Chapter One
As usual, Sam Hawkins was the first man on the large Broken A ranch to wake up and work while all other hands were still sleeping. He saw Amos Wendell ride like a party of bloodthirsty Indians were after him when he pulled up before Hawkins. Wendell had been out keeping an eye on the ranch’s large herd.
He jumped down, and words came from him like bullets from a Gatling gun.
“Sam, we got trouble. There’s a rabid wolf on the range. He attacked two steers. I had to shoot them. We can’t have a rabid herd.”
“No, we can’t,” Hawkins said quickly. “Where were you at?”
“Hogan’s Bend, the small valley that has plenty of grass. I told the men to drive the cattle to another place on the ranch. A wolf usually won’t attack a whole herd. It will look for a straggler. But a rabid wolf might and could cause a stampede.
“Yes, cattle are not only ornery creatures but also darned anxious, and the slightest thing can set them running.” Hawkins shook his head and frowned with irritation. “And that’s the one thing we don’t want.”
“There’s a lot of open land up there, but there are also hills full of trees and plenty of places to hide,” Wendall said.
Hawkins had pulled his gun from his case and checked it over.
“Don’t worry about that, a rabid wolf won’t hide. He’s going to charge.”
“We can wait up the men.”
“No, I don’t want to wait. I’ll take care of him. The sooner we get him, the better. Where was he last spotted?”
“The two steers were attacked near Blue Canyon Mountain.”
“OK, see you when I get back.”
He spurred his horse down the trail. Destiny, his golden stallion, was swift and strong and loved to run. He sped away immediately. A sleepy cowhand saw Hawkins and Destiny ride off. His drowsy eyes became alert.
“Go get him, Sam!” he said, waving his hand.
There was a trace of respect in the man’s voice. As he spoke, Harland “Harley” Briggs came riding up. From his disgusted frown, it was obvious he didn’t have the respect and affection that Wendall did for Hawkins. Briggs tied his horse to the hitching rail at the ranch. He had some minor business matters to discuss with the ranch owner, Ethan Moynihan. The discussion shouldn’t take more than fifteen or twenty minutes, but Briggs wondered if he could stay longer to see if Hawkins made it back.
To him, it would be a good day if a rabid wolf bit Hawkins. It would be a tough way to die. Hawkins was respected by most men in the county, both for his hard work and integrity. And Eleanor “Ellie” Rose was sweet on him. She was a cute little thing. No, she wasn’t just cute; she was lovely.
Briggs wanted to court her, but currently, it was Hawkins who was sweet-talking her. He spit on the ground as he walked into the house, changing his sneer to a smile as he walked in. He had a few friends in the county, but also many people wouldn’t trust him with a plug nickel. And one of those people was Ethan Moynihan, who wouldn’t trust Briggs as far as he could throw him.
***
Hawkins rode toward the Blue Canyon Mountain. He had tracked down two rabid animals before, and from his experience, you never knew which way the rabid wolf would go. With other animals, you could make a good guess about where they would head. But the disease, not sense, drove a rabid-infested animal. It could head off in any direction.
The men’s camp was about two miles west of the ranch house. Several men were sipping coffee when he rode in, and two others had eggs and bacon cooking over a campfire.
“Hello, Sam! Come for the wolf?”
Hawkins nodded. “Thought I’d put him to rest.”
“The two steers are about two miles south. He has to be quick and strong; that wolf took out two, and it doesn’t look like he was harmed,” one man said. “When we got there, he had already cleared out. Wanna climb down and have some breakfast?”
“After I get the wolf,” Hawkins said.
He turned his horse south and kept riding. Fifteen minutes later, he saw the remains of the two steers. They had been ripped to shreds by the wolf. He had taken large amounts of skin from the two, and one had his throat torn open. But the wolf had left a trail of blood. He had run south, and Hawkins followed the bloodied trail.
The blood spots were dropped over a wide spectrum of the trail. They ranged from east to west, south, and back to east again. Death by rabies was a tough and painful way to die. The shooting of a rabid wolf was merciful because the animal the wolf was likely to be in great pain. The pain was what made the animal strike out. Hawkins peered ahead and thought he saw a shadow. He picked his rifle out of the holder and spurred his horse.
