Two new titles are available on Amazon. The first is the fourth of the State of Arizona series, STATE OF CONFUSION. It takes Tan and a new Governor to new heights of trouble at the southern border along with trouble in the capital between the new Governor and everyone else, particularly Tan.

The second book is the second of the DEACON series, DEACON UNDERGROUND. The Deacon is caught up in three or four problems that all wrap around Gold. He has to go underground to get to the bottom of it all.

See posts and link here soon.

What’s new

Doug’s work in writing is bringing new excitement to his collection of books.

DEACON is selling well and receiving rave reviews. While the on line sales do not indicate this, his personal sales and his personal sales at book venues are. He has reordered copies and is moving forward with spending more time in book festivals, stores, and just plain sales efforts.

DEATH BY BASEBALL is in the edit and proof stage right now. Proof copies have been ordered and are on the way. Perhaps they will be in the mail today.

DEACON II is at the first crisis point. Daniel’s life is about to be redirected again.

The State of Arizona series is all on audio book at this time. Audible will give you a free copy when you sign up with them. They will also give you a free month of books when you sign up.

Doug’s big question at this time is – Do I need a fourth in the State of Arizona series? WHAT DO YOU THINK?


Some days nothing goes right. Been trying to straighten out my books on this site and nothing is working. Cannot up load a new cover for my SAILOR book. Won’t let me change some old stuff. Web isn’t working too quickly from the satellite. Think I’ll go outside and play with the two bull snakes in the back yard. The dogs want nothing to do with them.

Be blessed and check out my new book THE DEACON or maybe some of you would like SAILOR



Ain’t no frogs out today.

Snow’s too deep.


Wonder is a road less traveled

only if you have 4 wheel drive


There’s nothing like a nasty day

for increasing the creativity,

and boredom, da, dum, dum.


May the sun always shine on your parade.

Sales and Service

Lately I have been digging to find ways to market my books and a couple of friends books also. We have all been stymied by the hundreds of options, cost, methodologies, and just plain questions about what each site will do for us.

I listen to a lot of blogs on the subject. Amy Porterfield has a great blog about on-line marketing. While it is focused on selling seminars, much of the info is also very helpful to the writing. She has a freebee with every blog session. Some are very simple and others are pages thick for all aspects of on-line marketing. Great seminars. has much to offer.

My personal favorite on how to put the words together in all my communications concerning sales in NIKKI ELLEDGE BROWN – The Communication Stylist. Free videos, lotsa print outs, and some great on-line seminars..

All in all, I have a lot of work to do in the coming months. I have a feeling my investment is going to be lot of time and a bit of money.

Be blessed and write.

FREE – Just as a postscript, if you want to get my weekly newsletter, email me at Not only will you get the newsletter which will follow my efforts in depth, but I have a story to send you absolutely FREE. I will never sell or share your info.

Looking for a voice

After you have published your book, the next step is Audio. is the place to go. It isn’t the easiest site to navigate, but that’s the place to get your books recorded and place them in Audible’s vast library.

The procedure is simple once you navigate through the site.

The biggest problem is finding a voice to do your recording if you do not want do record it yourself. It is possible to record your own voice and use that for the final product and I would recommend that route if you have a good voice, can do different voices for your characters, and have 50 or so hours to do the job. Some special equipment is also recommended and may even be required depending on what you already have.

You can contract a voice for your book on ACX. There are two possible contracts. The first is you pay by the length of the book. This can range from a few hundred dollars to thousands depending on the frills and the reputation of the voice. The second way is to split the revenue from audio book sales. It’s a straight 50/50 split on the Audible sales. Unless you are a good selling author with a great volume of ebook and/or paperback sales there are not too many who will join you in the effort.

The nice thing is you approve every chapter before final print. You will audition the voice. Both of these are part of the process.

One word of caution here, if you use ACX and Audible you tie up your book for digital audio format for 7 years with Audible.

A voice I will recommend without reservation is Charles (Charlie) Baker at To contact him directly at He has done two of my books and I am extremely happy with the result.


I rolled.

All sound stopped, but my hand was on my blood red engraved pistol handle.

Another foot step.

I rolled fast, pulling the hammer back and letting a lead slug fly toward the shadow that appeared as I opened my eyes. The shadow dropped with a grunt and intake of air a man makes when he’s hurt bad.

I rolled again.

The shadow, which I couldn’t see now, fired two quick shots into where I had been. All I could think was that makes two more holes in that saddle blanket.

Now I was blind due to the flash of his gun.

I heard him or her running into the woods downhill toward the mine. I waited until the moon came out from behind a cloud and my night vision began to come back. When I could make out trees and tell them from a horse, I moved downhill taking a wide sweep to the left where I remembered there was thick brush in places and lots of trees, big trees.

I turned Solomon loose as I went past him and told him to stay close unless something happened to me. Like he understood or something.

I walked, my boots crunching everything they touched. I took them off and hung them on a couple broken off branches so I could find them later. I walked quieter, much quieter.

The sound of splashing through the stream, probably the pool, told me a lot. If there weren’t two of the enemy here, the one had just gone in the mine.

Picturing the mine, I thought perhaps he had a smallish cowpony in the mine waiting for him.

Something moved off to my right. Something big. I went to ground. A fair sized pine was between my position and the big thing. I was ready to shoot when I realized it was a horse. A small cowpony. I let it walk right up to me and stood to greet it.

I knew the horse. Only one man had ever ridden it until he died. That man was Shorts. Shorts’ horse had come all the way here. I might believe that he would go to the ranch, but no out here.

I buried Shorts so I knew it wasn’t him down there in the mine. There was just one other man that might have brought that horse here.

Stepping out in the open I yelled, “Cicero, come on out. I’ll see ya get a fair hearing.”

No reply. The horse walked to the creek, bent down and drank.

“Come on, Cicero. It’s all over. You killed a lot of people, but you’re done, finished, it’s all over.”

No sound.

“I’m coming in, Cicero.”

I walked keeping the horse between me and the mine mouth. As I approached the line sight kept me drifting down stream until I stepped over the stream and walked along the wall toward the mine. Every two little steps I stopped to listen.


I arrived at the edge of the entrance to the mine. There was no way I wanted to do what I had to do. He had ridden with me. We shared the hunger of the hunt. Then at one point I think he even saved my life.

“Cicero,” I said softly, “Come out, now. Toss your gun out first and then come out.”

After a few moments of listening to the music of the stream, I heard, “I’m hurt. You hit me bad. I can’t come out.”

“I’m coming in. Put your gun on the ground and I’ll come get you.”

“Come get me and take me out of this hole so I can die looking up at the moon.”

I could hear the pain he was feeling in his voice. He was a hurting man. “I coming in.”

I moved into the entrance of the cave. He should have been able to see me silhouetted by the light of the moon behind me. I slid into the hole along the left side, my back rubbing the wall and my sixgun pointed deep into the cave. “Where are you?”

“Here.” A grunt and then a shot.

A line of flame come toward me and finished off my night vision again. My hand started pulling the hammer back and then the trigger until I had fired four rounds.

He screamed again.

This time I could hear death grab him and wrestle him deep down to hell where the unrepentant go.

I went outside, started a fire, got the pine knots, lit the unused one, and returned to drag Cicero out and across the stream where I laid him out like he was in a coffin before I went back in to find a shovel at the face of the mine.

With him buried I rode back to the Rafter B, sleeping in the saddle as Solomon took me where I needed to go and the dog tagged along.


The sun came up on me lying in my blanket in the dirt behind the house. Now I could tell Nancy and Buck that it was really over. Nancy could get a few miners to work the mine. Within days of beginning work there, she could afford all the cows she wanted. Buck could ramrod for her, he was a capable man.

I, I could got back to Evelyn and figure out what was next in my life of being the Deacon, a servant to the Church.

Another dream.


Last chapter


Two days later, with Solomon all packed up and another horse from the outlaw Laze E crew packed with almost nothing, I headed for Golden. The plan was to load up the pack horse with food and other supplies, I had a list, and hire a couple of hands to bring it back to the ranch and work there while I went on to Denver and the Caravan, hopefully with Evelyn if she waited. Oh, I wasn’t going to marry here, but we made a good team for the Lord. I had two or three great sermons in my head that needed to be preached.

Arriving at the main street of Golden, I checked the horses in to the livery down the alley from the hotel and then walked into the hotel. The lobby was busier than on the last visit. The windows had been fresh washed and the furniture was polished and waxed to shine like the sun itself. On one of those shiny pieces of furniture was a familiar face.

“Daniel, come and sit down.”

“Tor, what’s up with you? I sent you in here to recuperate, not hibernate or retire.”

“Well, I’d like to tell ya right now, but it’s my bed time. I am under strict Doctor’s orders. If I don’t live up to those orders I will be fired and the good Doctor’s bill will be mine to pay.” He got up stiffly and walked to the stairs with the stiffness of a very old man with all kinds of rheumatism.

