by Tell Cotten
Yancy
Tell Cotten
Also by Tell Cotten
(The Landon Saga Books)
Confessions of a Gunfighter
Entwined Paths
Cooper
Rondo
Dedication
To my brother, Justin
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
Illustrator: Bill Olivas
www.billolivas.com
[email protected]
Cover design:
Marcy Meinke/Converse Printing & Design
www.ConversePrinting.com
[email protected]
Publisher’s Note:
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and events are the work of the author’s imagination.
Any resemblance to real persons, places, or events is coincidental.
Solstice Publishing - www.solsticepublishing.com
Copyright 2015 Tell Cotten
Prologue
The mule strained under the weight of the wagon. His hooves sank into the ground with each step, and progress was slow.
A tall, slender man sat in the seat, and his wife sat beside him. Their twelve-year-old son was behind, and he looked anxiously between them as they pulled into Midway.
There was only one main street, and it was long and dusty. There were some cattle pens at the end of town, and near the middle stood a big, fancy hotel. There were also a few livery stables, a sheriff’s office, a general store, and a doctor’s office.
There was a small house on the edge of town, and a man and a woman were sitting on the porch, drinking coffee. The man was tall, wide shouldered, and had a weathered look about him. As for the woman, she was small and slim. She had a sharp, young-looking face with long, brown hair.
They studied the wagon as it stopped in front of them. The wagon was worn, and had been patched several times, as had the canvas tarp. The wheels needed greasing, and the brake squeaked.
All three wore patched clothes, and the boy was bare headed.
“Morning,” the man from the wagon said. “I’m Jack Walden. This is my wife, Suzan, and my boy, Wyatt.”
“Cooper Landon,” the man on the porch said. “This is Josie, my wife.”
“Ma’am,” Jack said.
Josie smiled and nodded.
“Where you headed?” Cooper asked.
“California.”
“With only one mule?”
“We lost our other mule a few days back,” Jack explained. “That’s why we’re here.”
“A team of horses would be faster,” Cooper suggested.
“Mules are cheaper,” Jack said, and his face reddened a bit.
Cooper saw the embarrassed look, but he didn’t acknowledge it.
“They are at that,” he agreed.
“Would you know anybody in town that has a mule for sale?” Jack asked.
Cooper glanced at Josie and looked back at Jack.
“I’ve got a mule,” Cooper announced. “We call him Jug-head.”
Jack’s face filled with hope.
“Would you sell him?”
“I sure would.”
“Is he broke for a wagon?”
“Should be.”
“Is he gentle?”
Cooper’s face reddened some.
“Sometimes.”
“Can you ride him?”
Cooper frowned hesitantly, and Josie frowned at him.
“Sometimes,” he said again.
Jack frowned thoughtfully. He glanced at his wife and looked back at Cooper.
“How much you want for him?”
Cooper squirmed in his chair as he thought on that.
“Five dollars?”
“I can pay a dollar,” Jack said firmly.
Cooper didn’t think for long.
“I’ll take it.”
Chapter one
In one way or another, I’ve been a lawman most of my adult life. It’s one of the few things in life I’m good at.
I’m also mighty handy with my Colt six-shooter. Not to brag, but I’ve never been beat. Me being alive is proof of that.
Rondo Landon and Lee Mattingly are still alive too, and I know Lee likes to speculate on who’s the best between us.
I reckon it’s an interesting question for some, but I’ve never thought on it much.
My name is Yancy Landon. Like Rondo, I’m smaller than most, and I’m spry and in good shape. Some would call me handsome, although I’m not sure about that.
I’ve never been one for talking. I think that silence is often the best answer, but most folks never figure that out.
My older brother Cooper is the talker. Tall and wide shouldered, he has an easy-like way about him that I’ve often envied. Folks admire Cooper because of his character; only reason they admire me is because I’m good with a Colt.
I reckon that’s partly the reason why I’ve never liked being around folks. Strangers always stare at me, hoping to see something, and that gets tiresome.
We Landons are a well-known family. And, we’re also known for our mean temper during times of trouble.
However, it really isn’t a temper. Instead, it’s just a feeling we all get down deep inside.
It’s a feeling of confidence, calmness, loneliness, sharp keenness, and pure meanness all rolled up into one. It also dulls the senses, and many a time we had been hurt and didn’t even know it until afterwards.
Cooper and I have been riding together for a long time now. I was a lawman back east before the war, and Cooper was my deputy. Then the war broke out, and we joined the Union on the same day.
My name was well known by the time the war was over. We both received honorable discharges, and we came out west on a cattle drive.
It wasn’t long until we were pulled back into service. I was promoted to Captain in the new Texas police force, and we were both assigned to Midway.
Mostly, the Texas police force was corrupt.
The purpose of the police force was supposed to be to fight crime and help with frontier defense, but in most towns that didn’t happen. Instead, Governor Davis used his police force to arrest anyone that opposed him.