He picked up his binoculars. The wolf had slowed down, but he yelled with anger and pain and circled around as if he had found prey. Hawkins rode a short way while keeping his eye on the wolf. The animal spun around again and howled.
“Don’t worry, partner. It’s gonna be all over soon. Your pain will be over,” Hawkins said as he raised the rifle. He paused for a moment, then fired twice. The wolf jerked as both bullets hit him. He gave a low, final yell more of relief than anger, then lay dead on the ground. Hawkins rode up to him and looked down. The animal wasn’t breathing.
“Don’t know what it was that got you, but I’m sorry about it. Hate to see anyone or any animal go with rabies. You should go at a good old age when you can just lay down and die,” Hawkins said. He looked up. The sunny day was getting cloudy. A wind was moving in and bringing with it clouds of gray. He could feel the wind blow over him.
“The wind is fine. I’m going to have to bury you. If some animal takes a bite of you, he may get infected, and we don’t want that. It will take a while, so I’m glad we have some wind.”
He climbed down from his horse and grabbed his shovel. He looked up and was surprised and elated when he saw two riders coming toward him, glad for some help regarding the funeral.
Chapter Two
Eleanor “Ellie” Rose laughed and smiled as she placed two beers in front of two cowboys in the Coyote Rose saloon. She had golden hair and a quick, pretty smile, with a wit that could turn down cowboys’ marriage advances but still elicit a smile, a talent needed in a saloon.
But the Coyote saloon was not a typical Western one. Ellie’s parents owned it, and there was nothing illegal, or immoral, for that matter, in the place.
Albert (Al) Rose made sure it was clear that the ladies in the building were only for serving or listening to a cowboy tell his tale of woe or triumph on a recent trail drive. Both parents worked at the saloon, but Ellie was the main attraction. But she had eyes for only one man, the soon-to-be foreman of the Broken A ranch. Ethan Moynihan had made clear he would soon award the foreman’s job to Sam Hawkins. And Hawkins and Ellie were making tentative plans for marriage.
The two cowboys thanked Ellie for the drinks. One raised his beer.
‘You’re the prettiest waitress west of the Mississippi,” he said, smiling. “And that is a big, big area. I feel like I have ridden most of it. Some are beautiful, and other parts are ugly and dangerous. But I wouldn’t leave it. My heart and boots are in the West.”
“Mine too,” said his friend, raising his glass. “My friend exaggerates some of the time, ma’am. But he didn’t exaggerate about one thing. He told me you were the best-looking waitress in the West. I didn’t believe him until I saw you and now I know he wasn’t lying. I’m Dan Forgarty, and I’m glad to meet you.
“Thank you, sir. Mr. Forgarty, you’ve made my day,” she said. “You get a free drink for that.”
The three roared with laughter.
***
Briggs walked into the saloon with a sneer and sat down at a table. The laughing Madigan looked at him and immediately disliked him. Some people could light up a room when they came in. Others could darken it. Briggs created darkness wherever he went. Not even Ellie’s smile could eliminate all the grayness around him. She knew what he wanted and brought him a beer. When he sat it on the table, he grabbed her hand.
“Why don’t you marry me, Ellie? I’m going to be making a lot of money soon. And I’m going to be one of the men running this town,” he said.
“If that’s the case, we’re moving the business. I don’t like you, and I don’t like your crooked friend, the sheriff. His name should be on a Wanted Poster. And he shouldn’t be wearing a badge either.”
Brigg’s voice was hard. “That’s no way to talk about our sheriff.”
“Why not? Everybody else does. He’s not going to win the next election. Now drink your beer and leave me alone.”
He grabbed her hand again and twisted it. “You better be nice to me. The sheriff is a friend of mine, and we’re going to be running this town. So don’t look down your nose at me.” He squeezed her hand tighter.
“Let me go! You’re hurting me.”
Briggs gave a vicious smile. “Nobody can help you here. You better be nice to me.”
A voice behind him sounded superficially nice, but there was coldness underneath it.
“Let her go! Somebody here can help her. That’s no way to treat a lady.”
