Prologue
Dulcie McAdams sighed as she placed the half-empty pint whiskey bottle in her apron pocket before lifting the wooden trays with fried chicken biscuits and smashed potatoes. Reg Chapman, the owner of the Circle C Ranch, had sent Steve, one of his hired hands, to the house to tell Dulcie to fetch him his lunch and bring him something to drink. Something to drink, Dulcie knew from experience, meant the pint of whiskey he kept in the top drawer of his desk in his office.
Dulcie’s dislike for her boss had grown as he had started drinking more whiskey. Reg hid his heavy drinking from Gretchen, his wife, for the most part, by making her believe that he only indulged in a spot of whiskey at meals and to relax before bedtime.
Steve, leaning against one of the porch supports, touched his fingers to the brim of his hat when Dulcie stepped out of the house carrying the tray, “The boss is in an ugly mood; you best get a wiggle on, Miss Dulcie.”
Dulcie smiled at the middle-aged man with the protruding belly; she wasn’t a bit interested in him but always tried to be polite to all the cowboys on the ranch. “Thanks for the warning, Steve,” she said before stepping off the porch.
Several of the cowboys returning from rounding up cattle smiled and tipped their hats at the short, shapely dark brunette as she passed them on the way to the training corral where Reg Chapman, the tall, gray-haired owner of the Circle C Ranch, trained a young bangtail stallion, for the saddle.
Dulcie hated having to visit the corral while Reg trained horses. Reg freely used the horse crop to strike the horses when he thought they were too slow to respond to his commands. Her heart went out to the horses, but she had learned never to criticize her boss.
When she arrived at the corral, Dulcie stopped at the gate.
“No, bring my lunch to me,” Reg ordered.
“Inside the corral?” Dulcie asked.
“Yes, that’s what I said. You and your sister never listen to what I tell you,” Reg said, slurring his words. He dropped the stallion’s reins. “Did you bring the whiskey bottle? I don’t see it on the tray.”
“It’s in my apron pocket, but don’t you think you’ve had enough to drink, Mister Chapman?” Dulcie said as she unlatched the gate and entered the corral. “The stallion is spirited,” she added as she paused halfway across the corral to where Reg stood near the back fence.
“Well, get over here! Don’t back talk me, girl! I told you I wanted some whiskey,” Reg said, raising his voice as he swayed back and forth in front of the stallion while the big black horse shook his head. “You and your sister are dang lucky I keep you on the ranch.”
“Mister Chapman, I don’t think your wife would approve of me giving you whiskey in your present condition,” Dulcie said.
“And what in tarnation is my present condition, Dulcie?” Reg said, raising his voice. “I ain’t drunk. If you want to keep your job, get over here.”
“Mister Chapman, you can have the tray of food,” Dulcie said as she approached Reg, “but I ain’t giving you no more whiskey.”
The color of Reg’s weathered face turned red. He reached down and pulled the hunting knife out of his sheath. “To heck with the food,” Reg yelled as he slapped the tray out of Dulcie’s hands. “Give me the whiskey bottle, or I’ll split you open like a ripe melon,” he added, taking a quick step toward Dulcie.
“Watch out, Mister Chapman,” Dulcie called out as Reg’s right foot stepped into the stallion’s reins.
Too late! The horse lifted his head, causing the reins to encircle Reg’s right boot. Reg Chapman tripped.
Dulcie covered her mouth with her hands and screamed as Reg tried to catch himself from falling forward, but the stallion reared on its hindquarter. The reins snapped, but not before Dulcie watched in horror as her boss landed on his hunting knife, driving its blade deep into his chest.
“Oh Lord, no!” Dulcie shouted as she rushed to Reg’s side as blood squirted past the knife’s blade to pool onto the ground. Dulcie managed to turn Reg over, as blood sprayed on her, and tried to stop his bleeding by pressing her apron around the knife’s blade.
“What have you done, Dulcie! You stabbed Reg,” Gretchen Chapman screamed as she opened the gate. “You stabbed, Reg! Oh my God,” she yelled as she rushed across the corral toward her husband.