“I’ll meet ya here in the morning. What time?”

“Make it about 8. And, do I have a surprise for you. Sleep tight and don’t let the bedbugs bite.”

The desk man yelled, “We have no bed bugs in this hotel.”

Tor chuckled. “See ya a 8. I’ll bring the surprise.”

“I can wait. I need the sleep.” I turned to the desk, “Sir, a bed now or I perish.”

“Boy. Take this man to room 305 and hang the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign out for him. His rig is right there by the settee. Make it quick before he faints from exhaustion, Boy.”

“Yes, Sir.”

It was everything I could do to keep up with the young man he called, Boy, but I made it. He did hang the sign after my gear was put on a rack next to the door. The lamp was turned down. I blew it out as he closed the door with, “Good night.”

“Wake me at 7 please and have the barber fill a tub for me.”

“Yes, Sir.” I heard from the hall.

The pounding on the door was deafening. “I’m coming.”

“It’s 7:20, Sir. I’ve been trying to rouse you for twenty minutes.”

“I’ll be down for the barber in five. I’ll want a shave and a bath.”

“Yes, Sir. The bath is waiting. It might be a touch cool by now.”

“Get out of here. I’m coming.”

I grabbed the cleanest clothes I had, the ones I had on for the last week, and headed down the stairs.

The barber was waiting with hot water, a razor, and soap.

As I finished and was getting ready to dress, he returned. “Sir, you cannot surely wear those same clothes. I had the Boy iron out the store creases in these. Your Mr. Tor has paid for them. He stated that he would be waiting in the café you ate breakfast in last.”

“Thank you.” I wanted to toss him a dollar, but I was broke until I could get to the bank and get some dollars for the gold in my bags.

“Mr. Tor said for you to not worry about money.”

“Thank you.”

Then I thought, ‘What is this guy, a mindreader?’

I dried and dressed. Brushing my hat was a waste, but I did it.

The café was a hole in the wall where an old roundup cookie held sway with a spatula and a cleaver. Tor was waiting for me in a back corner table sipping a cup of what I assumed to be coffee. I sat down with him and told the waiter, “I’ll have what he’s having.”

Tor smiled.

The man delivered the cup and I took a testing sip. “TEA! You’re drinking tea?”

“Yeah, according to this Doctor I have, it’s supposed to promote healing and I need all the promoting I can get.”

“How much longer before you can ride back to Denver with me?

“Don’t know that I’ll be going back to Denver. Sent the Marshall a note to tell him I’m probably out of the law business. Thinking about ranching with my new partner.”

“New partner?” That was a surprise, but then a lot had happened since we separated not that long ago.

“Order up. I’m hungrier than a sore toothed bear.”

“So what’s the surprise?”

He put a dumb grin on his face, “It’s comin’. Don’t you be worrying none.”

My mouth was full of steak and fried potatoes when Tor whispered, “Here she comes.”

“She?” I turned to see who he was talking about.

Coming across the room was a stunning young woman in a wool shirt and denim trousers. Her hair was the darkest of blacks. The way she walked said ‘look out here I come and I am confident.’ Then her eyes focused on me. Those eyes were dark and seemed to penetrate deeply whatever they focused on. “And, who is this lovely young lady?”

“This is my new partner. She has nursed me and wants me to work her ranch with her. I asked her to marry me last night and she is supposed to answer this morning.”


I could not take my eyes off her.

Arriving at the table triggered my manners. I stood. She stuck out her hand which I took strictly out of habit. “I’m Nancy. This man here has told me all about the Deacon.”

She looked at Tor, “The answers ‘yes’ to your question last evening. I have already talked with the local Parson and he can do the ceremony this afternoon if that’s what satisfactory with you.”

“Whatever you say, Dear.” He tried to stand to greet her.

“Sit down. You aren’t ready for standing alone and walking, yet.”

“How’d you get here, then?” I asked.

“Got me a fancy chair with wheels. The boy from the hotel pushes me around when Nancy’s not available.”

“How can we have two Nancys in our lives?” I asked.

“We can’t. One of them is a fake.”

I sat down. My brain went to work with the extra pressure on it. “Nancy is a fake.”

“One of them is.”

I looked at the strong woman still standing at the table and stood up again. Sliding her chair out, “Would you care to join us at the table and have some breakfast?”

“I would.” She sat and slid herself up to the table.

I sat. “So, tell me about all this. I am, shall we say, befuddled.”

“Dad had come to Golden to meet me coming back from school in Philadelphia. I got here and he wasn’t here so I was waiting when Tor came in. My training was Nursing, in part, so the Doctor asked me to wait on him hand and foot until he was well. He’s been ordering me around forever. The gal you chased all over the country and rescued was an imposter. I am sure she was the daughter of that Lazy E owner. They been after the ranch for a long time and Dad was getting a bit leery of their activities. We were missing cows and hands were leaving without notice. They would just come in, get their gear, and leave. My last letter from Dad said that someone was shooting up the place without really trying to hit anything. He was worried they would start shooting to kill. So, here I am. I left school and caught the next train. I had wired the Doctor here to let him know I was coming.”

“Sorry about your Dad. Wish we had gotten there sooner.”

She looked at Tor, “When do you want to do the wedding?”

“When I’m ready for the honeymoon.”

“I am not waiting that long before I go to the ranch, cowboy. Today or six months from now. Take your pick.”

“Now, of course.”

I chimed in with, “I was told in Denver I could do weddings.” I smiled.

“Who said that?” Tor asked.


“Who’s Evelyn?”

“My singer.”

“We’ll use the Parson,” Nancy ended the conversation.

We talked a bit longer while we finished breakfast. I left to get a spring wagon from the livery along with a couple of horses to pull it. The wrangler was very understanding and was willing to anything for Miss Diane and her beau. “That’s a right purty woman there. Women rare enough out here and purty are impossible to find. Danged if I can even find an ugly one.”

I chuckled as I drove off to the front of the hotel.

It was three days later when we stopped on top of the rise and looked down on the ranch house. I was mad. Tor was hurting. Nancy was ready to spit nails at the phony Nancy down below.

“I will ring her neck first and then slap her silly,” Nancy spit out like venom.

“Nancy. Hate will burn you for the rest of your life. What happened happened. We can get things straightened out and you will have your ranch with the gold for the rest of your life.”

“Don’t be preaching at me, Deacon. I’ve heard it all before and it did nothing to keep my Dad alive.”

“Everything dies. Why should you be exempt from death in your life?”

“Don’t even try to give me that religious garbage, Mr. Deacon. I have had it up to here,” she waived her hand above her head.

I pointed to my heart, “You only need it in here.”

“Shut up and drive.” She kicked Solomon in the ribs and headed for the ranch house as fast as he would go.

I had to take is slow. Tor was hurting and whining. Not that I could blame him any.

He said, “Catch here. That woman down there will shoot her out of the saddle if she gets half a chance.”

I saw Nancy jump off Solomon in the middle of the ranch yard and run to the house. The front door open and the false Nancy walked out. The two met at the edge of the porch in a collision I thought was going to kill them both. I could see the fur fly from my bouncing seat as we zigged and zagged down the slope to the yard.

We got there just in time to see the false Nancy catch Nancy with a beautiful roundhouse swing that caught her in the left ear. Nancy went down into the dirt hard.

My eyes must have bugged out because she bounced up and laid the false Nancy backpeddling onto the porch and flat on her back. Her head hit the wood with a resounding boom and bounced. She laid there still with a small pool of blood growing under her head.

Nancy moved forward and rolled the unconscious one on her side and began doctoring the head wound. Within moments the false Nancy looked like a war hero with a bloody bandage around her head as she sat up on the edge of the porch.

Nancy said, “Why?”

No answer.

I moved Tor into the wheeled chair on the porch and into the house. Neither of us worried about the battle on the porch.

After returning to the porch I asked, “Where’s Buck. Did you kill him, too?”

False looked up at me and said, “I have killed no one, ever. Buck is out checking a rumor from a passing rider that over two hundred head of my cows are over to the west in a large hole in the lava country. Who’s the tramp?”

“The real Nancy who was raised on this ranch, whose mother is buried up on that rise, whose father was killed by the Lazy E, that’s who.”

I watched. She never blinked. “So who am I if not Nancy who was raised on this ranch, whose mother is buried on that rise, whose father was killed by outlaws?”

“Beats me, lady. I have no idea. Who are you?”

“I am Nancy.”

Nurse Nancy came through the door. “No, you are not. I am the Nancy and I can prove it. Deacon, in the top drawer of the dresser in the room Tor is in you will find a tintype. Bring it out here.”

I did.

I looked at it as I walked out. There was no longer a doubt in my mind. I handed it to false Nancy. She took one look at it and began crying. As she shook her head the ends of the bandage flapped in the breeze.

“It’s not true. She planted that tintype while she was in there. I am Nancy.”

I was taken aback by her anger and pain. Why would she continue to cry and fight with the picture settled it? The tintype was definitely Nurse Nancy. I asked, “When was this picture taken, Nancy.”

