The man he shot dragged himself into a stall and wildly shot back. A second man turned and ran. Ira was so damn mad over them attacking him he chased him shooting, and his third shot stopped him. The man went facedown.
Harp told the man on the ground in the stall to drop his gun. Instead, he raised his pistol but before he could do anything, Harp shot him in the face. The interior boiled with stinging gun smoke, burning his eyes. What in hell was wrong with people? He did not recognize the man, and it made him so mad that they shot his horse. In the end he had to put the poor thing out of his misery.
The Clark brothers crawled out from hiding. They were shocked by the outburst. Both town marshals were there telling people to get the hell back and let them do their job.
Ira and the younger lawman dragged the shooter he shot out of the street and dropped him in the dust of the wide doorway to the shop.
“Who in the hell are they?” Harp demanded.
“Strangers,” the main marshal said. “I never saw them before.”
“Some SOB put a bounty on my head, but I guess the likes of them two won’t tell us anything. Looks like they both have already gone to hell.” Harp shook his head in disgust.
“I’ll have the funeral home plant them,” the marshal said. “Sure sorry it happened here, Mr. O’Malley.”
“My name is Harp.”
“Yes, sir, Harp.”
“That horse they shot, I wouldn’t have sold it for two hundred dollars. Ira, let’s go get what supplies you need and go home.”
“Yeah. They damn sure ruined our day.”
“I bet you’re mad. That was a good horse. We can drag it out of here and we’ll have this wagon done this week. I am glad you like it. We will get your others done as fast as we can, but we are getting several requests to fix other wagons,” the older Clark brother said.
“You find a good wagon, buy it for me. I need one more for next year’s drive.”
“Whew, you are busy.”
Harper nodded and they left to get Ira’s needs at the mercantile.
“You know, Harp, someone seriously wants you dead,” Ira said.
“I find him, I will end his life.”
Harp borrowed a horse from the livery, rode back to the ranch, and told the story to Katy.
“Who was it?”
“I guess someone whose toes we stepped on either branding mavericks or buying the last land.”
She hugged him. “I’d stop them if I could. Would Hiram like a new pocketknife for Christmas?”
“Yes. What are we getting for Mom?”
“I’m still thinking. Christmas was never this nice in my life. I got a good taste of it last year, but I am in the mood this year to make it fun and a really happy time here.”
“We always had Christmas, but it was a lot plainer growing up.”
“We are blessed. Someone just rode up,” she said. “It is Chaw. Wonder what he came for?”
“I’ll put on a jumper and go see.”
Harp did just that and went out on the porch to greet his foreman. “Hey, you have problems today?” They shook hands and Harp showed Chaw into the house.
“No, but I heard they shot at you in town today,” Chaw said.
“Both are dead. No one knew them. Hang your coat up and come in the living room.”
“Howdy Miss Kate,” Chaw said politely.
“Howdy to you. Miss Calamity all right?”
“Oh, she’s fine. We are doing wonderful.”
“What brings you here?” Harp had him sit down on the couch.
“One of my boys was over at Oscar’s Saloon. It’s a hole-in-the-wall riffraff hang-around. He stopped for a beer and overheard a man offering to pay for someone to kill you.”
“They tried this morning. Who was making the offer?”
“Ryle Beemish, who owns a place in your new land.”
“Hear that, Katy?”
“You know him?” she asked.
“No. Heard the name, but now I intend to meet him.”
“I’m glad I am not too late,” Chaw said. “We can stop him.”
“I really should get the law to do it. We go to lynching people even if we are hanging the right ones, we will get a reputation for forcing small outfits out and being killers. More than we already are.”
“If the law can’t, then by damn, we will.”
“Chaw, thanks. I’d made up my mind to find the one behind all of this, and I think you just did.”
“You have so much to do anymore. I am not sure how you can even think.”
“I’ll go into town and find that Kent Roberts, who testified at the trial. Let him handle this.”
