Fury on the Frontier (Preview)

Chapter One

When Stuart Hamblin opened his eyes from under the blanket, a thin snow covering was on the ground.

“No wonder it’s so cold,” he grumbled as he pulled the blanket closer around him.

A few puffs of snow dropped slowly on the blanket and the ground around him.

His partner, Howard Lockhart, had already made a campfire and was standing over it, drinking a cup of coffee. Lockhart was already wearing his winter jacket.  He laughed as he glanced at his partner.

“If you like to sleep late, you shouldn’t be in the West. We get up at dawn out here,” he said, chuckling. “If you want to get up at noon, you have to go East.”

“Funny, pal,” Hamblin said, still under the blanket. “May I remind you I grew up in the west, just as you did.  I have gotten up at dawn many times. I just don’t like it.”

He sighed and looked up. The single flakes of snow fell slowly to the ground. One dropped on his nose and slid onto his cheek. Hamblin crawled out from under the blanket.

“I have some coffee for you but didn’t begin fixing breakfast because we should be in Mountain Ridge in about two hours, and we can get breakfast there.”

“No offense, partner, but I’d choose the town breakfast. I’m sure the cooks there can make a better breakfast than we can,” Hamblin said.

The two would get more than breakfast in the town.  They’d be applying for a sheriff’s job in Mountain Ridge, Colorado.  Well, not really applying, the job was pretty much a sure thing.

Before the Civil War, Hamblin had spent time in Colorado and lived in Mountain Ridge for a few months. During his time there, he made friends with Abe Howell, an honest and good man with a friendly smile.  The friendly smile and his sincere manner combined to get him voted mayor two years previously.  Since the term was for four years, Howell was determined to improve the town of Mountain Ridge and make it one of the finest cities in Colorado. And as he had said in the letters to the partners, he needed some good lawmen.

They had written back and told Mayor Howell that they planned to join the gold rush and seek their fortune in California. But both agreed they needed money and would spend a year as lawmen in Mountain Ridge. They had spent a short period as deputies in different towns before fighting in the Civil War.  Surprisingly, Hamblin fought for the Confederacy, and Lockhart fought for the Union, but they still became friends and partners.

Lockhart poured coffee into a second cup and handed it to his partner. Hamblin swirled the coffee in his cup, then sipped some.

“You know, now that we’re closer to Mountain Ridge, something is nagging me about the letters from Mayor Howell,” Hamblin said.

“You always read between the lines, partner. You see things other people don’t. That’s usually a good trait, but there are those times when you see things other people don’t because there really is nothing to see.”

Hamblin ignored the comment and took another sip of coffee. “Well, I was just thinking he didn’t really build up the town, saying it was nice and peaceful and being a deputy would be an easy job for the money. Therefore, I’m assuming there may be some troublemakers in the town.”

“There’s troublemakers in every town,” Lockhart said. “Besides, sixty dollars a month is real good pay for a deputy. How the mayor got the town council to go that high, I don’t know. But Abe can be persuasive when he tries.”

“He sure can. He persuaded us. The money helped with that.”

Hamblin swallowed the rest of his coffee.

“OK, let’s get going. Let’s get a real breakfast.”

***

The snow kept softly pelting the landscape as they rode.   It was early September, and in many years, the snow did not start until October. Hamblin wondered if this meant it was going to be a cold winter.  He didn’t mind snow and cold weather, nor did his partner, except when the temperature dropped below zero.  That was the type of weather they didn’t like – with or without snow. Lockhart looked and smiled.

“Actually, this is good weather for sheriffs. Hope it snows all winter,” he said.

“Why do you say that?” Howell asked, brushing the snow off his shoulders.

“I’ve never seen any scientific studies on it, but in winter, it’s too cold to go out and rob a bank or stagecoach. I’m betting most crimes will be in the summer and spring. People get hot and angry in the summer and can take it out on others. I’ll bet you there are more crimes in summer than winter. So we’re coming at a good time to be sheriffs.”

Howell laughed. “You might be right. I bet you’re right. There’s gonna be more crime in winter than summer. And I wonder … we’re former soldiers. I’m wondering if there will be a bunch of soldiers coming west. There may be nothing left of their homes or their jobs when they go home. They might come West to seek their fortunes.”

