Chapter 1

Jim had returned just two weeks before to the Ranger station in Austin from an extended manhunt for an escaped killer in east Texas and Louisiana. A message had been waiting for him from his Uncle Jack, his last living relative on his father's side of the family requesting his help in Laredo.

Tragically Jim had next heard his uncle had been killed shortly before his return. Jim's official contacts in Austin had been able to tell him that no suspect had been singled out as yet.

Rather than riding into town in his official capacity as a Ranger and interested party he had decided to take some of the leave time he had accumulated over the last few years and ease into town in the guise of a drifter.

Jim had expected trouble in Laredo and it sure found him pronto! He stopped in front of a saloon on Main street and stepped off his horse. Jim tied the big stallion to a worn oak rail. He stretched his arms and legs after the long wearying ride and looked up at the front of the saloon at the broken wheel mounted on the wall. The wheel had evidently given the saloon its name, "The Broken Spoke".

He was just thinking that there was probably a humdinger of a story in how the saloon had gotten that name when he saw a tow headed youngster of about ten or twelve years come out of the bar with a bucket and a mop. Jim was about to ask the boy where he could water his horse when the boy tripped on the rough board walkway and spilled his heavy bucket of water onto the porch. There was an obscene shout of anger as the water splashed on the dusty boots of a surly middle aged man who was just coming out of the saloon. The man brutally grabbed the boy up by one arm and drew his sidearm and raised it as if to hit the boy.

"Hold it!" Jim yelled at the man. "There ain't no call to pistol whip that boy. Them boots are a lot cleaner now than they was a while ago!"

A young blond headed man with a bartender's apron came through the bat wing doors quickly and yelled at the hard case, "Put that cannon up, Zack!"

"Stay out of my way or slap leather!" Zack challenged as he shoved the boy out of the way. Jim distinctly heard the click of the rowdy's six-shooter's hammer being thumbed back and saw the gun barrel begin to drop toward him.

Knowing he was an instant from dying in the dusty street, Jim let his reflexes take over and his Colts flashed into his hands and up as he took a quick sidestep. He felt the big Colt in his right hand buck as it spouted flame and lead, a fraction of a second later it's twin in his left hand roared as a second dose of hot lead ripped through the sack of tobacco in Zack's left shirt pocket!

Zack's gun hand swung wide as he was slammed against the wall of the saloon by the two big slugs, he left a broad swath of blood on the wall behind him as he slid down to a sitting position on the porch.

Jim thumbed back the hammers on his Colts again as he warily stepped up on the porch and carefully kicked Zack's cocked but unfired revolver away from his body. He holstered the Colts and he and the bartender examined the body for any signs of life. "Two hits dead center!" said the astounded barkeep. "I ain't ever even heard lies about anybody being that good with a Colt!"

Jim spoke as he expertly ejected his empty shells, "Well, I sure didn't want to have to do that, but he wouldn't have it any other way. It ain't in me to stand by and let any man pistol whip a kid." He thumbed in fresh loads into his .44s and again returned his guns to their holsters. The scrawny youngster that had been threatened had recovered enough that he was scrambling to retrieve the empty cartridges before they rolled through the cracks between the wet boards.

"He didn't give you any other way out." The young barkeeper agreed. "My name is Bert Flores and I owe you a drink. I can always find more customers but it's hard to keep a good swamper like that kid there. Besides, I think Jasper might be my son, me and his mother used to get along pretty good most of the time."

After looking over the boy and finding him to be shaken but unharmed by the violent shove he'd been given they moved inside. More onlookers came in behind them, most of them were asking questions, and all of them were trying to get a better look at Jim.

"I'm Jim Smith, I'm right proud to meet you, Bert." Jim said as they shook hands firmly. "If that offer of yours was serious I could surely use a shot of red-eye whiskey to steady my nerves and wet my whistle!"

