Purgatory Junction

By Franklin E. Wales

In the tradition of the Spaghetti Western, Storyteller Franklin E. Wales presents Purgatory Junction.

Six Souls:
Benjamin Midkiff/The Bounty Hunter...
George “Dealer” Grant/The Gunslinger...
Forest Bishop/The Land Baron...
Jennie Stevens/The Saloon Owner...
Cain Hartford/The Gambler...
Pastor Tobias/The Preacher...

All Six Will Suffer In Purgatory...
Only One Shall Survive

• Language: English
• Publisher: Franklin E. Wales
• Release date: Dec 26, 2011
• ISBN: 9781466146402

Franklin E. Wales

The author of five novels and numerous shorter works of fiction and nonfiction, Frank prefers the title of Storyteller to Novelist or Journalist. "It's a time honored tradition passed down through our parents and our grandparents," he says. "No matter what I am writing, it is my goal to entertain you with the story I'm telling." Born and raised in Conway, NH, Frank now lives with his beautiful photographer wife, Jacki, in the South Florida home they share with their two dogs and a cat named Oz (as in Wizard of). www.FranklinEWales.com

Book preview

A western on the level of Jonah Hex and must read for those who enjoy the genre!

--Eric S Brown, Author of A Pack of Wolves & How the West Went to Hell

PURGATORY JUNCTION

By

Franklin E. Wales

SMASHWORDS EDITION

* * * * *

PUBLISHED BY:

EFW Publishing on Smashwords

Purgatory Junction

Copyright © 201 by Franklin E. Wales

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return toSmashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Also Available

BOOGER

Not believing in his child’s night scares cost David Thurston his child’s life. Believing in them cost him nearly a decade of his own. It took the doctors at the Sunnyville Mental Institution seven years to convince David the only Boogeyman was in his mind. It took only a few weeks back in the outside world to convince him they might be wrong.

GAMEMASTER

A millionaire sociopath sits on death row for his calculated slaughter of several children. Bernard Hopkins is unconcerned with his approaching execution. His only concern is that the world does not know it was his superior intellect that designed the future that awaits them. Are we masters of our own destinies, or simply puppets being manipulated by the GAMEMASTER?

FRIEND

Four years ago a presence came to Coral Beach, Florida, and has been quietly feeding on the hearts and souls of the population ever since. Now the time has come to harvest what has been sown. As the death toll rises in an orgy of spilled blood, all that stands between this evil and the town is a broken-down pastor and his handful of life’s castoffs. To win they must first understand what they are facing. To lose means to bring Hell to Earth.

DEADHEADS: EVOLUTION

Featuring original illustrations by Joseph Jody Adams.

It’s been two and a half years since the Deadhead Virus was let loose, raising the dead to walk the earth in search of human flesh. Now, as the remnants of humanity try to rebuild in the land of the living dead, legends are whispered of a warrior, part human, part Deadhead, who walks the line between both worlds. The Deadhead race is evolving…

Details at www.FranklinEWales.com

PURGATORY

JUNCTION

Franklin E. Wales

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locals or person living or dead is entirely coincidental.

Text © 2011 Franklin E. Wales. Cover and Author photograph © 2011 Jacki Wales. Interior illustration © 2011 D. Rano

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owners.

EFW

Publishing

For Richard C. Wales

My Father, My Friend,

My Personal John Wayne

PRELUDE TO PURGATORY

THE BOUNTY HUNTER

Benjamin Midkiff crept silently along the rocks of the dusty mountainside. At least he hoped he was silent. Having been born mute and deaf, he could never truly be sure.

Up ahead, sitting near a campfire where a spit had been set up with something cooking, a lone figure drank coffee from a tin cup. The smell of roasting bird and fresh coffee drifted back to Midkiff. They were good smells. When his business was complete, he told himself, he would stop long enough to indulge himself, as he hadn’t eaten since early that morning.

From inside his worn long-coat Midkiff pulled out his spyglass and extended it. Squinting his left eye into its lens, he could clearly make out the face of the coffee drinking man. He was pretty sure that he recognized him.

Midkiff reached deep into his right hand pocket and removed a folded stack of papers. He gazed over each one until he found the one he was looking for. The headlines all read the same: WANTED: DEAD OR ALIVE. Only the pictures, their offences and the rewards offered changed with each poster.

After a quick study of the face on the poster, Midkiff pulled the spyglass back to his eye and looked again. There was no doubt about it. The man sitting there at his campsite without a care in the world was Tim Cooke, a known bank robber with a two hundred dollar price on his head.

Midkiff put his items away and drew his pistol, taking careful aim at the area where Cooke’s throat met his chest. That way if the bullet drifted up or down or to the side a bit he would still avoid the face. He couldn’t risk a headshot. Never could count on those things being clean and not tearing off half the face of the target.

Rewards were not paid on half blown off faces.

Even as his finger breeched the point of no return on the gun’s trigger, Midkiff knew the bullet wasn’t going to find its mark. Cooke had leaned forward to turn the bird on the spit and the bullet tore into his shoulder.

A mist of blood sprayed into the air as he saw, rather than heard, Cooke scream and roll behind the rock he had been leaning against. Midkiff ducked back into the rocks as well.

The bullet had brought a lot of blood. Midkiff was sure, given enough time, Cooke would bleed out, but he wasn’t waiting. That damned bird and the coffee would go to waste by then, and his stomach was already rumbling in its emptiness. Besides, night was falling and he wasn’t taking the chance Cooke would crawl off into the dark and make it even harder to collect his trophy.

Midkiff peered from his hiding place and saw Cooke had retrieved his rifle and was cautiously looking over the top of the rock he’d slid behind. With nothing but the man’s face showing, Midkiff quickly fired off shots to the rock on either side of the man’s head. Not close enough to damage his face, but close enough to send him ducking back down.

Quickly, and he hoped silently, Midkiff scurried to his right and worked his way toward Cooke’s rock. He took a deep breath and held it as he stepped out behind the outlaw. Cooke was once again peeking over the rock with his rifle resting across its top.

Midkiff trained his pistol between Cooke’s shoulder blades and pulled the trigger. The gun kicked in his hands and Cooke’s back erupted in a gusher of blood that spread across the rock as his body slid down to the ground.

Cooke appeared to still be breathing, though his body was twisted in what had to be an excruciating position. Midkiff stepped up and grabbed him by the collar, rolling him over. Cooke’s eyes darted wildly about in desperation and his mouth opened in words that fell on deaf ears. Still he didn’t move. Midkiff realized that his bullet had severed the man’s spinal cord.

Tim Cooke stared at the filthy bearded face of the man who stood over him. He felt no pain and that was good, but he couldn’t move his body and that was bad. Real Bad.

Who...are…you? Cooke managed to croak, spitting blood with each word.

The bearded man smiled back, revealing several missing teeth. Keeping his pistol trained at him, the man cupped his left hand and covered first his ear, then his mouth. Then, still grinning he drew a line across his own throat. A deaf mute.

Why…me? Cooke asked.

The man put his pistol in its holster, pulled out Cooke’s Wanted Poster and showed it to him. He pointed his finger toward Cooke and then drew it