No Laws in the Texas Desert (Preview)

Chapter One

Drake Masterson turned his stunning black horse left onto a side road leading to his shack of a home and his eighty acres of land. It had been three years since he had left to fight for the South in the Civil War, and he hadn’t seen the place since. He assumed it would be dirty and rundown. His mother had died some years before the war, so when his father passed away, there was no one to take care of the home. He didn’t expect a new paint job on the place. The old home wouldn’t look like much, but at least it was his, he thought. He told himself he would not be shocked at the crumbling home.  He knew he’d have to rebuild and give the ‘house’ a new paint job.

He gave an amused smile when he thought his horse, a black stallion called Midnight, looked a good deal more impressive than him. Masterton wore a smile but also had day-old beard stubble on his face, and his clothes were dusty and torn. He wore his Confederate shirt, which still had a pic of the Stars and Bars. But his side had lost, and he accepted and even welcomed, to a degree, the administration of Washington.  Say what you will about President Grant; the man was a good general, and Masterson thought he would probably make a good president too.

He turned down another side road. At the end of it, he could see his ranch. At first, it looked better than he thought it would.  It looked beautiful to him. The rundown building was his home and where he had grown up. He had a happy childhood in this building and smiled whenever he saw the house. It didn’t matter that it was rundown. It could be fixed. The happiness in seeing it would remain forever and did not need hammers and saws and nails.

As he rode, he saw two horses and two men at the house. He frowned, and lines of concern showed on his brow. There was no reason for anybody to be at his house and on his land. He turned again on the road to the house and rode a half mile to the land. There was a hitching rail in front of the house, and he tied Midnight to it. The two men gave him scornful looks. They looked like ordinary cow folk with no distinguishing features except for the red scar below the right ear of one of them and a streak of gray in the hair of the second man, who only looked about thirty.

“Who are you, stranger?” Red Scar said in a voice that was not friendly.

“First off, I am not a stranger. I own this place. It’s mine. The question is, why are you two here? You don’t have the owner’s permission to look around. But I do like to know who’s roaming around on my property,” Masterson said.

“You sure it still belongs to you? During the war, a lot of the taxes on property around here went unpaid and the county seized them.”

“Well, if it’s any of your business, my taxes are paid.” He reached into his shirt and pulled out the deed to the land. “In fact, I picked this up in town, my deed.  I know Mr. Amos. He is the tax assessor and made a copy of it for me. I had a copy of it, but somehow it got lost in the war. He remembered me too. We shook hands and said hi, then he gave me the deed. It’s my property, so what are you doing here?”

He grabbed his gun but didn’t pull it out of his holster. The older man, with a gray streak, used a mellow tone when speaking.

“Hold on. We don’t want trouble. I know you may have been surprised to see us on your property, but we were told the place was going to be sold.  Our boss wants to acquire more land so we were out here looking it over. We apologize and certainly don’t want any trouble.” The man touched his hat with his fingers. “We’ll be on our way.”

Masterson lifted his fingers from his pistol.  “That’s all right, mistakes happen. I don’t plan to shoot. My family has owned this property for almost thirty years, and I plan to keep it. My name is Drake Masterton.”

“I’m Jeremiah Jones, and my partner is Wolf Dickson.” He chuckled as he pointed to his partner. “With that snout on him, some people claim he looks like … well, a wolf. But the wolf has the better disposition.

“By the way, who is your boss?”

“Emily Dunlap, Ben Dunlap’s daughter. He had the biggest ranch in the county.”

Masterson casually rolled a cigarette, stuck it between his lips, and lit it. “I remember the name. What do you mean ‘had?’

Jones gave him a look of utter surprise, if not incomprehension.

“Haven’t you heard? Ben Dunlap died about a year ago. He had a heart attack. Emily now runs his ranch, and she is as shrewd and strong as her father. She wants to add land to her place, kind of like a tribute to her father.”

“I remember Ben Dunlap. He didn’t need any tribute. He took a lot of people’s land, and sometimes it wasn’t taken legally.”

