The Homestead Defender (Preview)

Prologue

James lifted up slightly. His heart thumped in his chest as fear held him in its tight grip.

He’d been sitting there for the last thirty seconds, trying to decide if he should move quickly or slowly. Which option would afford him a second or two to see what was going on over the top of the trench he was crouched in?

The man he’d been fighting alongside was on the ground, his bent and broken body twisted in the mud, his eyes wide open. James hadn’t had the courage to reach over and close them. All he could think about was getting to the other side of the field, where it was safe. There were more soldiers out that way, and he believed in the power of numbers. He wasn’t a solo fighter.

The field was gutted. Thousands of running footsteps had ripped up the turf, rocks now jutted up in places they hadn’t been before, and the rain had turned the whole thing into a swamp, a mess of grass and leaves and twigs.

James had never before realized how difficult it was to run for your life through that muck.

He made a quick decision and lifted up quickly, looking over the edge of the trench. He got a good two-second look before he ducked back down and managed to dodge the bullet that whizzed over his head.

His eyes unintentionally ran over the soldier he’d been fighting next to. He didn’t know his name. James set his rifle to the side and crawled over to the man.

“Sorry about this, buddy.”

He went through the man’s pockets, looking for any identification. In the man’s back pocket was a folded letter, the words kept safe on the inside so he could still see a name and address. He folded it back up and stuck it in his back pocket. Before moving away, he patted the man’s shoulder.

“I’ll try to get this where you wanted it, buddy. Rest in peace.”

He said the words in a whisper.

Looking left and right, he tried to decide how to get around the men shooting at him. To the right, the trench continued, and he could see all the way until it bent off to the left about a hundred yards away.

Staying in a crouched position, James sprinted down the cut until he reached where it turned. He stopped there and peeked around the bend before proceeding.

He would have continued running, as the trench was clear, but he heard something that sent chills up his spine. To his left, somewhere in that swampy field, he could hear someone calling for help. The cries were accompanied by a strange sound James couldn’t identify.

He had only seconds to decide if he wanted to risk going out there to help another soldier. What if it was an enemy? What if it was a trap?

He could go on and get to freedom, but how would he live with himself knowing he could have helped someone and didn’t?

James had moved a hundred yards from his previous position. At least. The men shooting at him didn’t know that. They would still be looking where he was before. Especially because he’d taken a moment to prop the dead soldier up so he was sitting against the trench wall and the tip of his hat was exposed—just enough to make an enemy out there think there was still someone at that position.

If he was careful, he could probably crawl out of the trench and into the cluster of trees that would hide him from the enemy—probably what had saved the life of the man who was calling for help.

Without speaking a word, James gripped the earth wall on the side of the trench and climbed out. The mud sucked his fingers in and he hated the feeling, but once he was out of the trench, he was able to shake the excess off and use a handkerchief for the rest, though his hands were now blackened.

“Where are you?” he whispered loudly. “I’ll help you! Where are you?”

“Over here. I’m right here.”

James could tell the man was trying to move because that weird sound returned, and now he identified it as a person dragging themselves through the muddy grime and wet leaves.

He followed the sound of the man’s voice until he came upon him. James leaned down to the man, who was on his belly, reaching up with one hand, a desperate and pained look on his face.

“What’s hurting you? Can you walk?”

“I’m weak and I don’t know if I can walk. Been shot in the leg. Think maybe twice. Same leg. I’m losin’ blood fast!”

James nodded, taking the man’s hand. “Okay, let’s see if we can’t get you back to the trench I just came from. I’ll get you to the other side. There’s a regiment there and they probably have an infirmary or medic tent.”

“Thanks! I’m Barnaby. Barnaby Allensworth.”

“Good to meet you. James Hawk.”

They said their introductions while James pulled Barnaby up into his arms, and when it was clear Barnaby would not be able to walk, even with help, he crouched and put the man over one shoulder.

It was probably quite uncomfortable for the wounded man, but James couldn’t think of an easier way to carry him. The weight was incredible.