“Around spring last year. Dad wanted me to get the picture so he could put it on his dresser. We never got around to getting a frame for it.”

I looked at False Nancy. “If you are you the real Nancy, what do you have for proof?”

“There was never a picture of me, but there is a picture of my mother in my room under the paper in the bottom of my jewelry box, the small wooden ammunition box on my dresser.”

I retrieved the box and handed it to Nurse Nancy. She fumbled the latch. “It sticks.” On the second try she got it open and laid out the jewelry on a small table like it was important to her, lifted the paper, and there was nothing there.

False Nancy grabbed the box and shook it. Nothing fell out. “Where did it … She took it. She stole my mother’s picture. Now I really do have nothing, no ranch and no picture.

Nurse Nancy said, “I found where you had hidden it and put it up on the shelf in the closet.”

I looked at the paper lying on the table. There was a slight change of color over a part of the paper that was close to the size of the supposed picture that I saw when Nurse Nancy brought it out.

I prayed, ‘Lord, I need wisdom and answers here. Please show me the truth.’

An idea hit me, I looked at false Nancy, “What’s the terrain like to the west?”

“Mostly slow rolling hills until you get to the mountain.”

“Nancy, which direction is the nearest water hole from here. Just point.”

She stalled as if to think, “I don’t know if the one over there, or over there.”

False Nancy said, “There are no water holes in that direction for miles.” She pointed and shook her head with a smile. She knew she was right.

“How old was your dad?”

“61. He married late and I took a couple of years to come along.”

I said, “Alright. Nancy, how old was your mother and when and why did she die?”

She looked lost. “What is all this questions crap? I am the daughter. I’ve been away for a long time and now you want all these answers.”

The real Nancy yelled, “My mother died six years ago from some sickness that withered her away like a hot wind on green grass. She went from a healthy woman to dead in less than four weeks. I helped dad bury her. Come to think of it, she’s buried up on the hill, but her feet are under the headstone. Dad wanted it that way so the pressure wouldn’t be on her head. If you look at the head stone you’ll see a five pointed star that I carved in the sandstone one day when I was up there crying.”

“She spied it all out while she was here alone with the cowboy. Tramp? You’re the tramp living alone with a cowboy.”

“Did up the coffin and see where her feet are. No one could know that except Dad and me.”

I picked up the tintype from the jewelry box and then I slowly lifted the paper. When I put the two together it was plain that the tintype had been in that box at one time under that very piece of paper.

Nurse Nancy turned and walked to Solomon as I was doing the match up. As I lifted my eyes from the paper, she swung onto his back and took off like a shot. I called, “Solomon.”

He spun on a silver dollar and gave about ninety-five cents change before returning to the hitching rail right in front of me. False Nancy the nurse landed in the dirt after her flight of fifteen feet or so.

I’ll give her this. She got up and started walking away from the ranch slumped in her defeat.

I went to retrieve her. There were still questions without answers.


The last chapter

for now


After a tough couple of days we found out that Nurse Nancy was really a Nancy, just not the right one for the ranch. Cicero had met her on a trip to Golden when he had the gold assayed first time. He got drunk and told her everything, so when XXX brought Tor in she figured she could worm her way in if the outlaws killed the real Nancy or there was a miracle and the real Nancy died of unknown causes.

Cicero had told her a lot about the ranch and where to find the gold when he was whiskey blabbing and had even invited her to the ranch where she could live at the mine and he could visit her. She liked the idea of living in a gold mine and sooner or later would have killed Cicero. The gold would have then been hers and she could get out of area from time to time to spend a lot of money. The first thing she was going to do was buy out the saloon and dance hall she was working in.

I made sure she didn’t change her mind to ride away by taking her to the law in Golden.

Bottom line, Nancy had her ranch and the Lazy E was not going to be a problem anymore. Buck was going to stay on. Tor cried because he mad at himself for getting suckered in. He decided to take on the Lazy E seein’s how he no longer had a job in Denver and all the owners were dead.

Me, I went home to Evelyn to get my head on straight after all the killing and rescuing and just plain miracles.

If God was for me, who could stand against me. I could see me getting real proud in a short time. My thinking could turn to – Since I am so good, no one can stand against me.

For the first time in my life I felt fear so deep I trembled and froze. Fortunately, I was on Solomon and he was headed for Denver.

It wasn’t all about the money at all.

FREE BOOK – The DEACON – Episode 24

Tommy went wide up the slope into the trees. I motioned for Buck to stay behind me. All of a sudden it hit me. I didn’t know what this horse would do if the shooting started. ‘Hey, Lord. Please keep an eye on this horse and let me hang on, Please. Thank you, amen.’

I rode along the steam.

A spot where the stream had been blocked a bit by rolling rocks across its width, causing a pool of fifteen feet across and two feet deep right in front of mouth of a cave. The cave looked like it was natural. The top of the dam lined up with the cave and on my side of the stream, fifty feet or so, was a pile of smaller rock that looked different than the rock the cave was in. There were no fresh tracks anywhere except for one set where Buck had come close a couple days before.

I got off the horse, dropped the reins, and walked across the dam. The cave opening was natural. No sign on it of any tools, but inside the mouth ten feet, I could see a pick and a single jack standing against the wall with a couple of drill steels alongside. A wooden box like one I had seen blasting powder in once over by Amarillo what seemed like a long time ago.

I walked up close and read the label. AJAX BLASTING POWDER. I lifted it and moved it up to the trees behind a bunch of scrub and rock with Buck’s help. Actually, he grabbed it and rode up there while I walked empty handed.

Returning to the hole was in a quandary. That hole was dark. How far could I go in and be safe. I had no light of any kind. ‘Lord, I need to see what’s in there. Any ideas.’ All I came up with was that small voice in the back of my head saying, ‘walk.’

I did, carrying my little pointy headed hammer.

Thirty feet in it was so dark the floor was difficult to see and there were no more colors, just dark shapes and space. Running my hands up the wall on the right side and across the ceiling I came to a foot wide hole in the ceiling. I checked it out by running my hand along the hole toward the entrance. It ended ten feet back. Now that I was looking in a different direction I could see a bit better. At the edge of the slot in the ceiling were whitish rocks with lines in them.

I went back to the thirty foot area, took a whack at the edge of the slot with the hammer, and brought down a fair sized slab of the roof, a few pieces hit me on my hat. Bending over, I grabbed the slab and made for the entrance.

In the noon sun the whitish stone looked white as snow and the lines were a rusty yellow. The rock crumbled with very little effort. The tough parts felt the hammer. Tommy came down from the trees, took one look, and said, “Gold, or my name’s little Suzy Brown.”

“Gold?” said I.

“Gold?” Buck said.

“Yeah, that’s gold. That’s the kind of gold miners love to see, cain’t remember what it’s called, but they love it. You can sit here with our little hammer and crumble it, separating the white quartz from the gold veins, and walk away with almost pure gold to take to town. Most banks’ll give ya 90 to 95 percent of the ounce price without any further refining. Why heck, you can refine it in a forge down to dang near the pure stuff.”

We all said, “Woooweee,” at the same time as we stood there gawking.

Tommy looked around and found a couple of sappy pine knots. Buck got a fire going. When we put the two together I had two torches to go in the mine with. They smoked a bit, but put out a fair amount of light. Forty feet in the veins of rusty yellow got bigger and the channel in the ceiling went wider and wider. All I could think of was, ‘Nancy’s gonna be a rich gal. This mine has enough gold showing to restock the ranch and build those line shacks she wanted.’ It was just a shame that her daddy wasn’t going to get to see it.

I left the mine without burning out the first torch. A dunk in the stream simmered it to out and both were put in a crack twenty feet south of the entrance so no one would see them if they happened to drop by.

We headed for the ranch house with some good news for a change.

Nancy cried all the way through the meal she prepared and set before us. I said grace and the crying started. It the time for me to eat the steak in front of me and five biscuits for her to settle down enough to talk about it. “What would I have done without you all? I feel so good and so bad all at the same time. Cicero missing. Tor dead. Shorts dead. All those gun hands dead and even that horrible Mr. Everson dead. All over gold. I wish it wasn’t there. Why couldn’t it be on someone else’s ranch? My mother homesteaded that section just because of the water. My father always said that place was a waste because it was so far out. I wish he was here now.” Her bawling wiped out the rest.

I went for a walk. I had a lot of questions I would have liked answered. Why homestead a place that far out even with water? Who was digging the hole deeper into the wall? Who found it? “What do I do next, Lord? I really need You to tell me.”

Everything seemed so done. The kidnapper/killers were all accounted for. Nancy was safe. Every body we knew of was buried properly. The hands remaining were trustworthy. I could leave whenever I wanted to.

Tommy died that night.

