Doing Time in Texas
~~~~The Series~~~~
Book 1:
Always Have a Plan
Book 2:
For Love of Money
Book 3:
Every Road Leads to Huntsville
Written by James E. Ferrell
Edited by Kathryn H. Clair
Art Illustrations by Victoria Gillis
Copyright 2019 James E. Ferrell. All rights reserved.
First publication by Grey Ghost Publisher, 19431 Highway 30 #36, Shiro, Texas 77876
Distributed by Smashwords
Publisher’s Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Ferrell, James E., author. | Clair, Kathryn H., editor.
Title: Every road leads to Huntsville / written by James E. Ferrell ; edited by Kathryn H. Clair.
Series: Doing Time in Texas.
Description: Shiro, TX: Grey Ghost Publisher, 2019.
Identifiers: LCCN 2019906685 | ISBN 978-1-950763-03-0 (pbk) | 978-1-950763-06-1 (Hardcover) | 978-1-950763-09-2 (ebook)
Subjects: LCSH Ex-convicts--Fiction. | Texas--Fiction. | Criminals--Fiction. | Love stories. | Detective and mystery stories. | Suspense fiction. | Christian life--Fiction. | BISAC FICTION / Christian / Suspense
Classification: LCC PS3606.E745 E84 2019 | DDC 813.6--dc23
Introduction
The morning had not yet broken through the last moments of lingering darkness, when suddenly a dense thick fog descended covering the forest under a thick curtain of white. Behind him in the bedroom, Willy heard the soft easy rhythm of Bonnie’s breathing.
The one thing that annoyed him about Bonnie was her persistence when it came to his family. As far as he was concerned the less she knew the better. Rummaging through his things, she had come across an old picture. The picture was in a heavy oval frame. It had been part of Willy’s few possessions. He didn’t know why he kept it. Maybe it was of his brother John. Anyway, it had been in his possessions when he had been incarcerated. So, he kept it. Many times he had considered throwing it away but each time he had tucked it back away in the few items of his past.
His eyes locked on the eyes that stared down at him from behind the oval glass. The accusing look on the face in the picture made him uncomfortable. Then came the questions from Bonnie. Just who was in the picture? Was it John his twin brother or was it Willy himself? They were twins. Why weren’t both of them in the picture? A chill ran up his back and he felt a strange loneliness. Willy wasn’t superstitious but he couldn’t help but wonder what lay ahead. He had always tried to maintain control about everything else but lately things were beginning to slide and slowly get out of hand.
Table of Contents
Introduction
C1 - Starting Over
C2 - Up in Arms
C3 - Too Much at Stake
C4 - Back to the Valley
C5 - It’s Written in the Code Book
C6 - A Time of Despair
C7 - The Depth of Wickedness
C8 - Sometimes Things Go Wrong
C9 - Suspicion
C10 - The Eye of an Eagle
C11 - Days of Confusion
C12 - The Legal Side
C13 - Dead Man Letters
C14 - Twenty Year Memory
C15 - Huntsville’s Revelation
C16 - It Looks Like Easter Sunday
C17 - Monday Morning’s Wake Up Call
C18 - Facing Up
C19 - Amoral Men
C20 - Sleepless Nights
C21 - Ragged Edge
C22 - Dark Legend
C23 - Every Road Leads to Huntsville
C24 - A Bad Day in Court
C25 - Sailing The Genesis
C26 - The Cabin in the Woods
C27 - A Lawyer’s Dream
C28 - My Ship Came In
C29 - Court Day I---Exhibit A
C30 - Sitting in The Darkness
C31 - Court Day 2---The Truck Driver
C32 - Court Day 3---Winners and Losers
C33 - Court Day 4---A Good Witness
C34 - Court Day 5---Family Business
C35 - Court Day 6---Family Ties
C36 - Moving Day
C37 - Court Day 7---Sins of the Brother
C38 - Court Day 8---A Horror in Waiting
C39 - Ghost from the Past
C40 - Court Day 8---To Whom It May Concern
List of Series Main Characters
About the Author
Also by James E. Ferrell
Letter from the Author
C1 - Starting Over