"I just saw that he's got the kind of nerves that beat a drawn and cocked gun from a stand still!" Bert said loudly to the growing crowd as a barrel-chested older man with a badge shouldered his way through them. "Hello, Sheriff Long. Mister Smith here just did away with one of the rowdies that has been pestering everybody around here so much of late!"

"Howdy Sheriff, I'm sorry I got into trouble in your town so quickly. I tried my best to avoid it, sir." Jim said respectfully.

"I've already talked to Jasper and another witness." The Sheriff said as he and Jim turned to the plank bar and accepted the glasses Bert poured for them. "I didn't think there was but one man in Texas who was fast enough for that trick you just pulled off and even he is dead now. It appears to me, Zack bit a bigger chaw off the plug than he could chew. At least his gettin' you riled will save me the trouble of throwin' him in jail every Friday night."

The Sheriff turned to Bert and said, "The drinks are on Zack. He had thirty dollars in his poke and five will get him buried. I've talked before to one of the men that rode in with him and he's got no family. I'll auction off his horse and tack later in the week but right now we're going to give our dear departed friend Zack a twenty-five dollar wake!"

Jim put out his hand and caught another full shot glass that came sliding his way. A strikingly lovely young lady had shoved it to him from a few feet down the bar. He paused for a moment as their eyes met and they looked at each other admiringly. "Thank you, Ma'am!" He said politely to the girl.

He was wondering what a girl as exquisitely beautiful as she was doing in a Laredo saloon. Jim realized he and the girl were staring at each other and he was suddenly afraid she might think him rude. He found himself wondering about this reluctance of his, with most saloon women he would have openly flirted.

To cover his momentary confusion he turned and called to Jasper, "Could you water my horse, Son? Here's two bits for your trouble and you can ride him to and from the water." The boy caught the coin in midair and thanked Jim on the run as he went out the door. Jim knew most town boys Jasper's age would do almost anything to get to ride a good horse, especially one as flashy as Jim's stallion.

"That boy would have led your horse to the river on foot just to brag to the other boys that you asked him to." Buck told Jim as they watched the boy running to the hitching rail outside. "You got to being his hero when you saved him from a whuppin' a while ago."

"Well, sir." Jim returned, "I had a hero myself when I was a young one and it never hurt me any; he was my favorite uncle."

The Sheriff shortly asked Jim off to one side of the bar to talk seriously. "Do you have a job at the present, uh, Mr. Smith?" He asked.

"No sir, I'm just passing through." Jim replied. "If I decide to stay for a while I'm sure I'll be able to find some kind of job to keep me off of your list of vagrants. By the way, Sir, my dad's name was Mr. Smith; I'd be pleased if you'd call me Jim."

"Alright Jim, but my dad's name was Sir, so you can just call me Buck like everybody else. I'm offering you a job as my Deputy, young man." The Sheriff explained that the town had been cursed by a string of robberies and shootings over the last several months, one of which had seen the sheriff himself get ambushed from behind. Buck was still recuperating from his wounds, which had caused him to slow down considerably.

Buck told Jim he had been considering retirement for some years since he had a pension coming in from the army and had some other investments. As he explained it to Jim he'd been looking for someone steady and reliable to train as his replacement.

Buck allowed as how Jim had already showed him he was eminently qualified for the job physically and he wasn't smart enough to avoid risking harm to himself to help someone else out of trouble. The Sheriff explained to him amiably that being too stupid to avoid the dirty job was the major qualification to being a lawman in a rough border town.

Despite the Sheriff's frank admissions of the difficulties involved, Jim quickly decided to accept the job. It would fit right in with his own plans of investigating his uncle's murder and put him above the open suspicion that all drifters were subject to until he could scout out the lay of the land.

The Sheriff filled him in on more of the details that he felt were connected with the rash of trouble. Jim tried not to visibly react when he was told of the incident that had brought him to Laredo, the murder of Jack Horn.

According to Buck the problems had seemed to start several years back when more dead beats and ne'er-do-wells than usual had begun to drift into town. The mischief and good-natured fighting and drunkeness normally indulged in by hard working ranch hands had grown to include armed robbery and murder.