Dulcie hurriedly got out of Gretchen’s way as she knelt beside Reg. “Oh, Lord! He’s dead. You killed Reg!”
“No, Misses Chapman. He fell on his knife!” Dulcie said in a shocked tone. “I didn’t do it.”
“Liar! I saw you stab Reg. You murdered him,” Gretchen said as she stood. “Help, Dulcie killed Reg. Somebody help!”
Dulcie back peddled until her back hit the corral fence. Then she turned and fled as the stallion pranced a circle around Gretchen and her dead husband tossing his head.
“What’s going on, Dulcie?” Steve shouted as he raced to the fence.
“Dulcie stabbed Reg. Stop her!” Gretchen said.
“What . . .?”
Before Steve could comprehend what Gretchen said, Dulcie turned and ran toward the house.
Chapter One
Mabel heard Dulcie, her sister, on her way to take their boss Reg Chapman’s lunch as she closed the door. Mabel pitied her sister, always having to serve Mister Chapman. Dulcie had complained lately of Mister Chapman drinking heavily. He had started insisting she fetch his lunch to the barn or corral and bring along some whiskey with his food. Mabel and Dulcie had discussed if they should report Reg Chapman’s heavy drinking to Gretchen, his wife. However, when Mabel had mentioned that she thought Mister Chapman might be drinking a little too much and endangering his health, Gretchen had scoffed at the idea, and they had decided not to raise the subject again with Reg’s wife.
Mabel finished putting away the dishes she had just washed and grabbed the broom to sweep the porch. She tried to keep busy as both she and Dulcie needed the job since they didn’t have any family to help support them since their parents’ passing.
The Chapmans didn’t pay much, but they got room and board along with their salaries. Mabel and Dulcie were saving their wages to buy passage on a train to California to live with their aunt, Dorothy McAdams, their father’s spinster sister. They both looked forward to the day they could head for California.
As Mabel walked out on the porch, she stood a moment to look around. The ranch hands had gathered near the barn to head for the bunkhouse waiting for Wishbone, the cranky old cook, to ring the dinner bell. Woe to any of the cowboys that took a seat at the table before Wishbone clanged the cowbell.
She spotted Dulcie entering the corral carrying a tray with Reg’s lunch as she started sweeping the porch. Mabel didn’t mind working; in fact, she enjoyed keeping busy. She daydreamed about falling in love with a handsome, wealthy man once she and Dulcie reached California. She had heard that many of the rich men in California were searching for wives.
The scream echoed off the barn and jarred Mabel from her thoughts of marrying a wealthy Californian. She looked towards the corral as Gretchen ran into it. A moment later, Dulcie ran out of the corral as Gretchen shouted at her. Mabel couldn’t understand Gretchen, but she sounded angry.
What, for Heaven’s sake, is going on? Mabel thought as Dulcie ran past the barn toward the house. Several cowboys standing in front of the barn waiting for Wishbone to ring the cowbell pointed at Dulcie and started shouting.
As her sister approached the porch, Mabel saw the blood on her hands and blouse, dropped the broom, and raised her hands to her mouth in shock.
“Dulcie, what in blazes is going on?” Mabel shouted as her sister climbed the two steps to the porch.
“Reg is dead! He fell on his hunting knife! Gretchen thinks I stabbed him.” The explanation gushed out of Dulcie.
“Murderer! Dulcie killed Reg,” Gretchen shouted as she ran from the corral. “Steve, fetch the sheriff!”
“Mabel, they are going to arrest me and hang me,” Dulcie said and burst into tears as she buried her face in her bloody hand, smearing blood all over her face. “I didn’t stab Reg. He got tangled up in the horse’s reins and fell, Mabel!”
“Hurry, follow me,” Mabel said, pushing her sister toward the door. I can’t let them catch her. If they believe she murdered Reg, they might hang Dulcie before the sheriff gets here, Mabel thought as she followed Dulcie into the house.
