Deal Death

By Michael R Jewell

Lance Suade begins his journey through Texas in 1852 carrying the haunting memory of the untimely death of his wife, his only true love in life and as far as he was concerned, his only reason for living. Struggling to come to grips with life after Janie, he ventures into the town of Lancaster after a three month trail drive. By chance he meets up with an old childhood friend Robert Wind. They renew their friendship while becoming involved in the local politics to make the town of Lancaster a safer, better place to live, in the untamed west, trying to regain it from a corrupt Mayor and his gang of outlaws.

Lance reveals secrets of his past to show Robert his trust and give him a better understanding of his purpose in life.

Both, Lance and Robert, strong, honorable, but vulnerable men, survive many natural and man made tragedies, reveling their true character, learning many lessons of life, politics, love and romance.

All characters and situations are fictitious taking you through a historically researched accurate tour of the, town, terrain, the times and the attitude of the United States, its people and politics. Please view video at bottom of page.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Michael R Jewell
• Release date: Mar 17, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476329482

Michael R Jewell

Michael R Jewell is a published author. His credentials include Tool Engineer, NC Computer Graphics Designer, Machinist, Journeyman Tool and Diemaker. He has served as Mayoral Campaign Manager, a Voter Registration Deputy and actively campaigned for Presidential Candidates. He presently lives in Chelsea, Michigan and has lived in the states of Ohio, Oregon, Florida, Nevada, Tennessee and Texas.

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Deal Death

By Michael R Jewell

Copyright 2012 Michael R Jewell

Smashwords Edition

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Chapter 1

Get up Domino, she shouted desperately! Pushing and tugging at 800 pounds of limp, lifeless flesh while tears of weeks of toil and concern run down, her flushed cheeks. Get up Domino! I'm not going to let you die! Get up Domino, Now, her teeth grinding together she pushed, tugged, persuaded, again and again.

Moisture covered the late October ground of 1849. Fallen golden leaves painted the Denver, Colorado landscape with signs of autumn. Early sunsets and cool nights warned of the threat of winter being just around the corner. Snow capped mountains outlined the valley and desert town.

Life had just begun for Lance and Janie Suade as they set out to carve their portion of heaven on earth in this peaceful little town. High above the plains, far away from the confusion of the big cities they are both accustomed to.

They would raise a family and live happily ever after together in a virgin frontier that is fresh, new, willing to share its’ treasured secrets with any creature showing it the respect it deserved.

The virgin west could either be your friend or enemy depending upon you and at that moment in time it was paradise for the newly weds. Both in their early twenties, they started to weave their lives together.

Lance was preparing the fireplace to warm the small cabin made of Cherry River mud and freshly cut mountain pine logs from the dense forests surrounding the area.

He had to hurry, working long hours into the night, to finish building the cabin, to beat the heavy, merciless Rocky Mountain winter snows falling into the valley every year. The small cabin wasn’t their dream home with acres of land, but it was shelter for him and Janie.

As far as Lance was concerned, it could be a tattered tent standing in the middle of the barren California Desert. It really didn't matter to him. As long as Janie was with him that was all he needed. She had taught him what true love is, what true love feels like. True love is something he has never had or known til Janie. She was the better part of him in all ways. She gave his life a soul by sharing her warm, honest, loving spirit with him.

He cradled freshly split firewood in his arms trying to fight off the ill feelings entering his thoughts. He had many premonitions in past. He pushed his brown hair from his blue eyes. He felt a dark mood in the black sky that night. It's was bothering him but he tried to ignore it. He reasoned to himself. Maybe it was because of his overwhelming happiness. He had never been this happy and this content; he didn't want it to end. Who would?

He shivered. The bundle of firewood rattled in his arms. Becoming aware of a chill surrounding his six-foot tall slender stature, he is reminded why he is building the fire.

He continued his chore. Stopping every now then to gaze around the cabin, smiling, admiring the way Janie has decorated it, making something out of nothing, to make it home sweet home. He sees her in everything. Her love, her warmth, her kindness was alive in everything she touched inside the cabin, he saw it, he felt it. From the quilt, she made, to the way she set the table. Everything she does made him happy and warm feeling inside his being.

Starry eyed, he studied her color painted portrait hanging above the stone fireplace mantle. Her long, dark, shiny hair, her sugar smile was capable of melting any mountain of snow and lighting up any dark depressing night. Her tall slender softer than clouds body, he loved to hold next to him and caress endlessly. Her dark, sparkling eyes, Ahhh, she is so beautiful, he softly whispered aloud.