Buck had sent most of the drifters packing but the town was still having incidents like the one Zack had just provoked. Another mystery to Buck was how Zack had a man's wages for a month in his pocket when he'd never seemed to work.

Buck also pointed out Red Kelly to Jim as a man who could bear watching. "He's been just a little too close to all of the trouble around here for me!" The old lawman had grumbled.

"I'll sure watch him, Buck." Jim assured the Sheriff. He took up riding herd over the local rough crowd right then and there. Over the next few days Jim worked on not only watching the wild bunch but also on cultivating a friendship with some of the other locals. One of them he really would have enjoyed working up a relationship with was the little darling who helped out at Bert's saloon!

He had been speaking courteously and kindly to her since they'd met but he'd not flirted with her as yet because he thought a young beauty like her was probably already spoken for. Even if she wasn't, she was way off limits to the likes of an old war-horse like him.

A couple of days later Jim was sitting in the Broken Spoke sipping on his beer and admiring that same young lady as she worked. He'd been told her name was Angelina. Jim thought it a fitting name for such a sweet young beauty.

Red Kelly was sitting at a table with a couple of the other questionable characters. Red abruptly rose from his seat and ambled toward the door. There was something vaguely different about his stiff gait that aroused Jim's suspicions instantly. Jim gave him about a minute's head start then he tossed a coin on the table and headed for his horse in the yard behind the saloon. He saddled the horse and followed Red.

Kelly rode out of town to the east, he acted like he was taking his time and was going nowhere important but he had already awakened Jim's hunting instincts. Jim just knew that he was up to some kind of meanness. Kelly rode a couple of miles into open range then he turned into a big grove of brush and vanished!

Jim rode around to where he could see the other side of the grove and waited. Thirty minutes later Kelly still hadn't reappeared and Jim decided to go in and flush him out. He rode carefully into the brush. He reined his horse around and through the brush and was almost in the center of the grove when Red called from behind him. "Put 'em up, Deputy!"

"Well, howdy Red." Jim spoke calmly as he turned to see Red concealed behind some bushes with a gun in his fist. "What are you doing with that gun; you going rabbit hunting?"

"Why, I 'spect I might just have to shoot you with it! Set real still like while I get your guns and then we're going to have us a little talk!"

Jim figured Red sure enough aimed to kill him after that little talk or he wouldn't be openly holding a gun on him. Red came up behind him and snatched his belt guns out of their holsters. "Now get down off of that horse!" Red warned.

Jim started off of his horse, as his leg swung over the saddle he reached for the gun in his boot. He turned the gun toward Red just as Red fired his! Jim's hat flew off of his head, Red had missed but Jim didn't. Red flew backwards and landed flat on his back in the dust as the bullet from Jim's short barreled six-gun entered his chest and pierced his body!

As quick as thought, Jim was by Red's side, he didn't want another repeat of his painful gunfight with Silas Hawkins, but Red was thoroughly dead already. Jim carefully went through his pockets; he found nothing incriminating except Red had over fifty dollars in his pocket which was quite a lot of money for someone who had spent most of his time loitering around the saloon drinking.

A short hunt through the brush produced Red's horse. Jim searched through his saddlebags and bedroll but he didn't find anything that was even remotely suspicious. He loaded Red on his horse and headed back toward town. He took Red over to the Doc's when he rode into town and then he went to report to Buck.

"I had to shoot Red, he threw down on me from behind." Jim told Sheriff Buck as he walked in the office door. "He took my belt guns from my holsters when he first got the drop on me but his not checking me for a hideout gun got him read to from the Bible."

"Well, I'm sorry you had to kill him before we had a chance to question him." Buck said. "I'm sure Red knew more about the shootings and robberies around here than he let on."

"I agree with you there, Sheriff, but you set me to watching him so I trailed him out of here today to see where he was off to. I think he was told by someone to lure me out of town and gun me down. I didn't have a lot of choice but to punch his ticket with my hold out gun after he doubled back and got the drop on me like he did. As it was I just barely beat him."

