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  WANTED: MAN OF HONOR

  A SILVERPINES NOVEL

  By: Parker J. Cole

  Copyright

  Copyright © 2018 Parker J. Cole

  Cover Art by Josephine Blake of Covers and Cupcakes

  https://coversandcupcakes.wordpress.com/

  All rights reserved.

  First Edition: June 2018

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the authors.

  Contents

  Copyright

  DEDICATION

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  JOIN PARKER’S BODACIOUS READERS

  WORKS BY PARKER J COLE

  DEDICATION

  To the Author and Finisher of my faith, thank you for my life and talent.

  To George and Lynn, the winds beneath my wings.

  To Carolyn and Amy, who didn’t even blink when given the impossible.

  CHAPTER ONE

  April 1899, Outskirts of Astoria

  Tobias Clayborne rode up to Henry McIntosh’s small ranch as brilliant streaks of golden light yielded to the deepening blush of the Oregon sunset. “Whoa, Chip.” He tugged on the reins and alighted from the horse. Tying the horse’s reins around the hitching post, he called out, “Henry! It’s me! T.D.!”

  He swatted at the dust of the trail on his pants, expecting any moment for Henry to open the door and greet him. No way he couldn’t have heard his approach.

  “Henry! It’s me, T. D.!” He yelled again.

  A blatant, almost cruel silence rebounded.

  Tobias’s gut tightened. In a practiced move, he slid his revolver out of the holster, cocked, and aimed it toward the worn, wooden door.

  His eyes scouted his surroundings, squinting as the last rays of the sun’s light disappeared into the purplish blue of dusk. There had been reports of scattered Indian raids in this area, some twenty miles north of the outskirts of Astoria. Tobias didn’t think Henry would have been targeted by rebel Indians. His best friend had an understanding with some of the tribes although the government had relocated most of them to the reservations.

  With nothing amiss outside, Tobias turned his attention back to the closed door. No, it wasn’t closed. It was slightly ajar. The sight of that slit of darkness stood up the hairs on the back of his neck.

  Something was wrong.

  On cat’s feet, he inched toward the door. No sound of life from the inside. He strained his ears, wanting to believe Henry and his new bride Cora were playing a jest of some kind.

  His stomach innards twisted painfully. All around, his sudden, sensitive hearing took in the sounds of nature’s twilight song—gentle, steady winds rustling the trees, night calls of birds, the hum of insect life, and the distant scurrying of wildlife in the forest.

  But no sounds of life from the house.

  When he reached the opened door, he tried one last time, praying he’d get an answer. “Henry?” He choked on his friend’s name. “It’s me, T.D.”

  Tobias’s skin tightened over his body, so taut a feather could cut it. He nudged the door wider with the tip of his revolver. The hinges cackled like the laughter of callous old women. A beam of moonlight chose to shine its damning light around his body. His shadow stretched across the wooden floors ending with the black outline of his hat.

  Above his dark silhouette, a pale hand lay curled.

  “No!” He pushed the door open and rushed in. Soft brushes of moonlight illuminated the disorder. The large table flipped on its top in an obvious struggle. Chairs thrown about. Cutlery scattered on the floor while papers and the family Bible lay in tatters.

  Cora lay unnaturally still in the midst of all of this, her white face frozen in an expression of anguish and fear.

  “Cora!” Shoving his gun back into his holster, he dove to her side, falling to his knees. “Cora!”

  “T.D.—” A rasp filled with a soul-stripping agony made Tobias’s head whip around. A shaft of bluish white light fell on the source of the sound. Tobias gasped. The sight of his best friend’s mangled, awkward figure upright against the wall sent a cold wave of shock through him.

  “Henry!” Skidding across the floor, Tobias squatted next to his friend.

  “I knew you’d come.” Henry coughed. Droplets of blood speckled his chin.

  Tobias gently pushed his friend’s head upright. Bruised and swollen flesh around the eyes, mouth, and cheeks made his friend’s former rugged handsomeness a grotesque mask.