“As long as they seek their fortunes legally.”

They rode past a sign noting two miles to Mountain Ridge.  Hamblin swiped away more of the flakes. He had thought it might be a mild dusting, but the snow was showing some staying power. They had ridden through some rough country, but now there was only flat land as far as the eye could see.

“We need to find a place to stay, too,” Hamblin said. “Although I guess we could stay at the sheriff’s office for a while. That will save on rent.”

“After we get sworn in, I’ll get a meal at the best restaurant in Mountain Ridge. Assuming the town is big enough for two restaurants. I’ve been eating trail food for six weeks, and that’s long enough for anyone.”

“It sure is. We should have asked the mayor about that. Does the town have any good restaurants? But it probably does. Every town has to have a good restaurant.”

Hamblin nodded.  “I’m glad the town is just  up the road. Six weeks of trail food is about all I can stand. And I thought army rations were bad. Rations were even better than trail food.”

“Yes, you know, actually, I had two or three good meals in the army.”

“In the Confederacy, we had one or two meals when the war started. By the time it ended, we were eating beans and hardtack, if we got that,” Lockhart said.

They slowly rode up to the small sign stating, “Welcome to Mountain Ridge,” then rode on.  The town looked like the average Western town, although there seemed to be three or four new buildings along the town’s streets. They spied two saloons, which they took as a sign of progress.  A thin layer of snow covered the streets and the buildings, and the snow brought a chill to the air. No one walking down the streets looked up at them. Hamblin took that as a sign that the town saw many strangers.

Hamblin stopped a man walking across the snow-covered street.

“Excuse me, sir. We’re looking for the mayor’s office,” Lockhart said.

The tall, slender man with snow on his hat pointed down the street.

“Just go left at the next street.  The mayor’s office is about halfway down. You’ll see it. There’s a big sign and a big building. Mayor Howell has his office in the city hall.” He looked at the two for a moment. “You two our new lawmen? Mayor told us you were coming.”

“Yep, that’s us,” Lockhart said. “But I trust it’s a peaceful town.”

The man laughed. “Well, I’ll let you be the judge of that.”

He walked off, and Hamblin looked at his friend.

“Somehow, that didn’t sound too assuring.”

They followed the man’s instructions and tied their horses to the hitching post at the city hall. They opened the door and, just as the man said, saw the mayor’s office.  They strode through the open door and said, “Good morning.”

Mayor Howell looked up and shouted when he saw the two men.

“I’ve been waiting for you two. Everything has been on hold until you got here.”

He walked around the desk and shook the hands of both men. The smile on his face indicated he might have found gold in an abandoned mine in the hills.  He almost danced on his way to shake the hands of the two and shook their arms as if they were a pump and he needed water.

“Hope you had a good trip. Catch some nice scenery?  Colorado is known for that. We have scenic mountains, beautiful hills, and rivers of pure, clear waters. And acres and acres of cattle country. Sit down, gentlemen, sit down.”

Two chairs were in front of his desk, so the cowboys eased down in them as Mayor Howell sat behind his desk.

“Boy. You can tell I’m happy you’re here. I’ve been telling the whole town you were coming.”

“Hope that was good news to the town.”

“Yes, it was. Well, except for a few miscreants. But every town has those. Raise your right hands. I’m going to swear you in right now.”

He reached into his desk and pulled out two silver badges.

The two stood up as the mayor held up a Bible. “Put your hands on this.”

The two men did.

“Do you solemnly swear to uphold all the laws of the town of Mountain Ridge and the county  of Rio Blanco, so help you, God.”

“We do,” the two men said.

“Good, you can sit down again.”

The mayor pinned the badges on both men, then returned and sat behind his desk.

“What do  you think  of the town so far?”

“Looks fine, Mayor,” said Lockhart. “And there was no gunfire when we rode in, so that’s a good sign.”

Mayor Howell laughed. “I’m glad you liked your first look at the place. But now that you are the deputies here, there are a few things I need to tell you about the town and some of the people in it.”

Chapter Two

Hank Kincaid had a fishing pole in the small lake behind his ranch house.  The snow had originally coated the waters, but now the sun was out, and the temperature had reached almost fifty.  He was a tall, distinguished-looking man with a few strands of gray running through his black hair. He lay back on the ground as a fish grabbed his bait, sending ripples through the waters.  He waved at the two men.

