CHAPTER 1 [Submitted by Terri Coop]

Although it was dawn, there was no freshness in the still morning air. It was only May, but summer was coming early this year.

Johnny West stood on the porch, sipping his coffee. From this viewpoint, he could see the working area of the Circle X Ranch. Barns, corrals, and workshops made up the heart of the Ranch. However, its soul was in the rolling hills that spread in every direction. Those hills, covered in prairie grass, fed and nurtured the horses and cattle that the Ranch depended on for its survival.

Those hills should have been green. However, because of the drought and early summer, they were bare and brown. Johnny was worried; he’d never seen it this bad. The graze was disappearing and the water holes were shrinking. Last week, he’d taken fifty of his finest horses, the core of his breeding stock, and quartered them in a box canyon at the far edge of the Ranch. The canyon, a bowl of soft grass fed by underground springs, was the last green place on the Circle X Ranch.

Johnny didn’t like having his best horses that far from the house. The country had calmed down some since Pat Garrett had taken over as Sheriff, but a man still had to be careful.

“What are you thinking, Pa?” asked Josie.

Johnny turned and looked at his youngest daughter. She had golden hair just like her mother and the same beautiful eyes.

“I was just thinking that it’s time to get to work. You can help me by taking this into your Ma and seeing if she needs any help,” he said, handing her the empty cup.

He smiled as she ran back into the house.

‘I need to be counting my blessings, instead of my troubles,’ he thought as he headed to the barn.

However, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad was just over the horizon.

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To Be Continued . . .

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CHAPTER 2 [Submitted by Dr. Jim Fuller]

Josie walked into the kitchen and sat the cup down on the table. She loved the smell of the ranch kitchen in the morning. The aroma of the recently eaten breakfast still hung in the air. Huge mounds of Texas style potatoes, mouth-watering biscuits, whole platters filled with bacon, sausage, and steak, all washed down with coffee so strong that if you dropped a horseshoe in, it would stand up.

Josie smiled at her mother and went to help with the chores. Jane West smiled back at her youngest child and wiped her hands on a dishtowel. Truly, a woman’s work was never done! She had stayed up late last night, as usual, trying to finish some of her sewing. Janice and Josie helped, but they just weren’t quite able to meet their mother’s demand for detail on the stitching. Everyone else was asleep when she finally blew out the oil lamp and headed for bed.

Nevertheless, Jane was still the first one up, rising at 4:00 a.m. to start breakfast. Cooking from scratch was a lot of work. Even with the kids helping, there was so much more to do! She sighed and looked out the window at her husband, Johnny, who was now down by the barn. He was such a handsome man, and a smile spread over her face as she watched him. However, she then thought about their conversation last night and frowned. She had known him since childhood, but rarely had she seen Johnny West so worried. Only when the Comanche or Apache were on the warpath had he ever shown such concern. It wasn’t the drought. They had survived such times before. This was a bad year and they might lose a lot of stock - maybe their whole herd - but Johnny was the kind of man to look fear in the face and not back down. No, it was something else. Last night, he had asked her about her trip to town.

“Did you see anybody in town, honey?" He asked. She thought it strange for him to ask such an obvious question.

“Yes, Johnny, I saw some of our friends and the storekeeper and the Sheriff.”

Johnny’s head turned quickly, “Did the Sheriff say anything about Sam Cobra? Or about rustlers in the area?”

Jane shook her head, “No, he didn’t say anything about any of that.”

Johnny nodded, “Well, no matter . . . somebody said they saw some Indians up on the ridge last week. I hope Chief Cherokee’s people are holding out with this drought. The young warriors will be wanting to go to war, and he’ll have a hard time keeping the peace if there’s no water.”

Now, in the growing heat of daylight, she remembered what he had asked. Sam Cobra was an old rival and Johnny was always on the lookout for him. But he hadn’t been involved in rustling for a long time now. Maybe there were other outlaws in the valley. As for Indians, Johnny had fought Chief Cherokee many times in the past before they had settled their differences and the tribe had agreed to let the former Texas Ranger build the Circle X Ranch. That was after they had burned the place down twice and run off all of the horses several times. There had been peace for years now, but the Chief was getting old and new leaders were rising. Maybe there was trouble coming. Johnny had a sense about such things.

Suddenly, Jane was worried.

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To Be Continued . . .

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CHAPTER 3 [Submitted by Sunny Laura Crocker]

Johnny headed towards the barn. Before he got there, he could hear Dick and Jim, his team of work horses, rattling the heavy chains hooked to their leather halters.

Johnny had to smile. He could hear them pawing impatiently at the floor boards in their stalls. Sliding open the barn doors, Dick and Jim wickered in greeting, and to let him know he had better hurry with their breakfast! Flame and Thunderbolt snorted loudly in assent.

Johnny walked past the three box stalls on his way to the feed bin. He thought how strange it was to see them all empty and clean so early in the morning, Usually when he entered the barn in the morning he was greeted by a chorus of whinnys, wickers, and snorts, but not for the past week. He’d taken the bulk of his stock, keeping only Flame and Thunderbolt, up to the canyon.

Johnny sighed as he walked over to the big team of draft horses with their grain. He missed all his riding horses, but with the drought being so bad, he didn't have a choice. He could ride a draft horse if worse came to worse, but he couldn't work his breeding stock. He used Dick and Jim, for planting in the spring, working the feed crops all summer, and harvesting in the fall. He used them for logging to bring in wood to keep the family warm and cook their meals all year. He also used them to break the young colts to drive. He would hook a green colt with one of these two-thousand pound geldings and tie a heavy rope from the colts bit to the geldings collar. If a colt was real ornery, Johnny would hitch him between both Dick and Jim and tie him fast to each horse. That colt could explode and try his best to break free, but he wasn't going anywhere with while tied to the big, steady, calm work horses!

Johnny looked up at the gentle giants as he poured the scoops of grain into their troughs. "You guys may not be the handsomest horses I own, but you sure do come in handy!"

Johnny fed the other horses, and went outside to check their water troughs. He'd have Jamie fill them after breakfast. He threw some feed to the chickens and fed the milk cow. He then went back into the barn to see if the boys were done eating. Because of their deep Bay color and feathered feet, Johnny thought that his team was a mix of draft breeds, mostly Shire or Clyde. Each had a nice wide blaze on their faces, Dick’s being a little wider and straighter than Jim’s. At about 16.2 hands, they were not much taller than Thunderbolt. However, they sure felt plenty tall tor Johnny when he had to hoist their heavy leather harnesses over their backs!

He figured he would hook them up later today and take a ride into town to check on the load of hay and feed he’d ordered from Ohio. On the way, he would stop out at the canyon and check on the other horses. He shook his head as he unhooked each horse from their tie stall. He never thought they would be forced to buy feed for their animals, especially not from folks back east!!! Johnny wasn't sure how he was going to pay for feed and hay for his horses either. He and Jane had a little put aside for emergencies, but not nearly enough to buy enough feed and hay if this drought lasted much longer. He wondered if they would even be able to put up enough feed and hay to get them through next winter! He know could sell some of his fine horses, but with the drought making grazing land almost non-existent, the price of horses had dropped terribly. Johnny couldn't afford to sell them and he couldn't afford to keep them. Jane had offered to sell the few treasured pieces of fine jewelry that had belonged to her grandmother. Johnny just couldn't bear to see her part with them.

Johnny watched as the team slowly and carefully backed out of their tie stalls. Each horse turned and walked towards the open door to their turn out pen. Dick was always the leader of the two. He occupied the stall nearest the door, so when they backed out of their tie stalls, Jim would wait while Dick turned and headed out. In the evening, when Johnny would open the door to let them in from their turn out, Dick would always be the first one in the barn. He would always turn into the first tie stall, his stall, with Jim following and going into the second tie stall, No one ever had to lead them inside or out, they just knew where to go all by themselves.

‘Creatures of habit,’ Johnny thought as he watched the two amble by him on their way outside.

"Not much to graze on out there today boys," he called to them as he watched them trot off a few feet and drop their noses to the ground looking for something to nibble on. Johnny saw them blow dust with their noses as their search proved futile.

Johnny thought about the conversation he’d had with Jane last night. As he turned to walk back toward the house, he said, "Something’s gotta give soon. Something’s gotta change...."

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To Be Continued . . .

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CHAPTER 4 [Submitted by Bruno Raymond]

"Uncle Johnny . . . Uncle Johnny . . . You gotta help us!"

A young boy was shouting from a distance. He was riding a Palomino pony, pushing it to the limit. This boy was barely ten years old, and already showing very promising riding skills.

"Hurry up, Uncle Johnny! You gotta help us!"

"Slow down Jacob. What's going on?" asked Johnny, as his nephew halted his mount a few feet from him. Jacob was the only son of his brother Jimmy. He and his wife had a ranch a few miles down the road.

"Mom and Dad are in danger. A band of travelers lead by a fellow named ‘Dan something’ showed up at the ranch this morning. They only wanted a cup of coffee at first, but then they started threatening Mom. She started screaming. Dad came in from the barn with his silver rifle . . ."

Jacob was speaking too fast and he had to stop to catch his breath.

"Then what, boy? Are they all right now?" asked Johnny, just as Jane came out of the house.

"What is going on?" she asked.

"That's what I am trying to find out. Then what?"

"Then all the mean guys left the kitchen and went to their horses. But instead of leaving, they grabbed their carbines and hid behind the fences of the corral. I ran to the barn to get my horse just before they had time to circle the house. You gotta help us Aunty Jane!"

Jane was the first to react to her nephew's cry for help. A mother of four children aged from seven to thirteen years old, she was used to emergencies.

"Jamie!” She shouted. “Bring Thunderbolt and Flame here right now!"

"I'll get the weapons" said Johnny running to their bedroom.

West grabbed what he was looking for, but was stopped at the door by his inquiring daughter Janice.

"Where are you going, Pa?" she asked.

"You'll have to take care of the family for a while. Your cousin Jacob is outside. Bring him in with your brothers and sister and lock the door. We'll be back soon."

"But Pa . . . "

"I don't have time for this. Do as I say, please."

When Johnny finally got outside, the horses were saddled and ready to leave. He handed Jane her blue gunbelt and placed both rifles in their sheathes. Both silently climbed on their horses and left in a hurry. Because of the drought, the road was very dry and they had to use their bandanas to filter the dust in order to breathe.

Jimmy's ranch was only twenty minutes away, but it seems like an eternity. Johnny was thinking about his brother and his sister-in-law Janeen. He was remembering how both couples arrived in the area and bought these lands. Money was often in short supply in the West family, but Jimmy had worked a gold claim in the Klondike a few years before. He was fortunate enough to dig enough gold to guarantee a loan at the bank for himself and his brother. His three-year stay up North was long enough that everyone was calling him the Canadian Cowboy now. It was so many years ago, yet so fresh in Johnny's memory. West was brought back to reality by his wife.

"Johnny . . . look!"

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To Be Continued . . .

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CHAPTER 5 [Submitted by Rick Provence]

Johnny stopped and peered to the top of the ridge. It looked like Jimmy’s buckboard, but he couldn’t be sure.

“It’s their wagon alright, I recognize cousin Janeen’s whip hangin on the seat.” Jane shouted as she kicked Flame’s hind quarters and worked him up into a run.

Following suit, Johnny tailed behind her, his heart pumping and sweat pouring into his eyes from the combination of adrenalin and prairie heat. Thoughts of what possibly awaited him and Jane were forming in Johnny’s mind as they rode closer to the top of the ridge.

Although not having the appearance of an intelligent man, Johnny could think quick on his feet and react even faster with a gun. Jane was more of the type to jump in the fire first and then put it out. Jane could take care of herself, but Johnnie still worried about what the next few minutes had in store for them.

Just below the top of the ridge, they dismounted from Thunder and Flame. Johnny drew his trusty six shooter and Jane pulled her rifle from her sheath. Both moved quietly up the rest of the ridge to where they could pick a good view of the layout. There was nothing moving below them and the ridge was the starting point of a vast flat land. There was nothing moving in any direction and there was nowhere to hide. It was obviously not a trap. Johnny and Jane moved closer to the wagon.

Jane could see that Ghost was still hitched to the buckboard. He was covered in sweat and his head hung low. With a gray coat, black legs and a hint of white highlights around his mane and tail, Ghost had always given the appearance of an Indian dream horse. In fact it was an elderly medicine man of the Cherokee that had named him before trading him to Jimmy many years ago. Ghost was old but knew his way from Jimmy’s ranch to Johnny’s ranch, and he still had some good speed and good years left in him.

“Do you see anyone?” Jane asked as she cautiously approached the wagon.

“Not a soul besides an old Ghost.” Johnnie whispered while taking a glance at the horse. “Look, The back wheel snapped in half. Jane, you unhook Ghost and get him on his way. He will make it to our ranch on his own.”

Jane nodded and then pointed to a money box by the buckboards seat. “Now that is peculiar. I haven’t seen that since Jimmy showed us where he stashed it when he came back from Canada.”

Jane remembered how Jimmy showed them the box and asked that if anything ever happened to him that they made sure that the money box was given to his son Jacob. Jimmy was always a little nervous about the box and never let on to its contents.