“I’ve got to get out of the house. They will catch me,” Dulcie called out in panic.
“No, ifin you try to run, they will catch you before you get a mile away,” Mabel said. “Follow me to the pantry.”
“But that’s the first place they will look,” Dulcie protested.
“No, I found a secret hiding place the original owner built in case of an Indian attack. Hurry into the pantry.”
Mabel followed her sister as she raced through the house to the pantry off the kitchen. In the kitchen, she paused to pick up a butcher’s knife.
“Where is the hiding place,” Dulcie said as she looked around the small room with shelves stocked with canned vegetables and jams and sacks of flour and rice on the floor.
“Over here,” Mabel said as she crossed the room to the back wall and knelt on the floor. She used the butcher’s knife to pry up one of the floor planks. Once she removed it, she lifted two more of the wide planks exposing a crawlspace.
“Hurry, get inside,” Mabel ordered. “And stop crying. You got to be as quiet as a mouse, Dulcie.”
“Okay,” Dulcie said as she quickly climbed into the crawlspace.
Mabel hurriedly replaced the planks, walked out of the pantry, and closed the door. Walking over to the back door, she opened it. Hearing running footsteps, she looked back as Gretchen rushed into the kitchen.
“Where is Dulcie! Where is she?” Gretchen shouted as two of the ranch hands entered the kitchen behind her.
“What’s going on,” Mabel said, trying to look as shocked as she felt. “Dulcie ran onto the porch covered in blood, crying. I asked her what was wrong. She yelled, ‘Mister Chapman has fallen on his hunting knife and stabbed himself,’” Mabel said, the words racing from her mouth.
“No, your sister stabbed Reg. I saw her stab him! She murdered Reg, and I’ll see her hanged,” Gretchen shouted angrily. She pointed at the open door. “You boys fetch her. She murdered Reg!”
The two ranch hands exchanged glances.
“What are you waiting for. Dulcie murdered Reg. Fetch her back to the house.” Gretchen, a blonde-haired, big-boned woman, shouted as she placed her hands on her hips. Or I’ll fire you both!” she added.
The two ranch hands rushed out the back door.
“Gretchen, surely you are mistaken. Dulcie couldn’t hurt a fly,” Mabel said.
“I know what I saw! Your sister fought with my husband and stabbed him with his hunting knife,” Gretchen said in a determined tone.
“But how did Dulcie get his knife?” Mabel said.
“How would I know? All I know is your sister killed my husband, and she will hang! And stop asking me questions. And you better not have helped Dulcie escape, or I’ll have the sheriff lock you up too,” Gretchen said and burst into tears.
“Can I get you something, ma’am,” Mabel asked, trying to sound sympathetic when she boiled with anger at Misses Chapman for accusing her sister of something she couldn’t have done. “A glass of water?”
The angry look on Gretchen’s face lessened a bit. “I don’t blame you for something your sister did, Mabel. You have been a loyal servant and friend to me,” Gretchen said. “Yes, I would appreciate a glass of water.”
Mabel held back questions she still wanted to ask Misses Chapman. She knew in her heart that her sister didn’t stab Reg. She wondered why Gretchen had insisted that Dulcie had stabbed him as she walked over to the water bucket sitting on the counter and used the wooden dipper to fill a glass.
“Ma’am, take a seat; you are shaking,” Mabel said and pulled out one of the six chairs around the table.
“It’s my nerves,” Gretchen said. “What am I going to do without Reg? I don’t know anything about running the ranch,” she said as tears rolled down her cheeks. She sat in the chair and lifted the glass of water Mabel had placed in front of her. Gretchen took a big swallow and put the glass down while staring out at nothing.
“I can’t believe Reg is dead,” Gretchen mumbled as she took another drink of water.
Hearing footsteps, Mabel glanced around to see Sheriff Watson, a short man with black hair and grayish eyes, and his deputy, an eighteen-year-old kid, named Willy Burns, approaching.
