lonesome
Hondo
How the West Was Won
The Iron Marshal
The Key-Lock Man
Kid Rodelo
Kilkenny
Killoe
Kilrone
Kiowa Trail
Last of the Breed
Last Stand at Papago Wells
The Lonesome Gods
The Man Called Noon
The Man from Skibbereen
The Man from the Broken Hills
Matagorda
Milo Talon
The Mountain Valley War
North to the Rails
Passin’ Through
The Proving Trail
The Quick and the Dead
Radigan
Reilly’s Luck
The Rider of Lost Creek
Rivers West
The Shadow Riders
Shalako
Showdown at Yellow Butte
Silver Canyon
Sitka
Son of a Wanted Man
Taggart
The Tall Stranger
To Tame a Land
Tucker
Under the Sweetwater Rim
Utah Blaine
The Walking Drum
Westward the Tide
Where the Long Grass Blows
SHORT STORY COLLECTIONS
Beyond the Great Snow Mountains
Bowdrie
Bowdrie’s Law
Buckskin Run
Dutchman’s Flat
End of the Drive
From the Listening Hills
The Hills of Homicide
Law of the Desert Born
Long Ride Home
Lonigan
May There Be a Road
Monument Rock
Night over the Solomons
Off the Mangrove Coast
The Outlaws of Mesquite
The Rider of the Ruby Hills
Riding for the Brand
The Strong Shall Live
The Trail to Crazy Man
Valley of the Sun
War Party
West from Singapore
West of Dodge
With These Hands
SACKETT TITLES
Sackett’s Land
To the Far Blue Mountains
The Warrior’s Path
Jubal Sackett
Ride the River
The Daybreakers
Sackett
Lando
Mojave Crossing
Mustang Man
The Lonely Men
Galloway
Treasure Mountain
Lonely on the Mountain
Ride the Dark Trail
The Sackett Brand
The Sky-Liners
THE HOPALONG CASSIDY NOVELS
The Riders of the High Rock
The Rustlers of West Fork
The Trail to Seven Pines
Trouble Shooter
NONFICTION
Education of a Wandering Man
Frontier
The Sackett Companion: A Personal Guide to the Sackett Novels
A Trail of Memories: The Quotations of Louis L’Amour, compiled by Angelique L’Amour
POETRY
Smoke from This Altar
THE IRON MARSHAL
A Bantam Book / June 2004
PUBLISHING HISTORY
Bantam edition published June 1979
Bantam reissue / January 1994
All rights reserved.
Copyright © 1979 by Louis L’Amour Enterprises
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 storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher, except
where permitted by law. For information address:
Bantam Books New York, New York.
Bantam Books and the rooster colophon are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.
Please visit our website at www.bantamdell.com
eISBN: 978-0-553-89926-9
v3.0