The Adventures of the Lone Jack Kid: A Western Adventure (Western Fiction, by Joe Corso Book 1)

by Joe Corso

  Charlie yelled out to the man, “Give it up. I have no desire to kill you. I don’t even know who you are and I’m asking you not to force me to kill you.” The man went for his gun, but Charles shot him dead just as he was bringing his gun to the horizontal position. The man was fast, very fast, but . . . Longstreet was faster.

  CHAPTER 4

  There was no answer when the marshal knocked on Charlie’s door. He turned and walked down the stairs to the entrance to the dining room and scanned the room for him. He spotted him in the corner with his back against the wall, eating his breakfast. The sheriff crossed the busy room, pulled out a chair, and sat down. Charlie followed him with his eyes as he sat, but he didn’t say anything. He just nodded and kept on eating. “I heard what happened last night,” the sheriff said. “It’s too bad, Kid. I feel bad for you, because that’s gonna be your life from now on. Every town you stop in, there will be cheap gunslingers looking to make a name for themselves. They’ll challenge you as soon as they know who you are. The war left plenty of men without work or money who did a lot of killing, and those men will hire their guns out to anyone who’ll pay them. All of the good men went back home to work their farms or businesses, but not this breed - so be careful and don’t let them know who you are.”

  The Kid looked at him dolefully. “You came here, sat down at my table, and interrupted my breakfast, sheriff. Is that what you came here to tell me?”

  The sheriff gave the Kid a long hard look and then shook his head. “No! That’s not what I came here to tell you. Sorry, Kid, but after you finish your breakfast, I’m riding out of town with you. I don’t want you here any longer than necessary.” The sheriff handed the Kid his hat. “I’m sorry I had to give you the bad news while you were having breakfast, Kid, but that’s the way it is - so don’t take it personal because I happen to like you. But even you have to know that you’re trouble with a capital T.”

  Charlie’s expression hardened. “If I was your deputy, I can promise you that I wouldn’t have to tell anyone to leave town while he’s eating his breakfast, sheriff.” Charlie’s look darkened. “Do your job, sheriff, and I wouldn’t be forced to leave town like a criminal.” Then the Kid’s look softened. “I like this town, sheriff. I would have liked to stay here a little while longer, but after three killings, I don’t need you to tell me that I have to leave. I know it wouldn’t be good for my health if I stayed any longer than breakfast. So long, sheriff. I hope we meet again under better circumstances.”

  The sheriff looked Charlie in the eye. “That was a good idea you had, Kid. If I had a deputy’s job open, would you take it?”

  “I probably would - at least for a little while. But are you in a position to offer me that job?”

  The sheriff gave Charles a grim look and shook his head. “No, I’m not, at least not yet, but if I was, you would be my deputy, and that’s a fact. Now come on and I’ll ride a little ways out of town with you.”

  “Sheriff, is there a stage or train leaving town that’s heading south today?”

  The marshal rubbed his chin. “No, but there’s a coach heading west that’s leaving in two hours. You could take that and when you got to Franklin, you could take the train west.”

  “Thanks, sheriff. By the way, I never did get your name.”

  The sheriff smiled and put out his hand. “My name is Frank Hodges, son, and while I have your attention let me give you a little free advice. You seem like a nice young man, but in my opinion if you’re not real careful, you’re not going to live very long. You’re going to find yourself in a shit storm of trouble in every town you stop in because of Buntline’s book. I wouldn’t mention my real name if I were you, until you get to Virginia City, and then you better hope that the people there have never heard of the Lone Jack Kid.”

  The Kid pushed his plate away and drank the last of his coffee. “Sheriff, you may not believe me, but I had no idea that a book was written about me. I just found out about it from Cynthia. You wouldn’t happen to know where I could buy one of those books, would you?”

  The sheriff pointed to a store across the street on the corner with a cigar store Indian standing outside of it. “Go see Andy and ask him to show you the book. It’s a dime store novel written by that fella Ned Buntline. That fella sure has a flair for writing because he’s written himself a best seller with you as the hero.” Then the sheriff leaned in closer so no one could hear him. “Was any of that book true, Kid?”

  Longstreet looked at him and then looked down. “I don’t rightly know, sheriff. I haven’t read it yet.”

  The sheriff nodded and asked him, “Did you kill three men in a gunfight in a town called Lone Jack?”

  “Yes, sir, I surely did.” But Charlie was quick to add, “I was forced to defend myself, sheriff. I killed those men in self-defense. I just want you to know that.”

  The sheriff rubbed his chin and nodded. “Was that Buntline fella with you when you shot it out with those fellas?”

  “Yes, he surely was. That man has more balls than brains, but I can’t deny that he had a lot of moxie to stand with me and Cole against men who were looking to kill us. His stock went way up after the shootout.”

  The sheriff smiled. “I’ll be damned. I thought it was all bullshit. Excuse the language, son, but I thought that’s what it was. So he did stand with you like he said in the book. He said you were the fastest man with a gun that he ever saw . . . and that statement alone is an invitation to all the gunmen out there that you’re the man to beat. It doesn’t take a strong mind to figure out that they’ll be gunning for you. If you stop in a crowded saloon or restaurant, watch your drinking because if you hear the three taps like you heard in Lone Jack, you’ll need to protect yourself.”