Briggs turned and looked at a tall stranger dressed like a gambler. Nice coat and nice vest. He was about six-two, with dark eyes and a confident look.
“Don’t get mixed up in this stranger, or you’ll have more trouble than you can handle.’
“You better think before you talk. But I’m taking a guess that you rarely do that.” He moved his coat back beyond his gun belt. “Perhaps you haven’t noticed, but your gun hand grabbed her hand. If you want to draw, you are at a disadvantage. So let her go.”
Briggs opened his hand, and Ellie ran a few steps away from him
The stranger’s voice showed no fear. Instead, it was full of confidence.
“I never liked men who mistreat women. They ought to be shot. You want to walk away or call it? Either way is fine with me. In fact, mister, there is something about you that annoys me. I usually don’t like shooting people, but I think I might make an exception. I’ll bet the town would thank me.” The stranger raised his hand and pointed at Briggs. “But I’ll tell you what. I’ll attend your funeral, just so you can say you had one man there. It’s the least I can do. Apologize to the lady or make your play.”
Briggs felt the sweat on his brow. He had a hunch the well-dressed stranger was faster than he was. And he was only brave if the odds were on his side. He had a sinister, creeping feeling that he was five seconds away from death. He breathed shallowly, and his hands sweated. He lifted his hand above his belt and quickly turned to Ellie. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I didn’t mean to frighten anyone …”
“You didn’t,” the stranger said.
“I apologize.” He backed away from the table. “I’ll just be going on my way,” he said, looking warily toward the stranger.
“I shouldn’t let you live; you’ll go on causing trouble. But I said if you apologized, you’d keep breathing, and I’m always true to my word. But I wouldn’t come in here again if I were you.”
Briggs backed away until he came near the saloon doors. Then he turned and ran out.
Ellie smiled and walked over to the man.
“Thank you, stranger. You are living in the wrong time, sir. You should be back in the days of chivalry, rescuing fair maidens from dragons.”
“Thank you for the compliment. If you believe the legends, there were dragons back in those days. But we have our share in the West, too. If he had gone for his gun, there would have been one less dragon here.”
“Sit down, stranger; the house will buy you a drink.”
The stranger bowed. “Thank you, ma’am.” She sat down at a table with him and signaled to a waiter.
“What’s your name, stranger?”
“Bart Madigan,” he said.
“Are you looking for dragons to slay?”
“No, ma’am. I’m looking for the next poker game. I’m a gambler by trade, and the cards have always seemed to favor me. After a poker player had lost to me, lost a considerable amount, he said, ‘You’re the luckiest man I’ve ever seen.’ And he believed it. He never played me again and swore he never would.”
Ellie laughed. “I bet more than one man has made that promise about you.” She sipped her drink. “Is that why you’re in town, for a poker game?”
He nodded.
“We do have them, but there’s not many in the morning. In the afternoon and evening, we see the shuffling and dealing. Come back about three o’clock, and you can find a game.”
“Thank you, ma’am. I’ll do that.”
She smiled and stood up. “And watch out for Briggs.”
“That’s his name?”
Ellie nodded. “Harley Briggs. And I do mean watch out. I wouldn’t put it past him to shoot you in the back. It’s the type of thing he would do.”
“Nice town you have here,” Madigan said.
“Let’s just say we have our share of dragons.”
“That doesn’t bother me. Middle name is Lancelot.”
Ellie roared with laughter. As she walked past him, she patted him on the shoulder.
“Every town needs one of those, too.”
Chapter Three
Sheriff Ulysses “Uly” Caldwell sat in a chair with his boots up on his desk. Caldwell’s face looked like he had seen some rough times. His large nose had been broken at least once. It was jagged instead of straight. There were several small scars on his forehead and a longer scar on his right cheek. His eyes were dark and intense. With the dark eyes and scars, the face did not look friendly. In fact, from time to time, it had scared small children, a fact that amused Caldwell. His past included time as a bounty hunter. If the wanted man was on a Dead or Alive poster, Caldwell always brought him in dead. He had established a reputation as an excellent bounty hunter, even though most of the men he brought in were not breathing.
