Devil & Jenny

By Larry Huddleston

Jesse Stall and his brothers, Ben and John, led a life of crime until they were caught by Sheriff Taddius Jacobs and sent to Yuma territorial Prison. Released from Yuma they sought revenge on the man who had put them there.
Jesse may have been alright shooting 'Tad' in the back and leaving him for dead for the killing of his brother Ben, but when he kidnapped 8 year old Jenny out of spite, it raised Devil's ire; an eighteen hand thoroughbred stallion who would kill anyone who turned their back on him, except Taddius Jacobs'.
Now, pitted against the wilds of Central Colorado Territory the Devil and Jenny must survive the wrath of Mother Nature, renegade Indians and wild animals if they hope to ever get back home.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Larry Huddleston
• Release date: Jun 3, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476126630

Larry Huddleston

In 1991, Larry E. Huddleston, along with a close relative, was charged and convicted of numerous counts of bank robbery, armed bank robbery and use of a dangerous weapon during the commission of a crime of violence. He was sentenced to 292 months for the bank robberies, 60 months consecutive for the weapon and 60 months supervised release. In total, he must serve 291⁄2 years before he is eligible for release in 2017. From January 1992 until March 2006, he served his sentence at the United States Penitentiary at Leavenworth, Kansas. He saw it turn from a maximum security prison to a “maximum security housing medium security inmates”. After 18 months at Leavenworth as a medium security inmate, he was transferred to FCI Texarkana, a “low security” facility. While incarcerated, Larry became interested in writing and has since written 29 completed movie ‘spec-scripts’ and twelve completed novels of several genres, from western to sci-fi, romance to war, comedy to horror. Look for Larry’s current and upcoming books at MidnightExpressBooks.com

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THE DEVIL & JENNY

By

Larry E. Huddleston

THE DEVIL & JENNY

Copyright © 2009 by Larry E. Huddleston

Smashwords Edition

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Published by Midnight Express Books at Smash Words

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Midnight Express Books publishes books by incarcerated authors.

This book has not been edited by Midnight Express Books and is the unchanged words of this author.

Chapter 1

Heat waves danced like demons across the blazing hot sands of southwestern Arizona Territory. Sand dunes marched across the great Sonoran Desert in ranks like washboards. In the distance hard, weathered men marched along the top of the great sandstone walls of the Yuma Territorial Prison, rifles across their chests as if hoping one of the miscreants held prisoner inside would make a break for it, giving the guards an excuse for a little excitement. Their hard, squinted eyes followed movement inside the stone walls and slowly they turned to face the front of the prison and the great wooden gates that separated the men from their freedom.

Outside the great gate two saddled horses waited patiently. They were not much to look at as far as good horseflesh went. But, it was figured by the powers that be that they would get a man where he needed to go. Around the saddle horns of the saddles hung two gun belts with holsters. Each holster held a Colt 44.40 pistol and ten rounds of ammunition in the loops of the belt. On top of the saddle horn of each saddle laid a five dollar gold piece and a plug of tobacco. In the scabbard was a Winchester 44.40 lever action rifle commonly called a ‘Yellow Boy’ because of its polished brass frame.

The guards atop the wall suddenly jacked a shell into the chambers of their rifles and aimed seriously down at the inside of the front gate. The rifles moved along slowly as their target made toward the gate.

Outside the horses jumped slightly when the slam of heavy wood striking against heavy wood reverberated up through the heavy wooden gate and it opened only slightly; just enough to allow a man to squeeze through and out.

Two men, Jesse and Ben Stall stepped out, their eyes squinting against the harsh brightness of the glaring sun which hung straight up in the cloudless blue sky. They were rat faced men with buck teeth, long greasy black hair, and unshaven faces. Their ears flared out from the sides of their heads and their eyes were icy gray. They both stood near six feet tall in their stockings. Everything about them shouted poor white trash with the conscience to kill without mercy, regret, or hesitation. Their age would be hard to determine, but Jesse was the elder by two years. The two brothers looked so much alike they had often been mistaken for twins.

Ben and Jesse were followed through the gap of the gate by a tall slim man with a flowing black, well kept beard and short hair. He wore a gray broadcloth coat with black banding around the cuffs and collar and a flat brimmed western style hat. His expression was cold loathing for the two men he was releasing back into society. The double barreled shotgun he carried never pointed far from the bottom of Ben’s spine. He stopped just outside the gate and watched the two men walk to the horses.

