Items related to The Hangman's Tree
They call it "The Hangman's Tree." Everyone in Marfa, Texas, knows about the old madrone tree out on the Lacy ranch. Town lore says the tree's strange crimson bark is colored by the blood of thirteen men--each of whom met his death by hanging from the tree's sturdiest branch. It's been years since the last lynching--until local troublemaker Danny Lacy is discovered one blistering morning hanging dead from the tree, a hangman's knot around his neck. And now it's up to Texas Rangers Claude Groves and Carla Jenkins to find some answers. As Claude and Carla sift through dead-end clues and uncooperative witnesses, they learn that most folks in town suspect that Danny's murder was a simple case of a fight gone too far. But when the Rangers find a secret drug-making lab right in Danny's house, they know they're dealing with something much more complicated. And the answers they seek are closer than they realize. For somewhere in town, a silent witness is hiding what she knows--from a killer who will stop at nothing to silence her....
"synopsis" may belong to another edition of this title.
From the Back Cover:
"[Fred Bean is] a Texan who knows Texas."
-- Linda Lay Shuler, author of She Who Remembers
"One of the best new-breed Western writers."
-- Rocky Mountain News
Also by Frederic Bean
Murder At The Spirit Cave
Eden
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.:
-- Linda Lay Shuler, author of She Who Remembers
"One of the best new-breed Western writers."
-- Rocky Mountain News
Also by Frederic Bean
Murder At The Spirit Cave
Eden
ONE
Texas Ranger Senior Captain Claude Groves hung up the phone. His thoughts were clouded by puzzling images that prevented him from continuing a conversation with Carla Jenkins, the first commissioned woman in Ranger history. Carla had been assigned to Claude as her field training officer after she graduated from the DPS Academy, in part because Claude had taken his field training under her father, retired Ranger captain Alfred Jenkins.
"What's wrong?" Carla asked.
"We've been assigned to a weird case in Presidio County."
"What's weird about it?" She brushed a stray lock of blond hair away from her deep blue eyes, reading his face.
"To begin with, one of the biggest ranchers in west Texas, a guy with a helluva lot of political muscle, called the major to request that the investigation be handled by your father. Demanded might be a better word. The guy didn't know about Alfred's early retirement. Major Elliot gave me . . . gave us, the case. The rancher's son was found dead, hanging by a rope in some old ghost town near the Mexican border."
"This should be handled by Company D in Midland."
"Yes, but Walter Lacy knows the governor personally and he apparently knows Alfred, and he wants the next best thing. We get the case, like it or not. That's some of the roughest country in Texas an' damn sure the hottest place on earth this time of year."
"Hanging sounds more like suicide to me, unless the local authorities have some evidence to the contrary. A gun is a lot simpler if somebody wanted the victim dead."
"Lacy insists it was murder. I've learned never to question a direct order from Major Elliot."
Carla stood up, giving him a glimpse of her well-proportioned figure, even though she dressed modestly in the unofficial Ranger uniform of a plain white shirt and starched brown jeans with boots. She was thirty, divorced, with eight years on the El Paso Police Department as a patrol officer. "I can be ready in a couple of hours, Captain."
Claude merely nodded, wondering if he should call Alfred to tell him Walter Lacy had asked that Alfred handle the investigation into the death of
his boy. Lacy's confidence in him might make Alfred feel less bitter about his forced retirement. Alfred hadn't gone out to pasture gracefully, nor had the
passing of five years done anything to soften his resentment or lessen his loneliness. He and Carla's mother had divorced several years before a Laredo
drug dealer's bullet struck Alfred down.
"I'll pick you up on our way out of Austin," Claude said to Carla. "It's an all-day drive, ten or twelve hours."
"I'll download all the vital stats on Presidio County from our mainframe into my computer."
Claude sighed, wagging his head. "You can leave that damn electronic gizmo here, for all I care."
"It's the computer age, Captain," she said, opening the office door.
"Not for me. I'm too old to learn all that button-pushin' crap. A computer never put cuffs on a crook. A peace officer with good instincts catches crooks."
She smiled and started out the door again. "At the risk of insubordination, Captain, your old-fashioned methods waste too much time. A computer makes law enforcement faster and far more efficient."
Carla closed the door before he could offer more argument. Claude settled back in his swivel chair to stare out his office window, battling feelings much more powerful and disturbing than his opinion of computers. Although he was almost twenty years her senior, he was drawn to Carla's beauty, to her intelligence, to her whimsical smile; her spunk and personality, her toughness. The press, and most of the cadets at the academy, had put her through hell as the first female Texas Ranger. Front-page headlines. Resignations by decorated Ranger veterans. Icy treatment from other DPS cadets and instructors, leaving her ignored, isolated, an object of contempt. But Carla Sue Jenkins, with her father's iron will, survived it all without so much as a blink.