“God help me,” he murmured as he stood and ran to the trench as fast as possible, hoping and praying they weren’t spotted. He tried to lower Barnaby gently once they were there, but his feet slipped out from under him and both men fell to the ground. Barnaby slid over the wall into the trench and screamed in pain.

James was beside him, also slipping down into the muddy trench, but he was able to control the motion so he landed on his feet. He didn’t hesitate for a moment. He grabbed Barnaby and was off again, running as fast as he could.

Chapter One

Narrowing his green eyes against the bright sun, James stared out at the passing scenery. He was on a stagecoach, headed for home. It had been almost eighteen months since he’d seen his parents or his house, or slept in his bed. The Civil War had come to an end, and he was glad there would be no more fighting. He’d seen more bloodshed than he ever wanted to see in his life.

James was going back to be the rancher his father wanted him to be. He was also interested in beekeeping and medicine, two hobbies he planned to explore now that he didn’t have to kill people anymore.

One more town to go through, another hour from there, and he was home.

He surprised himself by how anxious he was. He’d wanted to leave the war life behind as quickly as possible, get back to the peaceful existence he’d enjoyed as a young man. He had two intelligent, hard-working parents who loved each other and loved him and his brothers. They treated every boy with respect. James had three brothers, and his niece also lived at the ranch. She was ten.

James’ older brother Hugh and his wife, Laura, were murdered before the war started. Their daughter, Violet, was the apple of everyone’s eye, a sweet little girl who had a warm smile for everyone. It hurt his heart to think that that smile would be taken away when she realized what a harsh and unrelentingly evil world it really was.

The stagecoach pulled into the station in the nearest town to Lexington, Texas, and James waited for the two passengers waiting there to board. He stayed where he was, holding onto the side of the coach when it jostled back and forth with the weight of the oncoming travelers.

A large man with a full black beard, black hair, and intense blue eyes behind long dark lashes was the second to board after a young woman. When their eyes met, James instantly recognized the man.

He held out his hand, a smile lighting up his face and his mood.

“Reynolds! Is that you behind that beard?”

Reynolds, one of the ranch hands that had been working on the B&R ranch for as long as James could remember, grinned wide. “Well, I’ll be hornswaggled. If it ain’t the master of the ranch, James Hawk. You’ve been fightin’ in the war, ain’t ya?”

James felt a nagging pull in his chest. He didn’t want to ever talk about the war again. He kept getting flashbacks of the faces of the dead and didn’t know if that would ever go away. Talking about it would only make it worse.

“Yeah, that’s all over now. How you been? You got to stay and work the ranch through all the fightin’, am I right?”

“I been right there alongside your ma and pa, makin’ sure the work gets done. I reckon you got lots of stories to tell. You seen a lot of places and things and people.”

James felt that uncomfortable tug again. “Yeah, I don’t think I’ll be talkin’ about all that anytime soon, Reynolds. I’m just anxious to get back and see my folks. How are they doin’? You know it’s been eighteen months since I been home.”

“They wrote to ya, didn’t they? I thought I saw some letters in the post for ya.”

“I did write and get letters from them,” James admitted as the stagecoach jerked into motion once more. He was glad. The sooner they were on the road, the sooner he would be home. “Nothin’ like actually bein’ there, though, you know? I can’t wait to give my ma a hug and sleep in my own bed again. It’s stuff like that that makes life worth livin’.”

“You’re right about that.”. Reynolds nodded. “Nothin’ has changed, really, at the ranch. Violet is just as sweet as ever. Joseph’s gettin’ tall. Wait till you see him. You’re not even gonna recognize him.”

James lifted his eyebrows. His little brother was fifteen, a surprise child for his parents. He had been a strong, strapping young man of thirteen when James left. He couldn’t imagine his brother changing all that much.

“And how’s Baron?”

“Baron had his time fighting, too. He came home after a couple months; they said he can’t see squat or shoot straight, and he’s gonna get good guys killed. You didn’t hear about that?”