“Come on over. Want to do a little fishing?”

“Let’s get our business over first. Then we can fish. You’ve got the best pond in the county,” said Clay Sutton, but we’ve got business to do first.”

Abner Hawkins looked like a man who received a sunburn and never got over it. His jaws, chin, and nose were red, and the ends of his off-blond hair seemed to have been colored by the sun. He wore typical Western wear and large black cowboy boots. He looked like a tough man. And, although it might have been slightly unfair, a mean man. He did not smile. His face often looked like he was growling or about to.

“We definitely have things to talk about. Now is the time to strike,” Hawkins said. “Amos Hamilton stung us pretty good.  We wuz bleeding acres. I know he fought for the Union, but them rebels did us a favor by killing him.”

“He was not an honest man, but he was a skillful one. He did some diddling with the records and got our land legally, unethically, and shamefully, but everything was legal. I agree it’s time to get the land back, but let’s be as skillful as he was. We don’t want a range war,” said Sutton.

“Why not? If we join together, our men will outnumber the Hamilton men,” Hawkins said. He turned his head and spat out some tobacco. It splatted on the ground.  “A few jackasses here didn’t want to take on the Hamilton children because Amos was fighting for the Union, and they respected him for that. But he’s dead now, and we’re ready to fight back.”

Kincaid shook his head. “We don’t want a pitched battle, Abner. You know how many men would be killed in a range war.  I like my men; they’re good people. Half of them are in church every Sunday, and it’s ten miles to the church.  I don’t want dead men on the prairie. I’d prefer to do this without bloodshed.”

“That’s going to be difficult, Hank, because the Hamilton children have got the circuit judge in their pocket.  Amos Hamilton did, and he passed the judge down to his children. We could never win a case in his court. This may have to be resolved by gunfire,” Sutton said.

A fish bit his hook and started flaying in the water.  Kincaid pulled the line and lifted a good size bass from the waters. He flicked his tail and tossed water drops on the men.  Kincaid held the fish up.

“Think I have dinner tonight,” he said.  He stood up. “Friends, let’s try persuasion first. The two children are smart but not as intelligent as their father. They are shrewd but not as shrewd as their father.  And they are not nearly as ruthless as Amos was. That part of his personality wasn’t passed down. They might be amenable to reason and common sense. Although they’re Amos Hamilton’s offspring, they also have some common sense and honesty in them.  They might agree to reason.”

“Agree with reason? Ha!” Hawkins said. He spat again on the ground.

Sutton shook his head. “To do that, they would have to acknowledge their father cheated us and was a crook. I don’t think they will do that. Not in a hundred years. But if you want to try to talk first, fine. We won’t waste anything but time. But when you talk to them, explain plainly that we will fight to reclaim our land. If they don’t agree, this land will run red with blood.”

***

Hamblin eased his chair back on two legs and thought about what the mayor had just said.  Mayor Howell looked a bit apprehensive at his desk. He had been honest about the troubles brewing under the surface in the county. And he didn’t know how two new deputies would take the news. In the back of his mind, he wondered if they would back out. He wouldn’t really blame them.

“So you’ve got a  few things going on here,” Hamblin said.

“You might say that.” the mayor answered. “Those situations were mostly put on hold due to the war.”

Lockhart shrugged.  “Every town has problems. We didn’t expect to come to a perfect city. There’s no such thing. If some problems come up, we’ll handle them. By talking, if possible. My partner will tell you that I’m something of a talker. If General Lee could negotiate with General Grant, then we can negotiate or persuade troublemakers in this town.”

“He can talk your ear off, Mayor. It we get two sides to the table and my friend starts talking, they will negotiate just to get him to stop talking.” Lockhart laughed. “We’ll take the job.  You do know this is for one year.  After that, we’re heading for gold and California.”

The mayor nodded. He reached into his desk and pulled out two envelopes. He tossed one to each man. Both caught them.

“A week’s pay for both of you upfront. Consider it a bonus for taking the job. I’ll take you to the sheriff’s office. It’s just down the street. We had a temporary man, Dale Bartlett, working as a temporary sheriff. He’ll leave for his ranch as soon as you get there.”