Tommy had the first watch. He never woke up me or Buck. I woke at the first hint of dawn and saw Buck’s bunk occupied. I didn’t even bother to check my boots for varmints before I kicked my feet into them. Grabbing my gun belt I whipped it around my hips and missed catching the buckle. I tried again and succeeded. The yard was empty. The house was quiet. All the horse seemed to be in the corral. Solomon looked at me like, ‘What’s up, Deacon?’

I found Tommy in the kitchen with a cup of coffee on his finger. The coffee was ice cold. I put the pot on the stove and added some kindling, blew on the ashes, and had a fire in a minute or so. Buck ran in, saw Tommy, and asked very quietly, “What happened?”

I told him all I knew.

Tommy’s body laid on the floor just as I had found him. He had soiled himself and his face was one of agony. His back was arched backwards. The coffee that had been in the cup must have gone down his gullet because none was seen spilled on the floor except one large drop under his cup lip.

The pot on the stove boiled. I reached for a cup on the counter and handed it to Buck. He grabbed the pot and poured as I reached for another cup.

I dropped it and spun around, slapping Buck’s full cup from his lips. The hot coffee go on both of us. My shirt caught some, but I leaned forward to give the hot coffee distance from my skin. Buck wasn’t as lucky. The scalding coffee splashed on his cheek and ear before pouring off his face and down his back. He screamed like a gut shot horse. I grabbed the water bucket and doused him with half a bucket of water.

“Thanks, I think. What was that all about?”

“The coffee is the only way Tommy could have been poisoned.”

“How do you know he was poisoned?”

“The box in the far corner of the counter. See, the one that says ‘rat poison’ on it.”

“Oh, thank you, Deacon.”

Nancy walked into the kitchen with her wrong shaped robe wrapped around her and fear in her eyes. “What’s all the . . .”

She saw Tommy.

“Is he dead?”

“Yes. Poison,” Buck answered.

“Oh, my god.”

“Ma’am. I wish you wouldn’t say that unless you know God up close and personal.”

“How’d he die?”

“Poison. I already told you that.”

“You don’t have to yell.” The crying started all over again. “Damn gold.” She turned and walked back to her room.

I heard the door slam.

“Let’s get him out to the barn, Buck. Did you see that box on the counter at dinner?”

“No. No one puts poison on the kitchen counter.” He looked around. “Do they?”

“Someone did. Far’s I can see. Either you or Nancy put it there, cuz I know I didn’t do it.”

“You can count me out. I know I didn’t do it either.”

I just shook my head grabbed Tommy under his arms. He was cold and stiff. Buck grabbed his feet. The barn was cool and a board across a stall became his marble slab until the grave was ready for him.

Nancy was still in her room with the door shut when they returned to the house. “I’ll cook, you watch,” I said.

“I’m watching after I get rid of this rat poison.” Buck walked out the back door. I watched him go a hundred yards from the house and slowly pour the poison out of the box onto the ground in a thin stream. The morning breeze kicked up a bit to help disperse the poison. He brought the box back and threw it in the stove.

We both watched it burn to ashes. I stirred the ashes. It was gone.

Three of us on the ranch and one of us was a killer.

Then my brain kicked in again. It wasn’t me. The reason for the murder was important. Tommy knew where the gold was. Of course, so did Nancy and Buck. Nancy already owned  the gold mine. That only left Buck, and he didn’t act like a killer. He was genuinely startled and surprised when his saw Tommy on the floor. So was Nancy.

Was there someone else on the ranch trying to kill us off? Why? Because that someone else knew about the gold and did not have a prayer of getting it without killing us off. That had to be it.

My head hurt as I grilled some steaks in a fry pan and burned some biscuits in the oven.

We ate it all regardless.

I told Buck I was camping out a ways tonight and if he wanted to do that he could. I informed Nancy of my decision and she just shrugged, locked her bedroom door, and yelled, “All you brave men leaving a woman at home to guard the fort. Oh well, I guess it is my ranch so it’s up to me to keep it. I won’t move outta this room tonight and I want everyone to know, I have a Winchester and two pistols in here. I know how to use them and I can’t miss if you come through the window or the door. Goodnight.” Her lamp went out.

I had done so much figuring that I was wondering if I was guilty of the murder of Tommy, by accident. We had really torn that kitchen apart a looking for all we needed to cook and serve a big meal, any one of us could have left that poison on the counter. Although, I can say I don’t ever remember seeing it in the kitchen or anywhere before.

I just started riding trying to keep the moon light bright around me while I was in shadows and under cover. After a mile or so I just rode. The dog appeared beside me just sauntering along with the horse’s quick walk. So here we were so deep in the mystery, but all together like we had been shortly after it began. The dog wasn’t too talkative, so I just shut up and rode.

Without thinking I had ridden toward the mine and come in on the high side of the ramp down to the creek. We set up camp near the high side of the slope and settled in for a night’s sleep in peace and quiet.

Solomon grunted which woke me up. I didn’t move. I didn’t open my eyes. I prayed that my breathing hadn’t changed any. Someone was very close to me. How did I know? I don’t know, I just knew.

A foot step.


A sixgun rubbing leather as it was drawn.

FREE BOOK – The DEACON – Episode 23

I let the gun barrel drop and set the hammer down. “Sorry fellas, I was trailing them and you looked like them in this mornin’ light.”

“You saying I’m fat,” the man at the fire asked?

The other man laughed. “Mister Daniel, I’m glad you didn’t come in shooting. We’da both been dead and you would have killed two somewhat innocent men, us.”

I still couldn’t talk. The dog looked at men and then walked into the woods.

“What’s with the dog?”

I finally found my voice, “He shows up from time to time. I don’t know if nor when, nor where he come from, but he sure is handy sometimes.”

“Now that you’re here, want some coffee.”

“I’d be forever thankful. Sorry for the wake up.”

“It was kinda sudden, but the chill in my spine might just make me travel further today.”

The man from the blankets asked, “Tell us about them two. If she was a hostage, he had her under control. She never let on.”

“She didn’t want to die after watching you two die,” I said.

I spent the next hour sharing their coffee, bacon, and beans, while I told them my story. They never interrupted; they just kept my cup full. At the end I said, “I gotta get goin’ and get Nancy back to her ranch safe and sound. Much obliged for the feed. I ain’t had a real meal since I don’t know when.” My stomach was somewhat prominent when I stood up.

“Talk about a fat man,” the cook chuckled.

The other man rolled his blanket as he asked, “You really were a phony preacher until you got to believing your own preaching. Don’t that beat all? Where ya gonna preach next?”

“Denver, I hope. If I get through all this in one piece. Sounds like that fat man is right cagy. He just keeps giving me the slip. Again, I am sorry for the sudden wake up call.”

“See ya in Denver, Preacher.”

“I prefer, Deacon. I’m God’s servant and deacons are servants. I guess preachers are, too, but I don’t have the right to call myself one.”

“The Deacon. That’s quite a handle for a young fella like you. Have a safe journey to Denver by way of the fat man. I wanna hear ya preach. Maybe even I will believe.”

The Deacon climbed on his horse and rode off in the direction the two pointed out and the tracks in the dirt led. Where those tracks would end, he knew would be an ending to this episode in his life.


Within an hour he found where they had camped. The coals were still warm. He checked the tracks as well as he could. It looked to him like Nancy was doing all the work while the fat man watched from a cozy flat rock near the fire.

An hour later he noticed the tracks were getting further apart and more dirt was kicked up by each hoof. He was thinking on that when it come to him that they had started moving faster. Had they seen him? Was there something else that would cause them to run? He didn’t see any bear tracks or other wild critters that might have scared them. Even if it had been a critter, the fat man had guns and could have taken care of that issue.

They must have seen him.

He looked at his back trail. He had topped a rise and then dipped and topped out again. They could have seen him on the first top and been gone by the second. He had been seen.

That changed everything. He didn’t know the country. There were no towns around that he even had a hint of. They had not seen a ranch or signs of one in days. All he could do was keep on following and pray that he would see them first next time. If he didn’t, he knew he would die and the hand of the fat man, whose name he did not even know for sure.

He prayed and rode on along the tracks.

The dog appeared ahead of him with his nose down and very obviously tracking a scent.

“Well, thank you, Lord.” A smile grew on my face as I watched the dog stay just far enough away that I would be a long shot for a pistol if he tripped over the fat man. I shucked my Winchester and set its butt on my thigh, hammer back, and magazine full.

A mile or so further the dog jumped off the trail and I hit the dirt. Solomon stood over me like I was some crazy new-fangled rider. A shot broke the stillness. It didn’t come my way, but I could hear it whack into a tree trunk near where the dog disappeared. I moved through the trees and that horse followed me. He had never done that before with bullets flying. I wondered why he would do it now. I passed a large pine of some kind and he stopped behind it. Now I knew.

I heard another shot. This time it rattled a couple of limbs above my head before smacking into a tree somewhere behind me. I was getting shot at. Peeking around the tree on the far side from where I was last, a puff of powder smoke lifted ever so wispy from a copse of young firs about 50 yards in front of me.

The girl screamed.