How could he ever live without her? He knows it would never be life, only existence without her. He shook his head from side to side. Don't even think about it Lance, he says aloud. She changed his life; she is his life, his total reason for being.

He paused for a moment. The nagging deep down in his soul was trying to warn him again. He knew something was wrong. He felt it. I need to go check on Janie, he said with discomfort, trying to shake off the bad feelings once again.

Then out of the quiet stillness of the night, gunshots echoed through the valley like thunder through a hollow canyon.

He immediately dropped the firewood to floor, not caring where it landed.

He runs quickly through the front door of the cabin, down the front porch steps missing the last two, frantically cutting through the shadows cast by the bright moonlight.

His six-gun in his hand, barrel pointed to the sky with the hammer back ready to defend.

He was an expert shooter, both with the long and short weapon. It’s not out of want, but out of need, the need to survive in an untamed land. Killing had never given Lance any pleasure. Even though there were many times, killing was justified and there were those that insisted.

Goose bumps formed up and down his spine as he becomes nauseous thinking of what may have happen to Janie.

Janie? Panic consumed him as he called at the top of his voice! Janie? Are you all right? He yelled again, still running fast toward the barn where she made her nightly visits trying to nurse Domino back to health after he took sick with the Prairie Fever several weeks ago.

Anyone else would have given up and shot the animal. That’s the way on the Prairie. Janie wouldn’t have it that way! She was going to have that horse walking again, running again, through the open prairie with the west wind. She had a new custom saddle made of the finest leather ready to tie around his shiny coat. She was just waiting for the day he would stand tall and proud, as a stallion leading a herd of wild Mustangs would, like before. She knew it was going to happen. She wouldn't accept anything less. Her strong spirit was one of the reasons he fell in love with her in the first place. Her beauty was just a bonus.

Domino wasn’t Lances' concern right then. His concern was Janie. He grew even more concerned as he heard the sound of horses riding off furiously from the back of the barn. He wildly threw open the barn door, crashing it against the outside wall. A large jagged splinter jabs him in the palm of the hand. He didn't feel the pain nor stop to pull it out.

Inside the barn, a lantern still was burning, undisturbed, over Dominos’ stall, but no Janie in sight. Only haunting silence and the smell of burnt coal oil mingled with straw and the pleasant lingering scent of Janie wearing her perfume.

He panicked more. His heart beat faster and harder. He felt his scratchy wool shirt against his perspiring skin, moving from the heavy pounding in his chest. He continued his cautious, frantic search for Janie keeping one eye open for any unwelcome intruder still lingering in the barn.

He called for her again, approaching Dominos’ stall, desperately hoping for an answer, praying for an answer. But, no reply.

Then his worst fears stared him in the face. His heart stopped. The life left his trembling body. There she was, motionless, on the dirt floor beside Domino. He felt an ache tearing at his soul he had never felt before this moment.

Janie, he screamed. God no! Let her be all right! He fell to ground beside her on his knees in anguish, retrieving her gently in his arms, as if he were picking up a wounded sparrow.

The front of her dress, she had been saving up for months, was covered with blood. He pulls her limp body to his chest. No breath... No pulse... No heart beat... You can't leave me Janie. You can't. I love you, he wept with grief and tainted soul, kissing her tender, still warm forehead. Why you Janie? He held her even tighter. Why you? He looked up towards heaven.

Brushing the trail dust off his tired, aching shoulder, Lance relives that tragic night of three years ago, of many dusty miles ago, as if it was only yesterday. He carries the memory of that night, while he is awake and while he sleeps, with the weight of an anchor around his neck, a deep burning pain in his heart and an unforgiving soul in his being.

The town of Lancaster, Texas just up ahead, only a few paces away, is uncharted for Lance, as have many of places he has through the past three years. Riding through this serene, rolling green valley, far from civilization of the east, reminds him of Janie, their cabin, and Domino he now rides as Midnight. Losing your one true love in life leaves you empty, cold, but the fire of vengeance even colder. Lance pats Midnight on the neck, as he lets out a gentle snort, I know you miss her too fella.

