Justice comes home the t.., p.1
Justice Comes Home (The Texas Riders Western #2) (A Western Frontier Fiction), page 1
JOSEPH
POWELL
justice comes home
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THE TEXAS RIDERS WESTERN
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A WESTERN FRONTIER FICTION
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Copyright Notice
Copyright © 2020 by Joseph Powell
All Rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic form or mechanical means without written permission from the author. The re-sale and distribution of this or any part therein of this work is a violation of U.S. and international copyright law.
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For more information about the author:
Email: jpowellbooks@gmail.com
Facebook: Joseph Powell Facebook
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Table of Contents
Copyright Notice
prologue
chapter 0 1 ✪
chapter 0 2 ✪
chapter 0 3 ✪
chapter 0 4 ✪
chapter 0 5 ✪
chapter 0 6 ✪
chapter 0 7 ✪
chapter 0 8 ✪
chapter 0 9 ✪
chapter 1 0 ✪
chapter 1 1 ✪
chapter 1 2 ✪
chapter 1 3 ✪
chapter 1 4 ✪
chapter 1 5 ✪
chapter 1 6 ✪
chapter 1 7 ✪
chapter 1 8 ✪
chapter 1 9 ✪
chapter 2 0 ✪
chapter 2 1 ✪
chapter 2 2 ✪
chapter 2 3 ✪
chapter 2 4 ✪
chapter 2 5 ✪
chapter 2 6 ✪
chapter 2 7 ✪
chapter 2 8 ✪
chapter 2 9 ✪
chapter 3 0 ✪
chapter 3 1 ✪
chapter 3 2 ✪
chapter 3 3 ✪
chapter 3 4 ✪
chapter 3 5 ✪
chapter 3 6 ✪
chapter 3 7 ✪
chapter 3 8 ✪
chapter 3 9 ✪
chapter 4 0 ✪
chapter 4 1 ✪
chapter 4 2 ✪
chapter 4 3 ✪
chapter 4 4 ✪
chapter 4 5 ✪
epilogue
A Note from the Author
Order of Books . Book Catalog
Copyright Notice and Publisher Notes
prologue
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Cedar Summit, Texas, 1869
The summer storm was stronger than Perry Wallace had expected. It blew hard against the door of the root cellar he and his wife were huddled in with their three small, terrified children. For a moment, he was afraid the wind might knock it off altogether.
The cellar was little more than a dirt hole he’d dug out with the help of his younger brother, Rex. Just big enough to hold potatoes and vegetables and the five of them, so long as they didn’t try to stretch out too much. If any of his children had been older than six, he wasn’t sure they’d have fit. If Nadine gave him any more children, they’d be in real trouble come the next storm.
He should’ve fixed the cellar up long ago, made it bigger and better, the kind of cellar a ranch like his ought to have. But the cattle kept him busy, and he’d never seemed to find the time. If they made it out of this alive, he would make the time.
He lit a candle and the entire group seemed to sigh with relief as a soft orange glow filled the space, pushing out the darkness. It was the only candle he’d been able to find in the time they’d had. He hoped it would last the night but doubted it would make it past two. It was only ten now, and the moon was hiding behind dark gray clouds.
His six-year-old son, Harley, tugged on his arm. “Daddy, are we gonna die?”
Nadine’s eyes widened, and she shot Perry a terrified look. Her blond hair fell around her head in soft waves caked with dirt. Water dripped slowly down on her from above them, wetting her hair as she covered the children with her body as best she could, trying to protect them.
Perry inhaled and forced a smile on his face. “No, we’re not gonna die. It’s just a storm. We’ve had them before.”
Harley nodded but didn’t look convinced. His light blond hair had come from Nadine’s side of the family, just like his daughters’. They had Perry’s eyes though, a deep blue that could rival the gulf’s tides. And Harley was tall for his age, another thing he’d gotten from his father; Perry was six-foot-five
Francis and Mable, just three and four years old, blinked rapidly at their father as a loud whistle blew over their heads. Francis was still learning to string words together but she knew enough to ask, “What is?”
