Valerons--Beyond the Law! Read online

  Valerons – Beyond the Law!

  It sounded simple enough – Wyatt Valeron is hired to escort a man from Paradise to Denver, Colorado. However, upon arrival at the secluded mining town, he learns a sinister tyrant named Gaskell controls everyone and everything. His hired ‘enforcers’ maintain a form of law that supersedes all outside authority. To break a rule can mean punishment or even death. Wyatt does what comes naturally and ends up sentenced to hang.

  With the Valerons going into action to save Wyatt and take on the all-powerful men in Paradise, another problem has landed on the family doorstep. Cliff Mason finds himself drawn to the plight of a runaway girl, a girl with a dark secret and terrible fear of the man searching for her.

  Both dilemmas have a similar challenge – the authorities are unable to do anything without proof. The Valerons must act on their own to stop these criminals who are Beyond the Law.

  By the same author

  Dead Man’s Canyon

  Garrett’s Trail to Justice

  High Bounty at Wayward

  Hard Trail to Breakneck Pass

  Valeron’s Range

  The Valeron Code

  Valeron’s Justice

  The Valerons – No Boundaries!

  The Valerons – Retribution!

  Valerons – Beyond the Law!

  Terrell L. Bowers

  ROBERT HALE

  © Terrell L. Bowers 2019

  First published in Great Britain 2019

  ISBN 978-0-7198-2889-8

  The Crowood Press

  The Stable Block

  Crowood Lane

  Ramsbury

  Marlborough

  Wiltshire SN8 2HR

  www.bhwesterns.com

  Robert Hale is an imprint of The Crowood Press

  The right of Terrell L. Bowers to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by him

  in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

  All rights reserved. This e-book is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

  Chapter One

  Wyatt Valeron had never heard of Paradise, Colorado. It was not on regular routes or most of the maps he had seen. The reason, he learned, was due to it not actually being a town, but a corporation. It was a mining conglomerate that had built its own private settlement. He rode into town and discovered there were stores, a bakery, tavern, saloon, and a large hotel with a poster by the front door that boasted amenities usually found only in larger cities. The dozen or so houses in the area were expensive in size and structure, while the numerous barracks-style buildings, all of them two stories high, ran for more than an average city block on either side of the street. Beyond those housing units, there were old railroad boxcars with crude shuttered windows. He surmised there must have been at least twenty or more of those. Having seen a few being used for housing, he suspected that was the case here. The railroad spur did come as far as Paradise, but it went no further than a dock for loading ore. Those cars had been dragged into place, likely by several teams of horses, to serve the need for more housing.

  Wyatt stopped at a blacksmith shop, which was also the town livery stable. The man working there stopped what he was doing and came over to greet him.

  ‘Howdy!’ Wyatt spoke to him. ‘You people are a far piece off of the main trails.’

  The man was close to Wyatt’s own age, no more than thirty. When he spoke, he had a distinctive accent.

  ‘Yah, we don’ get so many travelers up here.’

  ‘Name is Wyatt.’

  ‘Bing,’ the man returned.

  ‘Is this a mining town, Bing?’

  ‘Yah, it be dat.’ He looked over his ride. ‘Nice lookin’ mare.’

  ‘I need to put her up for a night or two,’ Wyatt said. ‘I imagine there are vacancies at the hotel for a room?’

  ‘Dere usually be some. Best service you find anywhere.’

  ‘Is that so?’

  ‘Paradise be no ordinary town; it be a business enterprise.’

  Wyatt nodded. ‘A fellow in Denver told me it was a corporation.’

  ‘It be a private corporation. No one tell Gaskell how to run his business, I tell you. He be der only law in Paradise.’

  ‘I’ll remember.’ He paused to look back along the main street. ‘Do they have a telegraph office? I saw poles and a wire on my way up from the main road.’

  ‘Yah. It be at the shipping office, next to dah jail.’

  ‘Jail? You have a sheriff or marshal here?’ Wyatt asked.