But I ignored his corrupt ways, and we did our best to treat the folks at Midway fairly. It wasn’t easy. We had fought for the North, and there were a lot of folks that disliked us because of that.
J.T. Tussle, a salty old cowman, was one of those that disliked us. He had control of most of the range around Midway, but there were a lot of greedy cattlemen that wanted it. It was a tough fight, and by the time it was over we had finally gained the respect of Tussle and the other cowmen.
However, recently that respect had become a bit strained. A while back a stagecoach had been robbed, and a man named Stew Baine killed two men.
Coop and I tried our best, but it was Sergeant Wagons that actually found and killed Stew. He also saved the town from burning while I was gone looking for Cooper.
That made Sergeant Wagons an instant hero. The nickname ‘The man who killed Stew Baine’ stuck, and the local paper ran several stories about it. There was even talk that a dime novel was being written about it back east.
To make matters worse, Cooper brought back an Indian captive girl named Josie. Judge Parker married them a short while later, and there were some folks that didn’t like that. Coop and I were also shot up some, so we couldn’t do much.
Soon as we got back on our feet, word c
ame that Richard Coke had defeated Governor Davis in the election of 1874.
That was good news. However, that also brought an abrupt end to the police force, so Coop and I were out of a job.
Coop was especially worried about that. He and Josie had some money from selling some pelts, and they were planning on building a cabin. However, they didn’t have enough money to finish it. Cooper needed steady paydays, and he reminded me of that often.
There was now no law in Midway, and I had hoped that the town council would offer me the sheriff’s job. Instead, they decided to hold an election.
Sergeant Wagons and I both entered the election.
We had two weeks to campaign, but I didn’t care for any of that nonsense. Folks already knew who I was, what I stood for, and how I ran things. I figured that was enough.
Sergeant Wagons took a different approach. He knocked on doors and gave speeches whenever possible.
I figured folks would get tired of being bothered, but for some reason they didn’t seem to be. It was confusing, because I always got irritated whenever I was around Wagons for very long.
It was now the evening before the election.
The town was all stirred up, wondering who would win. It was a bit too much excitement for me, so I mainly stayed at the jail and drank coffee.
One more day, I thought, until all this nonsense ends and I’m elected sheriff.
Chapter two
That evening I sat out on the porch at the jail. Coop and Josie were off by themselves, busy planning their cabin.
I had just made a fresh pot of coffee. I poured myself a cup, and I put three spoonfuls of sugar in and stirred it with my finger.
I took a swig and sighed in contentment. It tasted sweet, and that’s how I liked it.
It was almost dark when Judge Parker walked up.
“Evening, Yancy,” he said.
“Judge,” I nodded. “When did you get back?”
“Just a while ago,” Judge Parker replied, and added, “I figured you might be here, drinking coffee.”
“Sit,” I offered. “Have some.”
Judge Parker poured himself a cup and sat. It was silent as we drank our coffee.
Judge Parker was short and pudgy, with fat fingers. Whatever the situation, he always seemed to look distinguished and important.
We had known each other for a long time. He was a good judge, and we worked well together.
“How’d the trial at Empty-lake go?” I asked.
Judge Parker grunted.
“He escaped before I got there. Rondo and his two deputies took out after him, and one of the deputies killed him.”
“Two deputies?” I raised an eyebrow. “Last I heard, Rondo only had one.”
“Lee Mattingly was the other deputy,” Judge Parker explained. “I believe it was a temporary arrangement.”
I scowled as I thought on that.
“Lee Mattingly, a lawman? What’s this world coming to?”
“It was a woman that helped Tanner escape,” Judge Parker said. “Her, and an older man named Virgil Carson.”
“Never heard of him.”
“Rondo killed him. As for Lucy, she’ll be an old woman by the time she gets out of Huntsville,” Judge Parker said, and he added bitterly, “That is, if she doesn’t escape.”
I was confused by that last remark, but I didn’t say anything.
“Too bad, Tanner getting killed,” Judge Parker continued. “It would have been a big trial. Have you heard of Ike Nash?”
“Some,” I nodded.
“Tanner was his son.”
“What’d he do?”
“Killed a fella,” Judge Parker explained.
I nodded, and it fell silent.
I could tell that Judge Parker had something on his mind, so I waited patiently.
“Ike Nash is more corrupt than Governor Davis was,” Judge Parker finally declared.
“Why don’t you send him to prison?”
“I can’t. He has strong ties all the way back to Washington,” Judge Parker said. “I can’t touch him until he makes a mistake, and Ike doesn’t make mistakes.”
“I hear he’s been buying up ranches all over Texas,” I recalled.
“He’s building his own little empire,” Judge Parker agreed. “He’s also involved in several businesses, all illegal. But, he’s got it set up so that nothing can be traced back to him. I’ve even sent some of his men to prison, but then they escape.”
