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CHAPTER 1
El Paso, Texas, September 1881
Sam Hayes rushed in through the open door, put his hands on his knees, and tried to catch his breath. "Marshal, they're at it again," he puffed.
Emmett Strong set aside the two-week-old San Antonio newspaper somebody had left on a bench over at the train station and pulled his booted feet off his desk. "Lafferty and his boys bothering Mrs. Galvez?"
"Nope, not Lafferty this time. It's Ed Brindle and one of his mustanger friends."
A string bean of a man, wearing a pale-yellow tie and a clean white apron, Hayes owned a dry-goods store around the corner. Emmett wished there were more folks like Hayes around El Paso ... and fewer like Ed Brindle.
As he rose, adjusted his gun leather, and headed for the door, Emmett once again considered how pointless it was for a girl to try to lead an ordinary life in the same town where she'd once made her living in a cathouse. She hadn't intended to stay on in El Paso when she put those ways behind her — things simply hadn't worked out like she and those closest to her had hoped they would.
"Being that she's married to the deputy town marshal now," Hayes said, "you'd think they'd leave the poor girl alone."
"You'd think," Emmett said.
"It's not like there ain't plenty enough working girls around this town who'd gladly take their dollar and give 'em what they want." Sam Hayes half trotted to keep up with Emmett's determined stride.
Emmett agreed. It didn't matter that very few females in the vast state of Texas had looks that could turn a man's head like Geneve Lambert Galvez's did. It didn't matter that, on top of it all, Geneve was as sweet as a summer peach. The fact was, the girl was no longer in that business. More important, she was now married to Emmett's brother-in-law, Juanito, so she was off-limits to other men. Hombres, like Ed Brindle and Tom Lafferty, had been reminded of that detail in no uncertain terms — on too many occasions now.
Emmett turned the corner and stepped off the boardwalk to cross the street. One part of him wished Juanito was with him to confront the men bothering Geneve. The other was glad his brother-in-law had ridden out to Ysleta with the county sheriff today. Emmett was going to have to put a mite more tooth into the consequences these boys would have to feel this time, but he didn't think it was time yet for gunplay.
When he rounded the next corner and stepped into the long shadows cast by the late-afternoon sun, there was Ed Brindle. Brindle had Geneve pinned against the outside wall of Sam Hayes's store. His mustang-breaking compadre stood right behind him, snickering. Geneve, meanwhile, with jaw set and brow creased, struggled against her captor's grip.
Based on the way she was dressed, you'd never know that the golden-haired beauty had ever been an upstairs girl. She wore a long-sleeved blue gingham dress and a simple yet fashionable straw hat; she looked every bit as respectable as any other lady out doing the day's shopping. Brindle — a compact, sinewy man — looked as if he'd just gotten himself a bath, a shave, and a haircut and was ready for a night on the town.
Emmett wouldn't have expected Sam Hayes to step in and try to make Ed Brindle and his amigo back off — Hayes was getting up in age, and Brindle was young and fit, tough as leather from busting wild horses. What did peeve Emmett was that there were other folks around who could've come to Geneve's aid. Trouble was, too many of them still viewed her as a soiled dove, a woman beyond redemption, a girl who shouldn't expect to be accepted back into polite society.
"Ed Brindle!" Emmett called out without breaking his stride.
The two mustang men looked his way. The leering smiles faded from both men's faces.
"Last time we went through this, I told you I wasn't going to warn you again." Emmett didn't stop until he was practically standing on Brindle's toes.
Geneve used the opportunity to slip from the mustanger's grasp and take refuge behind Emmett.
The freckle-faced Brindle squared up to Emmett and locked eyes with him.
With a smirk, he said, "Ain't no law against talkin' to a person. You can't do me nothin' just for makin' a little conversation with the woman."
"You weren't just talking," Emmett said, keeping tabs on Brindle's friend out of the corner of his eye. "Your hands were all over the lady. It's not proper, and you know it."
Brindle snorted and turned as if to walk away. "C'mon, Ray," he said to his blue-shirted friend. "We ain't gotta listen to this load o' —"
Emmett stepped into Brindle's path. He wasn't going to let the mustanger do this to Geneve again. All the men around El Paso were going to start treating her with respect, heartfelt or not.
"Apologize to the lady," he demanded quietly yet firmly.
"I ain't got to apologize to no bawdy girl."
"Have it your way then." Even as he spoke, Emmett snatched Brindle's six-gun from its holster and shoved the troublemaker hard toward his amigo, Ray.
One thing he had learned long ago: in going up against two men at once, you have to keep the first opponent between yourself and the second opponent, so you face only one foe at a time. "You're going to jail, Ed. Public nuisance."
When Ray went for his own gun, Emmett flipped Brindle's weapon, cocked it, and pressed the barrel against his captive's head.
"Uh-uh," he said. "Bad choice, Ray. Being that I haven't seen you personally harassing Mrs. Galvez, I was going to let you walk. Now that you've gone to slapping leather, though, well, you get to spend the night in the hoosegow with your pardner here."