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To Be Continued . . .

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Chapter 6 [Submitted by Terri Coop]

Back at the Circle X Ranch, the four West children and Jacob had locked themselves in the Ranch house.

“I hope Mom and Dad are okay,” said Jacob, looking out the window.

“Stay down!” said Josie. The youngest of the five, she was visibly scared.

“Girls are such chickens,” said Jamie.

“You’re right. I should be with Ma and Pa, not here guarding a chicken coop,” said Jay. As the oldest, he often went with Johnny on hunting trips. Both the West boys had pistols and rigs. However, Jay was the more accomplished marksman.

“Hey, I got an idea,” said Jamie.

“I swear that I’ll tell Ma!” said Josie.

“Be quiet! Listen up, it sounds like those guys at Uncle Jimmy’s are looking to steal something. Well, all of Pa’s horses are alone in the box canyon. I say we take our rifles and go stand guard. What if all this was a trick to get Ma and Pa away from the Ranch so they could steal our horses?”

“I don’t know little brother. Pa said to stay put,” said Jay.

“You’re as bad as the girls. Bwak, Bwak, Bwak, Bwak . . .” said Jamie, flapping his arms to mock his brother.

“I think Jamie is right. Something bad is happening, and I don’t want to be stuck here.” Jacob’s voice was so quiet they could barely hear him.

“If you’re all going, then so am I.” Janice surprised them all with her strident tone.

Jay looked at his sister. Barely a year younger than he was, they were very close. He knew she was the most like Ma. Very ladylike and soft-spoken. However, he also knew that, just like Ma, she was a fair hand with a rifle. Truth be told; she’d be more useful in a pinch than Jamie. However, he had to use some common sense.

“Janice, someone has to watch the house and take care of Josie. If no one is back before dark, you’ll also have to take care of the stock. I’m sorry, Janice, your place is here at home.” Jay put up his hand to forestall her protests.

Janice started to speak, but stayed quiet. She knew Jay was right. Jamie was hot-headed and impulsive. Left alone with Josie, heaven only knew what mischief they might cook up.

“You’re right. My place is here,” she said in resignation.

As the three boys got their hats and prepared to leave, Josie grabbed Jacob’s hand.

“Don’t go. Don’t go. Stay here,” she pleaded, her eyes wide and blue. Only Janice knew that Josie had a huge crush on her older cousin.

“Let him go, Josie. We’re going to go check the horses and look around. If everything is okay, we’ll be back. If not, we’ll go fetch the sheriff,” said Jay. He loved his little sister more than anything, but she could be such a pest!

“But I don’t want you to go! I’m scared!”

“Josie, the horses may need us. You wouldn’t want anything to happen to Thundercolt, would you?” said Jay.

Josie’s blue eyes widened even more, and she shook her head. Releasing Jacob’s hand, she went over and sat by Janice.

“Janice, lock this door and put out Ma’s ‘welcome mat.’ Don’t open it unless it’s family or the sheriff. If for some reason, no one is home by morning, take Josie into town and send help. I’m leaving Jacob’s pony in case you need him.”

“Will do, Jay. Be careful.”

Once outside, Jamie confronted his older brother.

“Why are you leaving the good horse for the girls? They’re not going anywhere?”

“Jamie, simmer down. We’re taking Dick and Jim. Jacob’s pony can’t carry all three of us, and Janice can’t ride the draft horses. We can ride them bareback with just a hackamore. We’ve been doing it since we were babies. Geez, that’s been like a whole week for you!”

Jamie turned to attack his brother, but saw he was only teasing. Even the normally solemn Jacob was smiling.

“C’mon, let’s go see what’s up in the canyon.”

Janice watched the boys ride the draft horses down the road. Sighing, she did a mental checklist of her responsibilities. Before anything else, she got out Ma’s ‘welcome mat,’ an old double-barrel shotgun. The name was a joke from when the Ranch had been dangerous country. No stranger had ever left the Circle X Ranch door without a meal. However, no stranger ever set foot on the porch until Ma had given him the once over with her shotgun cradled at her waist.

Janice expertly broke open the gun and checked that the shells were firmly seated. Satisfied, she snapped the gun closed and put a handful of shells in her vest pocket.

“Josie, I’m going to collect the eggs and check on the cow. Stay away from the windows until I get back. Why don’t you get out that new letter book you got for your birthday and practice your writing? I’ll be right back.”

Josie didn’t answer.

“Sweetie, there’s nothing to be scared about. When I get back, we’ll share the last piece of apple pie from last night. I know where Ma hid it.”

Josie smiled and closed the door behind her sister.

‘Nope, nothing to be scared about,’ Janice thought, walking to the barn. She wished she believed her own words.

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To Be Continued . . .

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Chapter 7 [Submitted by Dr. Jim Fuller]

Sam Cobra leaned back in his big leather desk chair and smiled. All of his plans were coming together and it looked like he would soon have everything just liked he wanted. He stood up, walked across the floor of his spacious office on the second floor of the sprawling King Cobra Saloon, and looked out the window.

Apache Pass was a boomtown and Sam Cobra had his fingers in nearly every new business along the dusty main street. He looked toward the mountains where the gold and silver mines were and his glittered at the thought of all of that money! Sam was too smart to spend his time digging in the dirt for precious metals. Why do all of that hard work, when you could make even more money selling whiskey to the miners? Of course, the large casino on the first floor of the King Cobra also took a lot of gold dust from the prospectors, too.

Prospecting was nearly over here, though. The days of placer mining were quickly fading. It seemed like somebody with dreams of striking it rich had claimed every square foot of that mountain range. Most of them were finding out that it was easier to dream about gold than to actually find it. Oh, there were plenty of men still panning gold along the streams, but the real wealth was down deep, and it would take hard-rock mining to get it out. That meant men, equipment, and technology. That meant a lot of investment capital, the kind only big mining companies had. They would pay their workers well, but the miners would be on company time, not working for themselves. Sam Cobra would be waiting for them when their shift ended, ready to take whatever they were paid.

However, that wasn’t enough. Not by a long shot. Sam’s dreams were bigger than gold. He hadn’t come clear out here just to make money in a mining camp. There were plenty of other boomtowns for that. No, Apache Pass was more than that. Cobra turned his head and looked off down the valley. He could see the river and the dim outline of the mountains on the other side of the long green stretch of valley. Down there, on one of the prettiest sites in the West was the Circle X Ranch, home of Johnny West.

Johnny West was the reason Sam Cobra was here. Back in Texas, years ago, Sam and Johnny had been rivals for the heart of a lovely young girl named Jane. The pretty blonde had eventually chosen Johnny over Sam and the tall, charming Cobra had never forgiven the former Texas Ranger for that. So close! His plans had been so close to success there in Texas. If it had all worked out, he would have had the biggest ranching empire in the whole state --bigger than the King Ranch, even – and he would have married Jane and all would have been well. But, then, at the just right moment, Johnny West had poked his nose into Sam’s business. He had discovered Sam’s rustling and gunrunning operation that allowed him to steal cattle and horses and sell guns to the Comanche. There had been a big shootout and two of Sam’s closest friends had been killed. Sam had fled for the canyon lands, but Johnny and a posse eventually caught him and he went to prison.

A smart lawyer named Coop had managed to get him out of jail early, but Sam would never forgive Johnny West for that. So, he had come here, to the land near the border of Arizona and New Mexico, with Mexico not far away. Within a few months, he had opened the King Cobra and invested in a stage line, a general store, a livery stable, and had started speculating in real estate – land was always a hot commodity in a boomtown, after all. Then, with a respectable partner acting as his front man, he had even opened a bank and started loaning money to everybody he could.

Sam Cobra did more than just set up legitimate businesses in those early months at Apache Pass. He had also set up a wide-ranging crime syndicate that allowed him to continue his old tricks. Rustling, gunrunning, robberies, gambling, bootlegging, claim-jumping, counterfeiting, on and on the list of crimes went. In the wide-open frontier country, it was truly the Wild West and outlaws seemed to be everywhere. Sam Cobra controlled them all.

He had started with his partners from the old days and had added new thugs to his criminal empire along the way. Dangerous Dan from Canada had been eager to join up when he learned that Jimmy West lived nearby. Like Sam, Dan had old scores to settle with the Wests. A hard-riding, hard-living bunch of gunrunners and rustlers led by a killer called the Comanchero provided a much-needed link to the hostile Indians. Ahumado, the infamous Black Vaquero, quickly made an alliance with Sam Cobra brought along his large band of banditos. Jesse James and his gang were experts at robbing stagecoaches and trains – although the railroad wasn’t very close yet.

Sam Cobra watched a dog lazily cross the dusty street to find some shade. It was hot. If this drought continued, most of the ranchers would be bankrupt. That was exactly what Cobra wanted. Through the bank, he held the mortgages on most of the ranches in the valley. When he combined that with the land he had purchased outright, he would own nearly every square inch of range except the Circle X. Or, to be more precise, he would own all of the land that was worth anything, which meant that which had water. If you controlled the water, you controlled the land. Cobra had encouraged his banker front man to loan money to Johnny West, but Johnny had refused to go into debt. He had smiled and thanked the banker.

“No thanks, sir. My pa always told me to never borrow money. He’d quote the Bible about owing no man anything and then would tell me that Andrew Jackson used to say that banks are monsters, eating the people’s liberties. I reckon I hold with that way of thinking. I’ve got a bit put away and I don’t think we should borrow money we don’t need.

No matter. Johnny could have his principles. Sam Cobra was patient, and, now, even the weather was on his side! Without rain, his plans would work even faster than he had imagined possible. Soon, the whole valley would be his!

He was already putting the pressure on the Circle X Ranch. Sam’s eyes sparkled as he thought of it.

“We’ll see how long Johnny West can last when all of his horses are gone! He’ll come crawling to the bank, begging for a loan when all of his cattle have been stolen! And I’ll loan him MORE than he needs . . . and make sure he gets more than he bargained for!”

Sam went to his desk and poured himself a drink. The sting of the bourbon gave him great satisfaction as he tossed it off and poured another. Soon, he’d own the whole town, the whole valley, and make a fortune beyond belief. And, finally, at long last, he’d have his revenge. Johnny West was going to die, slowly, painfully . . . and Jane and her brats would be homeless and alone.

He finished his drink, sat back down in the deep, soft leather chair. The smile came back over his handsome face. All of his life, Sam had pretty much had his choice of women, and he had taken an interest in some of the respectable young ladies in the community. He so enjoyed going to parties with a lovely young woman on his arm, especially when Jane West was there to see his latest trophy.

Cobra’s eyes darkened as he bitterly remembered Jane telling him she loved another. He’d show her! Her high and mighty ways, talking about being a Christian lady and how her heart belonged to a good, honest man. She’d live to regret that choice! And her brats could starve or go live in an orphanage. No woman could reject Sam Cobra like that!

He poured another drink and listened to the sound of the piano in the saloon below. The sun was still high in the sky, but a lot of miners were already drinking and gambling. Boomtowns were always open for business, no matter what time of day. Sam settled back into his chair and went over his plans for Johnny West again.

Soon . . . .

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To Be Continued . . .

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Chapter 8 [Submitted by Terri Coop]

Janice walked out to the chicken coop with a basket in one hand and Ma’s old shotgun in the other. As second to the oldest, she vaguely remembered some of the times when bandits and Indians had threatened the Ranch. Ma would send her and Jay into the cellar, but they always peeked through the cracks in the plank door. Janice remembered Ma standing at the window with her Winchester rifle aimed through the slits in the wood shutters. The shotgun would be handy, in case anyone got too close. Things were quieter and more peaceful now. However, Jane made sure her daughter was handy with weapons. It was something she thought a pioneer girl should know.

The chickens squawked as Janice opened the coop door and stepped inside. She leaned the shotgun against the building and started spreading feed for the hungry birds.

“Don’t fight! There’s plenty for everyone!”

The chickens paid her no heed and continued to swarm and squabble over the feed on the smooth earth floor of the pen.

“All right, have it your way!” Janice had to smile at the silly birds. It felt good. There hadn’t been much to smile about since breakfast. She wondered where her parents were and if Uncle Jimmy and Aunt Janeen were safe.

She took advantage of the chicken’s fight over the feed to quickly gather the eggs. She loved the feel of the smooth eggs, still warm from the nest. Despite the drought, the chickens were still laying well and there were plenty of eggs. She thought she might bake a cake to keep Josie occupied and to welcome the family home.

“Good Morrow, Young Miss. This is a fine place you have here.”

The voice was low and deep. Janice froze, but didn’t scream. Strangers weren’t uncommon at the Ranch. Men came through looking for work, and travelers often stopped looking for a meal. However, she was alone with Josie. Slowly she turned to face the voice.

He was very tall and thin. His weathered face spoke of seasons spent living and sleeping with the sun and the rain. A pair of enormous pistols with yellow wood grips rested in well-worn crossed gunbelts. When she met his eyes, she saw they were faded blue, the same color as his old denim jeans. She stared.

“I’m sorry Miss, twas not my intention to frighten ye.” His hard face creased into a smile.

Janice swallowed and said, “Howdy Mister, what brings you to the Circle X Ranch?”

