Look for these exciting Westerns series from bestselling authors
WILLIAM W. JOHNSTONE
and J. A. JOHNSTONE
The Mountain Man
Preacher: The First Mountain Man
Luke Jensen, Bounty Hunter
Those Jensen Boys!
The Jensen Brand
Matt Jensen
MacCallister
The Red Ryan Westerns
Perley Gates
Have Brides, Will Travel
The Hank Fallon Westerns
Will Tanner, Deputy U.S. Marshal
Shotgun Johnny
The Chuckwagon Trail
The Jackals
The Slash and Pecos Westerns
The Texas Moonshiners
AVAILABLE FROM PINNACLE BOOKS
BUZZARD’S BLUFF
A BEN SAVAGE, SALOON RANGER WESTERN
WILLIAM W. JOHNSTONE AND J. A. JOHNSTONE
PINNACLE BOOKS
Kensington Publishing Corp.
www.kensingtonbooks.com
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
Table of Contents
Also by
Title Page
Copyright Page
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
Teaser chapter
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
PINNACLE BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2020 J. A. Johnstone
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.
PUBLISHER’S NOTE
Following the death of William W. Johnstone, the Johnstone family is working with a carefully selected writer to organize and complete Mr. Johnstone’s outlines and many unfinished manuscripts to create additional novels in all of his series like The Last Gunfighter, Mountain Man, and Eagles, among others. This novel was inspired by Mr. Johnstone’s superb storytelling.
If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”
PINNACLE BOOKS, the Pinnacle logo, and the WWJ steer head logo are Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.
ISBN: 978-0-7860-4589-1
Electronic edition:
ISBN-13: 978-0-7860-4590-7 (e-book)
ISBN-10: 0-7860-4590-6 (e-book)
CHAPTER 1
Wilfred Tuttle stood in the open door of his store and watched the two riders he could see in the distance, approaching his store. As his eyes were no longer as sharp as they used to be when he was a younger man, he squinted in an effort to identify the two men. Tuttle had operated his little store, perched on the bank of the Brazos River, for more than twenty years, and he had seen his share of good and bad men. At this particular time, he hoped the two approaching now were a better sort than the two who had left his store that morning. At least, he was sure they weren’t the same two, for those men were following the river trail down the Brazos. The riders he was looking at now were traveling from the west to intercept the river trail.
After a few moments more, his scraggly whiskers parted to make room for a grin when he recognized the familiar form of Texas Ranger Ben Savage. The fellow with him, riding one of those horses called a Palouse, was still unfamiliar to him. He walked on out to the porch to wait for them. “Howdy, Ben,” Tuttle sang out when he pulled up at the hitching rail and dismounted. He had grown to like the broad-shouldered, easygoing Ranger in the last twelve years since Ben had made his first visit to his store. “Who you got with you?” Tuttle asked.
“Howdy, Wilfred,” Ben responded. “This is Ranger Billy Turner. He’s come down from Fort Worth.” They tied their horses and stepped up on the porch.
“Howdy, Billy,” Tuttle said. “Welcome to my store.” Turning back to Ben, he asked, “You wouldn’t happen to be lookin’ fer two mangy-lookin’ saddle tramps ridin’ the down-river trail, would ya?”
“As a matter of fact,” Ben answered. “When did they leave here?”
“This mornin’,” Tuttle said. “About eight-thirty I’d say, and I was glad to see ’em go. Who are they?”
“They’re stagecoach bandits,” Ben answered. He paused before going on. “Billy, here, came down from Fort Worth to give us a hand in catchin’ up with ’em.”
“Pleased to meetcha, Mr. Tuttle,” Billy said and extended his hand.
“Same here,” Tuttle answered and shook his hand. “Who are those two? Anybody I’ve ever heard of?”
“I doubt it,” Ben replied, “Samuel ‘Big Foot Sam’ Kelly, and his partner, Jack Queen.”
“Nah, I ain’t heard of ’em. You say they robbed a stagecoach? Where was that?” He knew there was no stagecoach line out this way.
“North of Dallas,” Ben said. “They killed one of the passengers and wounded the fellow riding shotgun. We got word they were headin’ this way. Billy and I tried to see if we could head ’em off, but if we’re still half a day behind ’em, we’re gonna have to ride hard to make up that ground.”
“We’ve been ridin’ pretty hard since sunup,” Billy said, “so we’re gonna have to rest the horses here. I don’t know ’bout that dun of yours,” he said to Ben, “but my horse is tired.” He grinned at Tuttle then. “Ben told me we could buy something to eat when we got here. Said you had a Mexican woman who would cook us up some breakfast.”
Tuttle laughed and nodded to Ben. “Rosa,” he said. “He’s right about that, as long as it is breakfast, somethin’ she can cook up right away. ’Course it’s past dinnertime right now, but this ain’t no restaurant, so it’s a good thing you’re thinkin’ about some breakfast.”