“Steve said someone killed Reg. One of the maids!” Sheriff Watson said as he walked over and stood alongside the table while staring at Misses Chapman.
Gretchen glanced at Mabel before she answered.
“It pains me to say, but Dulcie McAdams, the maid that waits on Reg, stabbed him over in the corral when she took him his lunch,” Gretchen said.
“No, my sister couldn’t have killed Mister Chapman; she couldn’t have,” Mabel said.
“Mabel, I’m sorry, but I saw what I saw. And your sister stabbed Reg. Did you see all the blood on her hands and clothes? She stabbed Reg!” Gretchen said. She pointed at the back door. “Mabel said that Dulcie fled out the back door. I sent Billy and Mack to fetch her. She couldn’t have gone far.”
“Willy, go help look for her in the woods,” Sheriff Watson ordered.
“Yes, Sir,” the kid replied and hurried out the door.
“Tell me exactly what happened,” Sheriff Watson said as he turned and stared at Gretchen.
“I walked over to the corral to see how Reg was coming with the new stallion he’s training. When I walked to the fence, I saw Dulcie stabbing Reg,” Gretchen said. She shook her head. “Sheriff, I want Dulcie caught and hanged for murdering Reg!”
“Mrs. Chapman, don’t worry, we’ll catch her. And if what you say is true, she’ll be found guilty, and the judge will surely hang her,” Sheriff Watson said. “Everyone respected Reg Chapman. It’ll be a speedy trial,” he added.
Mabel cringed when the sheriff said it would be a speedy trial. Dulcie isn’t going to get any justice! I believe what Dulcie told me happened. Why is Gretchen lying? Mabel thought.
“. . . I’ll walk over to the corral and have a look at Reg,” Sheriff Watson said. “Would you like to join me, Mrs. Chapman?”
“Oh, no, I don’t want to see any more blood. I’ll have nightmares from what I’ve seen already,” Gretchen said, shaking her head vigorously.
“I’ll walk over with the sheriff, Ma’am,” Mabel said, seeing her chance to speak privately with Sheriff Watson.
“Would you, Mabel? That would be nice. I know how upset you must be at what Dulcie did,” Gretchen said.
“Yes, Ma’am, I am beside myself at what happened,” Mabel said before she headed for the door. “This way, Sheriff Watson.”
“Your name is Mabel, correct?” Sheriff Watson said.
“Yes, Sir.”
“I’ve seen you and your sister at church on Sundays. I never thought your sister would be a woman of violence,” Sheriff Watson said as they walked onto the porch.
“Sheriff Watson, my sister said she didn’t stab Mister Chapman. He caught his foot on the horse’s reins, tripped, and fell on his knife,” Mabel said as they walked off the porch.
Sheriff Watson shook his head. “Your sister lied. Mrs. Chapman said she saw your sister, Dulcie, stab her husband.”
“Dulcie wouldn’t hurt anyone, Sheriff. I know my sister and believe her,” Mabel said.
Sheriff Watson stopped and looked at Mabel, “Do you know where your sister would go?”
Mabel shook her head. “No, she just told me that Mister Chapman fell on his knife, and then she ran through the house and out the back door,” Mabel said. “My sister would never lie to me,” Mabel added.
“Sorry, but I must take Mrs. Chapman’s word over your sister’s. Dulcie is just a simple maid. A jury is also going to believe Mrs. Chapman too. I hate to say it, Mabel, but your sister will likely hang.”
Mabel fell silent.
“You ain’t hiding your sister, are you?” Sheriff Watson asked. “If you are, you’re in a peck of trouble, too.”
Mabel swallowed nervously. The thought of Sheriff Watson locking her in a jail cell frightened her. “No, Sir. I don’t have any idea where Dulcie would go. I told her not to run and tell her side of the story, but she wouldn’t listen to me.”
“Well, I’m sorry that you must bear the shame of what your sister did. However, folks aren’t going to look very kindly on you after what Dulcie did,” Sheriff Watson said as they reached the corral.