The stranger regarded her for a moment. Janice gauged the distance between herself and the shotgun and wondered if she should lunge for it.

“Stop what you’re thinking, young lady. I mean you no harm. However, what you’re thinking could end up in some hurt and that’s not my intent. Now, if you’re planning to pelt me into surrender, that’s a different story. Although, I’d hate to see the waste of such fine eggs.”

Janice looked down and realized she was clutching an egg so hard it was a miracle she hadn’t crushed it. Her instincts told her to relax.

“That’s better. I didn’t mean to scare you. I was hoping to find a bit of water. It’s powerful dry out there. It seems as if the rain has abandoned this part of the country. As if the world had moved on. My name is Roland Deschain.”

“I’m Janice West and my Ma and Pa are Johnny and Jane West.”

“Where be your folks Janice? You seem awful young to be ramrodding this place on your own.”

“They’re here. They’re around, and they’ll be back soon!”

“I’ll forgive that lie because I know it was told out of caution. However, the barn door is open and not a horse is to be seen. I also saw a man and woman riding hellbent for leather just a while ago. Is there anything I should know about?”

“Are you a sheriff or a marshal?” said Janice. She remembered some of Pa’s old Texas Ranger friends. They were hard men, just like this one.

“I’m a lawman, of a sort. However, I only get involved when I have to. I just wanted to make sure you and your sister aren’t in danger.”

“How did you . . .”

Another smile stopped her short. She realized this man had probably watched the Ranch for some time before he approached. She thought for a moment and decided. She remembered what her Ma always said when someone had passed her ‘gut instinct’ test.

“Can I offer you some coffee and a bite of breakfast? We don’t have much, but are always willing to share with a stranger.”

“I’d be obliged Janice. Can I carry that basket for you? I have a feeling you’d be more comfortable carrying your shotgun.”

She held out the basket and when he took it she saw he was missing two fingers on his right hand. He saw where her eyes had drifted, and she blushed.

“No shame, Janice. I still stare myself from time to time. A long time ago in another world, I tangled with a pretty mean critter, and it got the best of me. I’m lucky it left as much as it did.”

Janice started to question him, but something in his strange blue eyes stopped her. She closed her mouth and he relaxed.

“Let’s go to the house. I’m sure Josie is about to have kittens wondering what’s going on out here.”

He laughed. It had the hollow raspy sound of a man that didn’t laugh very often. However, Janice liked him.

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To Be Continued . . .

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Chapter 9 [Submitted by Dr. Jim Fuller]

“Shut up!,” Dangerous Dan roared, his dark eyes flashing with hatred.

“If you don’t stop begging me to let you go, I’ll shoot you right now, just like I did that weakling husband of yours.”

Janeen West fought back tears and steeled her nerves. The events of the previous day had left her drained and the exhaustion made it hard to keep up the brave face she usually wore when facing trouble. She wondered where Jimmy was and prayed that he was alive.

**************

They had been heading for town, carrying the strongbox filled with their reserve cash to pay off their ranch. It had been a difficult decision to make, but with the drought threatening their very livelihood, they had decided to use their stash of money that Jimmy had brought from Canada to get out of debt.

Paying of the mortgage would have taken most of it and the rest they planned to invest in a friend’s mine. Jimmy thought that diversifying his financial interests might help them through the tough times that were surely ahead. Then, just as they were about to leave, a group of riders had come galloping up, led by Dangerous Dan, the infamous Canadian outlaw.

Jacob, Jimmy and Janeen’s son, shouted a warning then ran to the barn. His father had come out with his rifle and watched the riders dismount and take cover behind outbuildings and woodpiles and the well.

“Ride to the Circle X for help!,” Jimmy shouted to his son and, moments later, the boy was on his way.

“Drop that rifle, Jimmy,” Dan ordered.

“Now, Dan, you know me better than that,”Jimmy replied. “We’ve known each other way too long for you to expect me to let you get the drop on me. What do you want? Why are you coming on my property like this? We used to ride together, you know. If you need help, why don’t you ask for it?”

The big outlaw walked toward the rancher, hitching his thumb behind his gunbelt as he did.

“Those days are over, Jimmy. I haven’t forgotten that you left me there, with that posse closing in, and you took that cashbox, too. I barely got out of there alive, no thanks to you. And some good boys died that day, there along that canyon road. When I heard you were in this country, I was all too happy to come looking for my share of that loot, plus interest.”

Dan lived up to his nickname as he strode across the ranch yard, boldly approaching the man who used to be his saddle partner and fellow outlaw.

“I’ve given up the outlaw trail, Dan,” Jimmy said. “I got tired of looking over my shoulder for the law. And, I didn’t leave you on that trail! You yelled for us to run, ‘Every man for himself!’ you cried. So, I ran, taking care of myself. The strongbox was right there, tied on behind Dave’s saddle. His horse followed me out of there and I just kept going. I went to the hideout and waited for you, but you never showed.”

Dan’s brow furrowed and he said, “Dave’s dead. My own brother was one of those the posse killed that day. And I couldn’t get to the hideout. Not with all of those bullet holes in me. I barely made it to Suzy’s place. She hid me in that cave behind her house and nursed me back to health. She wanted me to marry her for her trouble, but I told her I had to settle with you first. Where’s that gold, Jimmy?”

“Now, Dan, have your boys come on out and let’s you and me go in the house and Janeen will fix us some breakfast and we’ll talk this over,” said Jimmy.

You remember Janeen? That sweet little gal I was courting? We got hitched and we have a son. Come in and let's talk.”

Dan glowered, “I see where my money went! Got married and bought yourself a ranch and started a family with my gold! I guess that brat that went riding off just now is your boy?”

“Yep, that’s Jacob. Come on in, Dan, let’s talk about this. I’m sure we can work something out.”

Jimmy started toward the house as he spoke. The big outlaw turned toward the ranch house, then he stopped, his eyes fixed on the buckboard. The strongbox beside the seat was clearly in view.

“I reckon that’s some of my gold right there, ain’t it?,” the outlaw asked.

Janeen stepped out on the porch, a Colt revolver hidden in the folds of her dress.

“Hello, Dan, it’s been a long time. Won’t you come in?,”she asked.

Dan slowly looked up and a smile crept to the corners of his mouth.

“Howdy, Janeen. It HAS been a long time,”he said. “I was just telling Jimmy that it looks like you two have done pretty well with my gold. I guess its about time I collected my share of the loot.”

Janeen moved to stand beside her husband, the two of them positioned on the other side of the buckboard from the big outlaw.

Jimmy asked, “Well, Dan, are we going to have that food and that talk?”

For a moment, all was quiet. A horse snorted down by the corral. Ghost turned in the traces and looked in that direction and nervously stomped. He was ready to go. Dangerous Dan’s mind worked quickly. Maybe Jimmy had enough of the money left to make it worthwhile to cut a deal with him. Maybe he shouldn’t kill his old partner after all. Maybe . . . NO! Jimmy West was the reason why his brother was dead and why Dan himself had nearly died! Jimmy West had taken the money from that bank robbery and left the rest of the gang to face the posse. Jimmy West had to pay for that. Suddenly, he looked up at the couple standing there across the wagon from him.

“No, I reckon I don’t want any breakfast,” he said softly.

Then, his voice rose to a loud roar, as he cried, “I want revenge!”

His hand flashed down and in a flash his six-gun was out and blazing. Jimmy pushed Janeen into the buckboard and tried to raise his rifle. But it was too late. Bullets ripped into him and a shot knocked the Winchester out of his hands. Ghost reared and pulled the reins free from the hitching post and began to run. Jimmy staggered, then lunged into the back of the buckboard and they were running free. Bullets buzzed past them as Ghost ran out of the ranch yard and up the hill. Dan and his gang were shouting and shooting behind them. The outlaws caught up their mounts and chased after the buckboard.

They almost made it. As they bounced along the road toward the Circle X, Janeen tried to get into the seat and get control of Ghost, but she kept falling back into the wagon box. As they wildly rounded a curve, Jimmy was thrown out of the wagon. Janeen screamed and tried to grab her husband, but he was already in mid-air and she was unable to save him.

Over another rise, around another bend the buckboard flew. Then, Ghost took a curve too fast and the rear wheel of the wagon hit a huge boulder and splintered. The buckboard came to crashing halt. Janeen was thrown out of the wagon herself. Stunned, she tried to get up. She saw Ghost standing there in the harness, lathered and panting. If she could just cut him free . . .

“Hold it right there, Janeen!” Dangerous Dan’s voice cut sharply through her dazed mind. Her head hurt . . . she raised her hand to her brow . . . blood . . . suddenly the world was spinning . . .

The last thing she remembered as she lost consciousness was Dan looming over her, a big smile on his face.

“Jimmy . . .,”she gasped and then the blackness closed in.

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To Be Continued . . .

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Chapter 10 [Submitted by Dr. Jim Fuller]

Janeen West buried her head in her arms. Her wrists hurt from the chafing of the ropes that were bound tightly around them. For a few minutes, she sobbed quietly. Finally, pulling herself together, she looked up and around her. She was in a cave of some kind. It was a large room, cut far back into the rock wall of what appeared to be a deep canyon. This was where she was when she came to after being unconscious. How long she had been out, she didn’t know. All she was sure of was that at least a day had passed, because it was now early morning again. She was surprised to realize that the coffee and bacon on the fire nearby smelled good to her. It was probably her survival instinct kicking in, but she was hungry, and she wanted to eat.

When she first regained consciousness, she’d seen Dangerous Dan seated nearby and had started yelling at him, accusing him of murder, asking where Jimmy was, and threatening him with hanging. That had gone on until he ordered her to shut up. At that, he had walked out of the cave.

Now, the big outlaw was back inside. He grinned at her.

“Done crying?” he asked.

“Yes. I was just confused. You don’t scare me,” she said, stiffening her back, squaring her shoulders, and looking the big man right in the eye.

He laughed, “Okay, okay. You always were a spitfire. Too much wildcat in you, even for me. I told Jimmy so. I like my women with a little fire and backbone, but I don”t want ‘em to wear the pants. You probably run things around that scrubby ranch, don’t ya?”

Janeen snarled, “You’re just lucky I didn’t run you right off the place, you coward! If Jimmy hadn’t pushed me into that wagon, I’d have shot you!”

Dan chuckled. “I reckon you might have, at that. Here . . . let me untie your hands. You’re gonna need some food if you’re going to live to kill me someday.” He untied her and she moved to the fire and he poured her coffee then dished her up a plate of bacon, biscuits, and beans.

‘Always beans,’ she thought. ‘Cowboys never got enough beans.’ She ate hungrily.

Dan watched her for a while then leaned back and rolled a smoke.

Janeen asked, “Where’s Jimmy?”

“Dead, I guess. I never went back to look for him. We were starting back down the road when we heard some riders approaching and lit out of there. I drilled him good, though. You might as well face it, girl, your old man’s dead. I was aiming for his heart and I don’t miss very often.” With that, he took a draw on his cigarette and blew out a big smoke ring that drifted to the high ceiling of the cave.

A tear involuntarily slid down her cheek and Janeen hastily wiped it away. She didn’t want him to see that he could upset her so easily. But she didn’t know what to say.

“Course, he could’ve lived. Jimmy’s tough. I saw him take lead before, back in the old days, when we rode the hoot-owl trail together. Did you know he was an outlaw?” Dan asked.

“Yes. I knew he was wild when I met him!,”she said. She didn’t add that Jimmy’s wild ways had been part of the reason she was attracted to him in the first place. But the bad-boy image had disappeared in time and she was glad of that. They had grown up together, really, and they had helped tame each other’s wildness by channeling their passion into love for one another as they worked together toward common goals. Janeen was still very beautiful and she knew it. She also knew that many women thought Jimmy was quite handsome and she often caught young ladies staring at him.

She finished her breakfast and drank the last of the coffee, tossing away the dregs. “Are you going to tie me back up, like a coward?” she asked.

“No. There’s no place for you to go anyway,” Dan replied. “Go ahead, look around. This box canyon is miles from anywhere. You’d die of thirst if you tried to walk out of here. And we’ve got the horses under guard.”

“Typical coward,” Janeen spat, “guarding your horses so you can run instead of watching your prisoners.”

Dan laughed as she walked to the front of the cave and looked out at the canyon. Somehow, she had to get away and go find Jimmy. If alive, he’d need help. If he wasn’t, she wanted to bury him before she found a way to kill Dangerous Dan.

---------------

Miles away, Brett Maddox crept quietly up behind a tree and looked down into the Comanchero’s camp. The tough foreman of the Circle X Ranch had been tracking stolen cattle and had stumbled onto this hidden encampment.

There were a lot of bad guys down there! Too many for one man to handle, that was for sure. But he wanted to check things out before going for help. Maddox was hard man. He had a reputation as a gunhand and he wasn’t afraid to use the well-worn six-shooter in the holster on is hip, or the Winchester ’73 he held ready in his hand. He had fought a lot of battles and killed a lot of men.