“I feel bad I didn’t come sooner and tell you. This was my first chance. Hoot and I have met and we have plans to straighten out all the cattle that have been branded, owned by folks you bought out, and the rest of the livestock grazing our land.”
“Sounds great. Thanks. Tell Calamity we hope she is happy.”
“Oh, she’s happy now that the Erickson house is repainted and she has her new curtains hung. And I am sure happy with my job.”
Chaw thanked Kate for her offer to feed him lunch, but he wanted to head back home. Harp walked the living room floor.
“Well you know the problem now,” Katy said.
“How can I make it not look like the big landowner oppresses the small guys?”
She frowned at him. “He’s hiring killers to murder you. You shouldn’t feel bad.”
He hugged and kissed her. “I guess I need to try to forget it.”
“No. Go find that deputy and file your report. He can handle it.”
“I’ll do that tomorrow. I need to calm down some.”
“Good. I would like to have my husband back. You have not been yourself in a while.”
“I will try to restore him.”
“Better.”
The day dragged by and in the morning he and Tyrone rode to town. They found the new man Alan Jeffries who represented the Bexar County sheriff.
Jeffries listened and agreed that someone was hiring killers to get Harp. But, he said, proving it would be difficult even with a witness. Especially with it being one of his own employees offering to witness. A jury might consider he was being paid to lie.
Harp agreed. Jeffries promised he’d do some more investigating into the matter. Harp thanked him and they went back to the ranch.
“We never found much help there,” Tyrone said to him when they were cutting across country to get back.
“I felt the same, but you can only do so much without evidence backing up the story.”
“What can we do next?”
“Wait for Martin to hire someone else I reckon.”
“That don’t sound worth a hoot.”
“I agree. But I need to get on with my life.”
Tyrone nodded.
* * *
It was two days before Christmas when Harp went to town to get the mail and newspapers. He stopped by and checked with his banker. Jim welcomed him into his office and asked what he could do for him.
“Oh, I just stopped by to say Merry Christmas.”
“Same to you. Everything going good in your life?”
“Aside from some men trying to shoot me, I guess I am fine.”
“No lead on that?”
“Leads but not enough evidence. I don’t know how to end it.”
“I sure can’t help you.”
“I didn’t come by for that. Just wondered what you knew about what business would be like in the next year.”
Jim smiled. “The national debt, and the rush to get rich, will govern it. Some things look great. But that may be a paper fortune situation and collapse. People want to eat, and the beef business will continue. It’s all Texas can ride on to help us.”
Harp shook his hand and thanked him. He had to continue getting four herds ready to go to Abilene and keep settling the great land his purchase brought him. He headed back home to read his mail and new
spapers.
He rode home without incident, a cold wind sweeping at him along the way. He began to wonder if his brother was even alive. While he knew Long was not a hand to write letters, no word in over three months was too long. A ranch hand took his horse and he went on into the house.
He had lunch with his father, mother, Lee, and Katy. He told them nothing was happening and spent the afternoon reading the newspapers, looking for a clue to the future. Later he talked to Reg about the books, and the bookkeeper confirmed they still had ample money to operate.
“I don’t think we will have to borrow any, either,” Reg added.
“Thanks. That is good news. If we do another trip north this next year and do good, we will be well situated in the business.”
“Oh, yes, we will.”
He thanked him, and Reg handily wheeled his chair back to his office.
Someone rode up and it was a youth. From the front windows Harp studied him and wondered what he wanted. He opened the door, and the young man reached in his pocket for a yellow paper wire.
“I have a telegram for you, Mr. O’Malley.”
“Thank you.” He took the paper and unfolded it.
HARPER O MALLEY WE ARE COMING STOP SAVE US SOME CHRISTMAS CHEER STOP LONG
What does it say?” Katy asked, and he handed it to her.
“He’s alive anyway, Harp, he’s alive.” She jumped up and down. “Oh, thank God.”
“What did you get?” his mother asked, rushing into the room.
“Oh, he got a wire from Long. It says we are coming.”
“Who is we?”
Hiram broke in, “What’s all the fuss in here?”