  ‘No, we done got Enforcers; dey wear badges like lawmen. Take care not to cross one of dem.’

  ‘I’m a peaceful sort,’ Wyatt told him. Then he handed the man the reins to his horse. ‘I’ll let you know how many nights, soon as I make contact with my employer.’

  ‘Don’ be sending nuthen over der wire what you don’ want passed along to Gaskell. He knows everything dat goes on in Paradise.’

  Wyatt grinned. ‘Like I said, I don’t go out of my way to cause trouble. I was hired for a rather simple chore.’

  Bing took the horse and led her towards the barn. Wyatt rotated about and started up the street. The cleanliness was far and away above any he had seen. Every building had a fresh coat of stain, there was a solid walkway along both sides of the street, and not a piece of litter to be seen. Each sign on a storefront was neatly posted and every window facing the street appeared spotless. Even as he wondered how they kept it so pristine, a young boy and girl were working diligently, cleaning the windows of the bakery. After a few steps, he saw another girl, not yet in her teens, sweeping the walkway.

  Wyatt entered the freight office and was greeted by a heavy-set gent, who had been perched on a stool behind a counter.

  ‘Good day to you, sir. What can I do for you?’

  ‘A fellow named Clevis Mackavoy sent me a wire to meet him here in Paradise. I don’t suppose you have a cable for me? Name’s Wyatt.’

  The man frowned. ‘Mackavoy, you say?’ At Wyatt’s head bob, he rubbed the stubble on his fuzzy chin. ‘Young Shelly Mackavoy works at the eatery. Her brother cleans the saloon nights, but I’ve not seen nor heard of Clevis.’

  ‘He is probably on his way here. It took some looking to find your settlement.’

  ‘Everything you see here is part of the Paradise Land and Mining Corporation.’

  ‘Impressive,’ Wyatt said. ‘Even the stores and shops?’

  ‘Every house, shop and worker within a mile in any direction,’ the man answered.

  ‘Must be taking out a lot of ore.’

  ‘Enough to fill a dozen rail cars each and every week.’

  ‘So you take script for payment here?’

  ‘No, only cash money or on account. The hired and contract workers all have an account number. Anything they want or need is put on their account. If they exceed their monthly allotment, it means having added time to their contract.’

  Wyatt did not hide his surprise. ‘So most everyone working in this town is indentured in some way?’

  ‘Not indentured. Contracts,’ he stated simply. ‘I work for wages, as do most of the store and business proprietors,’ the man explained. ‘We all have workers assigned to help us run and operate our businesses.’ He shrugged. ‘Some are contract workers and some are convicts too – debtors and
those who committed non-violent crimes. Mr Gaskell has agreements with the state and county to employ those workers. So long as the mine is turning a profit, we stay in business.’

  Wyatt frowned. ‘Without actual indentures, how does Gaskell get so many contract workers?’

  ‘Still a lot of people who want to come to America that can’t afford the passage. They sign a contract to work for five years of labor to pay the costs.’

  Although Wyatt failed to see the difference between contracted and indentured, he dropped that part of his inquiry. ‘And the prisons earn a return on the criminals rather than pay for their keep at a penitentiary.’

  ‘You got it.’

  Wyatt tipped back his hat, trying to decide what he should do. ‘Guess I’ll get a room and wait for Mackavoy to show up. He didn’t say what the job entailed, so I’m kind of stuck until he arrives.’

  ‘Nice rooms at the hotel,’ the freight office man told him.

  ‘Thanks. I appreciate your help and information.’

  The man went back to the paperwork on the counter as Wyatt went out the front door and headed for the hotel.

  How about that? he thought. A combination contract and convict operation, a miniature city, with the entire population working for one single corporation! This Gaskell must be one heck of a businessman!

  The young lady was a little above average in looks, clad in a faded blue dress that had seen its best days. Her dark auburn hair was pulled to the back of her head and she regarded Wanetta with a nervous look of apprehension. The wife of Locke Valeron stared back at the girl, noting she had sparkling, chromatic eyes, though presently red and tired as if from sleep deprivation.