  “Wait a minute, sheriff. I never heard three taps in Lone Jack. Was that in the book too?”

  “It sure was, son. Says that every town you stopped in, someone would tap three times to alert you that you were being challenged to a gunfight.”

  Longstreet ground his teeth and smacked his right hand into his left palm. “Damn - but I never was challenged by three taps before. Are you sure it’s in the book?”

  “Yep. Go and buy the book and read it for yourself.”

  Charlie was getting angrier with Buntline by the second. “Damn that ornery scoundrel, writing lies about me and putting me in this position.”

  “Well, the book wasn’t all lies, then. ‘Cause he told the truth about the gunfight and I guess he put the ‘three taps’ in the story, figuring it would sell a lot more books.”

  “Yeah - and get me killed at the same time. Sheriff, I can’t leave town until I buy me one of those dime novels. Then I believe I’ll take the stage and head west. Would you permit me that?”

  “Sure! Go ahead, Kid. I guess another two hours won’t matter much.”

  Before buying the book, Charlie crossed the street, walked down the wooden sidewalk, and headed to Cynthia’s store, much to the delight and admiration of the pedestrians who walked past him. The Kid noticed the expressions on their faces and he swore that everyone in St. Louis must have read the book, which made him even angrier with Buntline.

  “Good morning, Cynthia. I was heading to Andy’s to buy Buntline’s book, but I thought I’d stop here first to say goodbye to you. Say, you wouldn’t happen to sell books in your store, would you?”

  She looked at him sheepishly, then she grinned. “No, we don’t sell books, but when I found out who you were, I went to Andy’s and bought a half a dozen of those dime novels. It was all he had left or I would have bought more. I’m going to give them to my friends as gifts and brag to them about how well I know you. I hoped to catch you before you left town, so you could sign the books for me.”

  “Go and fetch one of those books for me. I want to see what Buntline’s written about me.” She walked behind the counter, picked up the books, and placed them on the service desk, then she handed one to Charlie. He studied the front cover, which had a picture of a gunfighte
r standing alone in the street with a gun in his hand. He had a look on his face that said, You picked on the wrong man mister, cause I’m The Lone Jack Kid. He guessed that the guy was supposed to be him, except that he didn’t have a mustache.

  Charlie sat down in the chair beside the desk and began scanning through the pages, stopping only to read the parts where Buntline described his adventures. When he read enough, he put the book down and thought to himself, no wonder every gunslinger in the west wanted to make a reputation by killing him. It’s all because of this damned book. He gave the book back to her, and was about to walk out, but Cynthia stopped him.

  “Don’t go just yet. I’d like to talk to you for a moment before you leave. I probably won’t see you again and there are some things I’d like to say to you.” The Kid, as she now thought of him, turned and walked back into the store.

  “What did you want to say?”

  “First, before we talk, I’d like you to sign these books. If you don’t know how to write, put your mark on them.” He frowned and asked her for a quill and ink. She motioned for him to sit behind her desk and then handed him the books. “Of course I know how to write,” he said, angrier than he intended. He signed his name and handed the books back to her.

  “Is that all?”

  “No.” She wanted to tell him how much she enjoyed being with him. How he made her feel alive and special, and how there was no one in this town that she wanted to be with more. And even though many of the local young men courted her, she had no interest in any of them, especially since she met him. That’s what she wanted to tell him, but somehow she couldn’t find the words, so she just looked at him, trying to decide where to start. He looked at her expectantly - and with anticipation, but when she didn’t say anything he began to get restless, and was about to leave - and that’s when the words started to flow like water from her lips. “Charlie, I just wanted to tell you that even though we only had a few brief moments together, I want you to know that they were the most precious moments of my life up till now. I guess I won’t see you again, but I really hope that you stop back here someday.” She twiddled with her fingers as she spoke to him, not daring to look into his eyes. She felt uncertain because she knew what she wanted to say to him, but she wondered what his reaction would be. She looked down, feeling a little silly, sort of like an adolescent schoolgirl. “That’s, well, that’s all I wanted to tell you. I just wanted you to know that for the little time we spent together, you brought excitement into my life.”

  She turned her face so he wouldn’t notice a tear rolling down her cheek. He noticed it and he gently turned her face to his and he brushed the tear away with his finger. He leaned close to her and kissed her gently at first, then harder. She threw her arms around him and kissed him back, abandoning any pretext at decorum. He wanted to say no, that this was wrong, that he had to leave, but he hadn’t held a woman for so long, he couldn’t count the months and it felt so good to hold her in his arms. He started to say something, but she put her finger over his lips to shush him. She took him by the hand and led him to the front door. He thought she would ask him to leave, but she surprised him by turning the open sign hanging on the door around, so that it now read. “Closed. Be Back Soon.” She had some free time because her father was out delivering a large order and he wouldn’t be back until dinnertime. So she wasn’t concerned about being disturbed as she led Charlie through a door behind the register to the back room . . . and to a bed. She hurriedly began unbuttoning his shirt and pants, then she hastily started taking her clothes off. She jumped under the covers nude, with him quickly following. They took their time exploring each other’s body with the expectation of making love, until they finally gave in to their need to satisfy one another and they made love. Then, finally having spent themselves, they collapsed sweating and exhausted into one another’s arms.