He and his brother, Tom, had fought together in the Civil War, then gone west together to fight the Indians. Brett had left the Army after a few years, disgusted with the low pay and thankless duty. There was nothing quite as boring as a frontier post like that one in Texas. Brett had collected his back pay and headed for the nearest saloon. He was only half-drunk when Johnny West had walked up to him and called him a dirty, thievin’ Yankee. Before he could react, the Texan had punched Maddox in the mouth. A long hard fight resulted in him being knocked out.

Bloodied and bruised, Brett had come to in a jail cell, with his assailant next to him. “Yankee, eh? I’m Irish! And you’re a no-good Rebel!,” he said as he kicked the sleeping cowboy.

Johnny moaned and laughed, “Sorry, soldier, I was a little drunk last night. I get mad at Yankees when I’m drunk. Yankees, Comanches, Mexicans . . . but mostly Yankees.”

“You sure are sorry! I’ve never seen a worse looking Rebel than you, Texas. What’s your name, cowboy?” Maddox asked.

“Johnny West. I’m a Ranger - or I was. They’ve pretty much disbanded the Rangers since the War. They’ll need us again, though, when the Indians start acting up again. Right now, I’m getting together a bunch of boys to go catch cows. There are mavericks running wild all over the place and they want beef up north. I’ve got me an idea, like some of the others -Goodnight, Loving, Chisum, and the like —to round up some of those wild longhorns and drive ‘em up north and sell ‘em for a nice profit. You want in? I’ll make you a partner.”

Brett Maddox laughed then winced as his bruised lip split from the pressure. “Man, you sure pack a punch! I’m hurting all over. I don’t have any money to invest in cattle.”

“You pack a mean punch yourself, Irish!,”said Johnny. “You don’t need any money. I don’t have much myself. Just a little for an outfit and a chuck wagon. We’re gonna catch wild cows and drive up north. You want in?”

Just like that Brett Maddox and Johnny West had become friends. Since then, they had worked and fought side by side. After a few trail drives, Johnny had enough money to buy some land and start a ranch. Brett had become his foreman, there in Texas, later in New Mexico, and, now, in Arizona. Johnny let Brett brand a few head of his own and he had a small herd that was mixed in with Johnny’s.

Slowly, Brett eased back into the trees, made his way to his horse, and headed toward the ranch. He’d come back with Johnny and a bunch of tough cowboys and maybe the Sheriff. They’d clean out these nasty outlaws. These were the worst of the lot —Comancheros were renegades who lived between the worlds of the Indians and the whites. They made a profit by trading with the Indians, selling bootleg whiskey and guns, rustling horses and cattle, kidnapping women and children. A very nasty business filled with evil men. It would be a joy to kill a few of those renegades. Brett patted the butt of his Colt and grinned a cold-hearted grin. The Comanchero was legendary in these parts and that was definitely his camp. Kill a few, hang the rest, and there would be peace on the frontier for a while. Brett promised to shoot the Comanchero himself.

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To Be Continued . . .

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Chapter 11 [Submitted by Dr. Jim Fuller]

So this is what it had come to? The old Indian chief sighed and pulled his blanket closer around him. He felt a chill, despite the heat of the hot spring night. After decades of leading his people, Chief Cherokee had lost control. The young bucks, led by the fierce Geronimo and Fighting Eagle, had chosen to go on the warpath against the old chief’s counsel. He could do nothing about it. A chief was not a king. He led through honor and respect, not laws. He might challenge the upstart leaders, but that would only divide the tribe and lead to more violence. No, he had to let them go their own way, even as he worked for peace in every way that he could. He had not always been a man of peace. For years, Cherokee had led The People in battle. First, they had fought other Indians, then the Mexicans.

Later, they had battled with the Texans and the Americans. There had been great victories. Called Cherokee because of his father’s ancestry in that tribe, he had become a warrior in the Comanche tribe.

He had fought in the great 1849 raid that left a trail of dead Texans across the land. The war party had burned town after town, even sacking Galveston. They had looted so many goods that they had to dump piles of stolen luxuries along the trail on their way home.

Cherokee remembered great battles with other Indians, such as the Tonkawa, but those conflicts were rooted more in tradition and ritual than in material objectives. The Indian way of war was so different from that of the Europeans. Most warriors never understood that, but Cherokee did. He had first come to realize the differences in warfare while fighting the Mexicans. When the long war with the Texans began, he realized that his people were doomed. They could not win a war in which they were vastly outnumbered and outgunned. Not when fighting an enemy, who fought on completely different terms and for completely different reasons.

So, he had made peace with a particular white man, the former Texas Ranger, Johnny West. Cherokee nd Johnny had fought many times and it was from those battles that the chief had come to respect the rancher. They had met on several occasions and he liked his enemy. When the time was right, he rode right down into Johnny West’s ranch yard and negotiated the treaty that sold land to the state of Texas. A large portion of that land was Johnny’s ranch.

Using the trade goods and money his people received from the deal, Cherokee had led his band westward, to the Llano Estacado, the Staked Plain. There, they had joined with other Comanche in a great coalition of Southern Plains tribes at Palo Duro Canyon. Comanche, Southern Cheyenne, Kiowa, Arapaho and others had all joined together.

Nevertheless, it was not enough. In 1874, the U.S. Army arrived, led by a Tonkawa scout, and the 4th Cavalry defeated the Indians. Many Comanche followed Iron Shirt, while the Kiowa went with Lone Wolf, but Cherokee chose to lead his people farther west.

This second great migration took them into Apache land, near the border of New Mexico and Arizona. There, the chief forged an alliance with local the local Apache. A choice made possible by the close connection between the two tribes and Cherokee’s own reputation as a warrior and chief.

All too soon, however, the white men came again. Cherokee had been amazed to see his old adversary and friend Johnny West. He had shaken his head incredulously when he heard how Sam Cobra had taken Johnny’s ranch. It was simply impossible to believe! Surely no one could take that tough Texan’s land from him, but it had happened. Johnny had lost the land that he had won from the Indians.

With the silver and gold strikes, more settlers than ever poured into the area. Geronimo and Fighting Eagle wanted war. They were encouraged in this by the Comanchero, a renegade white man who had lived among the Indians for years. He had taken an Indian wife and often seemed more Indian than white.

He sold The People guns and whiskey and other goods and often went on the warpath with the young men when they made their usual forays into Mexico to steal horses. Recently, the Comanchero had begun to urge the Indians to attack the settlers, asking them to burn the ranches in the valley. He had even made a long speech at the council fire, promising to provide enough guns and ammunition for the Indians to drive the whites out forever! The result had been a huge council in which the proponents for war had overwhelmed the arguments for peace. The young men had enough. They wanted action, they wanted scalps, they wanted the wealth that came from raiding. With whiskey dulling their senses and the Comanchero’s guns in their hands, the choice had been easy.

However, Cherokee knew better. He didn’t trust the Comanchero. Something was up. He suspected Sam Cobra, the renegade bad man who had so often bested Johnny West. That man was dangerous and was usually up to no good. If there was trouble around, he probably had something to do with it.

The old chief lit his pipe and began to smoke. The flap of his teepee opened and his daughter, Princess Wildflower entered the lodge. She was young and beautiful. She smiled at her father and her white teeth flashed in the dim light of the teepee. Cherokee smiled back. She always seemed to light up the room when a smile came over her lovely face.

“Are you hungry, father?” she asked.

“No, daughter. I am happy to sit and smoke,” he replied.

She sat across the fire from him. After a few minutes, she looked up and spoke softly.

“Father, Geronimo has asked me to marry him again. He said he would pay whatever price you ask for me,” the girl said, referring to the dowry that Cherokee would demand.

“He should have come to me first. He should have used the old ways. He should have brought you a gift and waited for your response to suggest your feelings. You young people talk too much and listen too little to your hearts. Still, he is a great warrior and wiser than most chiefs. Do you want him to be your husband?” Cherokee asked.

“I don’t know,” she replied. “Fighting Eagle is also interested in me, you know. He never says anything, but I see him watching me. He too, is a great warrior.”

“Yes, but he is not the same as Geronimo. He often fights alone and often puts himself in danger during battle. I have seen this many times. No warrior fears death, but Fighting Eagle seems to seek out danger and take great risks. Perhaps it is that Mohawk blood that runs in his veins. I do not know of those Eastern Indians, but there are stories of their power, those Iroquois. He is only part Mohawk, but he takes great pride in it. Perhaps they were foolhardy in their fighting. After all, they lost their land to the whites many years ago. I do not know.” The chief paused and smoked his pipe. “I would prefer that you loved Geronimo, daughter.”

Wildflower laughed and the sound brightened his spirits.

“Oh father, I don’t know if I’ll ever love any many like I love you! You are the greatest warrior and the greatest chief who ever lived! With mother gone, you need someone to keep your lodge. Perhaps I will stay with you forever,” she said.

The chief smiled warmly at his lovely daughter. “I would like that, Wildflower, but I know that it cannot be. You must take a husband and have children of your own and raise a family. I have spoken to you often about the dangers The People face. Our ways may not last for many more years. I want to see you married and see my grandchildren raised in our ways. Change is all around us and it will continue, but perhaps we can keep some of our traditions alive. No, my daughter, you must marry.”

The Indian princess rose. “Well, father. I cannot decide, and I’m not going to marry anyone today. Today, I’m going to go for a ride. Perhaps one of my suitors will go with me, hoping to win my heart.”

Cherokee smiled at his daughter again. “Be careful, Wildflower, there are many bad men around, both red and white. Ask Geronimo to go with you. Listen to your heart as you ride. The spirits of our ancestors will guide you in this matter, as in all things. Ask him about the future and what he sees for you and for The People. Tell him that I will give my blessing if he will ask it.”

The girl nodded, smiled, and slipped out of the lodge. Cherokee put his pipe aside and leaned forward to poke the fire. Sometimes he felt like time had passed him by and that he had outlived his usefulness. Then Wildflower would come in and he felt better. She meant more to him than she would ever know. Maybe she could help talk some sense into Geronimo. This war had barely begun, but Cherokee knew that it had to end quickly or his people were doomed.

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To Be Continued . . .

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Chapter 12 [Submitted by Dr. Jim Fuller]

Out of nowhere, it seemed, the Indians came. In minutes, they had moved across the yard of the little ranch and were almost to the house when the door opened.

The rancher stepped out, heading for the barn to feed his stock, as usual. He looked up and saw two-dozen Indian warriors, painted for battle, all around him. Stunned, he took one step backward, opening his mouth to yell. Just then, Fighting Eagle hurled his tomahawk, and the man fell through the open door, dead.

The big Indian warrior screamed a bloodcurdling war cry and led the way inside. In minutes, everyone on the ranch was dead, all the valuables taken, the horses stolen, and the buildings were set on fire. As the war party rode out of the yard, Fighting Eagle held his rifle aloft and let loose another war cry. The other warriors joined him, their whoops filling the air.

The Indian War had begun.

------------------------------

The stagecoach driver pulled hard on the reins.

“Whoa! Whoa, there, boys!” He barely managed to stop the coach before it crashed into the huge pile of logs and boulders in the road.

“Drop your guns!”came the command as a group of armed bandits stepped out of their hiding places. The leader was a dark-haired man, but the neckerchief tied around his head covered his face.

“Throw down that strongbox! Get those passengers out of there!”

The driver tossed down his Colt and the shotgun guard threw the .12 gauge double-barreled Remington onto the dusty road. The driver reached under the seat for the strongbox filled with gold coins heading for Apache Pass. It was a mining company payroll.

Suddenly, the guard pulled his pistol from his holster in a desperate attempt to stop the robbery. Shots rang out. One of the lady passengers screamed as the guard pitched forward off the seat, his lifeless bodies gone limp. Smoke curled from the outlaw leader’s pistol barrel.

“Toss down that box and don’t try any more funny stuff!” He snarled.

The other bandits lined the passengers up and quickly searched them for money and jewelry. One outlaw jumped up on top of the coach and rummaged through the baggage. In minutes, the robbery was complete. The passengers were ordered back inside the coach.

“Okay, cut loose those leaders and let ‘em go!” the bandit chief ordered.

This was done and the stage started forward. The driver knew it would be a long, slow drive to the next station with only four horses to pull the heavy coach. By the time they got there to report the robbery, the outlaws would be long gone.

The stagecoach rounded the bend and the outlaws removed their masks. “Man, Jesse, you shot that guard quicker than lightning!” said one of the gang.

The outlaw leader smiled. “Yeah! I figured he’d try it. I could see it in his eyes. I can always tell when a man’s gonna draw on me.”

“What do you figure the reward on you will be now, Jesse?” asked another bandit as he tied the strongbox onto one of the two stolen stagecoach horses.

“I don’t know. I reckon it must be at least $10,000 by now, don’t you?” asked a red-headed outlaw.

The leader grinned, but inside he wondered about it himself—and worried about it. Eventually, that reward was going to get so high that his own men might turn him in. He had seen the posters: “Wanted: Dead or Alive. Jesse James.” At first he had been proud of it, but now, he worried about bounty hunters and his own men and anyone else who might be tempted by so much money. It was time to quit the business. If this plan of Sam Cobra’s worked out, he’d have plenty of money to retire . . .

-------------------------------------

“Those are fine cattle you have there. Well worth this money. You could’ve got a better price if you sold them yourself. But I ain’t asking no questions!” The fat rancher counted out the last of the money, closed the sack, and tossed it to the big Mexican bandit.