“Watch your mouth!” Dickson said. “You’re talking about our boss.”

Masterson gave such a wide grin that it looked like he might break out laughing.  “You shouldn’t be offended. I grew up here. I know all the stories and all the legends about Ben Dunlap. He prided himself on the stories told about him. He laughed at them and loved to tell those stories. They made him sound tough, and he liked that. A lot of people liked him, I guess, but I never thought much of  him. He was a bully and a coward.”

Dickson’s eyes widened, and his face flushed an angry red. He went for his gun, but with lightning speed, Masterson pulled his first.

“You’re a liar!” Dickson yelled.

“Not about Ben Dunlap. Everyone in the county knows his reputation. Dying for Ben Dunlap is not a smart thing to do. So why don’t you two just move on.” He gave a quick smile. “But it’s been nice spending time with you two.  As for you, Wolf, don’t come around again.  But Mr. Jones, you can drop by and say hello anytime. Now, why don’t you two ride on down the road? I have work to do.”

As the two rode toward the road, Masterson thought he heard Jones chuckling.

Ben Dunlap was dead. Every man dies, but the thought shocked him.  Dunlap cast a large shadow over the county.  He had gained a lot of land in twenty years, but not every acre of it was gained legally. But the sheriff was a friend of Dunlap’s or at least did not want to cause him any trouble. Masterton remembered his daughter Emily, but not well. He had seen her in town once in a while but didn’t pay any attention to her. She slightly resembled her father. He wondered if she had inherited her father’s ruthlessness. If Wolf was any indication, she had.

The cemetery was about fifty yards away from the house.  It had looked neat and respectful when he left. The two gray monuments stood side by side.  Time had diminished the shine from the stone, and instead of the layer of green grass before the tombstones, the grass was brown and obviously had not been cut for weeks, if not months. That would be his first job, he thought. Perhaps before making a new living in Texas, he needed to straighten out the old and start with the tombstones. He checked the well on the property and was surprised when he brought up clean water. Thankfully, the well had not been contaminated. That was a good sign. The pump was rusty, but it worked.  It creaked when he jostled the handle, but it did work. That was another plus. He dropped the bucket in the well, drew it back up, put his hand in the water, and lifted it to his lips. It tasted better than he expected, and he thought he had a good chance of living even though he drank some of the water.  He walked to his horse, grabbed his canteen, returned to the well, and filled the canteen with water.

“It looks like I’ve got a lot to do,” he said. “But that’s fine. At least I’ll be working at my own house and not have people shooting at me.”

He returned to the house, opened the front door, and walked into the place he knew as home, the only home he had ever known.

Since no one had been in the house since his father died, he imagined the worst. Rats, roaches, snakes, and other vermin would be running over the tables and beds and would be angry at the interruption. But when he opened the door he saw no vermin or animals, for which he was greatly relieved.  The door opened into the living room, and besides the inch of dust in the room, the house had not changed any. There was a sofa against the wall and a table about the same length as the sofa. His mother’s Bible was still on it. He picked it up, blew the dust away, and opened it. The first two pages were names and addresses of family members, including the offspring of Ray Masterson, his uncle who lived in Oklahoma. His mother’s sister, Jane, had her descendants listed too.  She had a handful, and the blue ink listed them. They were spread around the West, with one descendant living in Wyoming. The listings moved him in a way he did not expect.  He had no brothers or sisters, but the blue ink told of his relatives, the people he was connected too.  It gave him a small sense of comfort. This house may be dusty, but it was his. It was his place in the world, and the people listed in blue ink were his people, connected to him and the two graves in the cemetery. That made the house he hadn’t seen in three years seem more like home.

He nodded again. This was truly his place in the world, and he would not leave it again. When he passed, his grave would be with the graves of his father and mother.

He looked up when he heard a buggy outside.

“Whoa!” a man said.

Masterson put down the Bible, opened the door, and looked outside. A slightly chubby man had stepped out of the buggy and come toward him, sticking out his hand.