  “Henry, who did this to you?” Tobias’s eyes scanned Henry’s inert body. His flaccid arms and legs rested at strange angles. Centered in the middle of his stomach lay a wide, dark stain. A giant rock bulged in Tobias’s throat. How had Henry been able to hold on this long?

  “Mace Thorne.” The name came out of his disfigured lips in a low, muffled groan.

  Tobias stilled. “Mace Thorne?” he repeated, his body stiffened as heat surged through every part of him. “Why?”

  A hacking cough racked Henry’s body. “Cora refused and he—” The words ended.

  Tobias’s eyes squeezed shut. They’d only been married a year.

  Henry’s muffled voice grew fainter. “T.D.?”

  He opened his eyes again to see Henry’s pleading gaze. “What is it, Henry?”

  “I stayed because I knew you’d come.” Tobias didn’t pretend to misunderstand. Sheer stubbornness kept Henry alive when he should have succumbed to his injuries.

  “T.D., I don’t have a lot of time.” The light in Henry’s eyes began to fade. “Bring her to me.”

  Tobias did as he asked. He lifted Cora’s lifeless frame with much care. Gently, he lay Cora against Henry’s side. As his friend kissed the auburn curls of his dead wife, hatred sprouted like a poisonous weed in the center of Tobias’s chest. Mace Thorne would pay for this.

  Henry’s eyes clouded over. “Get him…for me. Okay?” His head lolled on top of his wife’s.

  Tobias gripped Henry’s still hand and vowed. “I’ll die trying.”

  Elena Somersville stood by as Elder Rhys Huber recited his message over her brother’s grave. Bo Somersville now lay six feet under the ground. His funeral one of many performed in Silverpines within the last week. God’s judgement was surely upon them. Two earthquakes, one after the other, had destroyed their town.

  “Ashes to ashes…” Elder Huber intoned, his gray brownish hair matted to his forehead as a fine drizzle wept over the earth.

  That’s all you are now, Bo. A chill wracked her body. She gathered the black, woolen shawl around her tighter. She longed for Victoria’s presence but that was impossible. Her friend’s husband, the mayor of Silverpines, had died in the same calamity that had taken Bo. Victoria hadn’t left the house since his death.

  The funeral ended after a short time and the mourners began to leave. Elena glanced around at some of those gathered, recognizing them instantly since she had attended the funerals of their own loved ones. Mothers, fathers, brothers, children – there wasn’t a person in Silverpines who hadn’t suffered loss. None at all.

  Elena’s feet plodded along the muddy streets as she and the other mourners made their way to Sil
verpines Inn. Hard to believe a mere twelve days ago, Silverpines was a thriving community with a robust logging operation and prosperous mining facilities.

  All of it, gone.

  The drizzle continued in a soft deluge, stinging her face with its icy rain drops. When they arrived at the inn, she was greeted by the solemn face of the new owner as of last week, Dexter Bastian,

  “I’m real sorry for yer loss, Miss Elena.” His brown hair had been slicked to the side.

  “Thank you, Dexter.” He seemed like such a boy although he was a couple of years her senior. Not the smartest man she’d ever come across but he worked hard.

  She’d gone to his father’s funeral a couple of days ago. In his efforts to rescue some of the men from the mine when the earthquake struck, Carl Bastian had died along with so many others. “I’m sorry for yours as well.”

  He nodded but his eyes reflected the emotions of her soul – lost, hopeless, and helpless.

  The repast was a subdued affair. Silverpines Inn was one of the few buildings to escape severe damage from the earthquake. As the mourners loitered about, a few of them came to her and offered condolences. Elena accepted them as was expected but no one knew of the hard, cold knot of fear lodged in her belly.

  Bo promised he’d guard her against her fiancé as long as he lived. With his death, she had no protection from her future husband. The thing she desired least in this world was to be the bride of the gunslinger, Mace Thorne.

  A tear slid down her cheek.

  “Sweet child, go ahead and cry.”

