Wanted: A Western Story Collection

by Robert J. Thomas

  He heard a rifle shot. It didn’t sound like it was all that far way.

  He thought for a moment. He could call out, but he wasn’t sure his voice would be heard. Being this far down the shaft, much of the sound would be lost.

  Then he thought of something. He pulled his gun. He rose to his feet, putting all of the weight on his good foot and leaned with his left hand against the earthen wall of the shaft. He aimed the pistol skyward, bringing it to full arm’s length. He cocked the hammer back, and fired.

  Dang, but the gunshot was loud down here. His ears were ringing, and a cloud of gun smoke filled the shaft. Josh coughed on the smoke a couple of times.

  Then he fired again, and again. He still had four shots in the gun after he had shot at the bear, and he fired all of them.

  Then he stood and waited. And coughed on more gun smoke. Black powder made a thick cloud of smoke, and it was a few moments before he could see daylight again through the opening overhead.

  Then he saw the silhouette of a head and a hat’s wide brim above. Someone was looking down the shaft.

  And he heard Bree’s voice. “Josh? You down there?”

  He couldn’t help but smile. “Bree? Yeah, I’m down here.”

  “Well, Josh,” she said. “What’re you doin’ all the way down there?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  He heard Hunter’s voice. “You all right?”

  Given the circumstances, Josh thought their voices were the most wonderful sounds he had ever heard. He broke into a big smile. “I’m all right. I might have a broken ankle. I don’t know.”

  “Well, hang on. I’ll lower a rope down to you and we’ll pull you out.”

  Chapter five

  Johnny McCabe said to Bree, “I don’t know if I should be proud of you for finding Josh, or mad because you disobeyed me and snuck off on Aunt Ginny.”

  They were in the parlor. It was evening, and a fire was crackling in the hearth. Pa was in his chair, and Bree was standing in front of him.

  Bree said, “I’d rather you be proud, if you don’t mind.”

  Aunt Ginny started laughing. Johnny tried not to laugh, and he looked at Ginny and said, “You’re not helping.”

  Ginny shook her head. “No, I’m not. I suppose I’m just glad that both of them are home safe and sound.”

  Josh was on the sofa. He had eaten and taken a hot bath, and Granny Tate had come out for a look at the ankle. She determined it wasn’t broken, just sprained. She wanted him to stay off of it for a couple of days.

  Jack loaded a chunk of firewood into the fire and stirred it a bit.

  He said, “So, Josh, are you done riding off in a huff for a while?”

  Josh grinned. “At least until my ankle gets better.”

  Jack returned the grin. “So we’ll have at least a week or two of peace around here.”

  Jack looked at Bree and said, “So, the bear you had to shoot apparently wasn’t the only ornery old grizzly up on that mountain. There was another one named Josh.”

  She smiled and said, “Glad I didn’t have to shoot both of ‘em.”

  Josh said, “Pa, what was that old cabin doing out there, on the ridge?”

  “Yeah,” Bree said. “I’ve been on that ridge with you many a time. We never seen it.”

  “Saw it,” Ginny said.

  Bree rolled her eyes. “Yes’m. Saw it.”

  “I came across that cabin years ago, when I was out hunting. Probably a prospector, from long ago. I think what your brother fell into was an old shaft the prospector dug. Maybe he was panning in one of the streams on the ridge. There are three different streams that run deep enough for panning. He saw some color and thought it was coming from up the ridge and thought he could find it if he dug deep enough.”

  “I wonder if he did,” Bree said.

  “If he did, then he wouldn’t have abandoned the place.”

  Josh said, “Prob’ly a grizzly got him.”

  Johnny laughed. “Well, I suppose you never know.”

  “Joshua,” Ginny said. “You were wrong to ride off in a huff like you did, yesterday.”

  Josh nodded. There was nothing like spending twenty-four hours trapped in a mine shaft to cool your temper. He said, “I know. I’m sorry.”

  Johnny said, “I was wrong, too. I should have brought you with me. You’re nearly a man now, Josh. I’m thinking it’s time that you take your place alongside me, in all of the functions of running this place. Including when we go mustanging.”