“Breakfast is what I was countin’ on,” Billy assured him, “’cause I ain’t had none today.” He rubbed his belly and complained, “Ben wouldn’t wait for breakfast this mornin’.”
His comment seemed to amuse Tuttle. He chuckled and said, “Well, take care of your horses and I’ll tell Rosa to fry up some sowbelly and eggs. There’s always a pot of coffee on the stove, but I’ll tell her to make up some fresh for a couple of Rangers. Will that do?”
“That’ll do,” Billy answered.
“Wouldn’t hurt if she was to have some biscuits left over from dinner, too,” Ben suggested.
Tuttle laughed again. “I expect she’s got some left over. If she don’t, she’ll most likely bake some fresh ones when she finds out you’re here.”
“Tell her not to go to
that much trouble,” Ben insisted. “I just thought if she still had some cold ones, we’d try to catch her before she throws them to the hogs.” He turned to face Billy then. “Come on, Billy, we’ll go water the horses.”
He led the way behind the store to a little grassy clearing that ran down to the water’s edge. “Rosa?” Billy asked. “Is that Tuttle’s wife?”
“No,” Ben answered. “Tuttle’s wife, Mildred, died about four years ago, after she took a fever one evenin’ and passed on the next. Rosa Cruz is a young Mexican woman that’s been cookin’ for him since then. She takes care of him, but not like a wife, more like a daughter.”
“He said she’d probably bake fresh biscuits when she found out you were here. Just tell me it ain’t none of my business, if you want to, but is there something goin’ on between you and her?”
His question brought a laugh out of Ben. “No, ain’t nothin’ like that goin’ on. Rosa’s mother and father were murdered by a gang of outlaws led by Frank Bodine down near El Paso. Bodine rode off with the girl, who wasn’t but about nine years old at the time. I was ridin’ with almost a whole company of Rangers sent out from Austin to run him and his gang to ground. We caught up with ’em about five miles south of here. I was able to slip in and snatch Rosa away from ’em before the shootin’ started. After it was over, we were stuck with a nine-year-old little girl. I knew Tuttle and his wife, so I brought Rosa here and they took her in. It turned out to be a good fit. They didn’t have any children of their own and raised her like she was their natural daughter.”
“Well, I reckon she is glad to see you when you show up,” Billy said. “Let’s hurry back to the store and maybe she’ll roll out some more biscuits.”
His remark turned out to be an understatement, for Rosa was waiting for them in the store, and as soon as they walked in, she ran to give Ben a hug. “Papa says you’re hungry,” she said. “I’ll fix you some breakfast. Fresh coffee is already boiling. I’ll make biscuits, if you’re here long enough.”
“We’ll be here long enough to rest our horses,” Ben told her.
“Good,” Rosa said. “I got time.”
“Say howdy to Billy Turner.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Rosa said politely, then spun on her heel and returned to the kitchen, where she had already begun rolling the biscuit dough. A few minutes later, they went in the oven and she started working on the bacon and eggs.
Back in the store, Ben was asking Tuttle about Kelly and Queen. “They were two rough customers,” Tuttle said. “I told Rosa to stay outta sight. That big one, the other feller called him Sam, he kept askin’ me where my missus was. I kept tellin’ him I didn’t have one. The other one wanted whiskey, and I told him I didn’t sell no whiskey. Then they wanted some breakfast, and I told them I didn’t sell no food. That didn’t suit ’em too good, so Sam asked me how I’d like it if they tore this place to the ground. I told ’em I didn’t think I’d like that a-tall. I think he was considerin’ doin’ it, but the little one told him they’d best get goin’ ’cause there might be some Rangers after ’em, and they needed to get to Houston. So they walked out with a few things, some tobacco, some rollin’ papers, matches, some coffee. When I told ’em how much they owed me, the big one said to just put it on his bill. I told him he didn’t have no bill with me. So he said, ‘Good, I don’t owe you nothin’ then.’ And they got on their horses and rode off down the river. I figure I got off pretty cheap.”
“You might have, at that,” Ben remarked. “How much do they owe you? Maybe when we catch up with ’em, I can collect your bill for you.”
Tuttle walked over to the counter and picked up a sheet of paper. “Comes to six dollars and fifty cents,” he said and handed the paper to him. Ben folded it and stuck it in his pocket.
* * *
After a big breakfast and the horses were rested, Ben and Billy paid for the meal, even though Tuttle insisted it was not necessary. “It’s hard to show much profit if you’re gonna give your food away,” Ben declared.
“Or if a couple of outlaws take it without payin’,” Billy added.
“You take care of yourselves,” Tuttle warned. “Those two characters you’re goin’ after ain’t the kind to listen to reason.”