Ben, Jesse, you boys look up top of the wall, there, he said, indicating the top of the wall with a nod of his hat. Just in case you get a hankerin’ to load them weapons within a mile of here. My boys are crack shots. That’s why I have them up on the wall. They’ll kill ya sure if you attempt to load up within a mile of my prison. Fair warnin’ boys.

Ben and Jesse stared across the tops of their saddles at the warden with obvious contempt. Jesse pulled a chunk of the tobacco off with his teeth, chewed it furiously then spit a stream of black juice toward the warden’s shiny black boot. It splattered in the dust, short of its target, but his intention was clear.

The warden held his hand out flat, stopping the guards on the wall, who were taking serious aim at Jesse.

I’ll remember your disrespect, Jesse Stall, the warden stated softly. Men like you will always come back home. It’s in your nature. You allow the beast within you to rule your life. Therefore, you will always return to hell. It’s where you’re most comfortable and belong. Same goes for you Benjamin Stall. You’re too stupid not to follow your big brother. Leave here knowing that he is leading you to your grave or back here to me, the warden concluded, and then stepped back inside his gated domain. The thud of heavy wood on heavy wood thundered beyond the gate again, then all returned to silence, except the baking desert. The only unnatural sound was the creaking of saddle leather when the two lean rawhide tough men rose to saddle and settled comfortably.

They shore don’t give a man much for five years hard labor, Ben lamented, stuffing the five dollar gold piece into his pocket.

We’ll collect our due from Sheriff Taddius Jacobs. He owes us aplenty. So don’t fret. You’re always frettin’ too much. Jest like Ma. Ain’t natural fer a man to fret like you do. It’ll put you in a early grave. Jest like it done Ma!

We’ll be dead long a’fore we reach a hunnerd an six, Jess, Ben scowled. You gonna kill Jacobs?

Nope, Jesse replied deadly serious. Ain’t fast enough; never was, never will be.

I am, Ben stated confidently.

You’re rusty as a tin can, Ben, Jesse said. You plan on beatin’ Jacobs you better start practicin’.

Ben scowled back at Jesse, and then looked behind them. They were out of sight of the prison; lost in the wavering heat waves of high noon. He smiled, then drew and fumbled badly. He loaded the pistol, for balance, he told himself and drew again. It discharged. The bullet struck Jesse’s horse behind the ear and it dropped like a rock, throwing Jesse over its head into the sand. He lay stunned for a second then looked up at Ben in stunned disbelief.

Lord amighty, Ben! Ya done kilt my horse! he screamed angrily, getting up, slamming his hat into his thigh and madly kicking the sand while looking from his dead horse to Ben. Then back to the horse. Iffin’ this don’ beat all ta hell!

He glared at Ben, who sat his mount looking embarrassed.

Ben eased the offending pistol back into its holster, and then looked down sadly at Jesse. Glad it weren’t you, Jess, what got shot, he replied.

Well, don’t jest sit there, Ben. Help me get tha riggin offen ‘im, Jesse said his rage barely under control. They’ll come in handy later.

How we gonna find Jacobs? Ben wondered out loud as they rode along double with Jesse’s saddle and bridle hanging from the saddle horn of Ben’s mount.

A man like Jacobs ain’t hard ta find, Jesse said knowingly. Gettin ‘im kilt will be the hard part; sides, Johnny Spencer done got ‘im located.

You an Johnny find ‘im, Ben said confidently. I’ll get ‘im kilt.

You gonna need a mite more practicin’ ‘afore you go up agin Jacobs, Jesse said sarcastically. Yore a mite rusty.

I didn’t mean ta kill yer hoss, Jess, he whined over Jesse’s shoulder.

It’s done, Jesse replied. I’ll get another’n.

The two men rode on across the desert. Ben pulled and aimed, and then dry fired the pistol. Along his gun belt were nine cartridges. Jess reasoned it was a good idea since they were down to one horse and it was a long way out of the desert.

* * * *

The 8:15 P.M. Super Express from Louisville Kentucky sat at the platform in Lawrence Kansas blowing steam in great silver-grey clouds. Men, women and children, an assortment of dogs and bums strolled along the platform, pulling, pushing and carrying luggage of every sort.

Bits and pieces of conversations caused a cacophony of sound to float up like the steam from the train. This roar mixed with the sudden outbursts of laughter, both from amusement and joy at seeing long unseen friends and relatives worsened the den of noise like a rookery of Emperor Penguins. It covered the screech of rusted hinges down the track where a livestock loading ramp was being lowered into place. When it was securely in place several men walked up it and entered the car.