There was, however, a serious problem with Claude's attraction to Carla. An affair would be a career-ending move for both of them. And quite possibly a life-ending mistake on the part of Claude Ray Groves if Alfred ever found out his old partner had even the slightest romantic interest in his only daughter.
Claude's mind drifted back to what he knew about the case in Presidio County. Precious little, at this point. The deceased was hanging ten feet off the ground from a tree limb. The Lacys owned more land than virtually anyone in southwestern Texas. Walter was a heavy contributor to election campaigns and he had "stroke" in all the right places. Like many self-made wealthy Texans, he would expect special treatment and quick results.
"Another boot-licking case," he muttered, reaching for the phone to give Alfred the news, dialing the number in Brownwood from memory.
TWO
The heat inside Anna's tiny apartment was oppressive despite a constant throbbing noise from the window air-conditioning unit. As she put on her makeup in the bathroom, Marfa's lone radio station announced that the temperature had already reached a hundred two degrees, and it was still an hour away from noon. A slow country music tune immediately followed the morning's grim weather news.
"It'll be hell at work today," she mumbled, wishing she'd never moved to Marfa. She drew a dark line on each perspiring eyelid, preparing for work
the way she always did with enough makeup to flatter her best features, doing what she could to hide eyes that were too small and a few old acne scars.
The rattle of the air conditioner and the drone of a nasal voice singing on the radio almost prevented her from hearing her telephone in the bedroom.
"Damn," she whispered, wondering who would call at this hour, stabbing the eyeliner brush back into its tube. Auburn hair clung to her damp forehead as
she ran to the phone in her bra and panties. "Hello?"
"Lover boy is dead." The voice was muffled, as if someone were holding a rag over the mouthpiece.
"What? Who is this?"
"Your lover boy is dead, bitch."
"Who the hell is this?" The air conditioner was making too much noise. She turned it off. The phone clicked in her ear. "Hello?"
Silence. She slammed the phone onto its cradle, angry, wondering. Who the hell was "her" lover boy? And who had just called her a bitch?
As she reached for the air conditioner's knob, the eleven o'clock news began on KMAR. A scratchy announcer's voice said, "The entire county is in shock this morning with the announcement by Sheriff Roy Huff that Danny Lacy, son of prominent rancher Walter C. Lacy, was found dead yesterday at Casa Piedra. No official details are being given, however a source close to the Lacy family has stated that it appears Daniel Lacy was murdered. His body has been taken to Carson Funeral Home. No date has been set for the funeral. . . ."
She raced to the bathroom and turned off her radio, staring at her reflection in the mirror above the sink. "Dear God," she whispered.
Tears rushed to her eyes, and mascara began to run down her face. The telephone call had not been a prank.
Nor were her tears shed entirely in sorrow. An icy fear gripped her, for she knew this might only be the beginning. . . .
Texas Ranger Senior Captain Claude Groves hung up the phone. His thoughts were clouded by puzzling images that prevented him from continuing a conversation with Carla Jenkins, the first commissioned woman in Ranger history. Carla had been assigned to Claude as her field training officer after she graduated from the DPS Academy, in part because Claude had taken his field training under her father, retired Ranger captain Alfred Jenkins.
"What's wrong?" Carla asked.
"We've been assigned to a weird case in Presidio County."
"What's weird about it?" She brushed a stray lock of blond hair away from her deep blue eyes, reading his face.
"To begin with, one of the biggest ranchers in west Texas, a guy with a helluva lot of political muscle, called the major to request that the investigation be handled by your father. Demanded might be a better word. The guy didn't know about Alfred's early retirement. Major Elliot gave me . . . gave us, the case. The rancher's son was found dead, hanging by a rope in some old ghost town near the Mexican border."
"This should be handled by Company D in Midland."
"Yes, but Walter Lacy knows the governor personally and he apparently knows Alfred, and he wants the next best thing. We get the case, like it or not. That's some of the roughest country in Texas an' damn sure the hottest place on earth this time of year."
"Hanging sounds more like suicide to me, unless the local authorities have some evidence to the contrary. A gun is a lot simpler if somebody wanted the victim dead."
"Lacy insists it was murder. I've learned never to question a direct order from Major Elliot."
Carla stood up, giving him a glimpse of her well-proportioned figure, even though she dressed modestly in the unofficial Ranger uniform of a plain white shirt and starched brown jeans with boots. She was thirty, divorced, with eight years on the El Paso Police Department as a patrol officer. "I can be ready in a couple of hours, Captain."