Hamblin looked at the envelope. “Don’t think I ever had a bonus before. Not for just taking a job.” He raised the envelope before opening it. “But I think it’s a good idea.”

The mayor smiled and rose from his chair.

“Follow me. I’ll take you to the bank and the sheriff’s office.”

***

Both men deposited forty dollars of the fifty-dollar bonus from the mayor. The sheriff’s office surprised them a bit. It was not a mere hole in the wall but an ample office with two desks, file cabinets, shelves, and a bulletin board where Wanted Posters were nailed up.  The two desks looked very neat. Hamblin thought they should since there had not been an official sheriff for some time. He said hello and shook hands with Mr. Bartlett, who flashed a wide smile and said he was glad his replacements were in the office.  He greeted them, wished them well, grabbed his hat, and said farewell.

The two deputies opened the door that led to the cells. There were six with a wide pathway between them; three were on each side.  Lockhart grasped the bars and tried to shake them. He smiled when the bars didn’t budge.

“Does appear to be secure,” he said, smiling at his partner.

“When you get any prisoners, the city has a contract with the Morning Sky Restaurant to feed them. If you have any, just collect the bills the restaurant sends and send them to my office. We pay the restaurant twice weekly.”

The two men nodded.

“Thank you, Mayor. I think that should do it,” Hamblin said. “We’ll set up shop.”

“But first, we’re going to visit that restaurant and get some food. We haven’t had any breakfast this morning.”

“You’re going to a good place. That’s a fine restaurant,” the mayor said.

“And after, we should drop in the saloon and announce that we are the new lawmen,” Lockhart said.  “Probably need to introduce ourselves to the community.”

The door opened, and a tall man walked in with an enthused smile. From his face and manner, the two lawmen guessed he was an optimist, always looking for the good in life and, unlike many, expecting it. He rushed over and stuck his hand out.

“Rev. Jeremiah Bradley, the pastor of the United Prairie Church. I know how much lawmen are needed in a community, so I wanted to welcome you here.”

“Thank you,” the two said, shaking the minister’s hand.

“And he’s a friend and has supported me vigorously,”  Mayor Howell said.

“I hope I’ll see you in church Sunday.”

“You will.  Not only wouldn’t we miss your sermon, but we would also like to get to know people in Mountain Ridge. Plus, you’ll be happy to know that my friend here, Mr. Lockhart, will quote a verse from the good book from time to time. He has a sense God is watching over him. Which makes him a good man to ride with.”

The minister laughed. “That’s good to hear. We don’t want people to just think about the Lord on Sunday.”

“That’s true,” Lockhart said. “He’s God on every day of the week. Not just Sunday.”

“Amen, brother.  Well, I’m sure you two have things to do, so I’ll get back to the church. See you Sunday.”

“Thanks for the tour, Mayor,” Hamblin said. “Now we’re going to get some breakfast.”

Chapter Three

A horseman raised dust as he pulled up to the large ranch house that belonged to the Hamiltons.  He quickly yanked his hat off and knocked on the door. To his surprise, a servant didn’t answer. Instead, Art Hamilton came to the door, shocking his ranch hand.

“Mr. Hamilton …”

“Yes, Roy. What is it?”

“Er … sir, the mayor has hired two lawmen. They just got in town today. The mayor is showing them around.”

“Really. Know anything about them?”

“No, sir, except it’s rumored that the two men fought on opposite sides during the war. One’s a Yankee and the other is a Confederate.”

Hamilton said nothing, but his sister Lilah appeared behind him.

“Well, that’s surprising.  Knowing the mayor, I’m guessing he’s got two good men. I trust they won’t cause us any trouble.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Thank you, Roy. You can go now,” Hamilton said.

He closed the door, walked to the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of whiskey, and poured some into a glass. His sister narrowed her eyes at him.

“Don’t get upset.  Our father was never bothered by lawmen, and we won’t be either.  We have a good-sized ranch, and it’s growing, and we’re making money.  We’ll be one of the biggest ranches in the West,” she said, confidence in her voice.

But her brother’s hand shook as he brought the glass of whisky to his mouth. His voice was a bit shaky when he spoke.

“Our father enjoyed a fight. He was built for it.  There was nothing that made him happier when the lead was flying, and people were diving for cover. He should never have had children. He didn’t have any time for them what with all the fighting.”