Ahumado opened the bag and began to count the money himself. “What’s the matter, don’t you trust me, vaquero?” asked the rancher.

“No, senor, I don’t trust anybody,” the Black Vaquero said softly.

When he finished counting the money, he nodded at the man. “Si, it is all here. If it had not been, I would have cut the difference out of your fat belly and fed it to Zopilote, my pet vulture!”

The rancher nervously wiped the sweat from his face with a dirty handkerchief. “Well, I wouldn’t cheat you. You can trust me on that. I don’t know why you keep that nasty bird around anyway.”

The huge, ugly vulture squawked loudly and moved about on the big bandito’s saddle. The giant black stallion he rode ignored the bird as Ahumado walked over and held out his arm. Zopilote flapped his wings as he stepped onto the Black Vaquero’s forearm.

“I keep him around, amigo, because he reminds me of my purpose. You know what vultures mean, don’t you, senor?” he asked the rancher.

The fat man licked his lips. “Yeah, they mean death. I don’t like ‘em at all.”

Ahumado laughed and, with a sudden swiftness, swung into his saddle. He lifted his arm and the big black vulture took off, flying off to the south.

“Well, mi amigo, if you do what I tell you to do and keep your mouth shut, perhaps you will not feed the vultures very soon. Adios!” and with that Ahumado rode down to the corral to join the rest of his gang of cutthroats as they headed out.

The fat rancher gulped and sat heavily in a rocking chair on the porch. He hated that Mexican bandit. The man scared him. But he had to do business with him because it was profitable. Besides, it was what Sam Cobra had told him to do. Sam had some kind of elaborate scheme going on and the Black Vaquero and his bandits were part of it. It was hot. The sweat trickled down the folds of his triple chin. The rancher wiped at it with his handkerchief and watched the bandits riding off into the distance, the vulture a speck in the sky above them. He needed a drink of water, but the well was clear across the yard.

“Maria!” he yelled.

A pretty Mexican girl came to the door and the fat rancher turned, “Maria, honey, bring me a drink of water, would you?”

The girl scowled at him. “Get it yourself, fat one!” she spat, swiftly moving to one side to avoid his arm as he swung a blow in her direction. She went to the edge of the porch and looked after Ahumado. She missed him already and she heaved a big sigh.

“Don’t worry, Maria, he’s got another girl in town, I’m sure,” said the rancher with a sneer.

She turned and looked at him with disdain. Then, her lovely dark eyes flashed and she smiled mischievously, “Si, senor, I know Ahumado has his other lovers. But do you know that I also have other men of my own?” With that, she swished her skirt at him and gracefully swirled away into the house.

The fat rancher swore an oath and leaned back in the rocking chair, fanning himself with his hat. Why did Sam Cobra insist on having that girl stay here? She was a distraction when there was business to be done. A beautiful distraction, though . . . he wondered who her other man was . . . probably Sam Cobra himself! No, it wouldn’t do to upset Maria too much. If she didn’t kill you herself, her boyfriends would see that you were punished in some terrible way. He sighed and wondered if he’d ever stop sweating.

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To Be Continued . . .

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Chapter 13 [Submitted by Dr. Jim Fuller]

Sheriff Pat Garrett walked boldly down the main street of town, his right hand near the butt of the Colt six-shooter on his hip. In his left hand, he carried a double-barreled shotgun. A door slammed and his body tensed, his hand sweeping back . . . it was just a youngster coming out of a store, but old habits died hard. It was good thing, because those habits had kept him alive for many years.

He approached the King Cobra Saloon and Casino with dread. A storekeeper had come rushing into the sheriff’s office to tell him that he had seen several outlaws go into the saloon. Garrett didn’t like the idea of facing a whole gang of bad men at one time, but he had a job to do. So, he checked his guns, put a few extra shotgun shells in his vest pocket, and headed down the street.

The gathering in Sam Cobra’s office on the second floor of the saloon was a bounty hunter’s dream. The men meeting with Sam were worth many thousands of dollars in reward money. But it would be hard money to collect. These were killers, hard men who had survived many years on the wrong side of the law. The worst of the lot sat behind the desk in his luxurious leather chair and listened to their reports. Sam Cobra was pleased. His plans were working to perfection. He had it all figured out.

Ahumado had returned from selling a herd of stolen cattle and was ready for something else. It was time to take Johnny’s horses. Jesse James and his gang had hit the stagecoach and taken a large payroll. The gang should lay low, but Sam ordered Jesse to keep robbing every stage that came through. Closing off that means of transportation was an important part of his scheme. He didn’t want anyone getting away or the law from outside interfering. Stopping the mail by effectively shutting down the stage line would go a long way toward sealing the whole area off. The Comanchero reported that the Indians were really on the warpath and within a few hours the town would be in an uproar as news of their raids on surrounding ranches and homesteads spread like wildfire.

Best of all, Dangerous Dan had shot Jimmy West and kidnaped Janeen. This was a direct attack on the West family empire and Sam wanted more of the same. He turned to the Comanchero.

“You’ve all done well. But I want you to hit Johnny West hard. See if you can get Fighting Eagle to attack the Circle X Ranch.,” the outlaw king ordered.

He looked back at Dangerous Dan and nodded at the Canadian outlaw. “Hold Janeen up there in your cave. We’ll decide what to do with her later. In the meantime, see if you can kill a few more of Johnny’s riders. And, if possible, why don’t you kidnap a few more of his family members. The more the merrier!”

Just then, Jesse James, who was standing by the window, broke in, “Sam, Sheriff Garrett is headed this way! What do you want us to do?”

Sam Cobra smiled and rose to his feet. He laughed, “Don’t worry boys, you don’t have to run. I’ll take care of that lawman myself. Don’t go anywhere.”

He put on his hat, hitched up his beautiful Tennessee-made King Cobra pistol rig, and walked out of the office.

Jesse looked around the room and voiced their frustration. “He’s gonna go talk to the Sheriff. Talk, talk, talk . . . that’s all Sam does anymore. Just talk!”

The Comanchero hefted his Henry rifle and flashed an evil grin, “I do my talking with my guns!”

Dangerous Dan walked over to the window and looked out at the sheriff. “I think Sam’s done talking, gentlemen. I think he’s ready to act.”

Sam Cobra reached the bottom of the stairs just as Sheriff Garrett pushed through the batwing doors into the ornate saloon. A long mahogany bar stretched along one entire wall of the building. The rich wood was beautifully carved and a brightly polished brass foot rail shone along the bottom of it. The back bar was made of the same expensive wood and featured a huge imported mirror at its center. Bottles of fine liquor adorned the many shelves on the back bar and fine glassware was carefully stacked on and under the bar itself.

A bored bartender leaned against the bar, ready to pour another drink for the few customers standing by at this early hour. Well-kept tables filled the area in front of the bar. They were arranged in such a way to leave a wide path to two double doors along the wall opposite the bar. These doors led into the casino, where felt-covered tables offered faro, poker, and craps, and the roulette wheel waited to take the gamblers’ money. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling and gas lamps - the first in this part of the country -were situated on the walls of both the saloon and the casino. The King Cobra was a high-class joint and Sam Cobra spared no expense in decorating. He wasn’t cheap when it came to taking other people’s money.

“Howdy, Sheriff! We rarely see you in here. Is this a social call or are you here on business?” Sam called in a friendly tone.

“I’m here on business, Cobra,” said the sheriff, “I’ve been told that there a bunch of wanted men in here today.”

“Now, sheriff, do you see any outlaws in here?” asked Sam, raising his eyebrows and flashing a sarcastic grin.

“Who is upstairs, Sam?,” asked the Sheriff, walking toward the man dressed all in black.

“You’re not going up there, Sheriff. That’s a private area. Invitation only and you’re not invited.” Sam’s voice was cold.

“I’ve got to check it out, Sam. If Jesse James and Ahumado are in town, I’ve got to arrest them,” the sheriff said, moving toward the stairs.

“Hold it right there, Sheriff!” Sam barked.

The Sheriff turned, his hand near his gun and, for a long moment, there was only deadly silence.

Then they both drew . . . three shots rang out . . . Sheriff Garrett staggered back and dropped to the floor, the front of his shirt bloody. He had taken two bullets in the chest. His own shot had gone into the floor as he fell. Sam Cobra had beaten Sheriff Garrett to the draw.

Sam Cobra holstered his pistol and walked over to the fallen lawman. He pushed the Sheriff with the toe of his boot.

“He’s still alive, I think,” Cobra said without emotion. He looked at the blood pooling on the floor and at the bullet hole nearby. He cursed.

"That stupid sheriff ruined my floor! You men get him out of here!" he ordered.

Several bystanders moved to carry the fallen sheriff out of the saloon.

At the top of the stairs, Dangerous Dan turned and grinned at the other outlaws. “How do you like the way Sam talks now, Jesse?”

______________________________________

To Be Continued . . .

______________________________________

Chapter 14 [Submitted by Terri Coop]

Dick and Jim, the West’s draft horses, walked at a steady pace. Jay rode double with Jacob on one and Jamie rode single on the other.

“We’re getting nowhere fast,” said Jamie.

“Yeah, but we’re getting there. We should be at the mouth of the canyon in twenty minutes or so. Keep an eye out for anything strange,” answered Jay.

“Like what?”

“Um . . . you know, like horse tracks or smoke or something,” said Jay. He was trying hard to act like he thought his Pa would, but truths be told, he was scared.

Jacob had been silent through the entire ride. At first he’d been anxious to do something, anything, except sit at the West house. However, now each plodding step of the horses took him farther from his mom and dad and worried him more.

All the boys rode quietly now. Jamie concentrated on the dusty path, wanting to be the first one to detect signs of trouble. Jay kept one hand on his rifle and the other on the hackamore. He wondered what he would do if they really found trouble and if he should have left the girls alone. Jacob, an expert horseman, sat relaxed and moved with the horse’s rocking gait. He seemed lost in his own thoughts.

**************************************

The box canyon was a geological wonder. Tall rocks sheltered and disguised the entrance; an uninformed passerby might miss it. A short narrow path appeared to go nowhere, then around the final turn was a vision of paradise.

Layered rock walls rose one hundred feet from the flat meadow on the canyon floor. At one end, a waterfall tumbled down the rocks into a stone pool at the bottom. A small stream flowed out of the pool and split into a hundred rivulets before dissipating and disappearing into the green prairie grass and thick loamy soil. No matter how hot and dry the summer, the canyon was always cool and green. However, the prolonged drought had reduced the waterfall to a trickle and the pool to a shadow of its former self. The grass was still green, supported by underground springs. However, instead of the usual carpet of lush green velvet, the grass looked weak and wilted.

The grass was also getting patchy in spots after being gnawed and pawed by the fifty horses quartered there. Johnny West knew that if he could keep his core breeding stock alive and healthy that the Circle X Ranch could survive the business slump brought on by the drought.

Around Christmas, he had palavered with Chief Cherokee who had told him that droughts ran in twelve year cycles and that the thirty-sixth year was always the worst. This was the thirty-sixth year. Next winter and spring should bring the rains again.

**************************************************

“There’s the entrance! Right by that rock that looks like a grizzly bear,” said Jamie.

“Not bad, little brother. You couldn’t have been more than six when Chief Cherokee told us that story,” said Jay.

“What story?” asked Jacob.

“Sorry. You didn’t live here then. Every summer when we were little, Chief Cherokee would take us camping in the canyon. He’d tell us stories about spirits and animals and everything. He said that rock held the spirit of a bear that had died valiantly in a battle. As a reward, he got to stand guard over a piece of paradise on Earth. He told us the canyon was a special place for weary spirits to rest on their journey through time,” said Jay.

“Nice story.”

“Yeah. I miss the Chief. We haven’t seen him in quite a while. I hope he’s all right.”

“Do you still go camping here?”

“Been a couple of years. Pa’s been busy and worried since the drought set in. I been trying to help, but Pa has to do all the figuring and thinking.”

As they neared the entrance, Dick and Jim pricked up their ears and nickered softly. They even moved a little faster.

“Whoa, boy, settle down. Careful Jamie. They smell the water and fresh grass. We still have to get through the path. Pa would skin us if either of these guys got hurt.”

Jamie tightened his grip on the hackamore and the big horse slowed down and calmed.

“Better duck, Jacob. These horses are tall and it gets a little tight,” said Jay.

As they negotiated the path, there was no sound except the clink of the horses’ shoes on the stones. Jay led the way, using his knees and the tension in the hackamore to guide the horse.

“Here we are. Welcome to Bear Canyon,” said Jamie. He dismounted and his horse immediately buried his nose in the grass.

“Wow,” said Jacob.

He’s seen his uncle’s horses a thousand times. However, there was something about the sight of fifty fine horses framed by the canyon walls that awed him.

“Hey, there’s Thundercolt!” Jamie whistled and a beautiful young horse bounded over. He nuzzled Jamie so hard, that he pushed the boy over onto the grass. Taking advantage of his fallen master, Thundercolt nuzzled Jamie’s pockets looking for the treat he could smell, but not see.