“Robert?” he said, but there was a clear question in his voice.  Then, as he more clearly recognized the man, he shouted, “Rev. Robert Mason. Reverend, how are you!” He shook the man’s hand and hugged him.

“It’s been a long time,” Rev. Mason said.

“It’s been three years, but it feels like thirty,” Masterson said. “You haven’t aged a bit, but don’t tell me I haven’t either. War will age you.”

“But now you’ve come home. You will have a chance to recuperate. I have missed you, and so have the members of the church.  When I heard you were back, I wanted to ride out and say hello.”

“Thank you. It’s nice to know I’m remembered after three years. I really appreciate you coming out.”

The reverend raised a finger. “And I have more than just a hello to give you.” He walked back to the buggy and pulled up a picnic basket covered with a blue and white cloth. “The church members wanted me to give this to you. It’s chicken, a few potatoes, some nice carrots, and an apple pie, which was just taken out of the oven about ten minutes ago. My congregation figured you would need some good food after your journey.”

Masterson took the basket and smiled.  “Thank you and thank your congregation for me.  This is very thoughtful, and it is truly appreciated. To be truthful, I didn’t bring any food with me. This will be my dinner, and tomorrow, what’s left of the apple pie will be my breakfast. I would invite you in, and still will if you don’t mind the dust. The house hasn’t been cleaned for a while.”

The reverend beamed another smile.  “The congregation is going to help you with that too. The ladies have volunteered to clean this house whenever you are ready. A few gentlemen said they’ll come out and help fix what is broken, repair broken windows, things like that if you like.”

“I’d like it very much, but I can’t ask …”

The minister raised his hand again.  “You’re not asking; it’s being offered. Give the congregation one day, and this place will look wonderful.”

“Thank you again.”

Love and appreciation welled up inside him. He knew he would never forget this gesture.  He also appreciated that Rev. Mason was still a pastor in town. A pastor generally knew things about the town.  After the exchange with the two men from Dunlap, he might need to catch up on what had been happening in the community. But that could wait until tomorrow.

Today, he was just happy to be home and happy his home had such nice people in it.

Chapter Two

When her two riders returned to the Dunlap ranch and knocked on the door, Emily Dunlap was in her office staring at a map on the office wall.  Unlike most ladies, she wore pants most of the time and carried a riding crop. She was taller than most women, standing five feet seven inches. She had inherited her father’s iron will and determination along with his ruthlessness. Her father had wanted a son, but by the time he died, he was very happy with his daughter.  She could ride and shoot as well as any man. The one thing she did not inherit from her father was his looks.  The late Ben Dunlap was not a handsome man.  Some people even said he was ugly, but they didn’t say that to his face. He had a large nose and lips, along with a gruff voice.  Emily had a strong but sweet voice, but it could turn stern, and her eyes would flash an angry brown when irritated.  Not many people liked her father. When services were held after he died, the funeral home had many empty chairs.  The minister gave the best speech he could when relaying details of Dunlap’s life, meaning he left out most of the facts and just talked about the deceased’s love of the West and for his daughter.

She had never taken up her father’s enjoyment of hard liquor, but she did have a glass of wine on his desk, which she occasionally sipped.  She neither frowned nor smiled as she looked at the map. “Dunlap Valley” – the name her father had called the ranch – was in blue and stretched miles through the county.  To the northwest was the Masterson place and land that her father had craved before he died, but it was possibly the one thing in life he was denied. She was determined the land would be acquired and become a part of Dunlap Valley.

To the south and west were other ranches, home to the sworn enemies of Ben Dunlap, the three he had never managed to run out of the county. He stole some of their lands, and two cowboys died due to the continued battle between the three men and her father, but while he took some land and held it, he could never run them out of the county.  Emily hoped to avenge that defeat.

She heard a knock on the door and ignored it because Louisa, her maid, would answer it.  Her mind turned back to the three ranchers and the men running them. Her thoughts were interrupted by Louisa, who walked in.

“Miss Dunlap, two of your men are at the door.”