His sister gave him an exasperated look.

“OK, brother dear, I know you didn’t like our father too much. Your personality and his clashed. Think you got most of your personality from Mom, and I got mine from Dad.  But forget that. With Dad in a grave behind the house, people here will want to take advantage of that.”

She made a fist of her right hand.  Art recalled the many times he’d seen his father make that same type of fist. He’d take the balled fist and punch something or somebody. It meant he was ready to fight. Once or twice, his father had punched him.  He hated Amos Hamilton’s abusiveness but also hated his father’s greed. Art thought for years his father would face a reckoning, but he never thought the reckoning would come on a Virginia battlefield as armies of gray and blue faced and fought one another. The bullet tearing the skin close to his heart must have surprised Amos, his son thought. Amos Hamilton probably thought he would never die. He had that type of arrogance. Then, when the surprise was over, he probably turned bitter. He, the great Amos Hamilton, would die after all.  Perhaps he knew his daughter would mourn, but his son wouldn’t. Art Hamilton would have more of a sigh of relief.

“Brother, we will be the target of some of the other ranchers. They figure if Amos Hamilton is dead, his ranch is fair game because his two kids don’t have their father’s guts. We have to prove them wrong. We must be as strong as we were when Dad was alive.”

“I don’t see anyone attacking us, Lilah.  Dad’s been dead for a while. Maybe they are just happy that Dad is dead. That means there’ll be no more trouble, and he won’t be taking any more of their land.”

“Watch your mouth!” she yelled at him. “Pa won that land fair and square.”

“No, he didn’t. He was friends with the county judge, and he placed a few dollars – or more than a few dollars in the greasy hands of the judge. He accepted evidence he knew was false. The ranchers around here have a right to be angry. They think they were cheated, and they are right.”

Lilah put her hands on her hips and stared at her brother.  But instead of yelling at him, she spoke in a normal if lecturing, tone.

“Life in the West is tough, brother dear. And some men and women can’t make it out here. It’s always one thing after another.  If you deal in cattle, and we do, it’s always a drought or a flood, ticks or mites, coyotes and wolves, or stampedes. No one promised us an easy life.  It’s not easy and has dragged down more than one man. We persevered because of guts – because we had more of them than other people. Those ranchers are like wild animals. If you show weakness, they will swarm on you like hunting dogs bringing a deer down and gutting him.” Her voice rose, and she came close to shouting. “If our opponents see weakness, they will rip us apart like the dogs on a deer. They won’t simply take back what they think is their land. They will take it all. Don’t kid yourself. They don’t want to talk and discuss land boundaries. They want to take what they think is their land and more.”

He shook his head. “No, they are reasonable men …”

“Do you consider Abner Hawkins reasonable?  He looks red as an Indian and spits enough tobacco to fill a canal. Besides, his background has a few incidents that are not white and pure. Didn’t they find a dead Indian on Hawkins’s land years ago?”

“Listen, sis. I’m not saying don’t fight if anyone tries to take our lands, but Dad’s hands are not clean either.”

“They built this fine house and this fine life we are living. We owe something to him. And then he fought for his country.”

Art didn’t say anything.  His father fought for his country because he liked fighting. It was like whiskey with him. Amos Hamilton was addicted to conflict; the sides didn’t matter. But Art decided he had irritated his sister enough for the moment. They could have that fight another day and at another time.

He walked outside so he would not be tempted to continue the verbal skirmish.  In the distance were hilly lands, about half the height of the mountains in the areas. They provided beautiful scenery in both winter and summer. He shook his head. That was another thing his father didn’t appreciate. Beauty and scenery and stillness. Even so, his father wasn’t a cruel man. A hard man, yes, but not a cruel one. But also not one who ever appreciated beauty.

He looked toward the mountains.  Two hands had mentioned they had seen some Cheyenne Indians in recent weeks. The Cheyenne were native to the state. Fierce warriors, but there had been peace between the white intruders and the Cheyenne for years, and they traded peacefully with one another. But he saw no reason why any warriors would be in this part of the state. He shook his head. He was not going to worry about problems that did not exist. At least not yet. If things did not go well in the aftermath of his father’s timely death,  he would have enough problems to deal with. At one time, he feared his father would never die, a frightening thought.  But it just took a bullet to show that the fearsome Amos Hamilton was only mortal.