“Okay, okay! Here it is!” Jamie took an apple from his vest pocket and gave it to the horse. Thundercolt pawed and pranced around the boy with a look of sheer delight in his bright eyes.

“I swear, that horse thinks he’s a dog. Next thing you know, he’ll want a belly rub,” said Jay.

Jay looked at the herd. Most of the horses ignored him. Fiero, the great red and white stallion, eyed the boys with suspicion and herded a few mares into the far corner of the meadow. Jay could see nothing wrong. However, he had a strange feeling.

“Jay, what do you think? Everything looks good to me,” said Jamie.

“Yeah,” said Jacob. The adventure over, he wanted to go home.

“Let’s water Dick and Jim and take a walk around the edge of the canyon. I want to be able to tell Pa we were careful.”

“Okay! You go left and I’ll go right and we can meet in the middle. It’ll go faster,” said Jamie.

“No. Let’s stay together,” said Jay.

They led the horses to the pool, removed the hackamores, and left the horses to drink their fill. Although the water was shallow, it was cool and clean.

“Okay, let’s reconnoiter the canyon. Everyone have a rifle? Keep alert,”

“Yes sir! Captain Maddox, sir! Will watch for Indians, sir!” Jamie snapped a mock salute to his brother. Captain Tom Maddox was his hero. He’d met Brett’s brother a few years ago at Christmas and promised himself he’d be a cavalryman when he was grown.

“Jamie, one more smart-mouthed word from you and you stay with the horses. I’ll also tell Pa that you weren’t serious about protecting the herd.”

“Yeesh, I was just having a little fun.”

“This isn’t fun! My mom and dad could be hurt or worse. You don’t know where your ma and pa are. The girls are alone, and we are in the middle of nowhere! This is not fun!” His fury expended, Jacob was quiet again.

“Sorry. You’re right. Don’t worry Jacob. Ma and Pa will take care of them. Nobody gets the best of Johnny West!” said Jamie.

Jacob stayed silent, but smiled a little bit. Jay walked around the edge of the meadow toward the narrow path that snaked its way to the top of the canyon. A quick look around and they could get back to the Ranch. Jamie and Jacob followed him single-file.

**********************************************

“So, Mate, what do you think?” The man with the thick British accent lay flat on the canyon rim of the canyon opposite the boys.

“Well Kid, I think some colts have strayed a bit too far from the barn. Let’s watch for a while and see what they’re up to,” answered the other man. He called his partner ‘Cowboy Kid,’ because he thought that no self-respecting cowpoke should ever answer to the name ‘Averill,’ even though Kid told him the name meant ‘warrior’ back in England.

“I wonder if they’ve seen the Gunslinger,” said Cowboy Kid.

His friend was silent. He hoped no one within a thousand miles had seen that bastard.

_____________________________________

To Be Continued . . .

______________________________________

Chapter 15 [Submitted by Rick Provence]

"It looks quiet down there." Johnny sighed, "Way too quiet."

Jimmy's ranch was as still as a picture. If it wasn’t for a single tumbleweed rolling up to the barn, there would have been no movement at all.

Johnny and Jane stayed down low and eyed the ranch from one end to the other for a long time. They knew something was just not right down there.

"The house and barn look to be empty, " whispered Jane.

"Yep. The stables and holding pens are still as a rock too."

Johnny stood up and moved over to the left about ten paces to get a better view of the barn. "Just as I thought, there is someone on the ground back there. I can't tell who it is."

Jane glared deep into Johnny's eyes and said, "Johnny. My dear Johnny. You be careful down there and give me the signal when it is all clear or," Jane paused, "when it is not all clear."

Johnny thought quickly about the signal and said, “If I raise my scarf, everything was clear, if that ole scarf hits the ground, then be cocked, loaded , and ready to let the lead fly.”

Johnny moved quickly down to the side of the out house while Jane kept her rifle pointed ahead of him.

'Always gotta check the outhouse', Johnny thought. ‘For some gosh darn reason, bad guys think an outhouse is a great place to hide and surprise people. Must be its ability to cover up their stench. With the barrel of his rifle, Johnny pushed the out house door open. “No stinkers in here today,” he said to himself.

After a quick dart over to the back of the barn, Johnny moved to the corner and peered around. There was a man laying face down over a piece of broken fence. His Winchester was lying in the dirt a few feet away. There was blood on the back of the shirt and there were no signs of life left in the critter. Johnny took a good look around and raised his neckerchief. He could see Jane stand up and walk toward the barn. Johnny moved over the body and nudged it in the butt with his rifle.

"That's no place to stick that there thing"

Johnny fell backwards into the horse trough and let a round slip into the air. Jane hit the dirt hard and looked for a target.

"Jimmy! You ole dog, whatcha doing in taken a nap this early in the day?" Johnny half joked. Johnny and Jimmy were known to kid around when in a pinch.

Jimmy tried to push himself over while Johnny pulled himself out of the trough and shook himself off.

"They got me and got me good!" moaned Jimmy while trying to hold his head and shoulder at the same time.

Johnny waved to Jane to come on down, "Where are you hit, how many where there, who were they, and which direction did they go when they took Janeen?" Johnny asked.

"You know the right questions don't you? It was Dangerous Dan! He had five or six that I saw. He took a couple of quick pot shoots at me. Caught me in the left shoulder, and my trusty Winchester caught one. The shot in my Winchester hurt more then the one in my shoulder.”

Jimmy grinned. "It knocked me back against the fence and next thing I know, I’m waking up with a sore shoulder and a heck-of-a-headache next to a cowboy who is bathing in my horse trough."

Jane caught the end of Jimmy's details as she got closer and went right to work bandaging up his shoulder with her neckerchief. "The bullet headed right out the back side and looks like it missed the bone."

"Can you ride?" asked Johnny.

"Can a bear sh..," Jimmy paused, "Sorry Jane, you bet I can ride".

Jane smiled, "I told you before that there is a right time that kind of language, this is that time".

Johnny stood up, "Once you're done Jane, let's go get Jimmy's wife back and put an end to these ruffians.

_____________________________________

To Be Continued . . .

______________________________________

CHAPTER 16 [Submitted by Terri Coop]

The man called ‘Cowboy Kid’ lay motionless on the edge of the canyon. He watched the boys negotiate the narrow path to the top and start walking around the rim. He figured they would reach his position in about an hour.

“When they walk behind those rocks, we need to move. I’m not in the mood for company,” said Cowboy Kid.

“You don’t reckon we should watch them for awhile? See what they’re up to?” answered his friend.

“You stupid bugger! They’re boys. What trouble could they be up to? Probably came to look at the horses. Maybe the horses belong to their folks.”

“Suppose you’re right. Okay, get ready to move.” He shifted his weight, briefly exposing the nickel-plated pistol on his hip.

As the boys passed from view, the two men crawled backwards from the edge and cautiously returned to their horses.

*******************************

“Hey, what’s that?” said Jacob, pointing across the canyon.

“What?” asked Jay.

“Just before we went behind the rocks, I saw a flash of light, like sun reflecting off metal. There’s somebody over there,” said Jacob.

“Maybe it was a can or an old bottle,” said Jamie.

“Then it would still be shining, wouldn’t it. Look, do you see anything?” said Jacob.

Jay and Jamie shook their heads.

“Let’s pick up the pace. Everybody stay close,” said Jay. He wished he felt as confident as he sounded. He also wished his Pa was here.

**********************************************

Cowboy Kid and his friend had tethered their horses in a shady nook in the rocks near the canyon rim. They were tempted to mount up and ride, but didn’t want the boys to find them. Since their run-in with the Gunslinger, neither was in the mood to attract attention.

“Okay, Kid. Since you want to let the colts have a chance to nose around the canyon, I’ll think I’ll have me a little snooze. We been riding hard since we had to bury old Wayne. Damn, I’m gonna miss that son-of-a-gun.”

“As you wish. I believe I’ll keep watch a while,” answered Cowboy Kid. He found a sheltered spot in the rocks where he could watch the edge of the canyon without being seen.

Kid looked back at his friend. He didn’t even know his real name. At a saloon one night, he’d introduced himself as Hoss and cadged a drink. Kid was lonely and Hoss kept him entertained with tall tales of bravery and derring-do during cattle drives and rodeos. Cowboy Kid believed that, in reality, Hoss may have tagged along on a cattle drive and been to a rodeo at least once, but he was still good company.

The two fell in together and had been riding a casual trail through the west. Wayne had joined them a few months back, adding his own brand of humor and personality to the group. They worked, or resorted to petty theft when they needed money. However, most of the time, they lounged and idled. The mild dry winter that was devastating the ranches made camping easy on the wanderers.

Kid enjoyed his rare moment alone. Hoss was a good friend, but he talked nonstop. Wayne’s death had rattled them both. His mind wandered back to that day . . ..

“Stop it,” he said, willing himself to think of other things.

Things like England, his home.

Cowboy Kid was born Averill Barrington, the second son of the Duke of Barrington. Inheritance was unlikely, his older brother had married early and produced the obligatory son. That left to Averill the role of carefree-younger-son-of-a-very-rich-man. He relished his lot in life, leaving no card unturned and no barmaid untouched. Handsome and dashing, he knew that when the time came, he would marry well and enjoy all that life in London and the country had to offer.

However, his star-touched life came to an abrupt halt the day he found his sister crying in one of the tower rooms. Tessa had recently married Thomas Spencer, the oldest son of the manor that adjoined Barrington Woods, in a spectacular wedding festival that had lasted three days. The fathers of the bride and groom had toasted the joining of the two families and predicted a grand future for them all.

However, the young woman Averill found in what they’d called the ‘cloud room’ as children wasn’t the grand dame of the Spencer-Barrington dynasty. She was his baby sister with a bruised check, a split lip and sky blue eyes filled with more sadness than his heart could bear.

“Av . . . Av . . . Averill, he hit me. Thomas hit me when I said I wanted to visit our mother. He said Spencer Castle was my home, and I was never to leave it again without his permission. He thought he’d locked me in the bedroom, but the door didn’t latch. I snuck out through the kitchen. I’m scared.”

He’d hugged her and reassured her that he would take care of it. However, to his shock and disbelief, their father had ordered Tessa to return to her husband.

He never forgot the conversation with his father.

“Father, that beast hit Tessa. You can’t send her back there. We should call the authorities!”

“And tell them what? Tell them that they should interfere in private matters between a husband and wife?”

“What are you saying? That you condone his behavior? You never hit mother!”

“She never gives me any cause. Son, this matter is closed. It is not your concern.”

For the next six months, Averill saw his sister only at family affairs. The lilt had left her voice and the lightness had left her step. More than once he’d detected carefully concealed bruises on her face and arms. Few members of the Barrington family could look directly into her pleading eyes.

The situation could have continued like that forever except for one fortunate or unfortunate, depending on your outlook, coincidence. Averill, ashamed of his inaction, went to London to forget himself for a weekend in drink and card-playing. In one club, he’d run into Thomas, drunk and bidding for the favors of a local prostitute.

The local papers said Thomas Spencer had died in an illegal duel and that Averill Barrington was incarcerated in the Tower of London awaiting trial. The Duke used his political connections to free his son, but told him he had to leave the country immediately or face retribution from the Spencer family. With only a small suitcase and a bag of gold coins, Averill Barrington boarded a ship to the United States.

America thrilled him. However, the east coast cities were not to his taste. If he had to live in a city, he wanted to live in London. So, intrigued by the ‘dime novels’ depicting the wild frontier of the American west, he’d bought a horse and some gear and rode into the setting sun, leaving Averill Barrington behind forever.

Cowboy Kid shook his head to clear out the reverie.

‘Where was I? Anything could have snuck up on me,’ he thought.

He looked around the rocks and saw the boys were nearly to the spot where he and Hoss had spied on them. He laughed a bit at the thought of hiding from three young boys.

“I stood my ground with the Gunslinger, and now I’m hiding from children,” he whispered. The thought of the Gunslinger made him shiver a bit. He pushed the image from his mind. It was too fresh, too raw. That was a story for another day.

_____________________________________

To Be Continued . . .

______________________________________

CHAPTER 17 [Submitted by Rick Provence]

The door flew open so hard that the handle cracked the plaster wall behind it.

"Doc!" One man was screaming, "Doc! Doc Coop, come quick. They shot the sheriff!"

One man cleared a table with the swoop of his arm and the other two lifted Garrett onto the table.

"Doc!" screamed the man again.

Mrs. Coop came through a door that connected the doctor’s office and their house. The smell of fresh baked apple pie quickly engulfed the room. Mrs. Coop took a look at Sheriff Garrett and a tear rolled down her left cheek. She had a knack for being at the right place at the right time and helping where help was needed, no matter how small or how big. Over the years, she had come to be known to by everyone in town as Ma Coop.

She wiped the tear off and regained her composure quickly.

"My husband is down the street at the Koehler place resetting Jill's arm after she feel from a horse this morning." She pointed to the skinniest of the men, "You know the Koehler place. Run as fast as you can and get Doc Coop down here now!" He nodded and ran out the door.

Mrs. Coop looked over Garrett's body and went right to work cutting off his shirt.