I’d had enough. I ran twisting and turning one way and then the other, dodging around trees and over logs until I was not too far from where the shots were coming from. A nice soft bed of pine needles up against a fallen log became my home for a few breathes as I tried to get enough air. Another shot smacked into my log, but it didn’t come through. I waited.

Another scream.

I crawled to the end of the log where there was a large root ball with a hole under it. I entered the hole and found myself sharing it with a rattler, a black tailed timber rattler to be specific. He, maybe it was she, wasn’t happy.

I moved on in a hurry. My hurry caught the fat man flat footed. He didn’t get off a shot before I ducked into a small wash. The sand was damp, but there was no water running. I peeked. Nothing. I started to peek again when sand flew over me and a shot sounded. I ran to a large tree and stood behind it for dozen breaths before taking a look

I was now about 20 yards from the fat man’s firing spot.

A scream, again.

I ran straight at the spot watching for the barrel of a gun to show. A slug whipped by my head. A puff of powder smoke rose. I was still charging.

I fired and jacked the lever. I fired and fired and fired, until the hammer when click. The Winchester hit the dirt as I cleared the first bushes in front of the spot. A slap on the rock next to me was followed by a singing slug flying away and a puff of smoke not 15 feet in front of me.

My sixgun came out and three rounds went into the spot just under the smoke before I leaped through the crack between two fair sized boulders landing in the middle of the fat man.

He was bleeding from the corner of his mouth as he breathed a gurgle or two. His eyes came open as he gurgled one more time. He smiled. He died.

“Nancy, where are you.”

“Here.” She called from a few feet away, sitting on the ground behind the biggest of the two boulders. Her hands were tied.

I fell to my knees in front of her, untied the loose knots, and helped her up. She threw her arms around me and kissed me. “Thank you. You saved my life. He was going to kill me soon. That man told me I had one more sunset to see and then he would kill me if I didn’t sign the papers for the Rafter B. I kept telling him you were going to kill him and he would have nothing. Oh, Daniel, you saved my life.”

She fainted.

I whistled for Solomon and looked for the horses. Solomon trotted in, the spare tagged along. Nancy and fat man had to have some horses around here close so I went looking.

An hour later we set off for the home ranch back trailing all the way.

Nancy told me about the fat man as we rode. He was the owner of the Lazy E, Toby Everson. He wanted the Rafter B because there was gold in the hills on the south side of the ranch, the deeded side. Nancy’s father and mother had homesteaded a section each in those rolling plains and her father had paid every one of his hands to homestead a chunk and then sell to him. He paid them well for the land and for their job on the ranch, $5 above the going rate for hands in the area.

Nancy knew nothing of the gold until one of the Lazy E hands let it slip while they were running from us.

I asked why they ran.

“Oh, Everson wanted the ranch right proper. He wanted me to sell it to him. I told him it would be a cold day and then you came along. Something about you scared him stupid. He started running and you kept on following. Every man he sent was lost, they never came back. You were a jinx to his plan. Two of his men, two in the first ambush, were professional gunfighters and he had hired them on their credentials of being in a couple of grazing wars. What is it about you?”

“I don’t know. I just went to get you back to your ranch like your father asked me to do.”


We caught up to Cicero. He came out of a side cut of the valley where Shorts had died and surprised us both. I had my gun out and was forcing my finger not to squeeze the trigger when the Winchester that Nancy was carrying went off in my ear. Red blossomed on Cicero’s chest, his eyes went wide starring at Nancy as he slid sideways off the horse saying, “Not here, anyone but …”

Nancy broke into tears and bawling like I had never heard before out of woman, man, or kid. “I killed him. Cicero, I killed him,” she said, over and over again.

All I could do was get down and bury the man that had ridden so far to save this gal and then die at her hand. There was something there that just didn’t ring right with what I knew of God. Cicero was a hero, a warrior, and a woman had shot him, a woman he pledged to free or die trying to free. It just wasn’t fair.

“Lord, You are the boss, but was this really necessary? Did this man have to die at the hand of the woman he rescued? I hurt all over, Lord. Please, no more death. Please!” I cried out to the sky, the trees, the rocks, but really to God.

I buried him not far from Shorts taking time to scratch both their names on sand stone headstones. Men who chose to ride with me, will they all die? I mulling that over in my head when Nancy started riding away on the trail toward the Rafter B.


We arrived at the Rafter B on a blustery day. Brush rolled across the yard and no one was home. After I cared for the mess of horses we had brought in, Nancy called me to eat. She was at the table when I arrived. I ate like there was no tomorrow, at least until I was so full I was sick.

I darted out the back door and unloaded on the dirt. She wasn’t far behind. We sat on the half log seat and laughed. “You got more where that came from?” I asked.

After eating like a normal ranch hand, I sat and thought about all that had gone on. For some reason I was troubled.




I could tell Nancy was feeling the horrors of the past episodes. She had seen her father dead. Then there was the kidnapping, the rescue, the rides, the lack of hope, the death all around her, the lack of sleep, and all of it was affecting her as I watched. She fumbled through the cupboards looking for a pan and then needed a sharp knife. There were three on the end of the counter just out of sight, but she went through everything before she stumbled on to the three knives. She seemed really pleased with herself when she found them.

I decided I didn’t need any more food and told Nancy I was going to bed down in the bunk house.

Along about somewhere in the night when it was dark shouts started in the yard. A gun was fired. A scream from the house. I went out the door with a gun in my hand and my body covered with not much except the blanket. It was a good thing I recognized the bean pole frame of Buck in the moon light.

I yelled, “Don’t shoot, Buck,” and put my gun under my arm with the  barrel pointing backwards.

Buck said, “Who the heck are you.”

“Daniel. Nancy is in the house.”

At that time Nancy come to the door with her robe covering her night clothes. She must have lost some weight, the robe hung like she must have been a bit heavier, not fat of course, it was just out of proportion somehow.

I called to her, “Nancy, it’s your hands. Go back to bed. We’ll get organized in the morning.”

Motioning Buck and Tommy inside and turning back caused me to drop my gun which made me bend over and using the wrong hand to pick it up caused my blanket to fall away and leave me bending over naked. I blushed all over.

“Even in the dark, I can see the shine, Boss,” Tommy yelled.

Nancy laughed and went back in her house.

I spent an hour or so jawing, catching Tommy and Buck up on all the latest with Nancy. Buck ended it with, “We ain’t finding many cows on this place with the Rafter B brand. We’ve moved a bunch of Lazy E and a few of a couple of other brands off to the north over the big ridge. We’re working the south side now and not much is showing. Saw some funny stuff off yonder,” he pointed, “Like someone’s working the ground and a hole in the canyon wall.”

“I’ll take a look at that tomorrow. Heard something about others working part of the ranch. We’ll see. Goodnight all.” I fell back and pulled the blanket all the way up.

The food bell clanged and my opened to bright sunlight coming through the one window in the bunkhouse. Every other bunk was empty. I emptied the one I used and grabbed for some clothes to cover my nakedness and ended the dressing by pulling on my boots. The table in the kitchen set for four. A plate from the counter, a spoon from the pot, and within moments my plate was full. Wasn’t sure what it was, but it smelled like good food.

Nancy came from her room with the same clothes she had been riding in, nothing was different.

“Why no clean clothes?”

“I need to wash up first.”

I looked around. “Buck, fill that bucket will ya and let’s get it on the stove to heat for a bath.”

I finished my meal and trotted outside to a #2 wash tub I had seen hanging on the back of the house. It came off the nail easily. In the bedroom it went. I lit the lamp for warmth. Then a blanket was up to cover the window completely. The bucket of hot water was brought in and dumped in the tub, a couple buckets of cold water were hauled in, and Tommy came up with a bar of stinky women’s soap from the kitchen under the sink. “Now, your bath is ready, Miss Nancy, enjoy.”

Buck tossed her a towel from the stack on the top shelf of a closet between the bedrooms, “Found these a couple days ago when I figured the water in the horse trough was warm enough for my ever’ three month’s bath.”

“Why thank you, boys. I’ll be awhile getting all this squished in dirt outta my pores. May even need another bucket of hot water.”

Every the gentleman, Tommy said, “I’ll get the bucket full and heating. When you need it I’ll bring it too ya.” Just as he finished he realized what he had said and turned as red as a ripe apple. “I mean, uh, you know, uh, awe forget it. I’ll put the bucket on the stove and you can do what ya want with it.” He got up and walked out with the empty bucket.

Once the rest of us regained our senses, off we went to get our chores done and move south.


An hour later she was still bathing.

I yelled through the door, “We’re leaving now. Off to the south.”

It was quiet for a moment, and then. “Be safe. I do not want to bury anyone else.”

“I agree.”

Our saddle bags were full of food and ammunition. Each of us had a few things we thought were important. I had found a pointy tipped hammer in the barn that I figured might come in handy and stuck it in my bags along with an old shirt of someone’s I had found in the bunkhouse. Actually, I had found two. One I was wearing and one was stashed.