“It’s nothing,” Perry said as Nadine’s grip on her children tightened. “Just the wind.”
Nothing in the world could have tempted him to tell his children a tornado was coming; was, in fact, already here. He closed his eyes and prayed to God that they might all survive this night.
When morning came, he counted eyes and ears and heads and found them all to be exactly as they should be. They climbed out of the root cellar, Perry coming up first and looking around. The damage wasn’t nearly as bad as he’d feared. Their house was still standing and the ranch land, though scattered with debris, seemed almost wholly intact. He hoped his brothers had had similar luck with their own ranches.
Nadine let out a relieved sigh. “Looks okay, doesn’t it?”
Perry nodded. “Tornado must have passed right over us without dipping down.”
Harley looked up at him. His head came up just past Perry’s waist. “Tornado?” he said, his young voice cracking. Even at six, he understood the danger of tornados.
Perry pressed his lips together. “We’re okay. You go on in the house with your mother. I’ve got to check the land and see how the cattle held up.”
“And Mr. Taylor,” Nadine said as she scooted the children ahead of her. “He’s all alone on that ranch from what I’ve heard. We ought to make sure he’s all right.”
Perry nodded and watched Nadine usher their children into their one-story farmhouse. The wood’s white paint was cracked and peeling and covered in dirt from the storm. Inside the walls, though, lay some of the prettiest rooms you’d ever find.
Five bedrooms and two washing rooms, a kitchen, living area, parlor, and dining room that Nadine had decorated in a simple but attractive style. The house sat on just over ten acres of land, somewhere on which his cattle were roaming; the storm had come on too fast yesterday for him to round them up.
He went to the barn first, a tall two-story structure made of wood and painted red. It housed a handful of horses, his milking cows, and some goats. He’d spent countless hours painting the exterior and trim, replacing broken or worn-out boards, and redoing the roof. He was glad to find the place still standing and the animals inside drier than he and his family had been when they’d come out of the root cellar.
He took out one of the horses, a personal favorite called Petunia. She’d belonged to his brother Bert until about a year ago when Bert had been killed by a gang of outlaws. Perry and his two remaining brothers had been forced to put those outlaws in their place. They all missed their brother like they would miss their own hand. Clay had even named his dog after him.
And now Petunia was his. He stroked her thick brown fur and spoke softly to her, apologizing for the storm as if he’d conjured it up himself. He grabbed his rifle, an 1866 Springfield Allen Conversion Rifle, another thing he’d inherited from his dead brother, and attached it to her saddle before riding out.
He loved the feel of the Springfield in his hands whenever he held it. It was a better gun than the ’65 Springfield had been. They’d fixed the extractor and given it a .50 caliber centerfire cartridge. The ’65 had had a .58 caliber and been mediocre at best.
The pastures were wet but green, stretching out toward a flat horizon. The patch of Earth they’d reserved for their crops looked as if the wind had tried it’s best to knock them down. The crops were bent this way and that but not broken, and upon closer inspection, most of them had stayed rooted to the ground. That was Texas for you; it took its licks but kept going strong.
Perry made his way toward some cattle in the distance. Two bulls snorted at him as he approached then went back to grazing on the wet grass. He looked around and spotted another dozen or so of his cattle, a mixture of bulls, heifers, and cows that had somehow managed to escape the storm unscathed. He spent the rest of the morning rounding up all he could and counted all but a lonesome few who might not have been quite so lucky as the rest.
In the distance, Perry spotted a clean-shaven man with curly brown hair approaching on a horse. Perry squinted and made out Corny Oliver. He had a medium-sized frame and was surprisingly well-muscled for a former drinking man. His real name was Cornelius, but even after he’d given up drinking and gambling, no one had ever called him anything but Corny. Except maybe for Perry’s sister, Mollie. Perry had the sneaking suspicion that one day he’d be calling Corny brother-in-law.