Streaks of Oklahoma and Texas trail dirt tinted the sides of Lances’ hair being three months past due for a cut. Several rivers of salty perspiration flowing from beneath his weather beaten trail hat trickle down over his sunburned forehead, mixing with the trail dirt, find their way to the to the corners of his of his blistering eyes, burning them, as he squints from the bright midday sun. He wiped them with a red handkerchief, covered with the same, trying to avoid the annoying glare of the hot sun blocking his view of Lancaster.

Lance stopped at the edge of town confused, unable to get past the excited crowd of people. Young and old were blocking every entrance to the town. Lance takes a good look around continuing to wipe his eyes trying to stop the burning, resting one hand on the saddle horn, trying to steady himself.

The two dusty crossroads in the center of town were crowded with all types of people, farmers dressed for the field, businessmen dressed in suits, cowhands in chaps and ladies in their sunbonnets. Wondering where they all came from, thinking this town isn’t big enough to have this many people living in it, Lance leans forward, crossing his arms, resting them on the saddle horn. Slowly he pushes his tattered Stetson back on his head trying to figure out what is causing all the excitement in this small town in the middle of nowhere that he is about to step into for the first time.

The way everyone was carrying on, you would think it to be a July 4th celebration. Hats and guns were waiving in the air from side to side at the end of many a man’s arm. Loud yelling and cheering mixed with booing to match. Supporting shouts of, Come on, Steel Dust, You can do it, Mammoth. Go, go, go, go, go, could probably be heard for miles by anyone approaching the isolated Texas town as sounds of anticipation and uncontrollable excitement echo through the deep blue cloudless afternoon sky.

Through a cloud of whirling gray dust with bright yellow rays of sunlight shining through, Lance could see people darting back and forth over the wooden walks. A couple of cowpokes hurry across to the other side of the street. They stopped out of breath to beat the dust off their hats against their legs when they made it safely to the other wooden walkway. Lance noticed shade under the buildings’ walkway. That was a welcoming sight after his long ride.

The roofs and balconies didn’t look sturdy enough to hold the large amount of the eager onlookers gathering crowded closely together. Money was passing freely from hand to hand. All creating to Lance what seemed to be total confusion?

Youngsters lighting firecrackers between nearby buildings startled Lance and he turned quickly in his saddle in their direction, with lightening speed drawing his Colt 45. His Colt 45, the first ever-made special for his grandfather, the only one in the world at this time, made from his grandfathers’ own design. Lance fortunately ended up with the treasured family keepsake after his grandmother passed away one year before he left his birthplace in search of a new life in a new frontier.

A Colt 45 and his grandfathers’ gold pocket watch are all he has left to remind him what he is, where he comes from. Not much after twenty years hard work. Lance has always had one thing going for him. The blood flowing through his veins is strong blood, it is proud blood, it is family blood. The blood, that even in his sleep, reminds him of whom he is, where he comes from. The blood is one thing no one can change or take away without killing him. It gives him the edge. It keeps him going. He is proud of it.

Lance returned the hammer of his six-gun slowly to a non-threatening position, sliding it safely back into his black suede holster, as he has done many times before. Slowly he dismounts, still intrigued, as he continues surveying the chaotic camaraderie in the streets. Holding the leather reins in his hand, he makes his way down Dallas Avenue, according to the road sign posted on the side of a weathered gray building. Behind him, the excited crowd seems unaware of his presence, which was all right with Lance. He has never needed or wanted attention to prove his worth. The life of cowboy fits him he fits it. Midnight follows close as he faithfully always does. The bond between them is special.

Lances’ curiosity is getting the best of him as he stops to question one of the spectators, Why the commotion friend? An elderly farmer having dangling thin, white, hair scattered over his ears, a white beard, stained with tobacco juice, covering most of his leathered face, out of breath, obviously overly excited by the whole event, with a strong Texas born and raised accent, Steel Dust is fixin’ to leave Mammoth out in the back forty. Make him eat crow dust dirt.

The farmer realizing Lance is a stranger, gives him the once over up and down, we have this horse race ever’ year. Ever’ year, for the past three years Steel dust has remained the talk of the town, the unbeatable stud. This year Mammoth and his owner are trying to keep Steal Dust and his owner out of the winners circle. Not wanting to miss any of the action in the dusty streets, the farmer turns away from Lance straining his neck to see over the crowd.

Lance whispers under his breathe, A grudge match.

The friendly farmer turns back to talk Lance again, "Its not only a race between the best horses in the area, but the pride of two towns are at stake. Ever’ since Roderick Alexander conspired with his mother-in-law to be, DeDee Smith of Lancaster, to start a