Ronald Joseph “Beaver” Watson stepped into the sunlight and heard the metallic sound of the gates close behind him. Turning, he remembered the day he had checked into the Huntsville prison shackled to one Willy Baker. For him, the past years of confinement had been a lifetime. This was a passage of time in sorrow, regret and shame. Sullen and bitter, he had entered his first day of prison. Today he stood in the warm sunshine allowing it to bathe his face. ‘I’m going to get this right! Today will be the first day in a new life and I will start from scratch and make it a good one!’ Once he had been a happy man with a pretty wife and child. Alcohol and bad company had turned that marriage into a disaster. Every morning of his incarceration he had swung his feet from his bunk, his first thoughts being of the family he no longer had. The grief had slowly subsided, but the emptiness would never go away. He had seen the relief on his wife’s face when the judge had given him five years instead of probation. The sentence had shattered his pride and touched a cold heart. He could never forgive himself for treating such a precious woman so badly. The only good thing in his life had lost all respect and questioned her love for him. The drunken nights had cost him her trust and a daughter he ached to see.
In all these years his wife Shelby had never returned his letters. She did not believe that he could change. In fact, he didn’t believe he could either. But prison had done what he could not do. For five years he had written a letter each week, holding out hope that she would write back but she never did. Beaver knew the time he had served was a lot less than he deserved and would accept the past and not be bitter.
He strolled through the streets of Huntsville looking intently around. Heading in the direction of the town square, he took stock of his worldly possessions and went directly to the Western Union office.
Beaver had received for his good behavior three hundred dollars to aid in starting a new life. A little of that money would get him some decent clothes and a room for a few days. The first thing he needed was a job. Walking along he watched as birds flew from tree to tree. ‘Free-as-a-bird’ would always have a special meaning to him. ‘It was a shame when men had to be locked up, because they couldn’t live in society,’ he thought. Never did he want to sit day by day in a box again. He decided his existence on this old planet was much too important for that.
Texas was hot this time of year, but Beaver liked this country; it was big and open. A man could breathe here. He had done his time in Texas. So here he would stay. He had no ties with the past except the memories of a woman and child he hoped one day to see again. He owed no man and the law said he had paid his debt to society. So now he walked along the sidewalk looking in each window as he walked by. A candy store was a good place to get out of the heat for a while. He decided he would treat himself to a soda. Never again would he drink anything stronger. The devil’s brew had made a fool of him for most of his thirty years. Tonight, he would write Shelby a letter and tell her he was a free man.
Easing up on the stool he could not quit smiling. Grady O’Hara stood back of the counter watching the man with the big smile and the buck teeth. A slight girl of eighteen stepped up to the counter a
nd asked, “What can I get you, Sir?”
Beaver replied, “I think I will have a milk shake and a piece of that pie there.” Giving the proprietor a big grin Beaver turned his attention to the black berry pie before him. He emitted a sigh of enjoyment as he ate the pie.
“Looks like the pie is a hit today,” Grady said.
“This pie is a hit any day. Sir, this shake is just right, too!” Beaver said as he cut another bite.“Were you down the street long?” Grady asked.“Some would say too long, but for me it was necessary,” Beaver said.“If you are planning to stay around, might look at the railroad station. Mr. Benson needs help most all the time,” Grady stated.
“I will make the railyard my next stop. I sure am obliged to you, Sir. I think Texas will be a good place to start over,” Beaver said reflectively.
“It will be what you make of it. Let me know if I can be of help to you. My name is Grady O’ Hara,” he said.
Beaver introduced himself and the two exchanged warm conversation for a few minutes. Beaver wanted to ask where he could find Willy, but he was afraid of the response he might get. ‘I will just keep my eyes and ears open for a while,’ he thought.