“Uly” was elected town sheriff some years ago when a crime wave swept the area. The Western migration was at its height. Honest men and women came to the West, but the migration also brought all types of dishonest men and women. “Uly,” who had a degree of cunning, figured a sheriff might make more money than a bounty hunter, especially if he charged a ‘tax’ on local business. Some people thought it was a good investment in the furor spreading across the plains at that time.
But Caldwell knew some of the voters were having questions about the sheriff. They complained he was too heavy-headed and, privately, said he was not a friendly or personable man. A few wondered if a man like Caldwell should have been given a sheriff’s badge. He also knew a few businessmen in town were talking about getting another candidate for the upcoming election, and one of those was Allan Rose, the owner of the saloon, where some of his opponents gathered to talk and, perhaps, find a candidate who would challenge the sheriff in the election. But he had at least one influential man on his side.
Blackie Austin didn’t have much personality but was good with a gun and in muscling stubborn business owners to get in line. Still, he was a bit worried. He had a good job that paid good money, and he didn’t want to lose it, but he could sense rustlings in the town. And the one man who bothered him most was Sam Hawkins. Hawkins was or soon would be foreman of the Broken A ranch. He was not running for sheriff and no one knew whether he cared about the job.
But his name was on the tongue of several prominent businessmen. There was a rumor that they would urge him to run in the election. He was well-known and well-liked in the community and had a reputation for honesty and integrity. And no one in the town attached those two nouns to the sheriff or the deputy. Although Hawkins had never mentioned running for sheriff and the thought never even entered his mind, a few men in the town thought he, not Caldwell, should have a sheriff’s badge on his shirt.
Sheriff Caldwell jerked when he saw the horse rider ride down the street and stop at the Coyote Rose saloon. Hawkins climbed off his horse and went into the saloon. He was probably going to see Ellie Rose, “Uly” thought. He felt a flash of envy. Ellie had turned the head of more than one man in the county. Hawkins was his competitor, and it would be nice to get him out of the way. It was rumored Ellie and Hawkins would be married soon. If something happened to Hawkins, Ellie might like a real man.
He saw Ethan Hawke walking down the street. Hawke was the court clerk and a good friend and ally of Judge John “Hammer” Jenkins, who was as crooked as the sheriff and would scribble down a guilty verdict even before he had heard the case. He was a short man; perhaps that was why he enjoyed exercising power. He, in a sense, could rule over taller and stronger men. “Uly” was his ally, but he couldn’t keep from despising Jenkins.
You should never give a weak, gutless man any power. He would misuse it. Ordering men around probably made Jenkins feel taller, but if anyone put any type of pressure on Jenkins, he would fold like a cheap suit. But in Jenkins’ presence, Sheriff Caldwell laughed, joked, and pretended to be his friend. He may be a weak and despicable man, but the judge still had considerable power in the county and had to be appeased occasionally.
Hawke walked up to Uly. “The judge wants to see you.”
“What for?”
“He didn’t tell me. He just said to tell you to come to his office. He did say it was important.”
“Then I guess I will mosey down and see him.”
He didn’t really think this was an emergency. Like many weak men, Judge Jenkins could get upset at the smallest things. He tried to sound mean and strong in court. But while the ‘mean’ part was valid, the strong part was a deception. The smallest thing could set him shaking.
Oh, darn, I’ll bet he’s worried about the election. He’s scared of being voted out of office, the sheriff thought. I’m going to have to hold the shaky hands of a judge. It’s always better if you like your allies. Even so …
***
Five minutes later, he sat in a chair before Judge Jenkins’ desk as the judge jiggled a pen in his hand. He looked anxious, and his hand was shaking a bit. The sheriff sat silently with an annoyed frown on his face.
“Uly, I’m getting worried about the election. There is considerable discontent in the town. And both you and I have to win re-election if we want to keep our offices. We can use fake voters. Ned Thurber runs the elections office, and he’s neat and organized and has a list of legitimate voters. Nobody who isn’t a resident of the town can’t vote. And on election day, he’s in the election office from seven in the morning to seven in the evening. You can’t slip any votes by him.”
“Well, we wouldn’t do anything like that. Besides, we don’t need to. There is discontent in every town, but there’s not enough here to vote us out.”