  Josh looked at his father. “You mean it, Pa?”

  Johnny nodded. “A time will come when you’ll be running this place. I want you to be ready.”

  Johnny looked at Bree. “And you, young lady. From what Hunter told me, you did quite a piece of shooting. Taking that bear down.”

  She was giving a big smile.

  She said, “Does that mean I’m a gunhawk, too?”

  Ginny said, “Land sakes, child. You’re not going to be a gunhawk. You’re going to be a lady, if I have anything to say about it.”

  “Why can’t I be both?”

  Johnny gave his daughter a long look. “If anyone can be both, Punkin’, it’s you.”

  Ginny smiled. “I can concede that. You truly are your father’s daughter.”

  Bree’s smile got even bigger. “I’m hearing that a lot, lately.”

  Johnny pulled his daughter in for a hug, then she sat on his knee and leaned back against him, and they all sat and watched the fire crackling away in the hearth.

  The End

  About the Author

  Brad was born in rural New England and grew up reading Louis L'Amour, Luke Short, A.B Guthrie, Jr., and even Edgar Rice Burroughs. He knew at 14 he wanted to write for a living, and refused to give up the goal even when the odds seemed overwhelmingly against it. Now, thanks to Amazon, his stories are available. He is a member of the Western Writers of America

  Brad fell in love with the Old West at a very young age. It began with movies and old TV series like GUNSMOKE and BONANZA, and later expanded to western novels. This led to his study of western history. The pioneers, the Indians, the cattlemen, the gunfighters. His interest in history is not so much about wars and great leaders, but the people who lived on the land. And that's what he writes about. The people. He doesn't write about the old west as much as he writes about what it might have felt like to be there.

  He loves contact from readers. He can be reached by email atmccabewesterns@gmail if you want to discuss his stories, or even just the American West in general.

  You can find Brad’s books on Amazon.

  http://www.amazon.com/Brad-Dennison/e/B00FW3R6CU/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1456457719&sr=1-2-ent

  Cain Finds A Princess

  By

  Lou Bradshaw

  Chapter 1

  I’d been away from home for a while, and it was kinda pleasing to be so close. We made a short stop in Creede, Dog and me, to pick up some things to begin housekeepin’ again. I was just a few hours from chasin’ the snakes and spiders out of the cabin and buildin’ a fire.

  Dog started a low rumbling growl as we neared a bend in the narrow trail. So I stopped and climbed off Bud to have a look. Dog don’t make too many errors in judgment, so I’m likely to give him the benefit of the doubt. With rifle at the ready, we eased our way around the large block of stone that created the bend.

  I’d seen cougars on this miserable little trail, and I sure didn’t want to come face to face with one and not see him first. But it wasn’t a cougar this time. There in the middle of that rugged mountain trail, was of all things a buggy. It was half turned over because of a missing wheel. I saw the wheel off to the side a few yards from me.

  Dog began to whimper a little like he was apologizing for misleading me… he’ll do that. I went back and led Bud, my horse, up to the buggy. I looked it over and deemed it unfit to travel on this trail or anywhere lest that wheel got put back on. Dog was sniffing around the bushes off to the right like he�
��d found something but couldn’t make out the scent… Dog was having a poor homecoming.

  “Ma’am,” I said, “you might as well come on out before you get snake bit or chewed on by a cougar.”

  There was nothing for a few seconds and then a voice that sounded like a twelve year old boy trying to sound like a grown man said, “What makes you think I’m a woman?”

  “Because no man would try takin’ a buggy down this ornery little trail, but mostly because of this beaded handbag layin’ there on the seat… I ain’t never seen a man carry such a thing.”

  “Don’t touch that!” came a much more female voice, and it was much more excited.

  “You come on out of there, and I won’t.”

  “I’m afraid to come out… I’m afraid of you… you look so mean.”

  “I ain’t one bit mean, Ma’am. That’s just somethin’ the Good Lord done to me so I’d not get cocky thinkin’ I was good lookin’… You can ask my dog and my horse… If I was mean, they’d have naught to do with me… Now come out of there before you get spiders in your bonnet.”