Ben assured him and Rosa that they would be careful, then rode back on the river trail, heading south. He was of a strong opinion they would catch up with Kelly and Queen in the little town of Navasota, which was a wide-open little pocket of lawlessness with everything to attract those seeking saloons, whorehouses, and gambling houses. It was only a twenty-mile ride from Tuttle’s. Ben didn’t tell Billy about it when they left Austin, or he would have asked why they didn’t head straight for Navasota. And Ben didn’t want to explain that he wanted to check on Tuttle and Rosa because they were in Big Foot Sam Kelly’s path to Houston. Besides, he thought, might as well go to Navasota with a good breakfast under your belt.
Located at the north end of town, the stable was the first business they came to, so they pulled up there to talk to the owner, Lem Wooten. They figured if the two outlaws they trailed planned to stop in Navasota for a night or two, they would most likely stable their horses. “Afternoon, Lem,” Ben said when Wooten walked out to meet them.
“Ben Savage,” Wooten responded. “What brings you over this way?” His tone was not unfriendly, but it was short of outright warmth. Wooten’s first thought was spoken then. “Which one of my customers are you lookin’ for?”
“Always appreciate your help, Lem,” Ben answered. “We’re lookin’ for a couple of fellows that rode into town earlier today. Thought they mighta left their horses with you.” He turned and nodded toward Billy. “This, here, is Billy Turner. He’s come down from Fort Worth to help us run ’em down. Billy said the reports they got up there was that one of ’em rides a flea-bitten gray, the other’n a paint. That sound like anybody you’ve seen today?”
Lem looked instantly relieved when he realized he wasn’t going to lose any customers. He became cooperative then. “Ain’t nobody like that come in here today,” he replied, “but I saw two fellers ride by here on horses like that. They was headin’ on into town, leadin’ packhorses.”
“Much obliged, Lem,” Ben said. He turned to leave because that told him the two outlaws weren’t planning to stay in Navasota long.
He paused when Wooten asked, “What did they do?”
“Held up a stagecoach, killed a passenger, and wounded the guard,” Ben answered.
“Anybody famous?”
“Nope. ’Preciate it, Lem.”
They wasted no more time. In the saddle again, they walked their horses down the middle of a surprisingly busy street. As Ben led them past one saloon and then another without stopping to question anyone, Billy finally had to ask if it might be a good idea to check them out. “We’ll check the Texas Rose first,” Ben answered him. “That’s at the other end of town, and it’s the likeliest place they’d stop. It seems to be the favorite for drifters and outlaws. The question is, how long did they stop there? And sometimes the folks at the Texas Rose suddenly suffer from loss of memory when a lawman asks a question.” He was hoping Kelly and Queen were in no hurry and had maybe stayed long enough to shorten the distance between them. It would depend on how much they drank and whether or not they availed themselves of the opportunity to spend some time with the soiled doves that worked the saloon. He got his answer before they reached the saloon because they saw the two horses they had described to Lem Wooten tied out in front of the saloon.
“Looks like we’re in luck,” Billy said when he saw their horses. “It ain’t that late in the afternoon. Maybe they’ve had time to get a little drunk, though. Make it easier to get the jump on ’em.”
“It’ d make it a whole lot easier if we knew what they looked like,” Ben commented. “You say you ain’t ever seen ’em, and I sure as hell ain’t, so we’re gonna have to go in and find ’em first. Let’s cover up these badges, so we don’t start a riot as soon as we walk
in. We wouldn’t know which ones to chase after, if more’n two ran out the back. If we knew what they looked like, one of us could go in the front, and the other one in the back.”
“I reckon to be sure,” Billy suggested, “we could just wait ’em out and catch ’em when they come out and get on their horses.”
“There ain’t no tellin’ how long they’ll be in that saloon,” Ben said. “Why don’t we just walk on in kinda easy-like and look the room over? I’ve talked to the bartender here more than a few times, and he’s always been pretty straight with me. Maybe he’ll point ’em out for us. If that don’t work, we can just take their horses down to the stable and wait for them to come get ’em.” Billy couldn’t suggest anything better, and like Ben, he preferred not to wait for Queen and Kelly to come out, so they went in the saloon.
“Ben Savage,” the bartender stated when they walked up to the bar.
“Cal,” Ben returned. “You got a right smart crowd here for this time of day. He turned and looked over the crowded room. Back to the bartender, he said, “This is Billy Turner. He’s down from Fort Worth to find a couple of killers. Billy, meet Cal Devine.”
“Who you lookin’ for?” Cal asked.
“Big Foot Sam Kelly and Jack Queen,” Ben answered. “Just point ’em out, and we’ll try to arrest ’em with as little fuss as we can, so we don’t interrupt your business too much.”
“I don’t know anybody by those names,” Cal said at once. “Hell, Ben, you know I don’t ask every stranger his name. The only thing I ask is what they want to drink. So I’ll ask you and Billy, whaddaya want to drink?”
Ben smiled at him. “I reckon I could handle one shot of corn whiskey, even though I’m workin’. How ’bout you, Billy?”
“I’ll have the same,” Billy answered. Like Ben, he hoped if they bought a drink, Cal might feel more cooperative.
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