South is a nice direction. It’s warmer that way – – – if you go far enough, which we were not going to do.

It was a good half hour before we saw our first beef, a cow with a calf about two days old. The brand on the side was Rafter B. An hour later we found a bunch of six cows with four calves. “Calf crop ain’t too bad,” Tommy said.

Buck had his opinion, “This ain’t much of a beef outfit. We shoulda found a couple hunnert by now the way we been zigzagging all over the countryside. This is just what we did yesterday, Boss, only it was a couple miles thataway. Someone has either been lying to himself in his tally book or this place has been stripped. I think it’s been stripped. That corral we found the first day out had been used. Cows in there for a couple days. Then the tracks go east. East is where a market might be. Them mines over around Golden and such make for a great place to sell a head here and a head there. Man could make more money with beef than with a pick in that country, unless he hit the mother lode, of course.”

“What about this side? How do you to figure this?” I said.

“Well, boss, I agree with Buck. Now for this side, there just ain’t no tracks. Except for the few head we done found, there just ain’t no other tracks. I’m thinking they started on this side. Only way to find out is go over to the east and see if we can come up with a serious mess of a herd going yonder.”

“Sounds like we got a beef problem for the little lady. What about the dirt shifty and digging? How far away is that?”

“Over thataway a mile or so, but we’d have to go back a couple miles to get a path in there. That’s some pretty rough country that happens of a sudden. If you don’t go at it just right you’ll miss or get blocked.”

“Let’s ride.” I kicked one of the new horses into a lope. Solomon got the day off.


We entered the grazyest valley I had ever seen. One side was a wall with a stream running right up against the wall. In many places the stream had cut way back into the wall. On the other side was a gradually sloping grass and tree filled ramp up to the level of the top of the wall. It was like God had dug a slopping ramp a half mile long down to a place where he just quit when He hit stone. Don’t get me wrong, He coulda smacked the rock and moved it. I’m just saying what it looked like to me at the moment.

FREE BOOK – The DEACON – Episode 22

I looked at Shorts, “You figure they heard all that shooting and took off?”

“Nah,” he replied, “They were leaving anyhow. Probably figured his boys got the men following them and that his men would catch up. Why’d we take the shirts and hats of them?”

“Well, let me tell you what we are going to do next,” and I did.

After washing the shirts in the stream near their campsite, we headed after the Lazy E crew with the shirts flapping in the breeze from over the saddles of the extra horses. The hats were tied to our own saddles.

Long about noon we spotted our targets riding over a hill ahead of us. We were still in the trees so they didn’t see us. One man stopped at the top and dismounted. Cicero said, “Lookout. One man to watch the back trail for a spell.”

Shorts nodded and I reached for a shirt.

Within a short period of time we were the three survivors of the shootout riding to catch up. We were dressed in the shirts, wearing the hats, and riding the horses of the foursome that came to kill us.

Sure enough, as we got close to the lookout, he waved, climbed on his horse, and rode off the join crowd. We just kept out gallop steady and soon we were standing on the top of the hill looking at one man riding after seven more out on the flats. The one man rode in amongst the other and they just kept on going.

One or two looked back.

We waved our hats.

Resting the horses allowed the outlaws to move on down the trail and into a countryside that was broken and would only allow them to see on for a while longer. Once they lost us we could catch up or even get into them before they realized the trick we had pulled.

The ride became one of close the gap, but don’t catch up. They weren’t lollygagging on the trail. We weren’t either.

As we entered the broken countryside, we got a lot more cautious. It was a place that lent itself to ambushes and other nasty tricks. There was also the possibility that one or two might hold back just to find out what happened. I was almost hoping for that. We were still riding armed for bear and even had spares. I had the butt of my Winchester on my thigh and a second one in the scabbard. There was a Colt hanging by a piggin’ string from the horn of my saddle and another tucked in my belt. Both were .44’s of the same model as my .44.

All I could think of was ‘bring on the bears.’

Two men did drop back to visit with us and see what happened. Unfortunately they died as their guns cleared leather. The real unfortunate side of that was now we had six riders ahead of us. Five of which were outlaws and one was Diane, we hoped. The problem became one of possible ambush and another of hostage.

Just as we were moving forward again, we heard horses coming our way. I fired a couple of shots just to make them think the fight was still going on and they would be able to help their side get rid of the terror behind them, us. It worked. They rode right into us with guns drawn and fell off their horses with guns in hand. One fired just as he hit the ground and took a chunk out of Cicero’s left arm a hand span below the should. The worst part of it was that it was on the underside of the arm and was bleeding in squirts.

I ripped my bandana out of my pocket, wrapped the arm, and tied it as tight as I could get it. The bandana slowly turned red, but a second wrap with my own shirt seemed to do the trick. Shorts moved slowly forward with a sixgun in each hand, his Winchester hanging by a string from the horn.

Cicero said, “I’m okay. Let’s get this finished before the pain really sets in.”

There were now four ahead of us. Three outlaws and one young lady, we hoped.

We rode slowly, with Shorts out in front and Cicero in the rear. I kept the Winchester on my thigh, but it was in my left hand with the reins. In my right hand was a Colt, six rounds loaded. I signaled a stop with an air blast between my teeth. Shorts pulled up. Cicero and I joined him. “We’re going to get ambushed if we stay on this trail. Look how easy it was for us to deal with the last four men. That’s how easy it would be to deal with us at this point. Got any suggestions?”

“Yeah,” said Shorts. “You try to circle them by riding high above all this badland stuff and we follow the trail. If you can draw their attention, do that and we’ll hit them from another direction. If you can’t, you ambush them and we hit them from behind. If you see they have an ambush for us, let us know even if you have to start the shooting.”

“Sounds solid to me. Do either of you know anything about this trail or country?”

Cicero answered, “Yeah. North of here somewhere is Wyoming. Not too many more miles and the country widens out and there’s a long, wide open plain at about 8,000 feet or so, but I have no idea how far and in what direction. Went through there from Fort Collins to the Great Salt Lake just to see what it looked like right after I got into this country. Wasn’t too impressed with the lake. Cain’t do nothin’ with salt water except smell it.”

“But, you don’t know nothin’ about this country? Right?”


“That is a lot of help. Next time keep it to yourself, Cicero. I hurt too much to be listen travel story with no sense to it.” Shorts wasn’t happy.


“Yup. Wait til that little nick you got starts to heal and see how it feels.”

“Boys, we got a woman to rescue. Let’s ride.” I looked around to see the dog walk out from behind a clump of rock on the higher ground and start to trot up high on the side hills. Looked like a good route to where I could look down on the badlands where everybody else was gonna be.

“Luck,” said Cicero.

“Skill,” said I.

“Cow plops,” said Shorts.

“Grouch,” said Cicero and I as I lost sight of them.

I was riding one horse and dragging another as I followed the dog. Thing that amazed me was that none of those men had any food in their saddle bags. What were the folks we were hunting eating? Didn’t make any sense to worry about it. Hopefully, we would be eating with Diane by dark.

That was a pipedream, only I didn’t know it then.


The dog led me higher and higher, riding right out in the open. I could see both parties on occasion, but never together. The two on my side of the argument were moving slow and easy like along the trail. Every time I saw them I waved. If they waved back, I pointed to the other crew so they knew where they were and that they were all together.

An hour before the sun would go behind the western mountains the dog whined at me while he looked down on two of the gunmen stopping at the junction of this valley of badlands and set up an ambush. I couldn’t see where the fat man and Diane, I was sure it was her, went. There was no sight of the two on my side. I waited with the ambushers in my sights from a long way away. The dog just sat watching. I figured that if they raised a gun, I’d shoot. I might hit one of them, but I would surely warn Cicero and Shorts.

One of them raised his Winchester and put the butt to his shoulder. I fired.

The shot splattered off a rock six feet from the outlaw I wanted to hit. He ducked. Shorts rode into the ambush with guns blasting until he went down right after I fired my second shot. The rifleman went down hard at the same time. He had been sitting and unfolded to hit the ground hard enough to bounce. He was out of the picture.

Shorts’s head whipped back from the rifleman’s last shot, before he hit the dirt landing on his bad side and didn’t move. Cicero rode in

The second outlaw tried to get on his horse and leave, but chose to stand and fight it out with Cicero. He fired. Cicero spun around and off his horse, landing one his one good arm and both feet in a crouch. His sixgun spoke from ground level and I watched the second outlaw fold. He let fly another round that caught the bad man with his head coming down and spun the man around. The outlaw squeezed the trigger as he died and his one last round that caught Cicero somewhere in the body.

Cicero tumbled and laid still.

I rode down to check on my friends. As I rode I prayed, ‘Don’t let them die, please.’

The gunmen were never going to shoot another round or see another sunset. I almost wilted at that thought. All this killing and dying just wasn’t my thing. I could do it, but I surely did not want to.