“Let them in and direct them here.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She eased back in her comfortable chair and watched the men file in. Wolf looked angry, but Jeremiah had an amusing smile on his face.

“You have a new neighbor, boss,” Jones said.

“I do? Who is it?”

“Drake Masterson. He came in today and he’s at his old  home.”

“Masterson. I figured he had died in the war.”

“Maybe he just took a long way back,” Jones said. “He looks a little worse for wear, but I would too, after two or three years of fighting. He’s still wearing his Confederate shirt.”

“I wonder if he’ll be as obstinate as his father.”

Jones nodded. “He probably will.  He looks a bit like his father. John was a good man, but he was stubborn.”

“He sure was. My father made him good offers on his land, and he turned down every one.  John Masterson darn near threw my father off his property once, and it was never forgotten and certainly not forgiven.  Jeremiah, do you think his son will sell? He must need some money. The Confederate soldiers came home broke. You don’t get rich fighting a war.”

“No, you don’t, but I don’t think he will sell,” Jones said. “He didn’t say one way or the other, but I’ve a feeling he was coming back to something. To his home. And I doubt he will ever sell it.”

“You have an instinct, Jeremiah, and it’s hardly ever wrong, but I hope you are in this case.  My father tried to buy that ranch, and I want it too. The Masterson place was a thorn in my father’s side, and I’m beginning to itch too. I want it.”

Jones shook his head.  “I looked in Drake’s eye, heard his voice, and saw his determination. When he came home, I think he came home to stay.”

Emily picked up her glass of wine and sipped it. “If he stays, he’ll have a lot of work to do. The place is run down.”

“I don’t think he’s afraid of hard work. And since he’s been fighting the Yanks for three years, I don’t think he’s afraid of anything.”

“That might be a problem.”

Wolf slapped his holster. “If he’s a problem, boss, I can be the solution. Just say the word.”

Emily sipped her wine and gave Wolf a hard look. Then she turned to glare at Jones.

“What do you think, Jeremiah? Could our young hothead here take on Masterson?”

Jones almost laughed. “No, ma’am. Drake would chew him up and spit him out. Drake’s been fighting armies for the past three years. One young guy who is not as good as he thinks he is couldn’t take him. I assume you want a fair fight.”

“That’s my preference. I don’t want anybody killed.”

“Then you better use someone else.”

She drained her glass and poured more red wine.

“I would prefer buying it. That’s neat and clean, and after the sale, there is no doubt about who owns the property.  Maybe you’re right, Jeremiah, but I will try to buy it, and we’ll see what happens. If that doesn’t work …” She shrugged. “Then we’ll see what happens.”

“If you need me, boss, I am armed and ready.”

“I appreciate that Wolf, but don’t do anything except what I tell you.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Emily sipped more wine and narrowed her eyes.  “Wolf, thank you for the work, but right now, I want to have a private word with Jeremiah.”

Wolf stood blankly for a moment, then said, “Oh, yes, ma’am.”  He turned and walked out quickly.

“Like a glass of wine, Jeremiah?”

“No, ma’am. Thank you for the offer, but I’m more of a straight beer man.”

She smiled. “Did you know Drake before he left for the war?”

“Yes, I did. Knew his father too. John Masterson was a good man.”

“And a pain in the side to my father.” She shrugged. “But that’s in the past. Now that Drake is back … Jeremiah, I want you to roam over to the Masterton place in the next couple of days and see if Drake is willing to sell his ranch. I’ll give him twenty-five percent over market value … no, make it fifty percent over market value. With the money, he can buy another, better ranch. Tell him I am expanding and would like to buy his place in a cordial business deal.  I want no trouble; I’m just making an offer.”

“I will do that, ma’am, but I don’t think he will sell. That’s just my feeling.”