  She popped up like a marmot coming out of a hole. She sure was a pretty little thing. Shaking her clothes and brushing herself off, I thought, My oh my… she looks just like a regular princess.

  Looking up from her work she asked, “What are you staring at?”

  “Oh… Beggin’ your pardon Ma’am, but I never saw a princess wearing a crown of pine needles before… Reckon I ain’t never seen a princess of any kind before.”

  “I’m no princess… if I were, I’d be escorted by a dozen armed soldiers and riding in a carriage… and I’m in an awful hurry… can you fix my wheel?”

  “I reckon so, but it won’t do no good. This is ‘bout as far as you can go… Half a mile farther and it gets real narrow and steep.”

  “Who are you, and… what are you, sir?”

  “My name’s Cain, Ma’am… and what I am is still a mystery… even to me. But mostly I’m kind of the last of the mountain men.”

  “Cain? Would that be like Cain who slew Abel?”

  “No, Ma’am, I never had a brother, and I probably wouldn’t have slewed him either.” I told her. “My fist name is Shad, Ma’am.”

  “You were named for a fish?” she asked as a bit of a smirk crossed her face.

  While she was asking all those questions she had done a fair job of getting the sticks, leaves, needles, and spiders off her clothes, and she stepped out onto the trail. Quite young she was; I wouldn’t think she was even seventeen. And she was on the pretty side, with long black hair and big dark eyes that seemed to take up more than their share of her little heart shaped face.

  “No, Ma’am, again.” I said. “My full name is Shadrac Cain.”

  “Oh.” She said. “Shadrach from the fiery furnace… One of the children of Israel?”

  She pronounced my name with a softer ending than I was used to, but it sounded good, so I didn’t correct her.

  “Are you a Jew, Mister Cain…You don’t look Jewish, except maybe your nose… your nose could be Jewish or Arab.”

  “No, Miss, I ain’t a Jew… I’m mostly a Scot… But you said you’re in a hurry… do you think you got time for all these questions?”

  “Oh! Oh dear me, no!” she gasped. “I need to be somewhere by tomorrow at noon… it’s a matter of life and death… can you help me, Mister Cain? Can you fix my buggy?... Please?” She grabbed her handbag and held it to her chest with both hands.

  “I’ll do what I can, but fixin’ your wheel just won’t get you very far… can you ride?”

  “I can ride, but I don’t think my mare has ever been ridden… she just pulls the buggy.”

  “Well, get your stuff together… You can ride my buckskin; anyone can ride him if I say it’s all right… I’ll ride your mare as far as my place, by then even your grandma could ride her. Here you go….”

  With that I scooped her up and set her in the saddle. Her eyes lit up and grew even bigger than they’d been, if that was even possible. She took a deep breath, hooked her leg over the saddle horn, and took a few seconds making herself comfortable.

  “My… he’s tall.”

  I didn’t answer but went on tying her little valise behind the saddle. It only took me a few minutes to rig a hackamore and swing up on the mare. She didn’t like it at all and tried to bite me, buck me, and rub me off against a tree. It didn’t work out for her, and she soon gave up. We still had a couple of hours before we reached the cabin.

  “Miss,” I called back to her.

  “It’s Rachel… Rachel Silverman.”

  “Miss, Rachel… did anyone give you directions to where it is you’re going?”

  She said they had and I stopped while she dug the piece of paper out of her handbag.

  It was one sheet of paper and it said at the top….

  We have your father and we will kill him

  unless you bring $20,000 dollars to Foley’s

  Cove by noon on May 17. Don’t go to the law.

  There was a map with just a dot that said Creede and a wiggly line marked south and another dot that said Foley’s Cove.

  “You’ll never find that place by yourself. It’s a good ten miles past my place, but we can get there in time… Do you have that kind of money?”