“Hey, there, Corny,” Perry said, raising a hand to him in salute. “How’d everyone hold up at Rex’s last night?”
“All right. The land’s a little messy, but othe
Perry smiled. “She’s got you wrapped around her finger, doesn’t she?”
Corny grinned and a blush crept into his cheeks. “I don’t know that I’d say that exactly... Mollie’s got a real stubborn streak in her at times is all, and it’s best for me to do as she says when I’m in town, or I’ll spend my entire visit getting an earful.”
Perry chuckled. “That’s what happens when you grow up the baby in the family. You get used to getting what you want. Tell her we’re all fine here. I’m just hunting down the rest of my cattle.”
“Want some help?”
“If you’ve got the time.”
“For you, I’ll make the time.” Then, under his breath, “Or I’ll hear it from your sister when I get back.”
Perry chuckled. “I’m about done looking around here. Thought I might check my neighbor’s property. A few could’ve wandered over in the storm. Nadine wants me to make sure Mr. Taylor’s all right, anyhow.”
“Mr. Taylor?”
Perry nodded. “Hal Taylor. The fella who moved in a couple weeks ago. It’s just him and some ranch hands from what we’ve heard.”
“You ain’t introduced yourself yet?”
Perry shook his head. “Word’s been going around that he prefers his own company. Still, with the storm and all, we ought to at least say our hellos.”
“Maybe he’s not so bad. Could be he’s just shy of strangers,” Corny said and started in Hal’s direction.
There was no clearly defined border between Perry and Hal’s land except for the largest live oak he’d ever seen. The man who’d lived in the house before had been a close friend of Perry’s, and the men had never gotten into any disputes over invisible boundaries. If a cow or two wandered onto the wrong patch of Earth, they’d just go onto the other’s land and bring them back.
Perry was less certain about this new neighbor. He entered the land cautiously, looking around and seeing if he could spot Hal outside somewhere, maybe checking on his own cattle. He’d only seen the man once, and that had been from some distance, but it was enough that he’d know him if he saw him.
“What’s that?” Corny said, pointing to his right.
Perry followed Corny’s finger and saw a young woman running toward them from Hal’s farmhouse. She had long dark hair, a pale face, and was completely naked from head to toe. She couldn’t have been more than eighteen. Perry’s heart thumped hard in his chest, and he urged Petunia forward.
She was panting when they reached her. There were scratches and bruises all over her body and fresh tears on her cheeks. Perry and Corny got down from their horses, and Perry quickly covered her with his coat.
“What happened?” Perry asked, looking the woman over for any sign of serious injury. She must’ve been Hal’s sister, since the man wasn’t married. “Was it the storm? Is anyone else hurt?”
She nodded, her whole body shaking. “H-He’s got her.”
Perry and Corny looked at each other. “Who’s got who?” Corny asked.
The woman’s face was red. She spoke through her sobs. “The m-man who lives here. He took me and my sister last night just before the storm hit. He and his two friends.”
“Took you?” Perry said, anger bubbling up deep inside him.
“My sister and I got lost when the storm came on.” Her tears choked her words, cutting them off. “They had guns.” A wail as loud as last night’s storm fell from her lips.
“Sssh,” Perry said, trying to calm her. “It’s okay. You’re with us now.”
He looked at Corny and knew they were thinking the same thing. We’ve got to do something.
The woman clawed at Perry’s shirt, her hands gripping onto him. “Please... they still have her. She’s only twelve.”
His anger stopped bubbling and turned hard, a cement layer of fury that wrapped around his heart. “Your sister’s gonna be okay. I promise.”
He hesitated then reached into his saddlebag and gave her his spare gun, a Colt Model 1861 Navy. It was a six-shot single- action percussion revolver that he always kept with him because it was the most reliable gun he’d ever owned.
