Confessions of a Gunfighter

by Tell Cotten

  “Doing what?” I asked suspiciously.

  Lee didn’t reply. Instead, he just laughed as he reached inside his pocket and pulled out a cigar.

  I shook my head disapprovingly.

  “You remember what Yancy said,” I said sternly. “You should quit that outlaw business before you get yourself killed.”

  “Sure should,” Lee agreed as he bit off the end of his cigar.

  “But you ain’t going to,” I figured.

  Lee smiled as he lit up his cigar and took a puff.

  “Nope, reckon not,” he said as he exhaled.

  I sighed.

  “Well, you take care of yourself anyhow,” I said.

  Lee nodded as he stepped up into the saddle. He got himself settled, and then he looked at me and grinned.

  “So long, Button,” he said.

  “So long, Lee,” I replied.

  Lee kicked up his horse, and I stood there and watched him go.

  There was a part of me that wanted to go with him. But then I saw Rachel walking down from the house, and I quickly changed my mind.

  About the Author

  Born in West Texas, Tell Cotten is a seventh generation Texan. He comes from a family with a ranching heritage and is a member of the Sons of the Republic of Texas. He is currently in the cattle business, and he resides in West Texas with his wife, Andi, and their two children.

  Tell is the award-winning author of The Landon Saga. His novels have won Gold and Silver in the Readers' Favorite awards, and Tell also won Best New Western in the Laramie Awards and bronze in the Global ebook awards for CONFESSIONS OF A GUNFIGHTER.

  For announcements of new releases and all other information, please join The Landon Saga Facebook group https://www.facebook.com/groups/784798154926122/ or join Tell’s website http://tellcotten.wordpress.com/

  Acknowledgements

  I’d like to thank Jim for his advice, and I’d also like to thank my wife and parents for all their support and advice.

  Thanks to Mike for the great cover, and thanks to Eric for a fine editing job. And lastly, I’d like to thank Nik for all his help and advice. It was a real pleasure working with everyone on this book!

  Enjoy these sample chapters of Entwined Paths by Tell Cotten, available now through Solstice Publishing.

  Entwined Paths

  Book two in The Landon Saga series

  Chapter one

  Cliff Curtis rubbed his shoulder gingerly as he looked down into the narrow valley. Behind him, his men waited impatiently.

  Cliff frowned as he pulled out his watch and glanced at it. According to the time, the stage should be here.

  He winced as he returned his watch to his shirt pocket.

  “Is your shoulder bothering you again?” Rusty Curtis asked his older brother.

  “It never stops bothering me,” Cliff grumbled. “Specially in the mornings.”

  “You’ve probably still got some lead in there,” Rusty suggested.

  Cliff didn’t answer. He was looking in the far distance, and he narrowed his eyes.

  “See that dust? That’s gotta be the stage,” Cliff pointed.

  Rusty looked and nodded.

  “Probably so,” Rusty agreed.

  Cliff turned and looked back at his men.

  “Get ready,” he said.

  Everybody knew what had to be done. Cliff had laid out his plans the night before, and had carefully gone over every detail.

  Everybody but Brian Clark and Rusty had grumbled about Cliff’s persistence. But then Rusty reminded everybody that his older brother had ridden with the likes of Ben Kinrich, Lee Mattingly, and Rondo Landon, and he knew what he was talking about.

  Brian Clark had also ridden with these men, but nobody cared about that. Everyone considered him to be old and wore out, and they couldn’t figure out why Cliff had let him come along.

  Brian Clark was in his mid-fifties. He was a grizzled veteran, and he had been an outlaw longer than most of these other fellers had even been alive.

  He also had a gentle way about him that the others didn’t have. Everybody else was always eager to kill, and that bothered Brian Clark.

  In all, there were six men.

  Two of them were hot headed, teenage brothers named Clyde and Clay Taylor. They were brash and confident, and they were also eager to make a name for themselves. Both were green. But, their gun skills were sufficient enough, and they were plenty tough.

  The best marksman was Utah ‘Stew’ Baine. He favored his Henry rifle, and his accuracy was legendary.