“Harp got a wire from his speech-making brother,” his mother said.
“What does he say?”
“We are coming. Save some Christmas cheer.”
“Did he marry a widow with ten kids?” Hiram asked. “Where was it sent from?”
“Fort Worth, yesterday.”
Harp was laughing. Who could we be? They’d find out when he and whoever he had with him got there.
“This is such great news. I couldn’t have a better Christmas gift,” his mother said. She was crying. So was Katy, and Harp had to admit the wire was pretty great news. They would have to simply wait to see it happen.
Thank you, Lord . . .
TO MY FANS
Well, you’ve had a chance to meet and read my new series, The O’Malleys of Texas. Plans ahead are to switch back and forth between Chet Byrnes and the O’Malley Brothers.
It’s all very exciting for me, and then throw in the fact that we have an option, with a production company, to film the first two Chet Byrnes books: number one, Texas Blood Feud, and number two, Between Here and Texas. You never know with an option, but these folks seem sincere and we will just have to wait and see how things turn out. So in the future a version of Chet Byrnes may appear on the silver screen. Meanwhile I will continue writing books on how I interpret the West for your reading pleasure.
I leave you my thoughts about the West. Some real brave folks made up the men and women who brought with them their family, religion, hopes, dreams, and ideas to a fresh new country, carving out ranches and even empires. Turn over that card and on the back side there were the criminals. Wanted, worthless ones who rode the tide west ahead of law and order, filled with greedy needs to rob, rape, steal, and kill anyone in their way. That fire from hell had to be put down, and the brave men and women who wanted a place to raise their families on that harsh land rose above them, and the West was a better place without the lawless elements.
Thanks. Until we meet again, may the good Lord bless and keep you.
Dusty Richards
P.O. Box 6460
Springdale, AR 72766
[email protected]
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I am dedicating this book to my college buddies Dave Eastlake and Gene Miller, my former ranching partners, Monty and Sumner Smith, and one great lady, a cowgirl, rodeo director, and a real friend, Pat Hutter, my literary agent, Cherry Weiner, who sells these books, my editor, Gary Goldstein, who over the years has encouraged me—oh, yes, and especially, my wonderful wife, Pat, who has really supported me in my writing endeavors for over half a century. Any questions, I am at [email protected]. Thanks for being my fans.
Look for the next book in the
O’MALLEYS OF TEXAS series!
DEAD AIM
From Western Writers of America Spur Award–winning author Dusty Richards comes a thrilling new chapter in the O’Malley family saga, a blazing American epic of blood, bullets, and brotherhood set deep in the heart of Texas . . .
Long John O’Malley is only nineteen years old, but he’s no greenhorn. The oldest and boldest of the O’Malley brothers, Long John cut his teeth tangling with Commanche at the tender age of sixteen. He risked his life to rescue a group of captive women settlers—and forged his own destiny as a hero in the making. Now he’s taking on his biggest challenge yet: riding shotgun on a wagon train across the hostile Nebraska Territory. It’s a treacherous trail, and it’s not long before the young Texan is earning his paycheck by fighting off a tribe of bloodthirsty Sioux. But the real test lies in the journey ahead—a genuine ride to hell and back, from the Rocky Mountains to Sante Fe and all the way home—that will either make Long John O’Malley a living legend . . . or a deadman.
Coming in February,
whereever Pinnacle Books are sold!
Visit us at www.kensingtonbooks.com
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Author of over 85 novels, DUSTY RICHARDS is the only author to win two Spur awards in one year (2007), one for his novel The Horse Creek Incident and another for his short story “Comanche Moon.” He is a member of the Professional Rodeo Cowboys Association and the International Professional Rodeo Association, and serves on the local PRCA rodeo board. Dusty is also an inductee in the Arkansas Writers Hall of Fame. He currently resides in northwest Arkansas. He was the winner of the 2010 Will Rogers Medallion Award for Western Fiction, for his novel Texas Blood Feud, and was honored by the National Cowboy Hall of Fame in 2009.
www.dustyrichardslegacy.com
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