Sheriff Watson shook his head. “Will you look at all that blood! It looks like someone butchered a pig in the corral,” he added as he opened the gate.
“Where’s the horse?” Mabel asked.
“What horse?” Sheriff Watson asked.
“Mister Chapman was breaking a stallion to ride,” Mabel said.
Sheriff Watson shrugged. “Maybe one of the ranch hands put him in the barn.”
“You should look at the horse, Sheriff,” Mabel said.
“Okay, I’ve been patient with you, but when you start telling me how to do my job, I’ve had enough. Look at Reg Chapman. He didn’t stab himself! Face the truth, Mabel. Your sister is guilty of murder. Now, return to the house and let me do my job,” Sheriff Watson demanded.
When Mabel entered the kitchen again, she found deputy Willy and the two ranch hands, Billy and Mack, standing in front of the table.
“What do you mean you couldn’t find Dulcie. The wooded area ain’t that big, and it’s flat grazing land as far as you can see in all directions. You can see for miles except for the woods,” Gretchen said.
“Ma’am, we searched behind about every tree. She ain’t in the woods,” deputy Willy said.
Gretchen shook her head. “Then she is hiding in the house! Mabel, are you sure Dulcie ran out the back kitchen door?”
“Yes, Ma’am. I was right behind her. I called out for her to stop, but she wouldn’t listen. She darted out the door before I could catch her,” Mabel lied.
“Why didn’t you chase after Dulcie?” Gretchen demanded.
“Ma’am, since we were little kids, Dulcie has always been able to run faster than me. I thought it best to stay here and tell you which way she ran,” Mabel said.
“Yes, thank you for that, Mabel. But your sister might have sneaked back inside while you were at the corral with Sheriff Watson,” Gretchen said before turning back to Deputy Willy. “Deputy, you take Billy, Mack, and Steve and search the house.”
The deputy looked confused.
“Well, didn’t you hear me?” Gretchen said.
“Yes, Ma’am but Sheriff Watson . . .”
“Would want you to search the house. Now get at it,” Gretchen said, raising her voice.
“Ah, should we look in the pantry?” Steve asked.
“Of course! It’s part of the house, ain’t it?” Gretchen said, shaking her head as Steve hurried over and opened the pantry door.
Mabel held her breath as Steve walked inside. A moment later, he returned. “Unless she turned herself into a jar of jam, she ain’t inside,” Steve said and chuckled at his own joke.
“Steve, my husband has been murdered. I don’t appreciate your humor at a time like this,” Gretchen said.
“Sorry, Ma’am,” Steve said as he walked passed Mrs. Chapman with his head hung.”
Gretchen nodded at Mabel. “You get back to work. I can’t have everyone stop doing their chores. It ain’t going to bring Reg back, and the ranch has to keep functioning. Reg would have wanted it that way,” Gretchen said, wiping her cheeks with a delicate white hankie she pulled from her skirt pocket.
“Yes, Ma’am,” Mabel said, eager to get away from Mrs. Chapman.
Mabel tried to do her usual chores but found it challenging. She feared that Dulcie would make a sound at any moment or decide to come out from hiding. However, the day passed.
Deputy Willy and the ranch hands searched the entire house but didn’t find Dulcie. Later, Sheriff Watson returned, gathered his deputy, and headed back to Larkin to fetch the undertaker.
Mabel managed to keep out of Gretchen’s way until she helped the cook serve her supper. Gretchen burst into tears several times during the meal.
“Mabel, go and get my bed ready. I am fatigued and need to go to bed,” Gretchen said after the meal.
“Yes, Ma’am,” Mabel said, eager to put Mrs. Chapman to bed and go and fetch Dulcie. She had already decided to steal the buckboard and buggy horse and flee with her sister once everyone had gone to bed. She knew how to hook up the horse to the buckboard as she had seen Steve do it a thousand times when he drove Gretchen and her to Larkin to fetch supplies.
She figured if any of the ranch hands discovered her hitching the horse to the buckboard, she would tell him she was fetching the doctor because Mrs. Chapman had fallen ill from grief.