James shook his head. Baron was second oldest, just under Hugh. When Hugh and his wife were murdered, little Violet was left in the care of their parents, Jack and Rose. Baron had struggled his whole life to take the place of Hugh, but he wasn’t the same man. To deflect from what he felt was failure to live up to the standards he’d set for himself, Baron cracked jokes. He was funny, though, so it was a good thing he was naturally talented or many would have been annoyed.

“I wonder what pranks he was pullin’ to make them let him out,” he mumbled.

It would have been nice if he’d been able to get out of fighting after only a few months. He would never forget the things he’d seen, the smell of blood, decay, and rotting bodies all around, the sound of men screaming in horror and pain. He turned his head to the window and closed his eyes for a moment. He didn’t want Reynolds to see him when he felt that way.

“No tellin’. But he might.” Reynolds laughed. “He might tell ya what he did, if ya ask. I wouldn’t be surprised if they did let him out just to get rid of him.”

James wished he could find the humor in that, but it escaped him. He still felt guilty for taking the lives of so many men, “enemies” or not. He still felt dirty from the long days and nights in the trenches, crawling through the mud, dragging bodies or living men out of harm’s way, desperate to keep them alive.

The letter he’d taken from the dead soldier burned in his trouser pocket. He hadn’t sent it yet, but he would. Or maybe he would travel and hand-deliver it. It was addressed to another town in Texas, which was lucky for him. It wouldn’t be a difficult journey, nor a long one.

The coach came to an abrupt stop. James and Reynolds looked at each other, confused.

Shouting in the distance got James’ attention and he leaned forward, gripping the side of the coach door. When three gunshots rang out one after another, his entire body tensed.

In his mind, all he could hear was his own voice, screaming, “No!”

Chapter Two

James didn’t scream out loud, though. He let himself mourn the fact that he hadn’t gotten away from killing just yet for only a moment before scrambling for his large cloth traveling bag. His guns were in it. They weren’t loaded, which was stupid in hindsight. He should have known better than to travel unprepared.

Reynolds lifted up and slammed his hand on the door to the driver. It was yanked up a second later and Sam yelled out, “We’re under attack! We’re under attack!”

He slammed the door down. Reynolds turned wide eyes to James, who was looking at the young woman. He was surprised she hadn’t fainted. When she’d boarded, she looked pale but now she had turned white as a sheet. Her eyes were open and unblinking. One hand gripped the side window sill and the other was balled up in her lap.

“Miss?” James tried to get her attention. He spoke softly. “Are you all right? Do you know how to shoot?”

The woman’s eyes rolled to him but she didn’t answer. She appeared to be holding her breath.

James rested one hand on her shoulder. “You’re gonna be all right, but you can’t freeze up on us, dear. Tell me your name.”

“Elizabeth,” she answered. He never took his eyes from hers. She was a pretty young woman, probably around his age, with chocolate-colored hair and brown eyes to match. Tears shone in those eyes and after a moment, large teardrops slid down her cheeks. “Braxton… Elizabeth Braxton… We’re gonna die,” she breathed. “Oh God, we’re gonna die.”

“We’re not gonna die, Elizabeth. I promise. I’ll do everything I can to keep that from happening.”

He nodded and tried to give her a confident look, but she just stared at him, tears streaming down her face. The stagecoach suddenly jerked forward. James was dropped back in his seat, and he looked out to see what was going on.

“What are you doing?” Reynolds yelled out, directing his words at the driver above them. “What’s going on?”

Sam yanked open the door again and this time, he let it fall all the way open as he resumed controlling the horses.

“One of you gotta get up here and shoot at them or we’re dead! D-E-D, dead! Ain’t you got guns? Ain’t you from Texas? Get yer guns and get up here!”

Reynolds grabbed his satchel and pushed it open, reaching in for the gun he apparently kept in there. James gave Elizabeth another reassuring look before getting both his guns from his cloth sack. His hands were steady, but his heart thumped like a bass drum in his chest. It was almost painful.