Down the street Texas Ranger Cage Cruise walked up to the prison gates. Introducing himself to the guard, he was at once ushered in to see the warden. A slightly old guard was summoned as soon as Cage arrived in the warden’s office.
“Ranger, I remember him well. I can’t tell you much about him. He never discussed what was eating him. Baker was a smart fellow and never gave me a hard time. Like most of the inmates, they all come in here with a chip on their shoulder and most leave the same way. Baker was a lot smarter when he left,” the warden related.
“Did he confide in anyone or have any friends?” Cage asked.
“Well the only inmate that even talked to him was Beaver Watson. Baker mostly just spent his time alone. He had problems with bad headaches,” the warden answered.
“You remember him well for an inmate that has been gone for two years,” Cruise stated.
“I really liked that boy…sure hope he is not in any trouble. I would hate to see him come to a bad end,” the warden replied.
“Warden, I would like to talk with this Watson inmate,” Cruise requested.
“You could, but he was paroled this morning. He is a sandy headed fellow with buck teeth,” the warden said. “Watson is always smiling…like he was up to something. I didn’t like him much at first,” the warden said. “He came in here with a smart mouth, but over time he mellowed out.”
“Did he say where he was headed?” Cruise asked.
“No. He said he had no place to go, but out of here,” the warden responded.
Leaving the prison Cage headed down town.
ααααααα
“Young man stop right there, please!” the white-haired lady called to Ranger Walker. Mike stopped his forward progress along the sidewalk and helped her get up on the curb. He had been headed for the candy store to wait for Cage and had decided a shake would be the right thing for this hot Texas day. “My name is Betty Taylor Mueller and I have been looking for one of you rangers. I have been trying to get the sheriff to look for my grandson, but he won’t do anything. His name is Shane Thomas Taylor and he disappeared over a week ago and hasn’t called me. He has left before but usually he would let me know where he was!”
“How old is your grandson, Ma’am?” Mike asked.
“He is 19 years old. I know he is a man, but something has happened to him or he would have contacted me. I know he would,” she said exasperatingly.
“We don’t look for missing people, but if anything turns up, we will let you know,” Ranger Mike stated.
Cage was sitting across from Annie and the two were drinking from the same malted when Mike walked in the candy store. Looking at the two who didn’t seem to notice him, Mike said, “What’s the matter, Cage? Can’t you afford to buy Annie her own shake?” Standing behind the bar Grady grinned, sighed and shook his head.
“Mike, I think you and I need to have a talk,” Cage said.
“Hey, Cage, an elderly lady wants us to look for her missing grandson,” Mike interjected.
Without looking away from Annie, Cage asked, “How old is the lad?”
“He is 19 years old,” Mike replied.“That’s a year younger than me and no one is looking for me!” Cage said with a smile.
Grady O’Hara responded, “Everyone knows where you are. Either you are looking through the glass on my candy case or looking at that pretty face of Annie Parker!”
With that Annie laughed and said “Toddle-doo,” as she left the candy store.
“Well what did you tell the lady about her grandson?” Cage asked.
“I didn’t know what to tell her. His name is on the list of people we are watching!” Mike said.
“What! …Which one?” Cage quickly asked.
“It was the Taylor guy,” Mike replied.
C2 - Up in Arms
Baker will call us when he gets the truck to a place we can pick it up. As soon as we get our hands on that truck, I want…Paddy and Artie to get it headed for Chicago and” …shaking his finger at Paddy and Artie, he finished, “If you gentlemen lose that truck you best shoot yourselves! Artie you shoot yourself first and then give Paddy the gun to do the same. Grrrr…I don’t know why I’m trusting the only truck we can get our hands on with you two boobs. I’ll take Quinn and start looking for Baker. Bart will be at the meeting place in an hour. Smitty you go meet the sheriff and tell him Willy has contacted us,” McDonald said.