Mabel retired to the tiny room she and Dulcie shared in the hot, stuffy attic, but she sneaked down carrying a candle and through the house to the pantry around eleven.
“Dulcie,” she whispered as she lifted the loose plank.
“God, Mabel, I feared every moment that someone would discover me. What are we going to do?” Dulcie asked.
“I took our money from under the mattress and a letter from Aunt Dorothy with her address on it. We’ll need the address when we reach San Francisco. We have to stop the wagon and buy supplies for the trip to California. We don’t have enough money to see us to Aunt Dorothy’s, but I’ll think of something,” Mabel said.
“Wagon? What wagon?” Dulcie asked.
“I’m going to take the buckboard and the horse,” Mabel said.
“But that’s stealing?” Dulcie protested.
“We have no choice. Gretchen is saying that she saw you stab Reg. I tried to explain what happened to Sheriff Watson, but he has ears only for what Gretchen says,” Mabel said.
“But why would she lie about me stabbing Reg?” Dulcie asked.
“I don’t know; maybe she’s just confused. I don’t think she would lie. I think that Gretchen thinks she saw you stab Reg. Anyway, it’s your word against hers, and Sheriff Watson believes Gretchen and so will a jury. Now stop with the questions. Hide behind the house while I hitch the gelding to the buckboard,” Mabel said.
“Mabel are you sure. If you help me escape, you’ll be in trouble with the law,” Dulcie said.
“Damn the law. I ain’t going to let them hang you for something you didn’t do . . . quiet, someone is coming. Get back into the pantry,” Mabel whispered as she opened the pantry door and stepped inside. She held the door open until Dulcie followed her inside and silently pulled it closed, leaving a crack open so she could look outside.
Gretchen!
Mabel watched as Mrs. Chapman walked over to the water bucket and used the dipper to fill a glass, brushing tears off her cheeks with her left hand before drinking water. She glanced around the kitchen as though looking for someone. “Reg,” she said softly. “I miss you,” she added, sighing before sitting the glass on the counter and walking out of the kitchen.
Mabel waited until she couldn’t hear Gretchen’s footsteps before opening the door and stepping into the kitchen.
“That was close,” Dulcie said.
“Yes, now let’s go outside; she might come back. Gretchen is restless,” Mabel said, motioning to the back door. “It won’t take me long to hitch the gelding to the wagon,” Mabel said as they stepped out the backdoor. “Watch for me. I’ll put hay in the wagon, and you can hide under it if someone meets us on the road. But at this late hour, we shouldn’t meet anyone.
God, I hope I can get the gelding hitched to the buckboard without getting caught, she thought. Mabel knew that even if she managed to dupe one of the ranch hands into letting her take the buckboard out in the middle of the night, once she didn’t return, Gretchen would have Sheriff Watson hot on her trail by morning.
However, she hoped if she could sneak the buckboard away without getting caught, that with all the excitement over Mister Chapman’s death, it might be a couple of days before Steve realized she had stolen the buckboard. Gretchen would surely know that Mabel had fled with Dulcie when she didn’t show up tomorrow morning in Mrs. Chapman’s room for breakfast.
Mabel put all the things that could go wrong out of her mind and concentrated on hitching the gelding to the wagon. “One thing at a time,” she mumbled as she worked.
As Mabel pulled the wagon behind the house, she decided it was too risky to drive to Larkin and wait for the general store to open to get supplies for the road; instead, she would drive to Kendall. She figured they would reach Kendall in the morning if she drove all night. Anyway, Kendall lay west of Larkin, and so did California.