He didn’t want to have to keep doing this, fighting and shooting and killing people. It wasn’t who he wanted to be. He just wanted everyone to get along. Leave each other alone if need be, but be peaceful and happy. His two main goals.

He slid bullets into the chamber until both guns were full. By that time, Reynolds had already vaulted himself up to sit next to Sam and was shooting randomly.

He glanced at Elizabeth, who was still sitting in the same spot, one hand on the sill, the other balled in her lap. Her eyes were closed, her lips moving softly without words coming out. She was praying.

Good. They would need God’s help to get out of this situation. He, too, only had a limited number of bullets. And if he didn’t aim right, those guns would be emptied in no time, and they would be sitting ducks.

Maybe they were anyway.

Reynolds dropped back into the carriage, a look of panic on his face. “There’s too many, James. Don’t waste your bullets. Me and Sam discussed it, and we’re just gonna have to stop the coach and let them take what we have of value. It’s either that or die fighting them.”

Elizabeth burst into tears then, her silent streaming tears gone. She sobbed like her heart had been broken. James knew why. In 1866 Texas, she had something precious to bandits and outlaws. Something very precious.

His chest tightened as James thought about what the outlaws might do to Elizabeth.

“We can’t stop fighting. We have to protect this woman. I’d give them all my valuables, few of them that there are, but she can’t do that.”

Reynolds looked sympathetically at the crying woman. “Then we’ll have to come up with a plan.”

“Too late!” Sam called down to them. “They’re here.”

Chills erupted over James’ body. He held out a hand to Elizabeth and she took it. He sat next to her, pushing himself close so that their thighs and arms touched.

“I’ll do everything I can to protect you, Elizabeth. I give you my word.”

“Thank you,” she whispered. She didn’t sound confident. She was trembling like a leaf in the wind. He squeezed her arm, putting his other arm around her back and holding her to him.

Reynolds pulled a box of ammunition out of his satchel. James felt his heart slam into action, pounding fast and hard.

“You’re going to fight anyway,” he said. He couldn’t sit there if Reynolds was going to fight.

“Hey, you inside that coach!” a man’s voice roared. “Why don’t you come on out all peaceful-like and we can talk about what’s gonna happen here?”

Elizabeth sucked in her breath and held it. She lowered her head and hunched her shoulders. James felt like she was trying to push into his skin. He tried to keep her steady, but her fear made her twitch and shake.

“They’re gonna kill us,” she murmured, her words wobbling with the tears she was trying to suppress. “They’re gonna kill us, they’re gonna…”

“Stop,”. James said the word gently, placing one finger over her lips. She finally looked up at him, her big brown eyes red and swollen. “Don’t say that anymore.”

Elizabeth closed her eyes and rested her head on his shoulder.

Reynolds moved to a position where he could see out of the windows. James didn’t know exactly what he was looking at, but whatever it was, or whoever it was, he was absolutely disgusted.

The next moment, there were men crawling all over the coach, stripping it of its luggage, trunks, bags, and even the water barrel attached at the back. James heard the water sloshing as they dislodged it from its brackets.

Once they were done taking everything, they would come for the people inside. He was sure of it. He had no more ammunition that he knew of. What could he do?

Chapter Three

“I know y’all hear me in there.”

James was nauseated by the amusement he heard in the outlaw’s tone. As the bandits raided the coach, it jostled back and forth. Elizabeth’s eyes darted to the roof, following the movement she heard, terror in every feature on her face.

James slid his cloth sack to his feet. He could at least look and see if he had any ammo left. He rummaged through it as quickly as he could, but he found nothing. One eight-inch curved-blade hunting knife was all he found as far as weapons were concerned.

“You got everything off the coach!” Reynolds yelled out angrily. “Take it and leave us be!”

James moved slightly forward so he could look through the window at the outlaws. Two were still on horseback while several others had dismounted to get the loot from the coach. They were dragging it all to a wagon parked behind the two on horseback.