  Charlie had a stagecoach to catch. He sat on the edge of the bed and was about to put his clothes on, but Cynthia tugged his arm and pulled him toward her a little harder than she intended to, and he toppled backwards onto the bed and found himself comfortably on top of her . . . and they made love again - but this time slower, intending for the act to last longer. Charlie missed lying beside a woman and when he made love to her earlier, he took her savagely with no concern for her needs. The fact was, she derived pleasure from it, and she responded to his ferocious, thrusting love making in kind. This time when they made love, he wanted her to enjoy their intimacy, so he made sure the moment was slower and more meaningful.

  Charlie entered the Butterfield Overland office and bought a seat on the western stage. The agent explained that it would take about three weeks to get to Virginia City and then he pointed to Charlie’s boots. “Make sure your boots aren’t too tight, it’s not good to travel in tight boots. Don’t discuss politics or religion with the passengers, and you better understand that this ride ain’t going to be a ride in the park. Expect some - no, make that a lot - of discomfort, and some hardships. You’re going to be traveling through Indian Territory, and there could be encounters with bandits who have been robbing our coaches lately. Now, on the positive side. You’re leaving in one of the new oval-shaped Concord coaches pulled by six horses that the company just acquired for its Western service. It holds nine passengers, with three passengers to a seat. Make sure you have proper clothing because it’s gonna get cold on the prairie, so if you don’t already have one, go and buy yourself a winter coat. The coach will leave promptly in an hour.” The agent put his hand out. “The ticket’ll cost you two hundred dollars, payable now.”

  Charlie took the bills from his money belt, but before closing it, he asked the agent, “Look, I’m leaving town and I’ll be gone for a while. Do you know a place where I can board my horse where he’d be cared for and get proper exercise?”

  “Sure. Tie him to the back of the coach and take him with you. It’s twenty miles to the first stage stop. I’ll give you a note to give to Slim. He runs that stop, this way he’ll know that I’m approving this sale. But that’ll cost you twenty dollars a month, and since you’re telling me you’re gonna be gone for a long time, It’ll cost you two hundred forty dollars in advance for the first year. If you come back sooner, I’ll refund you the difference. If you’re not back in a year, I’ll sell the horse.” Charlie thought about this, since he could buy a horse for twenty-five dollars and a thoroughbred for between one hundred dollars and two hundred dollars. He decided that even though he loved the horse, it would be best to sell him.

  “I changed my mind. If I can find someone who’ll take care of him properly, I’ll sell him.”

  “I’ll buy him from you. We can always use a good horse to pull the coaches.”

  “Thanks, partner, but I don’t want to see Hercules pulling some old stage. He deserves better that that.”

  Charlie paid the agent the two hundred dollars for his ticket, and then he walked down to the stable to check on his horse, which had been with him for the better part of four years. He hated to part with him, but he had no choice; he had to sell him. Charlie thought back to the battle of Lone Jack four years ago when he found the horse tied to a post. After he got used to him, and because of his strength and endurance, he named him Hercules.

  Charlie called the old man who ran the stable over to him. “I can’t take my horse with me so I’m going to sell him. Do you know anyone who could use a good horse and who’d treat him well?”

  The old man tilted his head. “I’m in the horse business son, and I can always use a good horse. What do you want for him?”

  “Two hundred dollars,” the Kid said.

  “Two hundred dollars? Whew that’s a lot of money for a horse.”

  “I know, but Hercules is a lot of horse. He’s a thoroughbred and he’s tireless.”

  The old man walked around the horse, examining him thoroughly. “He sure is a nice animal, but I can’t give you two hundred dollars. With your southern accent, I am guessing you must have taken him off a Yankee
officer. The US brand on his rump hurts his price. Tell you what. I’ll give you one hundred dollars, no questions asked, and I’ll make sure he finds a nice home.”

  Charlie shook his head. “Make it one hundred fifty dollars and you have a deal.”

  The old man laughed. He loved to haggle more than anything in the world. “Let’s split the difference, son. I’ll give you one hundred twenty-five, and we’ll call it a deal?”

  Charlie had a stage to catch and a few chores still to attend to, so he smiled and put out his hand, palm up. “Lay your money right there, partner, because you just bought yourself a horse. But remember. I want Hercules taken care of, so don’t be selling him to no stage line or to someone who’ll abuse him. Understand?”

  “Don’t worry, son. I’ll see to it that he gets a nice home. Hercules is his name, eh?”

  “Yep. He’s got strength and endurance and that’s why I gave him that name.” Charlie put the one hundred twenty-five dollars with his money. The money would buy him a fine horse when he needed one. But what Charlie didn’t know was the old man was a shrewd barterer. He realized as he was haggling with the Kid that he could get two, maybe three times the price for Hercules once word got around that the horse belonged to the Lone Jack Kid.

  CHAPTER 5