“Huntsville?”
“It’s happened twice now.”
“Do you think he has a man inside?”
“Yes,” Judge Parker said. “And, that ain’t all. He’s also been trading rifles to the Indians. Do you remember Wade Davis?”
“How can I forget,” I said wryly, and I patted my shoulder where he’d shot me.
“He was working with Ike,” Judge Parker declared. “I can’t prove it, but I know. And now, Ike’s got a new partner.”
“Why are you telling me all this?” I narrowed my eyes.
Judge Parker took a swig of coffee before he replied.
“I want you to drop out of the sheriff’s race,” he announced.
I was startled, and I looked at Judge Parker and frowned.
“What for?”
“Now that Governor Davis has been defeated, the Texas Rangers are being reorganized,” Judge Parker explained. “I’d like for you and Coop to join up. You’d both answer to me.”
“Doing what?”
“It’s time for this country to unite, Yancy. The war’s been over for several years, but men like Ike are still stirring up trouble,” Judge Parker said, and declared, “I want to crush Ike. I want to crush his entire operation.”
I frowned as I thought on that.
“I needed you before, and I need you again,” Judge Parker said. “This is much bigger than the sheriff’s job. This is a job that will take months, maybe even years. First, we’ve got to stop Ike from trading rifles to the Indians. After that, I want you to find out how his men escape from Huntsville. And then, after we’ve crushed his entire operation, we’ll go after Ike himself.”
“I’ll have to think on it,” I replied, and added, “Coop will have to make up his own mind. He and Josie have plans.”
“Take a few days to think on it,” Judge Parker said.
“Whatever we decide, I want to wait until after the election,” I said.
“What for?”
“Because I want to win,” I admitted. “I can always resign later and pick a replacement.”
“Sergeant Wagons can’t handle the job?”
“No,” I replied. “He can’t.”
“Nobody else seems to know that,” Judge Parker said. “What I hear, a lot of folks like him.”
I grunted in response.
Judge Parker chuckled as he stood.
“Well, you and Coop talk it over. Let me know.”
“We will,” I nodded.
“And remember; this conversation never happened,” Judge Parker warned. “Wrong folks in Washington find out about this, then we’ll be in prison instead of Ike.”
I smiled faintly and nodded.
“You want to win this election, you’d better get out tomorrow and kiss a few babies,” Judge Parker suggested.
“I don’t like babies.”
Judge Parker chuckled and left. Meanwhile, I finished my coffee and went to find Cooper.
Chapter three
I found Cooper and Josie at a nearby café.
The café was very simple. It had a dirt floor, the tables were boards laid over barrels, and flies buzzed all around. But the food was good, and that’s all that mattered.
Cooper and Josie were eating steak and beans, and I also noticed a fresh baked apple pie.
“Sit down,” Cooper said as I walked up. “Join us.”
“What are we celebrating?” I asked as I pulled up a chair.
“We’re saying good-bye,” Cooper announced.
“To who?”
I frowned.
“Jug-head,” Cooper explained, and Josie nodded. “I sold him this morning.”
“Well, that is reason to celebrate,” I said as I poured myself some coffee. I poured some sugar in, stirred, took a swig, and sighed in contentment. “I never did like that mule.”
“Wade Davis would have probably rode right by me if it hadn’t been for Jug-head,” Cooper recalled.
“So, it’s Jug-head’s fault we both got shot,” I surmised.
“I can’t think of anyone else to blame,” Cooper said.
“How ’bout Wagons?”
“He was still here,” Cooper reminded.
“Jug-head it is then,” I smiled.
I caught the waiter’s attention. He came over, and I ordered steak and beans.
“Have you been hiding at the jail all day?” Cooper asked.
“I haven’t been hiding,” I frowned. “Matter of fact, I’ve been busy.”
“Doing what?”
“I’ve been talking to Judge Parker,” I declared.
“He’s back? What did he have to say?”
“Plenty.”
“Such as?” Cooper prompted.
“There’s no hurry,” I said. “We can talk later.”
Cooper nodded thoughtfully. The waiter brought me my steak, and it was silent while we ate.
We were almost done when Sergeant Wagons burst in. Several of his supporters were with him, and they were all loud and cheerful.
They grabbed an empty table across the room, and it was then that Wagons spotted me. He grinned and walked towards us. Everyone in the room saw him, and it was suddenly very quiet.
Sergeant Wagons was only around twenty years of age. He was chubby with fair skin and red cheeks, and his clothes always seemed too small.
As I watched him, I couldn’t help but wonder again how he had ever managed to kill Stew Baine.
“Hello, Yancy,” he drawled.
“Sergeant.”
“I’m not a Sergeant anymore,” he reminded.
“No, you ain’t,” I forced a smile.
“You can call me Jason if you want.”