  Stew had dark hair, and he was tall and slim. He was mighty sure of himself, and he spoke his mind freely.

  Lately Stew had been questioning Cliff’s authority, and it was only a matter of time before there was trouble. But, Cliff was confident that he could handle Stew.

  Cliff was in his late thirties, and he was built like an ox. His guns skills were better than most, and he also liked to fight with his huge, massive fists.

  During the Civil War he had ridden with Quantrill’s raiders, and afterwards he drifted out west. Once there he joined up with Ben Kinrich’s outfit, and after that he organized his own outfit. So far they had only done small jobs, and this was their first big robbery.

  Then there was Rusty.

  Rusty was ten years younger than Cliff, and he had grown up hearing all about his wild, older brother. He wanted to be just like Cliff, and so far he was doing a good job of it.

  Cliff crouched beside a tree and glanced sideways at everybody.

  Everyone else had also crouched down, and they waited in silence.

  The stage finally turned into the narrow valley, and it came straight towards them.

  “All right, Stew,” Cliff said softly. “Make sure and drop them horses. You wound ’em and we’ll have to chase ’em plumb to Mexico.”

  “I know my job,” Stew glared at Cliff.

  “Then do it!” Cliff hissed.

  Stew already had his Henry rifle loaded and cocked, so he took aim and fired.

  A split second later there was the loud thumping sound of a bullet hitting flesh, and a horse squealed in terror.

  Stew fired three more times in rapid fashion, and all three shots hit their mark. All the horses squealed and kicked out as they went down, and just like that the stage was stuck.

  “Get the driver and the man riding shotgun,” Cliff said calmly.

  Stew worked the lever as he put another bullet into the chamber, and then he took aim.

  The driver was getting off the coach, and right as he jumped Stew fired. The bullet hit the man in the back, and he was dead when he hit the ground.

  The man riding shotgun meanwhile, jumped down and took cover behind the wheel.

  He thought he was well hidden. But, Stew’s next bullet hit him in the chest, and his body was thrown over backwards.

  There were a few terrified screams from inside the coach, but then there was silence.

  “Doesn’t get much easier than that!” Cliff laughed as he stood. “That was good shooting, Stew. I couldn’t have done it any better myself.”

  Stew grunted in response while Cliff turned towards the horses.

  “Stay here and cover us while we go on down,” Cliff said.

  Stew nodded curtly as he reloaded his Henry rifle.

  It was then that Cliff noticed Brian Clark. He had a troubled look on his face, and Cliff laughed.

  “What’s the matter, Clark? Is your conscience bothering you again?” Cliff asked in a mocking tone.

  “They never had a chance,” Brian Clark frowned distastefully.

  “That is correct. If it makes you feel better, next time I’ll let you go down and be a target for ’em,” Cliff laughed wolfishly.

  Brian Clark frowned, but he didn’t reply as everybody but Stew mounted up.

  They kicked up their horses and made their way down into the valley. Then, they loped up to the stage and surrounded it.

  “You inside!” Cliff yelled. “Come out real s
low, you hear? One wrong move and we’ll kill everybody.”

  It was silent, and the door opened slowly.

  “Don’t shoot!” A man pleaded.

  “Come on out,” Cliff demanded.

  Four passengers stepped out slowly.

  Two of the passengers were middle aged men, and they were real careful to keep their hands up where they could be seen.

  The other two passengers were women.

  One was a plump, elderly lady, and her face was flushed and hot. She was in a state of shock as she stared numbly at the situation.

  The last passenger was a young woman. She clutched a small carpetbag, and it partly hid the blue and white dress she wore. She had a good figure, long blond hair, and light blue eyes.

  Everything came to a stop as everybody stared at her. Cliff noticed this, and he snapped everybody out of it.

  “Clyde, you and Clay get the payroll box down. Rusty, you get them saddlebags ready. Me and Clark will take care of the passengers.”

  Everybody got busy while Cliff studied the passengers.

  “Any of you armed?” He asked.

  The two men shook their heads.