Claude merely nodded, wondering if he should call Alfred to tell him Walter Lacy had asked that Alfred handle the investigation into the death of
his boy. Lacy's confidence in him might make Alfred feel less bitter about his forced retirement. Alfred hadn't gone out to pasture gracefully, nor had the
passing of five years done anything to soften his resentment or lessen his loneliness. He and Carla's mother had divorced several years before a Laredo
drug dealer's bullet struck Alfred down.
"I'll pick you up on our way out of Austin," Claude said to Carla. "It's an all-day drive, ten or twelve hours."
"I'll download all the vital stats on Presidio County from our mainframe into my computer."
Claude sighed, wagging his head. "You can leave that damn electronic gizmo here, for all I care."
"It's the computer age, Captain," she said, opening the office door.
"Not for me. I'm too old to learn all that button-pushin' crap. A computer never put cuffs on a crook. A peace officer with good instincts catches crooks."
She smiled and started out the door again. "At the risk of insubordination, Captain, your old-fashioned methods waste too much time. A computer makes law enforcement faster and far more efficient."
Carla closed the door before he could offer more argument. Claude settled back in his swivel chair to stare out his office window, battling feelings much more powerful and disturbing than his opinion of computers. Although he was almost twenty years her senior, he was drawn to Carla's beauty, to her intelligence, to her whimsical smile; her spunk and personality, her toughness. The press, and most of the cadets at the academy, had put her through hell as the first female Texas Ranger. Front-page headlines. Resignations by decorated Ranger veterans. Icy treatment from other DPS cadets and instructors, leaving her ignored, isolated, an object of contempt. But Carla Sue Jenkins, with her father's iron will, survived it all without so much as a blink.
There was, however, a serious problem with Claude's attraction to Carla. An affair would be a career-ending move for both of them. And quite possibly a life-ending mistake on the part of Claude Ray Groves if Alfred ever found out his old partner had even the slightest romantic interest in his only daughter.
Claude's mind drifted back to what he knew about the case in Presidio County. Precious little, at this point. The deceased was hanging ten feet off the ground from a tree limb. The Lacys owned more land than virtually anyone in southwestern Texas. Walter was a heavy contributor to election campaigns and he had "stroke" in all the right places. Like many self-made wealthy Texans, he would expect special treatment and quick results.
"Another boot-licking case," he muttered, reaching for the phone to give Alfred the news, dialing the number in Brownwood from memory.
TWO
The heat inside Anna's tiny apartment was oppressive despite a constant throbbing noise from the window air-conditioning unit. As she put on her makeup in the bathroom, Marfa's lone radio station announced that the temperature had already reached a hundred two degrees, and it was still an hour away from noon. A slow country music tune immediately followed the morning's grim weather news.
"It'll be hell at work today," she mumbled, wishing she'd never moved to Marfa. She drew a dark line on each perspiring eyelid, preparing for work
the way she always did with enough makeup to flatter her best features, doing what she could to hide eyes that were too small and a few old acne scars.
The rattle of the air conditioner and the drone of a nasal voice singing on the radio almost prevented her from hearing her telephone in the bedroom.
"Damn," she whispered, wondering who would call at this hour, stabbing the eyeliner brush back into its tube. Auburn hair clung to her damp forehead as
she ran to the phone in her bra and panties. "Hello?"
"Lover boy is dead." The voice was muffled, as if someone were holding a rag over the mouthpiece.
"What? Who is this?"
"Your lover boy is dead, bitch."
"Who the hell is this?" The air conditioner was making too much noise. She turned it off. The phone clicked in her ear. "Hello?"
Silence. She slammed the phone onto its cradle, angry, wondering. Who the hell was "her" lover boy? And who had just called her a bitch?
As she reached for the air conditioner's knob, the eleven o'clock news began on KMAR. A scratchy announcer's voice said, "The entire county is in shock this morning with the announcement by Sheriff Roy Huff that Danny Lacy, son of prominent rancher Walter C. Lacy, was found dead yesterday at Casa Piedra. No official details are being given, however a source close to the Lacy family has stated that it appears Daniel Lacy was murdered. His body has been taken to Carson Funeral Home. No date has been set for the funeral. . . ."
She raced to the bathroom and turned off her radio, staring at her reflection in the mirror above the sink. "Dear God," she whispered.
Tears rushed to her eyes, and mascara began to run down her face. The telephone call had not been a prank.
Nor were her tears shed entirely in sorrow. An icy fear gripped her, for she knew this might only be the beginning. . . .
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- PublisherBantam
- Publication date2000
- ISBN 10 0553580205
- ISBN 13 9780553580204
- BindingPaperback
- Number of pages276
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