  Wanetta smiled a greeting at the girl who had knocked at her door. ‘How do you do?’ she said, taking note of a traveling bag sitting on the step next to the visitor. ‘Can I help you, young lady?’

  ‘I’m looking for Nessy Mason?’ she replied with some hesitance. ‘It is concerning the advertisement in the Weekly Sentinel.’

  ‘An advertisement?’ Wanetta repeated, surprised at the statement. ‘In the Valeron newspaper?’

  ‘For a nanny,’ the girl informed her.

  The words caused Wanetta to actually take a backward step. ‘I . . I . .’ she stammered uncertainly. ‘Uh, let me get the child for you. She is practising her sewing in the next room.’

  ‘Child?’ The girl displayed astonishment. ‘I thought she was the person requesting a nanny for her child!’

  Wanetta bid the young lady enter and offered her a seat in the sitting room. The girl grabbed her bag and followed her inside. She placed her piece of luggage next to a cushioned chair and sat down.

  ‘Tish!’ Wanetta called down the hallway. ‘Would you bring Nessy in here please?’

  Wanetta’s niece, Tish Valeron, entered the room with Nessy and paused to look at the new arrival – one who appeared very near her own age. She offered a smile and asked:

  ‘Who’s our visitor, Auntie?’

  ‘This is . . .’ Mrs Valeron glanced at the girl. ‘I’m sorry, dear, I didn’t even think to get your name?’

  ‘Michelle Bruckner,’ she informed her, ‘but I go by Mikki.’ Then she produced a folded printed page from the Valeron Weekly Sentinel and handed it to Wanetta. ‘I came about the “Help Needed” posting in the newspaper.’

  ‘Oh, goodie!’ Nessy exclaimed. ‘I didn’t think I’d get one so soon!’

  All three of the women gawked at her. Tish was dumbfounded, Mikki looked quite upset, and Wanetta shook her head in wonder. Tish reached out and took the paper from Wanetta. After studying it for a moment, she read it aloud.

  Nanny wanted. Room and board, plus wage. Must love little girls. Inquire at the Valeron ranch for an intereview.

  Tish waggled her index finger at the child. ‘You didn’t write this, Nessy!’ she declared. ‘You would never use such grown-up words.’

  ‘Desiree helped a little,’ Nessy clarified. ‘I told her what I wanted and she wrote it for me.’

  ‘Trust a new mother to want everyone in the family to have all the love she can get,’ Wanetta said.

  ‘So this is a joke of some kind?’ Mikki appeared crestfallen. ‘I spent every cent I had to get here!’

  ‘No, it’s no joke!’ Tish told her quickly. ‘Nessy is right. We often pass her around like a hot potato. A nanny is just what she needs.’

  Wanetta frowned. ‘Cliff is the one who should make that determination. What’s he going to say about this?’

  Jared Valeron, the last son living at Locke and Wanetta’s home, came in the front door and stopped, having heard the last sentence. ‘I caught the part about Cliff. What’s he done now?’ He saw the strange girl sitting in Locke’s usual chair and then his eyes went to the suitcase.

  ‘What’s this? Another of Cliff’s calf-eyed victims seeking compensation for her virtue and good name?’

  Tish was closest to him so she was the one to punch him soundly in the arm. ‘This is Miss Bruckner, Jerry. She has come about the nanny position.’

  ‘The what?’ he asked dumbly, rubbing the spot where Tish had hit him. ‘Whose position?’

  Tish giggled at her cousin’s stunned expression. ‘Nessy has found herself a nanny.’

  Jared recovered to grunt his doubt. ‘Cliff didn’t say anything about hiring a child tender.’

  ‘Exactly,’ Tish told him. ‘I imagine you’ll want to be here when he gets the news. Being that supper is about ready, he should be along at any minute.’

