Texas Trails 1
Page 19
“I’m already excited, goddamn your eyes. Now move!”
They stepped out into the street and moved down toward the sound of firing with Witherspoon walking in front of the fugitive. Rawley noted that now several men from the town were behind cover while taking occasional shots at the blacksmith shop.
Rawley slapped Witherspoon hard across the back of his shoulders. “Tell ’em to knock off the shooting.”
“Hold it!” Witherspoon hollered.
“Louder,” Rawley commanded.
“Everybody stop firing,” Witherspoon yelled with more gusto. “Don’t shoot at the men in the blacksmith shop anymore!”
The firing slowly died off. Then Rawley yelled, “Tim! C’mon out and give these folks the truth.”
Moments later, the door to the building was pushed open and Tim stepped out. Several exclamations of surprise at seeing him were uttered by the locals. Tim spoke loudly. “Listen to me! I lied at the trial. Rawley Pierson didn’t shoot down Curly and Shorty like I said. They drawed on him first.”
One of the townsmen, the owner of the general store, was puzzled. “How come you did that, Tim?”
“I owed Big Ed money and he made a deal with me,” Tim said. “I’m shamed to say so, but I lied. That’s why I joined back up with Rawley and Chaw to set things right.”
Now Chaw appeared. “You heard him. So let’s simmer down and do it fast afore somebody nice around here gets hurt. That’d be a shame since Tim just spoke you the truth.”
“And there’s more to the story,” Tim said. “Big Ed MacWilliams and his old pal Witherspoon have been trying to run off the ranchers on the Diablos. They killed my pa. I just found that out.”
Rawley nudged Witherspoon. “Well, you dandy dude! Back him up!”
“Tim Hawkins is speaking the truth,” Witherspoon said. “Sheriff Sims was part of the scheme as well.”
“Where’s Big Ed?” one of the pistoleros yelled out.
“He’s dead,” Witherspoon answered.
The surviving two hired gunmen became agitated and nervous. They instinctively drew off together toward the general store. With the townspeople now armed, having tried to recapture what they thought was an escaped killer, the situation showed every promise of turning nasty for them. One of the gunmen shouted, “We’re pulling out. If anybody tries to stop us or come after us, they’re dead!”
The townspeople, confused and uncertain, did nothing to stop them. The pair quickly disappeared into the darkness, and were quickly gone.
“Want us to go after ’em, Rawley?” Chaw shouted.
“Let ’em go,” Rawley said. At the point he considered it good riddance. A forced showdown would end in unnecessary bloodshed. Rawley saw no sense in adding any Duncan citizens to the list of people who’d died in the Diablos Range War. At any rate, there was another way to deal with the escapees.
“Ever’body down to the saloon,” Rawley yelled.
“Well wrap this up.”
Within fifteen minutes, the saloon was filled with townspeople. Rosalie Kinnon’s body was carried away, but Big Ed MacWilliams still sprawled on the bottom of the stairs. Rawley addressed the crowd. “Now listen to Tim Hawkins. He’s got the whole story on what’s been happening on the Diablos.”
Tim quickly explained the land-grab scheme, and told of Big Ed MacWilliams and Witherspoon’s parts as masterminds. He again confessed to perjury in Rawley’s trial, and told of how the judge and prosecutor had been bribed by Witherspoon. When he finished, all the Duncan citizens were silent for a few moments with shock and surprise.
“There’s some more o’ them hired guns out on the Diablos with Hank Delong and Joe Black,” Rawley said. “They’re looking for me and Chaw. Them two pistoleros that just lit out are pals o’ theirs. That means that whole bunch will be on their way to Mexico before this morning’s sun is over the horizon. But they’ll never make it. Somebody from town can make a quick trip up the rail junction and send a telegraph to the Texas Rangers. A few of those boys will be enough to take care o’ them.” He grabbed Witherspoon’s arm. “And we got the big cheese right here anyhow.”
The owner of the general store, who acted as mayor, stepped forward. “Mr Pierson, it seems we need to see to Duncan’s law and order. As I recall from things I heard, you and Chaw Stevens served as law officers down south. Would y’all be available as sheriff and deputy?”
Rawley shrugged and smiled. “Well—”
Tim interrupted. “Hell, no, they ain’t available. You’re talking to my foreman here. And Chaw Stevens is the Circle H Bar’s top hand.”
“I always knowed I was,” Chaw said.
“The boss is right,” Rawley said. “And we got a cattle drive to get moving by tomorrow at this time.” He grabbed Witherspoon’s arm again. “But I will lock this skunk up. Have you got somebody to watch the jail till more law gets called in to Duncan?”
“Sure,” the mayor said. “Looks like we’re gonna have another trial.”