Art Hamilton thought it was probably wrong to celebrate his father’s death.

But he did.

Chapter Four

The two new lawmen gulped their breakfast down. Lockhart cut into the scrambled eggs and gulped almost half of them down.  Three bacon slices had also been put on his plate. On the other side of the plate were two pancakes with syrup. Hamblin had on his plate a huge omelet with eggs, bacon, ham, potatoes, and a few other things he couldn’t identify, but they were good. Most of the breakfast crowd had cleared out. Only a few other customers were at the tables, including two cowboys who sat at a rear table in the restaurant.

Lockhart raised a finger. “At least we picked a town where they have good cooks. This is a fine breakfast. This is good.”

“Compared to the trail food we’ve been eating for three months, it’s wonderful. I had forgotten food is supposed to taste this good,” his partner said. He forked more of the omelet and shoved the mixture in his mouth.

They were so focused on the food that the two deputies didn’t notice the two men at the rear of the restaurant slowly get up and walk toward the table. One had a three-day-old beard stubble and walked with a slight limp. He smelled through a big nose and had big lips, giving him an odd look. His friend was two inches shorter and didn’t have distinctive features except for a slight scar over his lip.  Frank Devane was the older man’s name and his shorter friend was “Itchy” Summers. They suddenly stopped and looked at the two deputies.

“Itchy, do you smell something?  Smells like a skunk. Those are nasty critters. The restaurant is filling up with that smell.”

“Don’t cause trouble, Frank. We had a good breakfast.  Don’t mess up the day.”

Devane pointed at the two deputies. “Oh, I see the reason for that bad smell. Lawmen. Two lawmen, in fact. Why did you two have to come in and bring that smell?”

Lockhart groaned because his breakfast was being interrupted. He slowly rose. “Now, why don’t you walk on out and leave everyone in peace?”

Devane opened his mouth as if he was shocked. “I don’t want to leave skunks in peace. I don’t like lawmen.”

“You want to leave, or you want to fight?”

“Let’s do it, lawman. I’ve collected a few badges, and I want another one.”

“This is not the place to sling bullets. Shall we go outside?”

“Glad to.” Devane pointed to Hamblin. “He stays out of it.”

“It will be you and me.”

Devane gave a big smile. “Then let’s do it.” He walked toward the door, and Lockhart followed him.  When Devane opened the door and started to walk into the street, Lockhart quickly drew his pistol and slammed it across the man’s head.  Devane stumbled two steps and fell to the dusty wooded sidewalk. The deputy pulled him over to the side so he wouldn’t be in the way of walkers, then headed back to the restaurant.

Itchy, open-mouthed, pointed his finger at his partner, then looked at the deputy.

---

“Fury on the Frontier” is an Amazon Best-Selling novel, check it out here!

Stuart Hamblin, a seasoned veteran of the Civil War, has traded in the tumultuous battlegrounds for the tranquil charm of Mountain Ridge, Colorado. No longer sporting the blue of the Union, Stuart now wears a deputy’s badge, striving to uphold the peace in this rugged frontier town. However, he soon becomes aware of a scheme beneath the surface of his new home, and his battle-hardened instincts are awakened…

Will his past experiences equip him to face the challenges lurking in the shadows?

His comrade in arms and now partner in law, Howard Lockhart, stood on the opposite side of the Civil War but now shares Stuart’s quest for peace. The former soldier, though drawn to the calm of Mountain Ridge, can’t ignore the drumbeats of trouble echoing. Howard finds himself at a crossroads, his warrior instincts stirred as conspiracies threaten to disrupt the town’s peace.

Will his past as a soldier aid him, or plunge him back into a terror he left behind?

Stuart and Howard, bound by shared history and common goals, find themselves standing together against a storm of troubles brewing on the horizon. The echoes of conflict become louder as a disgruntled Cheyenne chief prepares to ignite a rebellion to reclaim his land. With chaos threatening their adopted town, can Stuart and Howard fend off the forces of disruption and keep Mountain Ridge from descending into mayhem?

“Fury on the Frontier” is a historical adventure novel of approximately 60,000 words. No cliffhangers, only pure unadulterated action.

Get your copy from Amazon!