"It looks bad, real bad. Who did this?" she asked as she took a quick glance at each man before returning to look at their good sheriff.

"Answer me. Who did this?"

The two men started to mumble, "Ma Coop, we were just,..well, I had just walked in, um..."

After a short pause they both looked each other and one looked down at the floor as the other backed up to the door. "Sorry, Ma Coop. We have to get back to umm . . .”

"You have said enough, now get outta here and don't mention this to anyone." Ma Coop knew who did it. She knew the men were taking a chance by bringing the sheriff to the doc's office. There were two things everyone in the county felt the same about; everyone had great respect for Sheriff Garrett and would do anything to help or take care of him. However, that ‘anything' stopped as soon as Sam Cobra or his band of misfits became part of the deal.

Garrett was unconscious and barely breathing. Mrs. Coop, never actually being trained as a nurse of any sort, had watched and assisted her husband hundreds of times. She moved quickly and put everything in place to save valuable time as soon as Doc Coop walked through the door.

She could hear running feet on the walkway. A slender man with a beard and a carpet bag ran in. "How bad is it?"

"Two in the chest. The one in the middle of his chest isn’t bleeding much. It might be caught in his breast plate. The other is right below his heart and looks bad. I don’t see any exit wound." Tears rolled from both her eyes. She knew that her husband could put any cowboy back together, but this was bad. The Sheriff was also a close dear friend and the town’s only way to keep Sam Cobra in check.

Doc Coop took a deep breath, "Ma, it's going to be a long day."

_____________________________________

To Be Continued . . .

______________________________________

CHAPTER 18 [Submitted by Rick Provence]

Que-gi was young and had never been in battle before.

‘This wasn’t battle’ he thought, ‘this was murder!’

It had been the fourth ranch they had hit today and he was sure there would be a lot more before the sun set.

“Do not be afraid Que-gi. Fighting Eagle will protect you.” Falling Rock was riding up next to him and trying to reassure him.

“I am not afraid of battle or death.” Said Que-gi.

“Knowing that Fighting Eagle is doing this without the knowledge or permission of Chief Cherokee and the elders bothers me. This will divide the tribe for sure if Fighting Eagle continues to act on his own.”

Most of the braves were feeling the same way as Que-gi, but they knew that questioning his judgment would be futile. It was well known by all the braves that Geronimo no longer rode with the hunting party because Fighting Eagle always wanted to hunt everything but buffalo. The two fought constantly when away from camp, but somehow managed to maintain their composure in the presence of the chief, the elders or the women and children. Geronimo knew that when the chief moved on to the spirit world that the tribe would have many problems with Fighting Eagle.

However, Fighting Eagle never had any intention of waiting for the chief’s death before establishing himself as the next candidate to lead the tribe.

“We are a hunting party and we are supposed to be hunting for food,” Que-gi blurted out. “What will Chief Cherokee say or do when he finds out? Even Fighting Eagle cannot conceal the things we have done today.”

Que-gi grunted in pain as he fell from his pony and hit the ground.

Fighting Eagle had somehow moved beside him undetected and swung his rifle butt into the side of the young brave’s face. Que-gi could feel the warmth of the blood oozing out of his ear. He wiped his ear and looked up at the brown and white pony poised above him.

“Chief Cherokee will not find out about today until he hears it from me, and only me!” Fighting Eagle glared down at Que-gi. “Now mount your pony and ride up front with honor.”

All the braves knew that riding up front had nothing to do with honor. It was punishment. Fighting Eagle would not converse with them during the ride and the next time they attack, Que-gi had to maintain the lead and be the first in and last out. The braves were all much younger than Fighting Eagle and had all heard the story. During the battle, the designated lead brave, had to maintain the lead. If he did not, that brave was always found dead with a tomahawk wound in the back of his head.

The other braves did not talk about what took place nor did they look down on Que-gi for his disrespect to Fighting Eagle. They had all been there before. No matter how small or how big the mistake; the wrath of Fighting Eagle was always ferocious.

‘I am not doing this for the heart of Wildflower,’ Fighting Eagle thought, ‘I am doing this for the good of the tribe’.

Even Fighting Eagle could not lie to himself. He knew that the 7th Cavalry and Captain Maddox were only a day’s ride away and that once word got out, they would hit his tribe hard. Very hard, unless his white friend from town could convince the other tribes to join in as he had promised. He knew he could count on his white friend. He might be a snake, but he had supported Fighting Eagle with guns, bullets and whiskey for the last half of year without asking for anything in return.

“Why would he fail me now?” Fighting Eagle whispered. “Why would she not love me now? I am Fighting Eagle!”

Que-gi could not believe what he had just heard Fighting Eagle muttering to himself. He looked deep into Fighting Eagle’s eyes and paused.

Then as he pulled his pony away, kicked him into a sprint and screamed, “The Chief must know!”

Que-gi had gotten a good lead, or so he thought. The bullet exited through the front of Que-gi’s neck and he fell from his pony a second time. This time there would be no getting up again.

Fighting Eagle lowered his rifle and signaled two of the other braves to fetch his body.

“You walk proud, Que-gi, you walk proud my brother!”

_____________________________________

To Be Continued . . .

______________________________________

CHAPTER 19 [Submitted by Dr. Jim Fuller]

Johnny West was mad.

The former Ranger was usually calm and level-headed. Now, however, he seethed with a barely controlled rage. He paced back and forth in front of the big fireplace at the Circle X Ranch for a long time, while the other men in the room waited. Brett Maddox knew that look in Johnny’s eye. He had seen it before, years ago, when the Comanche raided nearby ranches and outlaw bands killed close friends.

Johnny West was slow to anger, but when he finally reached his boiling point, he went off in a killing rage. Brett knew it. He’d seen it first hand. He remembered times when Johnny had seemed like a madman, riding pell-mell into the teeth of the enemy, guns blazing. It was as if Johnny became a warrior from the past, some legendary figure from the English woods, wading into the camp of Viking marauders to seek revenge.

Brett relished the thought of such action now. It was past time. Sam Cobra had been riding high for too long. The rustlers had been getting away with too much. And someone had to teach the young Indian warriors the same lessons their elders had learned the hard way. Johnny West was just the man to do it.

Johnny finally stopped and looked hard at the men seated and standing with him in the room.

“Brett, we’re going to hit’em hard,” Johnny commanded. “Take a bunch of the boys and hit the Comanchero’s camp tonight. No sense waiting. They want trouble, let’s take it to them.”

Brett replied quickly, “Okay, Johnny, I’ll take Shorty, Jack, Russell, Odie, Rufus, and a couple of others. I won’t need too many if we hit’em at night.”

Johnny nodded, then turned to the tall, well-dressed man standing beside the liquor cabinet.

“You ready to get in this? Or you want to keep playing lawyer?”

James West didn’t hesitate. “I’m in Johnny. I’m not just your attorney, I’m your cousin, too, remember? I want to punish whoever did this to Jimmy the same as you do.”

The rancher smiled. James was a good man, but he had been a Treasury Agent too long to do things outside the law. He had become a lawyer after years of working for the Federal government. But now he seemed ready to do things the Texas way.

“Good! You and me and some of the boys will go to town to pay Sam Cobra back for what he did to the Sheriff. Maybe he won’t be so high-and-mighty when that fancy joint of his is burned to the ground!”

The attorney’s eyes widened, “Johnny, what about the law?”

The former Ranger snapped his reply back with the force of rifle shot, “To the blazes with the law! There IS NO LAW in this country, except that which comes from the barrel of a gun. Sam Cobra will never follow the rules! He owns the law, half the time, bends it to his will when he can, cheats and sneaks his way along. No more! I’m done with doing things nice and legal. Anybody who stands in my way will find out that I mean business. I’m done with being the good guy! It’s time to show everybody that they can’t push the West family around! If you don’t like it, James, then you get out of my way.”

The big attorney nodded. “Okay, Johnny, okay. I’m with you! And I’ll do my best to cover your tracks legally, if I can. I’ve been trying to help you beat Cobra and his friends in the courts for years. I know how it is. Maybe a gun IS all they’ll understand.”

Johnny turned at last to the thin stranger, Roland Deschain. “Where do you stand in this? Are you with me or are those fancy guns just for show?”

The tall, thin man rose from the chair in the corner, coming out of the shadows at last. “I’m with you. I do not seek trouble, but neither do I shun it. I’ll stand with thee. I ken not for those of Cobra’s ilk. You are good folk and I pledge my gun to ye.”

Johnny was momentarily taken aback by Roland’s strange and formal speech. However, he looked deep into the man’s blue eyes and saw a kindred spirit. He saw the soul of a warrior.

“Good, then you can go with Steve, Dave, and Gordon. They’re all good men. Dave may drive the chuck wagon, but he’s good with a shotgun, too. And Gordon used to be lawyer before he got run out of Alabama for hanging a guy who ripped him off in a deal. Steve’s from Tennessee and works as my blacksmith. He’s handy with a shootin iron, but he’s even better with a knife. You take them and go find Ahumado. That Mexican bandit has had his way too long. Hang him!”

The men all stood there, waiting. Johnny walked over and grabbed the whiskey decanter from the table. He refilled each man’s glass in turn and splashed two fingers of bourbon into his own. He raised it high, the light sparkling on the glass and amber liquid.

“To war!”

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To Be Continued . . .

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CHAPTER 20 [Submitted by Rick Provence]

“Reach for the sky mister!” a timid trembling voice blurted out, “I mean it, there are six rifles on you right now, so reach!”

Cowboy Kid rolled over slowly from his prone position and raised himself on his bent elbows.

“Don’t you mean two rifles and one pistol, or is it one rifle and two pistols?” His eyes moved slightly to the left of the young boy and he nodded at a grove of shrubs behind him.

“Nope, I mean six and they’re all rifles. What makes you think three anyway?” Jamie asked.

After looking around the top of the canyon, Kid grinned at Jamie, “Maybe it is because my ten men have their rifles pointed at you and your two young companions right now and they are just waiting for my signal.”

Jamie’s facial expression changed, “and what might that signal be?”

Kid had never had this much fun staring down the barrel of a gun. The worst part was that he could see Hoss laid out over by the rocks and he was still sound asleep.

“Let’s just say you don’t want me to reach for the sky.” A grin popped out and he winked at Jamie.

Jamie holstered his pistol and waived to the bushes for Jay and Jacob to come out.

“Put your arms down mister, and ask your men to show themselves, please.” Although scared, Jamie no longer felt threatened by the man. He hoped the others where also so easygoing.

Kid reached down and picked up a stone. With the other hand he motioned to Jamie to remain silent. Kid flung the stone. It nailed the hat covering Hoss’ face and knocked it to the side.

Hoss sat up, dazed and glassy-eyed, “I wasn’t asleep! Are those rascals gone yet?”

“That’s my ten men right there.” Kid laughed.

Just as Jamie started to laugh, Jacob came running up and bumped Jamie.

“Ma . . . Ma is down there in that cave!”

While hiding behind the bushes, Jacob and Jay had seen Janeen being escorted to the cave opening by a couple of men.

Jamie looked at Kid and slid his hand over his pistol grip, “Are you really alone here with the snoozer or is there more to that ten men comment?”

Kid knew that there was some serious trouble about to unfold here and he wanted to keep these boys from doing anything stupid and getting hurt or killed.

“Trust me. I can help you if you let me.”

Jamie slid his hand back away from his pistol.

“Jacob, show me,” Jamie looked to Kid, “show us this cave you spotted.”

They all moved slowly back up around the side of the shrubs and moved over to the canyon ridge.

In one direction the Circle X Ranch horses were grazing in the far distance. Down the other end of the canyon in a small carved out piece of mountain was a section of rock that appeared to having collapsed a thousand years ago. There was an opening right in the middle that could only be seen from the top of the canyon ridge because of all the brush that had grown up around it. Two men were sitting on the rocks outside the cave and a woman could be seen being escorted back into the cave.

Kid looked over to his companion, “Hoss, keep a keen eye pointed down there and let me find out what these youngsters know.” He motioned to the boys to follow him away from the ridge.

While Hoss kept lookout, the boys detailed everything that had transpired that day to Kid Cowboy.

Kid knew that there were at least three men at the cave and they were likely waiting on some more of their bunch before they would do anything. The best thing to do was to have the boys stand fast and watch how this all would play out. He knew that if he rushed in there with three boys that he would either get the woman or the boys killed. He explained to the boys about playing the waiting game. Even though Jacob was fired up, he knew it was best to wait and agreed to stay put.

Each boy was positioned along the ridge and explained in detail about keeping out of sight. Kid felt pretty darn dumb giving the boys a ‘how to hide’ speech after they snuck up on him earlier. Once he finished, Kid started to work his way around the ridge to see if there was another way into the alcove or the cave without being spotted.

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To Be Continued . . .

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CHAPTER 21 [Submitted by Dr. Jim Fuller]

Geronimo watched Fighting Eagle lead his men back into camp.

‘Where is Que-gi?’ he thought.

The big Apache walked boldly toward his rival.

“You have returned, my brother! I see many scalps and the loot of battle,” said Geronimo.

Fighting Eagle’s dark eyes glittered with pride.

“Yes, Geronimo, we were victorious. We attacked four rancheros and the whites died like cowards.”