At this point Jim pulled off his battered felt hat and poked his trigger finger through the new hole in the crown to show the Sheriff how close it had been.

"I'll add the price of a new sombrero to your wages out of my expense money, "Deputy Smith!" Buck was smiling right smart like at Jim when he said his name!

"Now Sheriff," Jim told him, "I think I might know what you're hinting at but you know the Smith family is an awful big one here in Texas since the yankees sent the carpet-baggers down here to run the southern states after the war."

"I know." The Sheriff spoke slyly, "My name may not have always been Buck Long either. I ain't complainin'; your alias sure was handy to help blackmail you into working for me! Now get on back out there on patrol and keep your eyes open. I know you had to shoot Red, but I'll give you a few words of advice. Solving a case by killing all of the suspects ain't always the easiest way!"

As Jim walked out of the Sheriff's office he was studying on how his estimate of Buck's intuition had grown drastically after the perilous events of the last few days. Jim headed roughly in the direction of the Broken Spoke, Bert's saloon, as he scouted the area for signs of trouble.

He was in no big hurry as he was thinking about what step to take next in finding out who or what was behind the recent rash of trouble in Laredo. He was also wondering if he should confide in the Sheriff his real reason for being in the town.

Jim had been spreading out his bedroll at the jailhouse since taking the job but he was considering taking Bert up on his friendly offer of a room in his house behind the saloon. This would put him into closer proximity to the drifters and gamblers who hung out in the bar and he hoped this could possibly lead to more information. Jim was beginning to suspect these maddening crimes were possibly being used as a cover up for something else.

As Jim walked into the saloon the rare and wondrous sight of a heavy brass spitoon spinning through the air disturbed his revery. The spitoon hit a tall, busty, red headed woman right between the eyes. The missile dropped her as limp as a poll-axed steer!

The spitoon was followed closely by a small, slim, vixen of a girl with flashing brown eyes. She grasped a handful of the unconscious woman's hennaed mane and began sliding her towards the batwing doors where she bumped into Jim.

"Whoa, Angelina!" Jim shouted as he backed toward the door. He'd quickly recognized the beautiful little hellion. She was Bert's twenty-year-old cousin, Angelina Cortez; the girl he'd been so taken with the first day he'd rode into town.

"Jim, do something! Stop her!" Bert yelled as he crouched behind the bar where he was forted up. He'd put several chairs at each end of the bar to keep Angel out and he was acting helplessly upset though several other patrons seemed to be enjoying the fracas. "She's wrecking my saloon; Angel's done whipped both of the girls that work for me!"

"Get out of my way, Senor Jim! Bert told me to take this fight outside and that's what I intend to do!" Angel shoved Jim forcefully in the chest with her little fist as she slid the still dazed, much larger woman a foot closer to the door!

"Settle down Angel!" Jim said in a soothing voice. "What did she do to set your moccasins on the warpath? Turn her loose and Bert will take care of her. Come over here and sit a spell and tell old Jim what the trouble is, Honey."

Jim gently steered Angelina toward a table and held a chair for her as she sat down. He purposely sat her with her back to the door while Bert assisted Darla to her feet and into a back room of the saloon.

"Now!" Jim said as he sat down across from Angelina. "What did those two women do to make a beautiful, cultured young lady like you put on the war paint like a liquored up Cherokee buck?"

"Darla and Gloria said they wanted you; that is why I had to fight them." Angel said, she was wringing her hands in anguish. "I loved you the first time I saw you. I beg you not to think that I am a bad woman, Jim, but Darla and Gloria are that kind and I will hurt them if they try to get you."

Jim was shocked by this heartfelt avowal of devotion from a girl he had talked to only a few times. He shouted, "Bert, tote us both something to drink over here while I try to cipher this thing out, and leave the bottles!" He was no more willing to risk taking his eyes off of the feisty young girl than he would have a riled up nest of sunburned sidewinders!