  “You lie and I’ll kill you,” Cliff warned.

  They insisted that they weren’t armed. Cliff nodded, satisfied, and it fell silent as Cliff eyed them.

  He thought about robbing them too, but then he decided against it. They were dressed plainly, and he doubted that they had much.

  The young woman meanwhile, looked all around her, and she shook her head angrily.

  “What kind of man would shoot men and horses like that!” She demanded to know.

  Brian Clark’s face turned red, but Cliff just grinned.

  “A good shot,” Cliff replied wryly.

  “You’re a coward!” She fired back.

  “No, ma’am, just lazy,” Cliff replied. “If possible I didn’t want to chase you, and shooting them horses was the easiest way.”

  “You won’t get away with this!” She exclaimed.

  “Don’t see nobody stopping me,” Cliff replied, and he laughed. “Unless you’re planning on doing it.”

  The young woman looked angry, but she managed to choke back her response.

  It was then that Cliff noticed the small carpetbag.

  “What’s in there?” He demanded to know.

  “It’s none of your business!” The young woman fired back, and her eyes flashed angrily.

  “I’ll be the judge of that,” Cliff answered smugly. “Hand it over.”

  The young woman just stood there, so Cliff added firmly, “Now, lady.”

  The young woman glared at Cliff as she sullenly stepped forward and handed over her carpetbag.

  Cliff grinned as he looped the handles over his saddle horn.

  “Thank you, ma’am. I appreciate your hospitality,” Cliff said, and his eyes twinkled.

  The young woman didn’t reply. Instead, she crossed her arms and glared back.

  By now Rusty had emptied the money from the payroll box into his saddlebags. He tied the saddlebags on behind his saddle and looked at Cliff.

  “We’re ready, Cliff,” Rusty told him as everybody mounted up.

  Cliff nodded and looked back at the passengers.

  “You all get back inside, and don’t come back out until after we’ve gone,” Cliff said.

  They did as they were told.

  Just before the young woman climbed back in she gave Cliff another searing glare. Then, she slammed the door shut.

  Cliff laughed as he turned to his men.

  “All right, let’s go.”

  As they rode out they failed to notice the shotgun rider.

  He had been sprawled out on the ground presumed dead. But now he painfully rolled over, grabbed the wheel, and pulled himself up.

  He steadied himself against the stagecoach, and then he reached down and grabbed his rifle. He took a long, careful aim. Then, he let out his breath and fired.

  Chapter two

  Sergeant Jason Wagons stood awkwardly just inside the doorway of the state police headquarters at Midway, Texas.

  He was a chubby fellow with fair skin and red cheeks. Nineteen and green, he was eager to impress his superior officer, who at the moment was eating a late breakfast with his brother.

  Captain Yancy Landon looked at Sergeant Wagons in disbelief.

  “The men are sick?” Yancy asked. “What’s wrong with ’em?”

  “The doc thinks it’s a mild case of food poisoning, sir,” Sergeant Wagons replied.

  Yancy frowned as he thought on that.

  “And you’re the only feller besides me and Coop that ain’t sick?”

  “Yes, sir,” Sergeant Wagons replied wistfully. “Everybody else has the squirts so bad all they have to do is cough, and -.”

  “You don’t have to explain it in detail,” Yancy interrupted, and with a distasteful frown he pushed his food away.

  “Sorry, sir,” Sergeant Wagons apologized.

  Yancy got up and refilled his cup of coffee. He sat back down, poured some sugar in, and stirred it slowly.

  Sergeant Wagons stood uncomfortably while he waited for Yancy to say something. His crisp uniform did not fit his bulky frame, and he wanted badly to unbutton his collar buttons. But, he didn’t have the nerve while in the presence of Yancy.

  Yancy noticed Sergeant Wagon’s discomfort, but he didn’t acknowledge it. Instead, he sat there quietly, and after a while he looked up at Sergeant Wagons.

  “You’d better tell the men to stay in their quarters,” Yancy said. “I doubt they’re contagious, but it won’t hurt to be safe. In the meantime you can move in here with us.”