Chapter Two
Otto Watson reined his roan gelding over to the hitching post of the Plainsman Saloon. It was only midmorning, but he felt bone tired. It had taken him two weeks to track down Griffen Macomber, wanted for robbing a stagecoach and killing the driver and shotgun messenger outside of Leavenworth, Kansas. Griffen had been slippery as an eel. The outlaw had thrown more tricks at Otto to throw him off his trail than a hound dog had fleas. However, in the end, he caught up with Griffen as he made camp for the night. Unfortunately for Griffen, the outlaw had gone for his revolver. Otto could have wounded Griffen; instead, he had put a bullet in the man’s dark heart. If one didn’t mind the smell, fetching a fugitive back dead presented fewer problems than bringing one in alive.
Otto smiled when he heard the piano music. He enjoyed music when he drank.
“Red, I won’t be long,” Otto said as he patted the roan gelding on the shoulder. “I’ll take you over to the livery stable and get Barney to feed you a feed bag of oats,” he added before climbing the stairs to the porch.
Otto made sure his .44 caliber single-action Army Colt hung loose in his holster before he approached the swinging doors. Sure he didn’t expect trouble in the saloon, but a bounty hunter’s life depended upon expecting the unexpected.
Should it occur, the trouble in the saloon would likely come from friends or relatives of outlaws Otto had killed or captured. Seemed that kinfolks didn’t take kindly to him killing their relatives or catching them for the hangman.
Several regulars nodded at Otto, dressed in a black shirt and a black boss of the plains hat, as he walked past their tables. Whiskers, the gray-bearded bartender, shook his head when he spotted Otto.
“You ain’t going to get in a fist fight, are you? I just got the chairs repaired from the last fight you got into,” Whiskers said, pulling on his long gray beard with his left hand while holding a half-full bottle of whiskey in his right hand.
“I can’t promise nothing, Whiskers. Trouble seems to follow me like a shadow,” Otto said.
“Amen to that,” Whiskers said as he stopped pulling on his beard and reached his left hand under the bar. He brought up a glass a size bigger than a shot glass and filled it to the brim. “Who did you bring in this time?”
“Griffen Macomber.”
“Hmm, never heard the name,” Whiskers said.
“He robbed his first stagecoach outside of Leavenworth. Unfortunately, the driver he killed was the brother of the marshal in Leavenworth. The marshal offered a bounty for Griffen, dead or alive, and I brought Griffen back to Leavenworth dead, less trouble that way.”
“I hear you bring a lot of your bounties back across the saddle,” Whiskers said.
“Yup, that way, they don’t talk too much. I hate to hear a bounty whine all the way to jail,” Otto said as he lifted the glass. He drank the whiskey in two big gulps, wiped his lips with the back of his sleeve, and placed the glass back on the bar. “Another, that one didn’t settle the trail dust in my throat,” Otto added.
“Otto!”
Otto turned around with his .44 in his hand.
“Whoa, it’s me, Deputy Willy Burns,” the kid said as he walked toward the bar. “Wow, you are so quick on the draw. I wish I were half as fast as you are,” the deputy said as he approached Otto.
“Practice, then practice some more, kid,” Otto said before turning back to face Whiskers.
“Don’t call me kid, Otto; I’m a deputy for your brother now,” Deputy Burns said.
“Escaping a Cruel Setup” is an Amazon Best-Selling novel, check it out here!
Mabel is stunned the day her sister, Dulcie, comes to her, fearing she may have killed a man. Determined to see Dulcie free, she urges her to go into hiding while she clears her name. Yet, there’s a problem; a bounty hunter is after them. In order to save her sister, Mabel pretends to be her and throws herself into the bounty hunter’s path. Can she prove her sister’s innocence before her real identity is revealed?
As much as it may cost her, she vowed to protect her sister…
The one thing about Otto that stands out from other bounty hunters is his honesty. Once he gives his word to do something, he doesn’t let anything stand in his way. He thought tracking down two sisters fleeing on a wagon would be an easy job but it turned out to be his most troublesome and dangerous assignment.
Are the two feisty ladies going to make a fool of him?
When something far greater and darker appears to be at play, Otto and Mabel will have to join forces. Will they make it out alive when it starts raining bullets? It’s going to be a thrilling ride!
“Escaping a Cruel Setup” is a historical adventure novel of approximately 80,000 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.