Shorts was dead when I got to him. The round had caught him on the tip of his nose and went all the way through, leaving a mess on the back of his head. I covered his face with the hat he had been wearing.

Cicero was out of action, but alive. One bullet had caught him in the ribs right under the wound on his arm. The second round caught him in the other arm, breaking a bone just above his wrist. Two wings clipped and a furrow along his ribs put him out of action.

Catching up the horses I realized the dog was nowhere in sight. Every time he shows up, it helps the situation, so where does he go in between. s he off in the woods watching? Is he tracking the bad guy for us? What and where, big questions.

Checking the saddlebags, I found a can of beans and a pouch full of corn meal. Oh, yeah, here were guns all over the place and horseflesh aplenty, but right now I drooled over beans and corn meal mush. I had to use three shirts to get Cicero to quit leaking before I could get him set up so I could go after Diane alone. He would have no problem getting on his way, but he was going to hurt for a long time.

A quick fire, heated beans, and a slurry of corn meal mush filled our bellies. I left the rest of the corn meal with Cicero and set him leaning against a soft rock with guns at hand and three blankets. All the horses except Solomon were his to keep, also.

“I hate to leave a man down, but I gotta go.”

“I understand. I’d do the same in your shoes. I’ll meet ya at the ranch if ya don’t catch up.”

“If you leave this place, go back along the same trail we came on. I’ll catch you.” I was hoping out loud.

“Yeah, that sounds good. I’ll pull out in the morning after I eat this fancy meal you left me.”

“I can take it if it doesn’t measure up to your standards.”

“Anything’s better than nothing.”

“Adios.” I pulled Solomon onto the tracks of two horses heading up the side canyon.


I lost their tracks a dozen times in the rocky ground, but each time I just kept going the same direction and there would be tracks not too far up the trail. I was tired and hungry by noon and decided to take a break at the next spot that suited me. I could have used that dog right about then.

A shady spot near a small rivulet of water beckoned me and I took advantage of the invite. As I ducked my head to swing down from Solomon’s back, the whip of a slug went past and the sound of a rifle shot came rattling through the trees. My hat went flying and Solomon lunged, dumping me in the dirt. Solomon took three steps and stopped.

I rolled behind a downed tree and tried to figure out where the shot came from. My hat lay in the dirt not ten feet from me. I could see a hole in the brim on the back side. The shooter must have been behind me. A back shooter is no one to mess with. A real man will meet you and make his challenge face to face, but scummy cowards shoot people in the back.

The dog stood not twenty feet from me, sheltered by a rock and a tree.

“Thanks for the warning,” I said looking him in the eye.

He trotted off into the woods.


Then it dawned on me. I followed the dog. After a hike up the hill he stopped looking off in the direction I had been traveling. Two riders were just topping a distant hill and going out of sight. “You could have told me to bring my horse.”

The dog trotted after them. I went back for Solomon.

By the time I returned to the spot where the dog and I had separated, it was dark enough to know I was not going to do anymore tracking today. I took a nap.

The moon climbed high enough to do some good long about midnight. Half a moon stood out amongst a beautiful sky of stars and I could see my tracks coming in to this spot. Solomon walked over to me as if to say it was time to git. I threw the rig on him and we did.


Tracks leaped out of the dirt as we topped the hill where the two riders were last seen. I put the moon off on the far side of the tracks to help build a shadow in the tracks to make them easier to follow.

Over the next three hours I was off and back on Solomon as the tracks moved through different terrain. Once in a large spread of sage where all was in deep shadow, I had to get off and walk along bent over in order to see the tracks. Another time I had almost gone asleep, awakening suddenly if found that Solomon was plodding along the tracks of our quarry. I wrapped the reins around the horn and let him go. He stopped at a point the tracks led to hard rock and there were none to see. I got off and kept going in the same direction. After a dozen feet or more there was a scratch, another a little further, and finally they were back in dirt.

Just as the sun was beginning to put a bit of light in the east, I saw their fire pit full of glowing coals. We stopped and the dog walked right in front of me and parked himself as if to say, ‘what took ya so long?’

I looked over the dog to the campsite. Someone threw a hunk of wood on the coals making the sparks fly. Not a lot of them, but enough to let me know someone was awake down there. Leaving Solomon there, I headed down the slight drop to the camp on hands and knees.

The camp was larger than I would imagine they would need. A man squatted at the fire coaxing the heat out of the coals to catch the wood he had put on top. A coffee pot sat on the ground beside him. I could see another person wrapped in a blanket on the far side of the fire


I slid my gun out and moved toward the man at the fire. Twenty feet away I said, “Put your hands in the air and stand up slowly.”

The man froze in his position at the fire. Slowly he began to stand. I said, “Nancy, it’s me, Daniel, get out of that blanket and come over here to me.”

The blanket exploded.

The dog landed in the middle of the blanket.

A gun went off from under the blanket.

The blanket froze in place as the dog stood atop the rounded form.

“Get this animal off of me. Who you calling Nancy anyhow?”

I looked real good at the man who was now standing with his hands up. He was well built, but not the fat man. What was going on here?

The dog backed down and another man emerged from the blanket. He, too, was slim and not the fat man or Nancy. My jaw dropped.

“Who are you, Mister Daniel?”

I stood there silent, gun in hand, hammer back, and could say nothing.

The man at the fire asked, “You lookin’ for a heavy man with his daughter with him.”

“No. I’m lookin’ for a fat man with a hostage named Nancy.”

The man on the ground asked, “Was she ugly as a twenty year old post?”

“No. She was pretty and well built.”

“That must be the two that ate with us last night and then kept riding even though it was dark already.”


I looked down at a sleeping Shorts, “God, he is hurt. Let him get some peaceful rest and quick healing.” Now, was they telling God what to do or was it asking. “I am asking, Lord. Your plan is best.”

Cicero was sitting under Solomon, who was calmer than the other two horses. He looked at me and said, “You praying?”


“Pray for me, too.”

“You a believer?”

“Once I thought I was, but then God allowed my wife and son to die in a cabin fire. I walked away from God and since then I’ve just tried to be a good man to their memory.”

I had to think for a moment, “I think God will understand. Look at this way, maybe, I ain’t no expert. All of us are gonna die. Every single one of us. Why should your wife live forever? My Ma died. Was it God’s fault or was it man’s fault when he chose to not obey his Creator in the Garden of Eden? You really just didn’t like the pain. I don’t like the pain of not having a Ma to raise me up. If it weren’t so wet I’d get my Bible out and read to you, but all I can do is tell you what I remember in my own words. God says if we ask in all seriousness, He will forgive any sin except ignoring Him, or His Holy Spirit. It says in there that we are sealed to Him by His Holy Spirit until He can make all the promises He has made come true in your life.

“Does that make sense, Cicero?” I looked him in the eye.

He shook his head, “How can God forgive me for the things I’ve said about Him when I was mad or drunk?”

“I don’t know, but He says He can and will. Try it if you mean it.”

He looked at me and shook his head, but I watched his head bow and his lips start moving.

When he looked up again there was a peace shown on his face. “I think He said I was forgiven.”

“What a load of hoowey that was Daniel. How could you believe that, Cicero? How?” came the weak voice of Shorts from the ground as he sat up.

“Don’t ask me, but I did. You might wanna try it yourownself, Shorts.” Now Cicero was the preacher.

Shorts got to his feet and turned his back on us, relieving himself into the rain, downwind of course. He turned back buttoning his fly. “If your God is so powerful and forgiving, can He heal me and forgive me killing another man?”

I looked him in the eye and said, “Yes to both.”

He worked his way back to the ground and turned his back on us.

Cicero gave me a look and I nodded my head.

We stayed quiet until the storm decided to quit and the moon broke through the clouds. The wool blankets were very wet as we rolled them and got the horses ready for travel. Cicero and I had to lift Shorts to his saddle and make sure he was balanced.

With the leg dangling to the stirrup, I checked his wound again. The scab was forming nicely. I was healing well as far as I could see. Nothing looked or smelled bad. That was all I knew about wounds other than the prickly pear pods for a poultice and Evelyn had taught me that when I cut myself pretty bad one time.

We rode into a wet forest with the dripping boughs getting us wetter than we already were. I looked for a place to build a fire in this wet swimmin’ hole. Everything was soaked and so were we. Shorts didn’t need the cold and chill as weak as he was and it wasn’t doing Cicero and I any good either.

The trail was gone and so were the hoof prints. We’d have to worry about the next day. A lightning strike off to the east, lit up what looked like a shelter of some kind. Cicero saw it, too and turned off to check it out. In moments he was waving his hat and calling for us to come.

It was a recently abandoned cubby hole probably made by some Indian or trapper. There was a packrat’t nest at the back, two feet deep and three feet wide, that had enough wood in it to warm us up a bit. Any heat was better than none. The boughs of needles over the top of the shelter were just beginning to drop from age so inside was fairly dry. Compared to the outside it was a dry desert.