“Well, let’s be sure. Make him the offer and tell me what he says.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

As Jones left, she finished her second glass of wine.  John Masterson was a thorn in her father’s side. She hoped his son wouldn’t be similar. She gritted her teeth.  Everyone in the county acted overjoyed that her father had passed away.  The surrounding ranchers probably thought they could take advantage of the situation. They were vultures circling to see if they could find a meal. Not here, she thought. They may think I’m weak, but I’m going to be tougher than my father was. Before too long, I will own half this county and rule the rest.”

Chapter Three

Steve Vargas, Ernie Canfill, and Bat Arnett were all ranchers, but that was not the only thing they had in common. They all shared a hatred for the late Ben Dunlap and wanted revenge for his bullying and thefts.  In the past, Dunlap had more men than they did; some of his men were more professional gunmen than farmers or ranchers. They had lost a number of legal and physical skirmishes with Dunlap, and at least two men were killed during those skirmishes.  However, the three men thought their men were murdered. That was the more accurate term for it.

Dunlap also was good friends with the county judge, J. Mallory Thorne. When a legal matter involved Dunlap, he almost always won the case due to his friendly judge. It was rumored that a little money was passed onto Judge Thorne’s hand, so the three ranchers realized a legal challenge was useless.  But the judge  had retired shortly after Dunlap died, and his replacement John August was considered fair and honest. It was also to his credit that he hated the late Mr. Dunlap, and Dunlap hated him. That fact wasn’t put on August’s resume, but it was well-known. So when he was chosen for the post, the three men celebrated.

At their meeting at Canfill’s house, Vargas proposed a toast to the new judge. The two agreed, and all of them gave a toast to his good health, then sat down around Canfill’s desk in his study.

“Gentlemen, our day has come,” said Canfill after sipping his drink. “Ben Dunlap is dead. We have dreamed of this day and hoped maybe one of us could kill him, but we were denied that pleasure. But just so long as Dunlap is dead, we’re happy. With an honest judge on the bench, I figure we should take back the land Dunlap stole from us. Legally, if possible. If not possible legally, we take it by guns.”

Vargas nodded. He picked up his glass and drank some whiskey. “Yes, we have been hoping for this day for a long time.  I suggest we don’t waste time in striking back. Dunlap and his gunmen took the Mile High Meadow and Lake from us, prime property of about 60 acres. He had gunmen with him, and we were outnumbered and didn’t want to get our men killed. If we had clashed, more of our men would have died than Dunlap’s men. Now, everything has changed. But I suggest we keep our guns in our holsters, at least for now, and go the legal route.  Dunlap’s men still protect the land. We challenge his ownership in court. There is no proof he has any right to that land, and we have documents and agreements that say the land belongs to us.  They would have been useless if Thorne was still on the bench, but he isn’t. Judge August will render a fair decision, which means we win.”

“I agree,” Bat Arnett said. “That’s the one place where Emily Dunlap is vulnerable. There is no proof that land belongs to the Dunlaps, either Ben or Emily. If Judge August rules for us, then even Sheriff Ames will have to back up the order. If he doesn’t, we will take it, and the law will be on our side.”

“What do you think Emily will do if we move in?” Canfill said.

“It doesn’t matter. She’s not legally entitled to the property. Once we get a ruling, we can legally toss her men off the property. If they want a fight, fine. They can go out feet first, or they can go out riding their horses. Either way, they are out. Any ruling by Judge August will be easily upheld by an appellate court. Then if Emily wants to fight, she is breaking the law. We will have every sheriff in the state on our side, and we can kick her men off the property or kill them. I would prefer the latter, but I’ll take either way.” He looked at Vargas, who had a legal background.

“I’m putting together the suit and will file it in two days. I don’t expect to wait long before the judge hears it. Once he hears the case, he shouldn’t take too long to rule on it. The land should be in our hands by the end of the month. At that time, we can stake our claim and kick all of Emily’s men off the property. We’ll do it peacefully if they agree or with guns if they disagree. With his money, Dunlap always had more men than we had, but it’s not that way anymore. The odds are about even.”

Canfill drank more whiskey.  “Dunlap hired the worst in men.  I’ve heard some men called “mean drunks,” but Dunlap was mean when he was sober. He was a liar, a cheat, and a thief … and possibly a murderer.”