“But where is Que-gi?,” Chief Cherokee asked as he approached the warriors.

“I killed him!” Fighting Eagle spat the words at his chief.

“What! Why did you kill one of your own brothers?” the old chief asked.

“He challenged my authority. He argued that you thought we were a hunting party and that I had no right to lead the young men into battle. He made trouble. He refused to listen to me and turned his back on me to ride away, intending to come here to you to argue his case. He insulted me. He had no honor. I killed him. It was too bad, but I would not accept the slight.”

Fighting Eagle spoke calmly, but there was a deadly edge in his voice. Cherokee shook his head slowly and sadly.

“I knew there would be trouble. I counseled peace, but the young men wanted war. Your voice was listened to. I do not understand why Que-gi would think you were a hunting party. It makes no sense. War does not make sense.”

The old chief suddenly seemed very tired and weak. Standing there beside the two younger leaders; he seemed to shrink and grow older by comparison.

Geronimo spoke up. “I, too, want war. It is time to stop the White Eyes. They take more and more land. They understand only war. Their treaties are lies. But I am sorry that Que-gi is dead. Your raid was a great success, but how much more glorious your victory would have been had you returned without losing a man. Especially a young man so beloved as Que-gi . What will you tell his family?”

Fighting Eagle squared his shoulders and said, “I will tell them the truth and I will be generous. I will give them my share of the goods we have taken today as well as Que-gi’s. That is all I have to say about it.”

The old chief nodded. “It is good that you give your share to his old mother and his sisters. Now they have no man to provide for them. Perhaps you should take one of his sisters as a wife, Fighting Eagle. It has been the way of our people in the past.”

The young warrior smiled. “Perhaps I will take all three of his sisters as wives. Many of our men take more than one wife. But I am in no hurry to be a husband. Until I decide, I will provide for Que-gi’s family. Where were YOU today, Geronimo? Why didn’t you join my raiding party?”

Geronimo glared at Fighting Eagle.

“I will lead my own war parties, on my own time!?”

Fighting Eagle laughed. “You were with Wildflower.”

He turned to Chief Cherokee and said, “Perhaps your daughter wants a great warrior for a husband. I will give you twenty ponies and the scalps of ten white men for her. And I will marry her before I bring Que-gi’s three sisters to live in my lodge. What say you, my chief?”

Cherokee’s face showed his surprise. “Fighting Eagle! You know that I want Wildflower to choose her own husband. If you want to marry her, you will have to ask her before you come to me with a bride price. Besides, you know that she has many suitors. Come, enough of this talk!

We must prepare for the feast tonight. You have won a great victory, Fighting Eagle, and we will gather around the council fire to hear your stories and celebrate your deeds.”

Geronimo watched Fighting Eagle follow the chief into the center of camp. He didn’t like the thought of having to celebrate his rival’s victory, especially since Fighting Eagle would probably spend the evening dancing and flirting with Princess Wildflower.

Geronimo’s heart sank. He had enjoyed the long ride with her today and wished he had asked her to marry him. But, instead, he had whiled away the hours, happy to be with her. Now, he would have to win her the hard way. A war party was the answer. However, to top Fighting Eagle’s feat, he would have to do something dramatic. Four ranches in one day! With only one warrior lost and that one killed by Fighting Eagle himself! The songs would be long and loud tonight, as the warriors bragged on themselves and their war chief. What could top such a day?

The big Indian’s black eyes flashed. Only one thing would impress Chief Cherokee more than four ranches destroyed in one day: destroying one ranch, THE ranch, in a single day! To burn the Circle X Ranch to the ground and bring back the scalp of Johnny West, Cherokee’s old enemy and sometimes friend. THAT would be a victory long remembered! That was it.

Geronimo smiled and turned toward the council lodge. Thinking through his plans and recruiting braves to join him would make the long night of celebration for Fighting Eagle much easier to bear.

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To Be Continued . . .

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CHAPTER 22 [Submitted by Dr. Jim Fuller]

“There’s nothing more I can do. I don’t think Sheriff Garrett is going to make it, folks. He’s hurt really bad.”

Dr. Coop was tired and his voice betrayed his weariness.

“But Noah, surely he’ll pull through,” said the doctor’s wife.

“I just don’t know.”

The doctor walked over and sat down in his easy chair. The townspeople gathered in the room waited. They had never seen Doc Coop this way before. He was usually a never-ending supply of energy, rushing from one task to another with an enthusiastic grin and buoyant confidence.

He was their miracle worker, having saved the lives of many people thought too far-gone by everyone in town. Somehow, his patients always seemed to recover. But, now, the ever-ready smile and confident manner were gone. Doc slumped into the chair.

“Do you want something to eat?” asked his wife. “Maybe you should get some rest.”

He smiled at her and shook his head. She was always worried about him getting enough to eat and enough sleep. He appreciated it, but he couldn’t sleep now. He needed to sit with the Sheriff, just in case . . . .

Wearily, Doc Coop got up and looked at the small group of people standing in his living room.

“You folks go on home. There’s nothing you can do now except pray. I’ll sit up with the Sheriff tonight. If he’s still alive in the morning, some of you can spell me, and I’ll get a few hours of sleep. You go home to your families tonight.”

He turned and headed into the small room he used for operating, a space squeezed in between the living room and his office. The small group of people gathered their hats and went out into the night.

Someone said, “Maybe we should go to the church and pray for Sheriff Garrett.”

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To Be Continued . . .

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CHAPTER 23 [Submitted by Rick Provence]

The sun had already set, but the light from the full moon made it easy to see a good distance.

Brett knew that if he played his cards right, that moon would work in his favor. He also knew that the Comancheros would have a lookout and be able see just as much.

“This is it,” Brett whispered. “We’ll have to tie up the horses here and hike the rest of the way to that second ridge.”

Everyone was loaded heavy with guns and ammunition. Brett was sure that he was still outnumbered but he had hoped that taking the Comancheros by surprise was all he’d need. The sound of bullets being loaded into the rifles and the locking of freshly loaded or checked revolvers brought back many old memories of his Civil War days whenm his company would prepare for battle. The fast sound of a Winchester being loaded was music to his ears compared to the old twenty to thirty second ‘loading and rodding the barrel’ days.

Shorty approached Brett with the others close behind him, “We’re ready Mr. Maddox. Let’s take the battle to them!”

Brett’s eyes widened as he took a head count of his men. Jack tipped his hat, Russell winked his left eye, Odie gave a slow nod, and Rufus spun his pistol back into his holster and looked up at Brett. The other three men cocked there rifles almost simultaneously. Brett realized that he didn’t even know their names. However, there was no time to worry about it.

Brett pointed at the three men. “Once we reach the top of the second ridge, Shorty and you three, spread out and work your way around to good firing positions. One of you needs to watch the ravine entrance to pick off anyone that gets by us or anyone that shows up unexpected. Don’t shoot until you hear us shoot. The rest of us will move down the ridge and separate at the bottom. We should be able to catch them in a cross fire and end this pretty darn quick.”

Brett looked over the men again. “Remember, they will surely have a lookout and he needs to be taken out quietly and quickly. Maybe we’ll get lucky and he will be asleep.”

Single file, each man followed Brett up and over the first ridge. The second ridge was about a quarter of a mile through a small valley and dense trees. Brett and his men moved quickly through the trees and across a small dried up creek bed. Each man followed a few paces behind him with their eyes moving in all directions. The pace slowed considerable as the group started up the second ridge. Brett was sure that if there was a lookout, he would be at the top.

Brett signaled to Shorty to come up front; and he waved for the others to hold their ground.

Brett then motioned to Shorty to fan out to the right. Brett was going to fan out to the left. He was hoping to catch the lookout.

Shorty moved slowly around and looked everywhere. The moon made it easy to catch someone standing around or sitting on a rock or a stump. Other than that a lookout might be hard to pick out.

As Brett moved around, he hoped that Shorty would be the one to find the lookout. He hated killing a man with a knife and he knew he could count on Shorty who stood six foot four. He was always the quiet man that would stand in the middle of a bar room brawl and watch until someone either tried to hit him or he would see to many men ganging up on another. Then he would jump in and whoop on the ones that were ganging up. It didn’t matter which side in a bar fight since it was all fun to Shorty anyway. Shorty never killed a man in a bar, but he had done his share of killing during the war. Brett knew everyone did back then. He also knew Shorty paid the price when he was captured and spent two years in a Reb prison.

“There isn’t a soul on this ridge besides us,” said Brett, turning around and heading back to the meeting point.

“Psst.”

Brett swung around with his knife, but his arm was grabbed.

“It’s me, Shorty. There isn’t anyone on the right side but we have a great view if the Comanchero encampment from that side. I counted around fifteen.”

It was hard to believe, earlier in the day he had only counted eight.

“Were outnumbered but we have surprise on our side and those Comancheros can’t hit the side of a barn anyway.”

Brett drew his pistol. “Get your men set up, and we’ll start closing in.”

Shorty rounded up his three men and started back around to the right side of the ridge. Brett started down the draw with his four men.

At the bottom of the ridge, Brett, Jack, Odie, and Rufus fanned out and started to move in.

The campfire was still going strong. Brett could see a couple of whiskey jugs laying close to the fire and all the men appeared to be sleeping. The Comanchero’s horses where tied up on a rope between two trees. Since he couldn’t get over to cut the horses free without tromping right through the middle of the camp or going all the way up and back around the ridge; he knew that he would have to take a chance and get over there once all the shooting started.

Shorty was giving the ‘all ready’ signal from the top and the others seemed to be hunkered down in good firing positions.

Brett laid his pistol on a stump next to him, picked up his rifle and waved at the others.

‘It just didn’t seem fair shoot all this scum down in their sleep, but then again what would they do to us?’ he thought.

Everyone took a deep breath and took aim.

From behind some brush, Brett could see Russell come out with his pistol in one hand and a knife in the other. He was in a full sprint right into the middle of camp. Russell jumped right over the fire and kept on running.

“What the . . .?”

Brett looked puzzled for a brief moment. “He’s going for the horses, I’ll be darned.”

A couple of Comancheros sat up confused and looked around. Then more sat up and reached for their guns. Brett took aim and bullets started to fly from the bushes. Three Comancheros fell back to the ground. Russell dived under the horses, reached up, and cut the rope with one smooth swing of his knife. The terrified horses stampeded away from the camp.

Without warning, shots came at him. Brett ducked, but not before he felt pressure and severe pain on his hip and legs. He didn’t dare move to see where he was hit.

One of the Comanchero’s horses, struck by a bullet, fell on top of Russell. It was still kicking as Russell tried to get his pistol around to shoot the horse. The pain was growing stronger and the squirming of the horse was tearing him up. Russell had the shot but just has he pulled the trigger, the hind leg swung around and caught him in the side of the head. Both fell motionless.

Everyone in the camp was scrambling for a gun. Dazed and confused, they shot in every direction. Brett was right. If there had been a barn, these guys wouldn’t have hit it.

One of the Comancheros crawled over to the fire, lit a stick of dynamite, and stood up.

Shorty took the shot and the Comanchero fell back into the fire. The campfire exploded, sending a shock wave went in every direction. Smoke made it hard to see, but shots where still coming in and going out.

Brett couldn’t see anything and expected that no else could either. Shorty’s men where still taking shots. After a few minutes, no more shots came from the camp. After the smoke cleared and the dust settled, Brett waved Shorty’s men off. Jack, Odie, Rufus and Brett moved cautiously into the camp. Bloodied bodies lay everywhere.

Jack called out, “I gotta live one over here!”

Brett moved over to Jack.

“He ain’t no Comachero is he?” Jack asked.

Brett leaned down toward the man. “What are you doing here?”

The man spoke softly to Brett. Brett’s eyes widened!

Brett leaned in closer, “Who are you with?”

The man started to whisper. “Bla…Va…Va…uhg!” A single shot rang from the top of the far side of the ridge. Everyone jumped for cover. Brett looked at the wounded man only to see his belly had been blown open by the shot. Brett looked up and could see the outline of a man wearing a sombrero riding a horse. As he rode off, everyone tried to get a shot off, but it was too late. The only thing Brett could now see in that direction was a vulture silhouetted against the full moon.

Shorty lifted his rifle, took a deep breath, and fired.

The vulture fell hard to the ground, the same as a duck that has been hit with a scattergun.

“I hate those nasty wanna-be birds.”

Shorty stood up and looked to catch Brett looking up at him. They both knew whose men this extra handful here tonight belonged to, and even worse, they new that the prize of the night got away. If only they had known that the Black Vaquaro was here before hand.

Brett took a look back at Russell. He felt good about how well it went anyway. They could have lost more than just one man. Brett knew that there was nothing he could do about Russell and he thought about how that could have been him. Would he have cut the rope in the same place, would he have hit the dirt just like Russell did when the shoots flew, would he have been the one under that horse?

“Thank you Russell” Brett whispered, “I will not forget you.”

After glancing over the encampment, Brett rounded up his men and started back toward the horses. It seemed to take a lot longer to get back there than when they were trying to sneak up on the Comanchero’s encampment.

The horses were right where they had left them. Brett gathered the men togethe