The clear leader grin at the man to his left, who could only have been a second-in-command.

“They think we’re playin’ games with them,” he heard the man say before turning his head back in their direction. “I said, come on out and we can talk about this!”

“How we know you ain’t gonna kill us the moment we’re out of the coach?” Reynolds asked in a voice that implied he didn’t believe the outlaw wouldn’t kill all three of them. “I know you musta killed Sam or he’d be runnin’ his jaw right now.”

James hoped they hadn’t killed the driver. But when the outlaw heard Reynolds’ words, his grin widened. He pulled a gun from the holster at his right side, lifted it, and shot at the top of the coach. A thump was heard. Elizabeth screamed.

“Now ya—” The outlaw looked surprised. He halted his words, his eyebrows shooting up.

James wished Elizabeth hadn’t screamed. Maybe Sam hadn’t been dead, but it was certain he was now. And Elizabeth had just let those outlaws know there was a woman in the coach. His heart sank.

“Well, well, well,” the outlaw said menacingly. “Looks like we got a little lady in that coach we need to extract. Boys…”

James leaped into action when Reynolds turned to him, pressing one of his two guns into James’ hands.

“You take that side and I’ll take this side. Don’t forget to look up.”

The two men crouched in the middle of the carriage, back to back, both of them looking up every now and then, shooting at the men who approached the coach from either side.

“Awww, you’re makin’ it so difficult!” the leader yelled out. He was losing a little of the humor in his tone, and that was a good thing.

“You just take what you’ve stolen and git!” Reynolds yelled. “We ain’t comin’ out!”

“I’m afraid that’s not gonna happen, buddy. Come out or we’ll shoot you down like the dogs you are. Even the lady. Come out and we can talk.”

James dropped down and filled his gun again.

“Only way we’re gonna get out of this is if we shoot the leader.”

“There’s always a second waiting to take over, James,” Reynolds pointed out.

“Well, what are we gonna do?”

Reynolds looked befuddled. He had dropped down, too, his eyes darting all around them frantically.

James nearly came out of his skin when Elizabeth shrieked in fear. He looked over at her. She was looking up. It took less than a second for James to see what was happening.

One of the bandits had gotten on top of the coach. He had laid down and dropped his arm through the opening, aiming his gun at Elizabeth, a sinister look on his snarling face.

Reynolds leaped to his feet, reaching up and punching the man’s arm so the bullet that came from the gun was far from Elizabeth, penetrating the wall of the coach behind her. She jumped forward and crouched down, holding her arms over her head, screaming and crying.

While he and Reynolds were focused on the bandit on the roof, another came fromReynolds’ side. James saw an arm enter the coach, the gun pointed at Reynolds’ back.

“Look out!” he yelled, diving over to grab Reynolds and pull him down.

He didn’t make it in time. He saw the look on his old friend’s face when the bullet entered his back. It wasn’t a pretty sight. He’d never seen such a big man so full of life that drained so quickly when a bullet hit just the right spot.

Reynolds tipped forward. James had to jump back to avoid being squished. Frustration filled him, bringing rage along with it. He snatched the gun from Reynolds’ hand and lifted both of them. First, he shot the bandit on the roof, causing the body to fall into the carriage. Elizabeth screamed as expected, but James wasn’t paying attention to her anymore.

He was so angry he couldn’t see straight. He got on his knees in the middle of the carriage, lifted the guns to the side, and moved them only slightly. He wasn’t looking where he was shooting, just pulling the trigger over and over until the guns were empty.

James dropped them and ducked down to the floor, covering his head the way Elizabeth was. He expected to be overtaken at any minute. He should be protecting Elizabeth. He should at least have his body over hers so they had to go through him to get to her.

He looked up, ready to throw himself over the bodies of Reynolds and the bandit, and froze at what he saw.

Elizabeth wasn’t crouched like she had been. She was on her knees, peeking over the top of the windowsill. He slowly got to his knees and moved closer to her.