“You think about Sidney Mester?”  Canfill said.

“Yes, rumor was he had something on Dunlap. Something bad.  I’m guessing he did. I don’t think Dunlap cared if he broke the law or how.  But maybe Mester got proof that he did break the law years back.”

“And he disappeared for a while,” Vargas said.

“Yes, until the body was found. It was a year or so later after Mester had disappeared, but even then, there were two bullets in the remains. Someone had killed him, but there was no proof it was Dunlap and no proof he gave the order. But I’m sure he did, and so are you too.”

“Yes, I am,” Vargas said.  “And frankly, his daughter isn’t much better than he was, if any.  She knew her father was an evil man, and she went along with him, even admired him. She will be as vicious as he was, but perhaps not as cunning.”

“Which may be to our benefit,” Canfill said.  “I think she is more intelligent than her father and probably as deceitful as he was, but she is not as experienced. She’s young and will make mistakes; at least, I hope she will make mistakes. She’s not experienced in warfare, and we are. We fought Ben Dunlap for years and mostly lost, although once in a while, we won a battle. But the odds were on his side. We survived and kept most of our ranches, most but not all. But the battle has shifted. If we can, we need to shift it to the courtroom. We can win there, but we’ll have to back our wins with guns.”

“We can do that,” Vargas said. “Even though we fought Dunlap for years, we still made money. We have more than enough to hire a few hired guns if we have to.”

“I’m almost sorry Dunlap is dead,” said Arnett. “I wanted to defeat him. I wanted to see him down and crawling on his knees. He rubbed our faces in the mud with every defeat, and I wanted to kick him when he was down too. Now I won’t get the chance. But now we can take back some of our land and chip away at some of his. I wouldn’t mind wiping that ranch of his off the map.”

Vargas shook his head. “No, don’t expect me to back that. I only want what was mine.  I want my land back. I’m not about to steal anybody’s land. And I don’t hold with blaming the offspring because their father was a bad man.  If she wants to walk after her father, that is her choice. It’s a wrong one, but she’s the one who has to choose. I hope she takes the way of law and order and decency.”

“Don’t expect that from a Dunlap,” Arnett said. “Decency and Dunlaps just don’t seem to go together.”

“Every new generation gets a chance to break free from the old.”

“True, but there’s no indication that Emily will be any different than her old man. No indication at all.”

Chapter Four

Masterson took his first sip of coffee and grimaced a bit. He liked his coffee strong, but this batch almost seared his tongue and throat. A little water was needed, he thought. On the way to get his canteen, a knock rapped on the door.  He picked up his canteen, then opened the door.  He didn’t recognize the short, stout man who carried a medical bag with a look of concern on his face.

“Excuse me, are you Drake Masterson?” he asked.

“I am. Can I do something for you?”

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“No Laws in the Texas Desert” is an Amazon Best-Selling novel, check it out here!

After years of war on his shoulders, Drake Masterson returns home dreaming of a peaceful life on the ranch. To his dismay, upon his arrival there, he is greeted by two strangers claiming to be interested in buying his land for an infamous landowner. When his refusal is met with their threats, he will have to join forces with an old comrade in arms and other ranchers to defend their lands.

And the drums of war start to thunder once again…

Claire Winship is a young, willful woman whose family owns the land next to Materson’s property. With her house at stake, she will ally with Drake in order to fight to preserve their ranch and their lives. Her rival is ruthless but her resolution to save what is rightfully hers is peerless.

Can she find justice in an unjust world?

When the real battle begins, Drake and Claire will find themselves fighting side by side, facing dangers that neither of them had anticipated. Driven by their common purpose and their emerging emotions, their struggle will become even more personal. Will their crusade have a bloodshed end or will they manage to survive and prosper?

“No Laws in the Texas Desert” is a historical adventure novel of approximately 80,000 words. No cliffhangers, only pure unadulterated action.

Get your copy from Amazon!