“Don’t be too sure. I’m hearing some rumblings, and there are some about you. You’re too rough when dealing with the town folks. You could be nicer, Sheriff.”
“Sheriffs are not supposed to be nice. They’re supposed to keep the law, and sometimes you have to be tough.”
Judge Jenkins swerved in his chair. “And you expect to be re-elected with that philosophy? Don’t let the job go to your head.”
“I could say the same to you. You are known as a hanging judge, and there are other terms people use about you. None of them are complimentary.”
The judge jabbed the table with three fingers. “OK, maybe both of us have pushed too hard in the past. We came during rough times when there was plenty of trouble and had plenty to do. But it’s not that way anymore. We can’t push too hard. A lot of these men are veterans of the Civil War. They know how to fight, and they know how to shoot. If we get a rebellion on our hands, we are outnumbered.”
Uly signed before answering, “It’s a pity they have to have elections.”
“No, Sheriff. Elections allow the public to let off steam. If there were no elections, then a crowd of people waving guns would come marching toward the sheriff’s office. You know the rumor I’ve heard?”
The sheriff shook his head.
“Some prominent people say Sam Hawkins should be the next sheriff.”
“Hawkins? He’s a cowhand,” Uly said. “He’s been a cowhand all his life. He’s never been a sheriff.”
He chuckled.
“You better hope he isn’t elected, your honor, or he will arrest you. Plus, the paper would love that. The newspaper editor, Tom Harkin, would love to write about your arrest. He’s one of the townsfolks who don’t like us. We’ve got more than a few who do, but Harkin hates our guts. It’s gonna be hard to run when there’s an editorial every day telling folks we’re doing a lousy job. I would have blown up his press before this, but everyone in this town would blame me, and a few would contact the U. S. Marshalls, and we’d have state investigators down here, and that’s the last thing I want.”
“Then ease up. Walk around and smile at people. Help them in any way you can. We had things our way for almost four years, but now there are legitimate challengers, and unless we change a bit, we could be voted out of office. How would we survive that? If that happens, the first thing we’d have to do is jump on our horses and get out of the county,” the judge said. “I am going to be, let’s say, modest with my opinions from the bench and more circumspect.”
“Running for re-election from the bench. That’s unique.”
“Elections do change you a bit. And we also keep an eye on Mr. Hawkins. More than a few people are muttering he should be sheriff. Other people claim he should be mayor. He has a fine reputation all over town. Having him as sheriff is something we could not stand. If he gets voted in, he will have us in jail the day after he puts on a badge.”
“Maybe we can do something about Mr. Hawkins.”
“If you do, you keep me out of it. I don’t want to know anything about it. Just rustling up some voters would probably be better.”
“Never ran many cattle. Don’t think I’d be any good at it. Doubt I’d be much good in rustling voters either.”
Chapter Four
Hawkins sat with Ellie, sipping a beer and wearing a big smile. He tried to keep the enthusiasm out of his voice when she told him that Mr. Moynihan asked him to come into the ranch house for a meeting when he came back from town.
Ellie gave a big smile. “This must be when he’ll promote you to foreman!”
“Maybe. He’s been hinting about it for about two weeks. And I will certainly take the job. It would pay eighty bucks a month. There were times in my life when I didn’t think I’d ever come close to that. That’s double the wage of a ranch hand.”
“And you deserve every penny of it and more,” she said.
He sipped his drink again. “I’ve been holding off asking you a question because I wanted to ensure I can care for you. I didn’t want you to live in some dingy house. But out here, eighty a month is good pay. We can buy or build a good house. Er … if you agree to marry me, that is. With the church, the wedding, and the ring. And everything else that’s needed.
She walked over and hugged him.
“Yes, of course, I’ll marry you,” she said, kissing him.
They hugged, and he danced a few steps across the saloon floor, holding her. While in the air, she raised her hand and shouted, “Champagne!”
The men in the bar raised their glasses and cheered. The pianist in the saloon knew ‘Here Comes the Bride,’ and began playing the wedding song. Several customers raised their beer glasses and sang along. Two cowboys sitting at one table got into the festivities by jumping up and dancing with each other, laughing hysterically. Al Rose had been in his office reviewing the books when he heard the music. He walked out, saw the dancing, heard the tune, and realized Hawkins had popped the question.