“What are you doing?” he whispered. “Get down!”

She turned her eyes to him and he didn’t see fear there anymore. He saw amazement. It made him curious, and he lifted himself to look out the window.

The wagon with all their belongings was racing away, followed by two horses with riders that looked like the leader and his second-in-command.

Every one of the other bandits was on the ground, dead.

James scooted to the other side of the coach. It was the same there. Three men lay on the ground, motionless.

“You did that,” Elizabeth said. “You did that without even looking at what you were doing. You scared them away because of that.”

He heard awe in her voice. When he looked back at her, he saw it in her eyes.

“I… I don’t know how I did that.” He felt a little numb. “Let’s get out of here.”

He held out his hand to her, and she took it.

Chapter Four

Rebecca Taylor peered through the bushes as Don Bartlett, leader of the Bartlett Gang, and his constant sidekick, Luke Carter, rode off with the wagon close behind them. She would have retreated from that barrage of bullets, too, if she’d seen all her men dropping like flies around her.

“What just happened?” her brother, Rob, murmured behind her. “Who is in that coach? I’ve never seen shooting like that before.”

Becca hadn’t either. She returned her gaze to the coach, waiting for the passengers to emerge. They were taking their time, but she didn’t blame them. None of the men who had been shot were still moving. Even though she didn’t know who was in that carriage, she was impressed by what she’d seen and curiosity would keep her waiting till she found out.

Eventually, the door swung open and a man’s boot came out onto the step. She saw him stick his head out and look all around.

“You recognize him?” Rob asked quietly.

“No,” she responded. “You?”

“Nope. You gonna go find out?”

“No. They aren’t far from the next town. I’m sure he knows how to drive a wagon. A coach isn’t much different.”

Just as she’d thought, the man came out and declared it safe for the woman to come out. She’d heard the scream earlier, just like Don had. She and her brother hadn’t had time to come up with a plan to help the victims before he let out that insane barrage of bullets, coming out from both sides of the coach, each one hitting and killing its target.

How had he done that?

“That’s where we’re going. Why not let them know we’re here?”

Becca shook her head. “He might think we’re with Don. We need to be going after the criminal, not making new friends.”

Rob let out an exasperated sound. She glanced back to see him rolling his eyes and turning away. He went back to the horses, which weren’t far, and pulled up into the saddle.

“Well, come on, then. I want to get some good food in my belly. It’s only a fifteen-minute ride. Let’s go.”

Becca looked back at the coach, watching as the man climbed up to the top and gently maneuvered the body of the driver so he would drop down into the coach. Even from where she was, she could see the mournful look on the man’s face.

She was willing to bet he had been a soldier in the war. She’d seen quite a few soldiers returning from the fighting now that the end had been declared, and they all had that same haunted look. Like they’d never get away from the death. Like it followed them wherever they went.

She felt sympathy but had never been forced to go to war and kill a bunch of men. Even in her capacity as a bounty hunter, she didn’t go around shooting people. She just hunted them down and brought them to justice. For a price. Usually a pretty good one.

For years, Becca had been saving, putting money away from the jobs she and Rob did. They didn’t need much, since they were always on the road. Becca was petite but strong and fast. She was also a quick draw and could handle a bow and arrow if she needed to. That skill came in handy when hunting for food. It was important to be as quiet as possible when prey was around. A gun could only be shot once before the entire forest was aware of human presence.

The man driving the coach got the horses moving and they rolled away at a slow pace.

“Sure hope he knows where he’s going,” Rob said, looking down at her. “Come on. I want to get to Liberty before I sprout gray hairs.”

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My new novel “The Homestead Defender” is coming soon! Stay tuned for the announcement!

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Colten Francis is a man on the run with his former comrades hot on his trail. Seeking safety, he joins a wagon train headed through a mountain pass into Wyoming. As a passive man unsuited to the soldier’s life, Colten yearns for peace, but trouble seems to follow him wherever he goes.

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