  Elena hurriedly wiped the moisture from her cheeks and turned around. A little bit of the despair which had overtaken her eased away. Fannie Pearl Edmondson stood there. Behind her wire frame spectacles, her kind, brown eyes were full of compassion.

  “You go ahead and cry. Cry until you can’t cry no more and then holler.”

  “There’s no sense in crying, Fannie Pearl. No sense at all.”

  “I disagree.” Fannie Pearl shook her brownish gray head emphatically. “The men can’t cry because they gotta fight for us. When we cry, we’re stronger because we allow our tears.”

  Without conscious thought except for the mind-numbing panic which squeezed her insides with a vise-like grip, Elena pulled Fannie Pearl into her arms and clung to the older woman. Her tears flowed more freely but they weren’t just for her brother.

  Once Mace Thorne received news of Bo’s death, he would come claim his wife.

  The thought of the gunslinger made her skin crawl. He was a man few wanted to cross paths with. An evil man who did acts of harm for the simple fact he received pleasure from them.

  “Fannie Pearl, he’s going to be coming for me.” A shiver vibrated along her back.

  She’d rather die than marry a man of such evil.

  Fannie Pearl rubbed her back. “Let’s do some praying. We can’t let that scoundrel in our town. Not after all of this we done been through.”

  “But I can’t! I promised Bo.”

  Fannie Pearl tugged out of her grasp. Clasping Elena’s shoulders with surprising strength, the older woman gazed at her with a determined glint. “This ain’t an honorable man, Elena. It ain’t like he’s coming here to help rebuild this town. When he finds out, he’s gonna come here and take you. And then probably destroy the little bit of life we got left. Bo is dead, God rest his soul. But you can’t worry about him. You have to worry about Elena.”

  “I am worried about me. My nineteenth birthday is in a little over two months. Mace—”

  Elena shuddered violently. The cords in her neck constricted. She could hardly breathe.

  “We’ll figure out something,” Fannie Pearl’s lips firmed into a hard line. “Don’t you worry. When someone closes a door, God opens a window.”

  Elena blinked back tears. What if the window was nailed shut, too? What would she do then?

  CHAPTER TWO

  May 1899, Astoria

  The aroma of bacon, flapjacks, and fresh brewed coffee sent Tobias leaping down the stairs of Duncan Landry’s boarding house. The Landrys’ boarders, mostly miners, had already gone so there was only the portly figure of Mrs. Landry serving up the remainder of the meal.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Landry.” He removed his hat and set it on the back of the chair.

  “Good morning, Mr. Clayborne.” Mrs. Landry peered at him above her spectacles. “So, you will be joining us for breakfast today.” The reproachful look in her gray-eyed gaze reminded him of his aunt Patricia.

  “My apologies for my tardiness, Mrs. Landry.”

  The proprietress gave an indignant sniff and made her way back to the kitchen. “I’ll have your food ready in two ticks, Mr. Clayborne.”

  Tobias poured himself a mug of coffee and sat back to enjoy the drink. Two weeks had passed since Henry and Cora’s deaths. He’d gone to the funeral, watching as both pairs of parents crumbled to pieces in despair. Standing by their graves, he vowed he’d avenge Henry’s death.

  The local law wouldn’t do anything about the crime. His lips turned down as he thought back to the conversation.

  “A dying man named his murderer!” Tobias had shouted. “How is that not sufficient cause for an investigation?”

  “Weren’t nobody but you what heard it,” that yellowed-bellied sheriff said. “Cain’t go after Mace Thorne and his bunch jes’ on yer word, now can I?”

  Tobias knew the real reason. Thorne was too powerful an enemy. Too dangerous. He’d committed all kinds of atrocities but no one had the guts to pin the blame on him. Everyone in the territory knew what Thorne was—a man you wanted to steer clear of. In fact, most folks, when he began to search for Thorne’s whereabouts, had gazed at him like he’d lost his mind. Why would anyone want to search out the man?