“We’re gonna get your sister back. You take this and if you see anyone come out of that house who isn’t us, shoot them.” Her eyes widened. His throat was dry. “You know how to shoot?” She nodded silently and put her finger over the trigger.
“What’s your sister’s name?” Corny asked, getting out his own gun, a Colt Army Model 1860. It was .44 calibers with a rebated cylinder and a twenty-inch round barrel.
“Samantha. I’m Lily.”
Perry and Corny hurried toward the house on foot. It was two stories, a yellowing white that made it look older than it really was. The front door was solid dark wood that had gone unpainted, with a left-hand inswing that opened into a good-sized foyer with a set of stairs just beyond it. The door was standing open, and inside they heard a girl crying.
“How could you let her get away?” a man yelled at the top of his voice.
Perry peeked around the door and saw a man with dark hair and tiny eyes pacing the living room. Hal. He had a Cooper Double Action five-shot percussion revolver in his hand and was swinging it through the air, pointing it every so often at a terrified girl who wasn’t quite as naked as her sister. She still had her underclothes on, but her bare feet and hands were tied with rope and a blindfold covered her eyes.
“I don’t know how she did it,” said Hal’s friend, a man with lightly tanned skin and brown hair. Blood dribbled down from his nose, crossing his lips and landing on his chin. “I had her on the bed and was getting ready to take her when she bit my nose and—”
“You darn fool, Lenny. If we’re caught and she tells them what we did, we’re both gonna hang. You better pray we find her.”
“She couldn’t have gotten far. Just give me a minute to stop this bleeding and I’ll get right out there after her.” Lenny pressed a handkerchief to his nose.
Hal’s face was a thick layer of frustration. “Now I’ve got to shoot this other one before she gets away too.”
Hal pointed his gun at the younger girl, who began screaming as though she could sense the gun being trained on her. Lenny hit her, and she shut up. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth and fell in droplets on the floor.
“We were gonna kill them both anyway,” said Lenny. “What’s the big deal?”
Hal shot him an irritated look. “We haven’t had any fun with them yet. Storm took up all our time last night. That’s the big deal.”
Perry’s blood boiled. Behind him, Corny was breathing hot air on his neck like a warm wind, his hands curling into fists. Perry aimed his Springfield at Hal and held his breath, ready to shoot the man’s head off. He had his finger on the trigger when Lenny turned his head just the right way and caught sight of him.
“Look out!” Lenny shouted, pulling his gun and making Hal jump.
Hal turned and spotted Perry peeking around the door. His hand flew to his gun and he fired it, missing Perry’s head by an inch.
Perry pulled the trigger of his rifle, missing Hal but putting one into Lenny’s arm. Lenny dropped his gun with a yowl and held his arm like it was about to fall off.
Corny ran into the house toward the stairs, keeping his head low and firing his Colt Army at Hal while the terrified girl sobbed and screamed for her sister.
“Down!” Corny shouted at Perry as Perry started to stand. He ducked as a bullet sailed over his head. Another inch to his left and it would’ve taken off his ear. Corny planted himself behind a wall, his gun up and waiting for a clean shot. Perry already had one.
He fired his Springfield. The gun cracked thunder and a shockwave ran through his hand and up his arm. The bullet found its way into Hal’s skull, blowing bits and pieces of him all over the floorboards. Hal dropped to the ground and a pool of blood oozed out of his head. His leg twitched a couple of times before it stilled.
Lenny let out a cry that was more angry than it was scared. “You no-good pieces of—” He fired three rounds in quick succession, not bothering to aim, just pulling the trigger. He was desperate to hit one of them, and desperation was a terrible thing for a man in Lenny’s position.
Lenny’s gun clicked empty, and his face went white. He had just enough time to realize his error before Corny pulled the trigger of his own gun. The bullets that flew from it sank so far into Lenny’s chest that they came out the other side. Lenny dropped to the ground beside his friend, his blood merging with Hal’s to create an ocean of red.