Ray hesitated, hand on the grips of his Colt.
Folks were gathering about now, cautiously watching how things would play out. Emmett caught a glimpse of Geneve. She stood just behind Sam Hayes, face flushed, lips tight.
Whether it was all the witnesses on hand or Brindle's current predicament, Emmett didn't care. What mattered was that Ray put his hands up.
"Walk." Emmett gestured toward the jailhouse with Brindle's gun. "Both of you."
Dragging their feet as defeated men often do when they're trying to save face or express what little defiance they still can, the two troublemakers set out.
With Brindle's six-gun still cocked, Emmett closed on Ray and plucked the Colt from his holster. The mustanger flinched and glared over his shoulder, but he kept walking.
Geneve fidgeted with her hat ribbon where it was tied beneath her chin. She glanced about as Emmett passed her.
"If you like, you can wait with Li till Juanito gets home," he said to her.
Still flushed, she nodded.
"I'll walk her over there," Sam Hayes said.
Emmett touched his hat brim. "Much obliged, Sam."
The crowd parted. Three women, each with arms crossed, scowled not at Brindle and his compadre but rather at Emmett. Just beyond them a middle-aged fellow in a business suit raised an eyebrow, shook his head, and turned away.
This matter was by no means resolved.
CHAPTER 2
"How long you plan on keepin' us here?" Ed Brindle kicked the jail-cell bars. "I had plans for this evenin'."
"Yeah, we had plans," Ray said from the cell across from Brindle's.
"I can see that," Emmett said. "And one plan you need to get out of your head is the notion of rolling in the sack with Mrs. Geneve Galvez."
Ray scoffed. "You can't tell me marriage truly means all that much to Geneve. If it did, she wouldn't have got herself hitched to no Mex."
"Shut up, Ray," Ed Brindle snapped.
Emmett glared at Ray. "Attitude like that — that's why you're in here."
He turned and headed out, slamming the heavy wooden door that separated his office from the cells behind him.
"Whoa there, Marshal. What's got you so frothy?" Emmett's old friend Jack VanDorn was just coming in from off the street.
Emmett stopped in place. "You get lost? I thought you'd be halfway to Palo Duro country by now." He pulled up a chair and motioned for Jack to sit.
Both men used to ride with the Rangers. Jack — a slim, tough-as-nails old-timer with a thick salt-and-pepper cavalry-style mustache — had recently turned in his badge, however, owing to having taken a bullet in the groin in a big shootout a few months back.
"Got as far as the Concho River," Jack said. "Suddenly dawned on me I'd driven off and left some important business unsettled back here in El Paso."
"The seat of that buckboard must've given your backside quite a pounding." Emmett frowned as he finished pouring Jack a cup of coffee. "You could've wired me. Or was its something you had to take care of yourself?"
Jack accepted the steaming cup and sat. "Figured I ought to ask her face-to-face instead of in a letter."
"Her?" Emmett cocked his head.
The old Ranger remained poker faced. "Jennie Simons — Doc Simons's sister."
"No, you haven't ..."
Jack's head bobbed. "Hell, Emmett, all these years, denyin' myself the comforts of hearth and home ... I figured if I was goin' to settle down to ranch life, I might as well take me a partner — finish out my days with some companionship."
"You old dog," Emmett said. "You only made her acquaintance — what? — two weeks before you left El Paso?"
"That's about right. But I had a good deal of time to think about it out there on that buckboard. First time in my life I felt truly lonesome."
"Well, Miss Jennie seems like a fine lady."
"I'm more convinced by the day she's everything I could ever want in a woman."
"So what'd she say?"
"Hmm?"
"When you asked her to go with you?"
"Oh, I haven't asked her yet."
Emmett slumped his shoulders. "Then what on earth are you doing here?"
Jack looked down. "I don't know if that last gunfight took somethin' out of me or what."
"Nah, you finish your coffee and then get on over there, Jack." He gestured in the direction of the doc's house. Over the years he'd seen Jack VanDorn talking to, teasing, and even dancing with the señoritas. Jack had always seemed to have a way with the ladies. Then again, settling down and caring for one, for life — that was a different proposition altogether.
Tossing a nod toward the cells beyond the heavy wooden door, Jack said, "You got somethin' against that door? You slammed it pretty hard just as I was walkin' in."
Emmett decided to let his old friend off the hook for a minute. "Couple of mustangers back there. Can't seem to get it through their skulls that Geneve is done with the kind of life she fell into over at the Wild Hog."
"None of my business, I know, but I told Juanito more'n once that he oughta take that pretty girl of his and set up house elsewhere. Hard for other men to forget what she used to do before."
"Juanito and I have got jobs here," Emmett said without any real conviction.
"There are other jobs."
"Riding with the Rangers again? No, sir. Too much time away from home."
VanDorn shook his head. "Like I told you, I got as far as Fort Concho before turning back for Jennie. Just so happens there's a nice little burg up that way — quiet town — lookin' for a marshal. Pretty as a picture too. Right there on the river."