  “Thank you, sir!” Sergeant Wagons saluted sharply, and he wheeled around and left hastily.

  Yancy’s face was dark.

  “I had planned on going out on a patrol tomorrow,” he complained to his older brother.

  Cooper Landon smiled wryly as he got up and grabbed the pot of coffee.

  “Well, you and ol’ Wagons enjoy yourselves,” Cooper said as he filled his cup and sat back down. “In case you forgot; let me remind you. As of this morning I’m on a four week furlough.”

  “I remember,” Yancy said tartly.

  Cooper’s smile widened as he leaned back in his chair.

  “First furlough I’ve had since -,” Cooper paused while he thought back. “Well, since way before the war. Five, six years probably.”

  “I know that,” Yancy frowned. “We’ve been together that whole time.”

  “Soon as the stage gets here with payroll, I’m going to buy me a mule and some traps,” Cooper continued. “Then, I’m going to head to them New Mexico Mountains and lose myself for a couple weeks.”

  “More’n likely you’ll lose your hair instead,” Yancy grumbled.

  “Could be a prosperous trip,” Cooper said as he ignored Yancy’s comment. “Beaver pelts are worth a small fortune back east these days, and they say them mountains are crawling with beaver.”

  “Probably crawling with Injuns too,” Yancy replied sourly. “Besides, you’ve never trapped a beaver in your life.”

  “Always a first time,” Cooper replied. “And, that ain’t my only reason for going. Mostly, I’m just tired of rules and regulations.”

  “How’s that?” Yancy looked up sharply.

  “Ever since I’ve been in a uniform, there’s always been some –,” Cooper paused for effect, “-‘superior officer’ telling me what I can and can’t do.”

  Yancy thought on that and frowned.

  “Mostly I’ve been your superior officer.”

  “I know,” Cooper grinned.

  Yancy grunted in response, and they said no more as Cooper finished breakfast. But Cooper knew what his little brother was thinking, and he couldn’t help but smile.

  Yancy Landon was a very somber man. He never talked unless he had too, and when he did it was always clear, certain, and to the point. Yancy was also painfully honest, no matter what the cos
t.

  Cooper was the more relaxed type. He liked life to go at slower pace, and he also liked to think things out before he acted.

  The Landons were a well-known family. Except for their cousin Rondo, they were widely known for their honesty and integrity.

  They were also known for their mean temper during times of trouble.

  But Yancy and Cooper knew better. It wasn’t a temper. Instead, it was a feeling that they got down deep inside.

  It was a feeling of confidence, calmness, loneliness, sharp keenness, and pure meanness all rolled up into one. It also dulled the senses, and many times they had been hurt and didn’t even know it until afterwards.

  This feeling ran in the Landon blood. Their Pa and uncles had felt it, as had several other cousins.

  Yancy and Cooper had been riding together for a long time. Before the war Yancy had been a lawman back east, and Cooper had been his deputy. Then the war broke out, and they joined on the same day. It didn’t take Yancy long to be promoted to a Colonel, and Cooper was made a Major.

  Yancy’s name was well-known by the time the war was over. They both received honorable discharges, and they came out west on a cattle drive.

  It wasn’t long until they were pulled back into service. Because of his reputation Yancy was made a Lieutenant in the new Texas police force, and they were both assigned to Midway.

  At the time there was an epic range war going on.

  J.T. Tussle, a salty old cowman, had control of most the range, but there were a lot of greedy cattlemen that wanted it. It was a tough fight, and by the time it was over Yancy and Cooper had made quite a name for themselves.

  Because of their success Yancy was promoted to Captain, and Cooper was promoted to Lieutenant. Course, Yancy got most of the attention, mostly because he was real good with that Colt six-shooter of his. That, and the fact that he was real handsome looking sure didn’t hurt.

  But Cooper was just as dangerous.

  Tall and wide shouldered, Cooper wasn’t near as good with a six-shooter. Instead, his specialty was with his Henry rifle. He was real accurate with it, and mighty quick too. He had a special way of swinging it up, and it was almost as fast as Yancy’s draw.