“Just keep him in the calaboose till we get back from Kansas,” Chaw said. “Then you’ll see justice did around here, by God!”
Twenty-Three
The loud voices of cussing cowboys intermingled with the bawling of cattle as the herd moved out of Rattlesnake Arroyo and back up on the flatter ground of the Diablos. Dust kicked up by hundreds of hooves rose into the air, growing thick as the herd was urged into motion by the impatient drovers.
All the Diablos ranches were represented by the group of drovers—the Circle H Bar, Lazy S, Diamond T, Double Box, and Flying Heart—and the communally owned cattle now moved out under their combined guidance and skills.
Rawley Pierson rode a bit to the outside, keeping an eye on Chaw Stevens, Jim Pauley, and Duane Wheeler as they wheeled their horses into the formation. He glanced over at Doak Timmons, owner of the Diamond T. The night before, the ranchers had elected him as the overseer of the cattle drive.
Rawley shouted, “The Circle H is in position, Mr Timmons.”
“That’s ever’body then,” Timmons yelled back. “Okay, boys. Let’s get these dogies up to Kansas. Move ’em out!”
Whistles and yells erupted now, and the cattle began moving northward in a route that would take them off the Diablos and onto the trail to Dodge City.
Tim Hawkins galloped up to Rawley and reined in. He grinned. “You ain’t said your final good-byes yet, have you?”
“Another’n wouldn’t hurt nothing,” Rawley said.
“I’ll hold your position till you get back,” Tim offered.
“Thanks,” Rawley said. He wheeled his horse and galloped over to the buckboard where Nancy Hawkins sat. He dismounted and walked up to her. “Looks like we got a chance for another good-bye.”
Nancy leaned down and kissed him. “I hope we don’t have too many of these.”
Rawley grinned and kissed her back. “If these goodbyes is so good, I’ll bet our hellos is gonna be jim-dandies!” He jumped back up in the saddle. “See you in a month, darling. I’ll have greenbacks in my pockets and a hankering to get hitched with you.”
“Don’t you look at those Kansas girls,” Nancy warned him.
“Sugar, they couldn’t come close to matching my Texas rose,” Rawley said.
Nancy smiled, and watched him ride back to the herd. She sat there for a moment, thinking of the man she loved as she watched him disappear with the others through the dusty haze raised by the herd that was now moving at a steady pace.
She brought herself out of her reverie. “I’ve got things to do!” Nancy picked up the reins and slapped them across the horse’s back. The animal pulled against the weight of the buckboard and got it moving. As she headed back toward the ranch, she passed Myra Timmons, Darlene Dawson, and Penny Blevins, who had come out together to see their own men off.
Nancy waved to them. “It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?”
“It sure is,” Myra agreed.
“Don’t forget we’ll be over later today,” Darlene reminded Nancy.
&nb
sp; “That’s right,” Penny chimed in. “We’ve got a wedding to get ready for, don’t we?”
“We sure do!” Nancy said happily. She continued on her way home. As she drove away, the last thing she could hear was Chaw Stevens’ unmelodious voice fading in the distance as he sang:
“I got a ten-dollar horse and a forty-dollar saddle, and I’m heading up the trail for to punch Texas cattle …”
TEXAS TRAILS 1: TEXAS DRAWDOWN
By Patrick E. Andrews
First published by Zebra Books in 1991
Copyright © 1991, 2017 by the Andrews Family Revocable Trust
First Smashwords Edition: November 2017
Names, characters and incidents in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
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 or storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law.
This is a Piccadilly Publishing Book ~*~ Text © Piccadilly Publishing
Published by Arrangement with the Author’s Agent.
About the Author
Patrick Andrews was born in Oklahoma in 1936 into a family of pioneers who participated in its growth from the Indian Territory and Oklahoma Territory to statehood. His father’s family were homesteaders and his mother's cattle ranchers. Consequently, he is among the last generation of American writers who had contacts with those people from the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Patrick’s wife Julie says he both speaks and writes with an Oklahoma accent.
He is an ex-paratrooper, having served in the 82nd Airborne Division in the active army and the 12th Special Forces Group in the army reserves. Patrick began his writing career after leaving the army. He and his better half presently reside in southern California. He has a son Bill, who is an ex-paratrooper and a probation officer, and two grandchildren.
Among his many books, Piccadilly Publishing is pleased to be reissuing ebook editions as mini-series and stand alones, including: The Long-Knives, The Dragoons, Texas Trails, Indian Territory.
More on Patrick E. Andrews
But the adventure doesn’t end here …
Join us for more first-class, action-packed books.
Regular updates feature on our website and blog
The Adventures continue…
Issuing new and classic fiction from Yesterday and Today!