It was almost noon when Bonnie and the dogs loaded up in the car. “You will hear from me within the week,” Willy said as he gave her a kiss on the cheek and patted the car as she drove away. He turned and entered the house. Getting his bag and driving gloves he headed for the barn at a fast pace. Pushing the large doors open, first one then the other, he surveyed the landscape while putting on the driving gloves. He would drive the truck to the location he had selected and then call McDonald to pick it up. The wind blew against a door causing it to swing back closed. Looking around for a stone to prop against the door he pushed it open again. A shocking pain coursed through his body and took his breath away knocking him back into the barn. Gasping for breath Willy fell back hitting his head on a large stone. Above him the rafters spun around and around. His vision dimmed and the barn door started to close in the wind. Darkness settled in and he felt a searing pain. His sight dimmed and he gasped for just one more breath. Wings fluttered around him and all went black.
On a hill across the road Judd Smith ejected the brass casing making sure it landed where it could easily be seen. Breaching another shell, he looked back through the scope for another shot. The scope moved across the body revealing a patch of red covering the chest of the man and blood pooling around his head, sighting seven inches over the head of the victim he started to squeeze the trigger when a gust of wind swung the barndoor shut shielding his intended target from sight. Grunting his annoyance, he raised to his knees. He always liked to include a second shot to make sure. The first shot was perfect. The second would give him a feeling of certainty. It wouldn’t take him long to cross the distance to the barn. A quick check to make sure the hombre was done for. As he was getting up something disturbed the pigeons at the top of the barn, and they flew in all directions. Having second thoughts he decided not to go to the barn. Instead he headed back to his truck. Judd marveled at his ability with a rifle. The only problem with a shot like that was ‘you can’t brag to anyone…not even to a friend.’ Rubbing the dust from the rifle stock he placed it in the rear window gun rack and headed west. He would make a phone call to McDonald. Then it was back to the ranch for a week of putting up hay and fence post.
In a couple of weeks things would settle down and he would make a road trip to pick up his fee. The money would be in a locker in Houston and he would get the key in the mail. Now he had a contact again. Hopefully, things would start to improve like
in the old days when Harlan was alive. Judd missed Harlan; he really did. Working for Harlan had been a prosperous time and he had saved for a rainy day. He had several bank accounts even though he didn’t trust banks and definitely didn’t trust bankers.
The pain came in waves and in his foggy brain Willy knew he had been shot. He had cut it too close and now he was paying the price. He went in and out of consciousness. Now it was out of his hands. This was not the way he had hoped things would go, but he had known this was a possibility. Now he could accept the consequences. The pain intensified and breathing was getting harder and harder. The rafters above him were a blur. This must have been the way Thomas had felt. His voice was weak as he tried to say out loud, “Thomas, I am sorry. I hope you are in a better place than where I am going. Please forgive me,” he groaned loudly and the pigeons at the top of the barn fled and circled out across the hill.
A few miles away Bart leaned against the hood of the patrol car waiting for McDonald to show up. By now Baker would be out of the picture and he could deal with McDonald for the truck. It wasn’t long until Smitty drove up to the rest stop.
“Sheriff, you're too late! Willy has already made contact with us and will be delivering the truck,” Smitty said.
Looking confused Bart said, “What are you talking about? The fellow you want will not be delivering anything. You said you wanted him, and I found him…and your truck. He is laying in a barn outside of town with a hole in his chest. The truck is in the barn. He was getting ready to leave in the truck. I don’t know where the woman is.”
Pulling a cigar from his mouth Smitty looked at Bart. His cold eyes were taking in Bart and revealing nothing in thought. Secretly Smitty hated dirty cops. He said, “Are you sure about that? We talked to him just a couple of hours ago.”
“I found him not more than thirty minutes ago. He was fixing to take a powder. So, Judd Smith stopped him…cold. If he hadn’t, you would have never seen that truck again. This had better be worth my time. I put myself in a dangerous position for your boss,” Bart said.
Doing Time In Texas, Book 3 Page 1