  She was silent for a little bit, so I rode on and she followed while deciding whether she could trust me or not. I couldn’t blame her for not wanting to trust a total stranger… and a mean looking one at that. After all it was none of my business. I’d just get her to Foley’s Cove and try to save her father.

  After a short spell she said, “Mister Cain…I don’t have that much money… All I have are the jewels my mother left me. They’re worth more than half that much… It was supposed to be my dowry… I don’t care if I ever get married, if it saves my father.”

  Her voice was shaky, and I thought I heard a sob mixed in with what she was saying… I didn’t look back. I just nodded my head to let her know I understood. That little speech nearly broke my heart. And I knew then and there, I was in it.

  We got to my place just before sundown. The first thing I did was slip into the cave and haul out a spare rifle and six-gun. I also found my supply of candles and a lantern. Meanwhile that Rachel girl was busy chasing mice, bugs, and a raccoon out of the cabin.

  “It ain’t always this bad, but I’ve been gone for the last four months. Them critters seem to move in the day a fella leaves.” I told her and she just smiled a sad kind of smile.

  I built a fire and started slicing bacon into a fryin’ pan and went out to take care of the horses. When I came back in she had the place looking half decent and was turning the bacon with a knife. We ate in silence with her sitting in my only chair and me sitting on the bunk. I took the dishes out to clean them at the spring, and give her some time to herself.

  When I returned, she was sitting on the end of the bunk with her face in her hands weeping. I was of a mind to turn around, and find some more dirty dishes to wash, but that was all the dishes I had. So I went over sat down beside her, and patted her shoulder like she was a puppy. She swung around and wrapped her arms around my neck and cried like a baby. All I could do was sit there like a lump. She just needed someone or something to hold for a minute or two.

  “Miss Rachel, you got reason to cry, but you’ve also got old Shadrac Cain on your side. And believe me, Missy, I’m no stranger to trouble and I don’t go easy on them that make young girls cry… How old are you anyway?”

  “Fifteen… almost.”

  I felt a knot in my stomach… That bunch put all this on the shoulders of a little girl. When we got her papa out of there, I was going to make it a mission to bring pain into their lives, if I had to track them to the moon… if they could get there, then I could follow.

  I put her on the bunk with an extra blanket, and I threw my bedroll near the fire. Dog went off to find his own supper. We would leave at first light.

  Chapter 2

  The s
pare Winchester was rolled up in my bedroll and the spare Colt was in my saddlebag. I had an old bridle and put it and my saddle on her mare. Bareback was nothing new to me, and Bud didn’t mind. He seemed to be happy that he was back in front. The mare didn’t even try shaking that girl off. I think she was just happy to be rid of my weight and rough hand.

  Foley’s Cove was on the other side of the valley at the base of Marble Mountain. We reached the valley and headed west along the river. It wasn’t much of a river, but it fed into the Rio Grande a ways farther down, and that was pretty much of a river. The cove was a mile or so to the west, where a bunch of hills sort of surrounded some open spots.

  The cove itself wandered back into a cluster of hills for at least a mile or more. There were some hills that popped up like islands in a stream. The floor was grassy and there could be little streams flowing toward the river. This time of year, I would bet on it.

  We crossed the river at mid morning and worked our way along it on the south side. There were several ways to get into the cove, but I chose the main entrance. If they were expecting company, they’d expect them to use the front door… or at least I would.

  It had been an easy ride so far and I didn’t expect any rough country. The floor of the cove was tall grass, and their path was clearly marked by the trampled grass.

  Dog was in the lead with me second and the princess coming on behind. Suddenly Dog stopped and started sniffing the air and the ground. I took that to mean we weren’t alone in this valley. I told him to go on, and he moved out following the knocked down grass. We crossed one of those little streams I had expected to find and kept on going.

  The path was leading to the left and around one of those island hills. We would cross the end of it as it stuck its foot out into the grassy meadow. Dog dropped back as we reached the point of the hill. He was growling like he didn’t like what was up ahead and wanted to make sure I knew about it. I assured him that I got his message, and I wasn’t too crazy about it either. His warning had been made and I had acknowledged it, so he moved on up to the lead again.