  ‘I wouldn’t miss it,’ Jared laughed. ‘This ought to be good.’

  ‘Listen,’ the curious, deflated girl spoke up. ‘If this isn’t a real job, I’ll. . . . .’

  ‘You might want to wash up, dear.’ Wanetta didn’t allow her to question or protest. She turned to Nessy. ‘As this was your idea, please escort Miss Bruckner to Wendy’s old room – she can put her things in there. Then see she has water for the washing bowl and a fresh towel for her dressing table. She probably gathered a lot of dust on the trip from town and will want to clean up before we eat.’

  ‘Sure, Grandma,’ Nessy chirped cheerfully. ‘I’ll take special care of my new nanny.’

  ‘Are you sure that…?’ the perplexed young lady began to ask.

  ‘Everything is going to work out splendidly, Mikki,’ Tish insisted, cutting off any questions or concerns. ‘I wanted to take a job in town and won’t have much time to help tend Nessy. This is just what Cliff needs.’

  ‘I agree,’ Wanetta joined in. ‘Though it’s still a wonder that you came to us due to an ad placed by an eight-year-old.’

  ‘I’m almost nine,’ Nessy reminded her. ‘At least, that’s the day we made for my birthday.’

  ‘I stand corrected,’ Wanetta allowed. ‘An ad placed by an almost nine-year-old child.’

  The man was in his thirties, with a groomed mustache and neatly shorn hair. He wore a suit and a city-style hat, though he still looked out of place in this part of the country. He introduced himself to Wyatt and the two of them sat down for dinner at the Paradise Eatery.

  ‘I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this,’ Clevis Mackavoy told him. ‘The man I contacted in Denver said you were the one person he trusted completely.’

  ‘And that was Police Sergeant Fielding?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You mentioned this was only an escort duty. What am I supposed to escort?’

  ‘Me and my two children from here to Denver.’

  Wyatt frowned. ‘You made the journey up here on your own. What is so different about the return trip?’

  The man patiently waited as they were served their meals. Then, taking a bite first, he leaned across the table.

  ‘I fear there may be some… difficulty in gaining the release of my kids.’

  ‘Difficulty?’

  ‘I previously sent a wire to Ward Gaskell. He is the owner of this company or whatever you wish to call it. I made a reasonable offer to him and it was refused. I then contacted the
governor’s office, but they assured me Mr Gaskell has final say on everything that takes place here in Paradise.’

  ‘Perhaps you should start at the beginning, Mr Mackavoy. It’s hard to follow a story that starts in the middle.’

  Mackavoy explained that he and his two children desired passage from England to America, but he only had enough money to purchase a single ticket. He had to bring the children on board under an agreement of servitude. Indentures had been around for over two hundred years, but President Lincoln had passed the 13th Amendment to the Constitution, which put an end to slavery and indentures in America. Even so, there were a few people or companies that found a way to hire inexpensive laborers. They paid their sea fare in return for agreeing to work for several years as a contracted employee.

  Having an idea of what had taken place, Wyatt asked: ‘So how much money are we talking about?’

  ‘Thirty-two dollars each for the passage here to the States. Add to that a few dollars for train fare to Colorado and delivery to Paradise.’

  ‘And you have the money to pay their debt?’

  ‘Many times over,’ Mackavoy assured him. ‘My father passed away shortly after we left England. Everything he owned was sold and the funds were sent to me. It was nearly a hundred pounds.’

  Wyatt wrinkled his brow. ‘And that’s how much in dollars?’

  ‘Several hundred dollars.’

  ‘So you contacted Gaskell but he wouldn’t take a fair offer?’

  ‘The reply was from a man named Parker Sayles. He said my children’s contracts were not for sale.’

  Wyatt shook his head. ‘I never met anyone who was indentured, but I recall my aunt telling us something about it when she was giving the kids in our family a history lesson. Seems those people in servitude were quite often traded or sold back and forth. They were pretty much slave labor until their time was up. Then they were given a bit of money and were free to do as they pleased.