"Santa Angela? Nothing quiet or pretty about that blood bucket."
"No, not Santa Angela." Jack set his coffee cup on the desk and leaned forward. "Benficklin."
Emmett raised his brows. "It's been a couple of years, but the last time I was in Benficklin, the only thing there was a stagecoach stop. What do they need a marshal for?"
"Not a simple stage stop anymore," Jack said. "Upstandin' folk got tired of all the riffraff from the fort tearin' up the saloons, gamin' rooms, and bed houses up in Santa Angela. Cattlemen and honest business folk have gone and turned Benficklin into a place where you can raise a family. Stores, nice hotel, post office. Why, they've even built a schoolhouse up on the hill. Started work on a new courthouse too. Stonemasons are doin' a beautiful job."
"I had no idea."
"I'm tellin' you — they're lookin' hard, bein' mighty particular about findin' just the right man to be their marshal. Juanito could be that man."
"If everything in Benficklin is so fine and wonderful as you say, sounds like they could have the local preacher double as marshal."
"Humph. Folks in Benficklin are scared witless that without the right lawman, it's only a matter of time before the troops from Fort Concho drift down thataway and turn their tame little town into another Santa Angela."
Emmett knew Benficklin's fears were not unfounded. From what he'd heard, it'd gotten so bad up around Fort Concho and Santa Angela that officers wouldn't even venture out of the garrison at night, much less cross over into town.
As if reading his mind, Jack said, "Now that Benficklin has grown up so pretty, officers from Concho have finally found themselves a place they can go for polite company and entertainment — mostly on Saturday nights, Sunday afternoons. Way the folks in Benficklin seem to see it, havin' the brass come visit is one thing. Regular troopers, though? That's quite another."
"So that's about the sum of the job?" Emmett asked. "Keeping the rowdies out and making sure Benficklin remains a respectable burg?"
"Yep, far as I can tell."
Emmett rubbed his chin. "How far from the fort to Benficklin?"
"Three, maybe four miles south."
"And from the fort to Santa Angela — what? — maybe a mile the other way?"
"If that far."
A call came from the cells in the back. "Hey, Marshal, we're hungry back here. How 'bout some supper?"
Closing his eyes and shaking his head, Emmett said, "You want some dinner, Jack?"
"No, thanks," the old ex-Ranger said. "I reckon I'd better go do what I came here for before Jennie Simons meets somebody handsomer — although I have no idea who on earth could be any handsomer than me."
Emmett chuckled. "You old bobcat."
"Take my advice," Jack said, standing. "Lean on your brother-in-law about Benficklin. Nobody there'd be any the wiser about Geneve's past."
Emmett followed him to the door. "By now they've probably already found their man," he said.
"He'll never know unless he sends 'em a telegram." Jack VanDorn winked.
"Now, I've gotta go find me a wife."
"Good luck with that." Emmett clapped him on the shoulder.
As he watched Jack walk away, he couldn't help wondering whether things wouldn't be better for Geneve and Juanito in a place like Benficklin. It'd sure be hard to let them go, though — he and Juanito had been as close as brothers for nigh on to a decade now.
For a fleeting moment, Emmett envisioned the lively young Texian beauty he had fallen for and married several years ago — Juanito's sister, Gabriela. The heartbreak of her sudden death had been almost too much to bear. No telling what he'd have done if Juanito hadn't been there to get him through those tough early days.
Yep, he'd miss his compañero something fierce. But if a town like Benficklin was what Geneve needed ...
CHAPTER 3
"I've had enough of this," Juanito spat out. "Give me ten minutes back there with Brindle and his compadre. They won't be treating my wife that way anymore." He was already unbuckling his gun belt.
Blocking the door that led back to the jail cells, Emmett planted his hand in the middle of his brother-in-law's chest. "So you beat the tar out of Brindle and his pardner. You gonna turn around and do the same to Tom Lafferty and his amigos next time you see them?"
Juanito threw out his arms. "So what am I supposed to do — just stand around and watch while the same men keep touching and insulting Geneve whenever they feel like it? Words aren't getting through to them."
Emmett rubbed his forehead, thinking yet again about the bug Jack VanDorn had put in his ear about Benficklin. He'd sent that telegram, and they were still looking for a marshal. But was that really the best solution to Juanito and Geneve's problem?
"Maybe Li can walk along with Geneve whenever she needs to go shopping or what have you," Emmett said.
"So Geneve's got to have an escort every time she steps outside? How would you like that arrangement?"
"Just for a while. Just till folks get it through their heads." But judging from the looks on the faces of some of the men and women in the crowd yesterday, Emmett knew his argument held little water. Some folks just weren't inclined to let a girl leave that kind of life behind.
Juanito turned and clomped back to his desk. He pushed up the front of his weathered, broad-brimmed hat and sat on the edge of the desktop. "Li doesn't have anything better to do than to spend her days following Geneve around?"
"Like I said, this'll just be for a while."
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "Strong Ambitions"
by .
Copyright © 2017 The Hutchinson Group, LLC.
Excerpted by permission of CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform.
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