  Brooding over his cup of coffee Tobias acknowledged he’d already lost his mind. Long before Thorne had killed his best friend.

  The shuffling sounds of skirts pulled his attention. He sat forward as Mrs. Landry set a plate of golden flapjacks, sunny side up eggs, and two rashers of hot, sizzling bacon on the table.

  “There you are, Mr. Clay—”

  A loud insistent banging rattling the front door interrupted her.

  “Duncan, someone’s at the door!” Mrs. Landry yelled, pushing her spectacles up on her nose.

  “I can hear jes’ fine, Lucille!” The sound of the back door opening and closing in the kitchen reverberated in the house. Duncan Landry’s thin, white-haired frame came into view. “I ain’t lost my hearin’ yet, woman.” He grumbled as he set a bucket he’d brought from the outside onto the floor. “Prolly ‘nother boarder.”

  “Well, we won’t discover his identity until we let him in, will we, Duncan?”

  The banging started up again. “Hold yer horses, I’m comin’!” the older man shouted as he went to answer the front door.

  Mrs. Landry shook her head but kept quiet. Tobias reached for his knife and fork to cut into his breakfast. The mutter of voices could be heard and then footsteps along the rickety wooden floors.

  The tall, unkempt man behind Duncan Landry made Tobias’s eyebrows arch. His clothes hung stiff from the caked mud and dust from the trail. An unpleasant odor came off him as if he hadn’t showered in days and he moved stiffly, his left arm hung in a grimy sling.

  Beneath all the grime, the man’s bright furtive gaze darted over the confines of the communal room, as if searching for something or someone. When his light-colored eyes landed on Tobias, he grunted, “Morning.”

  Mrs. Landry’s mouth dropped. Her voice screeched like a stuck pig. “I’ll not have riffraff in my home. You can get out of here, Mister—”

  “Garrison. Luther Garrison.” He took off his sweat stained hat. “I’m really sorry for intruding on you all like this but I’d really appreciative if you can provide room and board for a couple of days.”

  Duncan fiddled with his suspenders and rocked back on his heels. “Well, I reckon we can—”

  “Absolutely not!” Mrs.
Landry interjected. “Mr. Landry and I run a clean business here and I’ll—”

  Luther Garrison reached into his pocket with his uninjured hand. Wincing, he tossed a small sack onto the table. From the clanging sound, it must be coins. He nodded toward the small sack, “That’ll be enough to take care of my bill for a week.”

  Tobias never saw the woman actually grab the sack. It was there on the table one moment and then suddenly gone. “Please be seated, Mr. Garrison,” Mrs. Landry simpered, the affront gone as if someone had taken a rag and wiped it away. “I’ll get you a hot plate of food and coffee’s already on the table. I’ll have Mr. Landry get some hot water ready for your bath while we prepare you a room.”

  Tobias blinked at the sudden change. Luther seized a chair and straddled it like a horse. Grabbing for the pitcher of coffee, he poured a cup and guzzled the hot brew down without stopping. He did it again and smacked his lips.

  “That’s right good coffee.” He belched loudly.

  Saying nothing, Tobias went back to his plate.

  “Food any good?”

  Luther eyed the plate as if he were going to grab it. Tobias grunted. “Mrs. Landry provides a fine meal.”

  Soon, they were both silent as they focused on eating their breakfasts. Luther shoveled the food in his mouth, barely taking time to eat one mouthful before he shoved more in. The man gobbled down the food like he hadn’t eaten in days.

  Maybe he hadn’t.

  After another loud belch and a sigh, Luther leaned back in the chair and rubbed his free hand across his belly. “Now all I need is a nice warm bed and I can sleep for a week.” Looking at the broom in the corner of the room, Luther went over to it and pulled out a stem of straw. As he sat back down, he picked at his teeth. “So, Tobias Clayborne, what brings you here?”

  Tobias wiped his hands with the cloth Mrs. Landry provided. “I’m looking for someone.”

  “Who might that be?” Luther spit out whatever piece of food caught in his teeth.