“Woohoo! Beer is on the house! In fact, two beers are on the house. The rest you have to pay for!”
His announcement was greeted with a massive cheer. The piano player ran his fingers up and down the keys with full force for about ten minutes, then slowed down. Gradually, the dancing, singing, and laughing died down, and the customers took their seats again.
“You will have to pick the date,” Hawkins said. “We’ll have the reverend officiate.”
She nodded. “Rev. Paul Law is a fine minister. I would love him to officiate. But with a name like that, I always thought he should be a lawman. But he is a good minister, although he looks like a lawman. Has a beefy build.”
“And a deep voice that can yell ‘hallelujah’ and mean it,” Hawkins said.
“I’d like the wedding in a little cooler weather. For a Texas girl, I don’t like hot weather. But I would like the wedding outdoors. A beautiful canyon near our place has water running through it. A very scenic place with the sound of water running swiftly through the mountains. The beauty of the place will stun you.”
“That’s sounds fine. Now, all you have to do is pick a date.”
“I’ll think about it. Somewhere around the first of October would be a good date.” She patted his hand. “You realize Daddy will want you to move to our ranch and have you run it. At first, he didn’t know if the ranch would succeed. But I think it would be better if you were running it. It’s a good place, but you could improve it.”
He thought for a moment. “Well, I have a job. Mr. Smith took me in when no one knew who I was, and he helped me through the years and will make me the foreman. I would feel … well, a little disloyal if I left him. He’s not only been my boss for years, he’s been a friend, and no man has had a better friend.”
“I realize that, Sam, but you’re a man now and must establish your own life. He doesn’t expect you will spend all your life at his farm.”
He nodded. “Yeah, I realize that, and I know it’s true. But if I’m just being promoted to foreman, I’d hate to leave only a few weeks after he promoted me.”
“He’ll have time to get used to it. We won’t be married until October. That’s more than a month from now. Mr. Moynihan will have time to find another man and get used to the change. He will find another man, and his ranch will go along fine. He was here long before you came, and if you leave, he will make it and will still have a good ranch. You probably know he’s a tough man. He’s one of the few who has bucked the sheriff and the local judge and has made clear about what he thinks of them. He has a better opinion of a polecat.”
Hawkins nodded and laughed. “That’s true enough. Mr. Moynihan never had a problem speaking his mind. And he’s always on the side of the angels. I guess you’re right. He can find another man.”
“And I’m sure he will be happy for you. Our ranch borders Moynihan’s, so you will see him often. We’ll build two fine ranches.”
Hawkins nodded and raised his glass. “To two fine ranches,” he said.
She clicked her glass with his. “Two fine ranches,” she repeated.
“A Bloody Frontier Feud” is an Amazon Best-Selling novel, check it out here!
In the untamed lands of the Wild West, justice is a prize won with courage and integrity. Sam Hawkins, respected by all in his rugged frontier town, is on the brink of becoming the foreman of the Broken A ranch and getting married to the beautiful Ellie Rose. But when he is wrongfully imprisoned, will he summon the resilience and wisdom he’s known for to clear his name?
It will take all his courage to withstand the storm…
Ellie Rose, a beacon of compassion and strength in the town of Broken Spur, dreams of a peaceful life free from corruption. Born and raised in a saloon and no stranger to hard work, her love for Sam Hawkins promises a brighter future. Though with Sam’s imprisonment and the sinister forces taking over the town, will Ellie’s fears of losing him consume her, or will her unyielding belief in justice and love guide her through the darkest of times?
Soon she will find herself embroiled in the heart of a chilling conspiracy…
Time is of the essence, and the very fabric of the town’s moral code is about to collapse. In the battle between justice and corruption, will Sam’s unwavering spirit triumph, or will he become the victim of a town’s darkest schemes? Dive into a gripping historical western adventure that will keep you on the edge of your seat!
“A Bloody Frontier Feud” is a historical adventure novel of approximately 60,000 words. No cliffhangers, only pure unadulterated action.
Hi there, I hope you enjoyed this sneak peek of my latest story! I will be impatiently waiting for your comments below.