Cicero got the fire going while I put up our two horses. When he was ready, we hauled Shorts into the shelter and I went back out to put his horse on the rope with ours. I watched them put their rumps to the wind and shift to three legged stances, which is a horse’s way of saying good night. Thinking that was a good idea, I went inside to try for a nap myownself.

As I entered, Cicero tapped me on the shoulder and pointed to Shorts. He had tears running down his cheek. I said, “You okay, Shorts?”

He didn’t answer for a minute or two as Cicero added wood to the fire in the middle of the shelter. “I just asked God to show me He’s real by getting me warm and here we are.”

“Don’t expect that kinda service all the time,” Cicero said.

“I agree. I’ve asked for all kinds of signs and the answers rarely, if ever look like what I asked for.”

We were all asleep in a matter of minutes after we quit jawing. It’s amazing how warm a wet wool blanket can be when the wet gets warmed up.


All the next day we rode ourselves in circles trying to find the tracks. We found a few horse tracks, but the group was never big enough.

The distance to the Lazy E wasn’t that far and in searching we had moved closer and closer. At sundown we were looking down on the ranch frin a mountain side a good mile out.

We had talked as we rode and in those times we were separated we prayed, or at least Cicero and I did. I have no idea what Shorts did other than hang on to his horse.

As we watched the ranch fade into the dusk, I began to worry. No lights were being lit and I only saw one hand moving around. There were horses in the corral, but we were too far off to get a count.

“Okay, I’m going to go down there once it’s dark and see what I can see. If Diane is down there, I’ll try to get to her. If she isn’t I will be taking at least one prisoner. We get her again and there ain’t anyone that will take her away from me while I’m still breathing.”

“Is this a romance budding.”

“No, I’m just tired of riding around in circles and wondering if she is safe or not.”

We waited.

I rode into the darkness leaving the two cowboys behind and with a prayer on my lips.

The ranch was just as I’d seen it before, dying and falling down, filthy and stinking. One lamp was lit in the bunkhouse, if you wanted to call it that. I looked in the winter after creeping up a quietly as I knew how. One man was sitting at a three legged table playing solitaire. I watched him cheat twice before going around to the door. I drew my .44 and walked in.

“Howdy. Where is everybody?”

“Off to  Ooops,they’re headed for Wyoming and not the ranch. Done passed that.


Just before sundown we found the tracks. We had moved toward the north as we searched and figured we had covered a lot of country, but weren’t sure how far we had gone. Whatever the distance was, these tracks were fresh. The dirt, or should is say mud, at the edge of the tracks was still curling into the deep tracks. We couldn’t be more than an hour behind, if that.

How did they get so close? Had to be they found a spot to dry out and spent some time getting everything warm and dry, and all the people fed. I wasn’t about to backtrack to find out. We were close and we were going to stay close.

Within minutes we found a camp site that served out purposes, lots of wood, a tree canopy to break up the smoke, and shelter from the night breeze. We built a high wall on the north side of the fire to keep prying eyes from seeing the fire and even then we kept it small. We had nothing to cook and nothing to brew. Water was the only thing on the menu.

Cicero broke the silence. “We gotta ketch them folks tomorrow if for no other reason than to get their grub. We sure’s all get out cain’t shoot something without telling them we’re right behind them.”

“You know, Cicero, that gives me an idea. Let’s find us a spot in the morning for an ambush. Then we can shoot off one round like we was hunting and wait for a couple of them to come back and see what’s goin’ on.”

Shorts’ head came up, “I can sit and hold a Winchester without any problem. I can, I can. I’ll be of some use that way, instead of being an dead cow on the end of your rope to drag along.”

“Shut up,” I smiled when I said it. “If you was an anchor, I’d cut the line.”

Cicero looked at him. “How you feeling?”

“Pain’s tolerable. Bone aches. Toes wiggle. Butt is sore. Gut is empty. My attitude is one of wantin’ to kill someone or blow up something.”

We all got a chuckle out of that as we bobbed our heads. The jawing kept on for another hour as we worked to get the blankets reasonable dry. They weren’t too wet what with the body heat and fire the night before.

My blanket felt better than it ever had before as I rolled up in it after telling Cicero to wake me at something that resembled one in the morning. He had taken a look at the Big Dipper and said, “Goodnight, Boss.”

I awoke to see Shorts on watch and the night very dark. The Dipper showed it was close to 4 or so. I let him keep watchin’ and rolled over to find a more comfortable position in the damp needles.

Cicero kicked me gentle like. “You gonna sleep all day, Boss?”

“I was trying to after I saw Shorts on the job.”

Shorts smiled, “Just tryin’ to be of some use. Let’s go get’em.”

We ate our water for breakfast and saddled up three tired horses. They complained a mite, but not enough to be aggravating. The sun was behind the mountain we were one as we worked our way to the tracks and, with Cicero out in the lead, we went after our prey.

My head or something was telling me that this was going to be a day, an eventful day. That’s all I could latch on to. It wasn’t as if it were going to be a bad day or a good day, just an eventful day.

We rode into it with our minds and guns ready, like soldiers I would say.

Within minutes we saw their smoke and smell the breakfast cooking. Oh, was that an bodacious smell. I drooled. Cicero shook his head. Shorts just kept riding.

Right soon we came up on a cut to the left that was lined with boulders at the entrance. Shorts stayed on the trial and Cicero and I went to check it out. It was as close to perfect for our task as any place I’d ever seen. The gunmen could come right through the boulders and into the cut where we could take them on up close and personal. Even if things went sour there were two escape routes for us to back out through.

“Hey, Boss, it just don’t get much better than this.”

“I agree. Let’s get Shorts set up and then send out invitation to the party out.”

I rode down and got Shorts. Cicero got a smoky fire going for the outlaws to head toward and showed Shorts the place he thought the wounded man would work best in. It was right alongside of the main escape route. There was a crazy looking rock that was slick but not too slick. Shorts was set in position on the rock with lots of protection and a simple slide to the ground next to his horse. All he had to do was shoot until it was time to leave, turn and slide down landing on his good leg, grab the reins, and swing up with as little weight as possible on his bad leg.

Cisco got set at the spot he had picked out for himself which would us the same escape route as Shorts had. Me, I just parked my butt atop a rock dead in front of the trail coming in. The only bug in the ointment was the extra tracks coming and going on the trail, but that could easily have happened in we camped in the cut. All we could do was get ready.

I stood atop my rock and looked to Shorts. He nodded. Cicero stuck his arm in the air with a thumb up. There was nothing left to except start the party. The hammer clicked twice as I pulled it back. I aimed up the cut and let fly with on .44 round, immediately jacking the lever and then inserting a round through the loading chute. The .44 on my hip with the blood red cross on the grips had six rounds in the cylinder ready for a fight.

I prayed. “Lord, I don’t want to kill none of these men, but I think they aim to kill a woman, a defenseless woman. All of this is in Your hands. It surely isn’t in mine. Use me for Your will. Whatever, Lord.”

We waited.

We waited some more.

Four men made an appearance like magic out of the trees near the trail into the trap. The lead man pulled up and pointed to the tracks before swinging his arm along the trail to end pointing at the rocks. Another man motioned them on along the trail.

We had planned that Shorts would take the man on the left, Cicero would do the man in the middle, and I would take care of the man on the right. We never figured on four. I had estimated two. Cicero said three. Shorts said he didn’t care how many, he’d kill his share. We also agreed I would ask them to surrender before I fired. The two companions didn’t care much for that, but agreed that if one of them made a move for a gun, we would open fire.

They came forward as if it were a Sunday afternoon ride to check out a water hole or something.

I waited until they had passed the three entrance boulders and stood up. They didn’t see me concentrating on the trail like they were.

I yelled, “Surrender or die.”

All four looked at me and grabbed for their guns. Three rounds hit them with the shots sounding like one. The survivor of that blast caught three slugs just as his gun was coming to bare on me.

Cicero slid off his boulder and eased into the death scene. One at a time he checked them for life. He looked up, “This one is still breathing.” It was the one on the left. Shorts swore loud and clear. “He won’t last long though. He’s shot through both lungs from the looks of it.”

Cicero bent over and kneeled next to the man putting his ear to the man’s face. Moments later he arose. “He said he knew he should never have hung out with a man that would kill a woman.”

He bent to check again. “He dead.”

‘Three down and how many left’ ran through my mind.

We pulled the three to a spot where a boulder was in a position that the wind hollowed out a large hole under it. After stripping them of shirts, hats, guns and ammo, personal information, and money, we stashed them in the hole and stacked smaller rocks on top until they were well covered. Now we had four Winchesters, six Colts, and four fully equipped horses, all of which were top quality like most successful outlaws ride. Problem was, they had just gotten these back at the Bordeau ranch. Was Bordeau an outlaw? I might have to think on that awhile. All I knew was he wouldn’t be using that gun hand of his for a long time.

We backtracked the quartet to their campsite, which was abandoned. The fire had been drowned and steam was still rising.

© 2018 Doug Ball – Author