At a passenger car near the front of the train, Sheriff Taddius Jacobs, a ruggedly handsome man in his late twenties, with sheen of silver steel in his eyes accented by a shock of dark auburn hair, and gray beaver Stetson hat, swung down from the doorway and onto the platform. He looked down the track just in time to see the first of eleven thoroughbred horses being led from the car. He smiled and turned back to the doorway where his beautiful wife, Gayla, nearing her sixth month of pregnancy, waited. He offered his hand to her. She smiled and took it and he handed her down.

On the platform Gayla walked down a ways and stood beside an elderly black couple, Sam and Liza Jacobs, while Tad idled down the platform to the stock car to talk with the stock handlers.

As he neared the car and ramp a young man led Devil, a seventeen-hand satiny black thoroughbred stallion, down the ramp by the cheek strap of his halter. Tad was amazed that the stallion was being so docile with the man. The man obviously had a way with horses. He could possibly use such a man on the ranch he was building in Southeastern Colorado Territory, his current destination. Before he could speak the man had returned to the car for the last of the thoroughbreds. Tad lit a cheroot and stood in silent observation as the last mare walked down the ramp.

When all eleven animals were tied to the hitch rail on the back side of the platform and the men were standing around talking and rolling cigarettes Tad walked over and introduced himself to the man who led Devil from the car.

Mister you have a way with horses, Tad told him. I respect that.

They’re magnificent creatures, the man replied. God’s creatures... They deserve respect.

Tad studied the man for a few seconds as if assessing his personality. He saw no guile in the man’s eyes. He appeared to be straight up and honest. But, men, he had learned, were the most devious animals on the planet and had mastered the ways of deception. He had been fooled before, but not often. He decided to take a chance. After all, only time and association would bring out the real character of the man.

You interested in a job on a horse ranch, Tad asked, looking the man in his eyes.

None around here, Mister... the man replied.

Jacobs. Taddius Jacobs. I go by Tad, Mister...?

Grimes. Leo Grimes, he replied, offering his hand. Glad to meet ya’ Mister Jacobs, he added, when Tad took his hand.

I’m starting a thoroughbred ranch in southeastern Colorado Territory. I need a foreman. Pays a hundred a month and found. Interested?

Interested? Yes, but I can’t leave just yet, Leo replied sincerely. I have some debts I have to square, yet. Plus I have a woman and girl child.

Tad respected the man a little more in that he was honorable enough to settle his debts before leaving town. He was liking Leo Grimes more and more.

What do you owe debt wise? Tad inquired, curiously.

Couple of hundred dollars, Leo replied.

That’s pretty cheap to find out if the man’s honor is gold or brass, Tad told himself. He’d take the chance he decided, reaching into his coat and withdrawing his wallet, thick with paper money. He counted off two-hundred dollars and held it out to Leo. Consider this a loan at ten dollars a month payments held out of your pay. If you take my offer, that is.

Leo took the money with a smile, his eyes on Tad’s swollen wallet. He figured it must contain several thousand dollars.

You don’t seem to be suffering from a shortage of spending money, Mister Jacobs, he said with a smile.

Not at the moment, Tad smiled back in reply. It’s sometimes a curse, though. Tad watched Leo’s eyes go blank as if he had already forgotten the cash in the wallet. Another mark to his credit, Tad thought.

Settle your debts. Bring your wife and child and meet us at the stables around noon, tomorrow. We’ll pack up and ride until dark.

We’ll be there, Mister Jacobs, Leo replied, his fist wrapped around the two hundred dollars he had so easily gotten from Taddius Jacobs. Truth was, he owed not a soul a cent. His only debt was to his habit; Mister Whiskey and Missus’ Poker and Roulette. They were his Master and Mistress, the woman and child his burden.

Good, Tad replied, then turned on his heels and walked back to Gayla, Sam and Liza. They watched him curiously when he stopped in front of them.

Leo Grimes, our new foreman. He and his wife and child will meet us at the stables at noon. Let’s get a room for the night, he added, herding them with arms spread wide around the three most cherished people in his world, as if herding ducks.

At the hotel a few minutes later, Tad rang the counter bell, startling the clerk from his slumber. Tad smiled and spun the register around and signed his name. Then, Sam’s and Liza’s. Two rooms for the night, please.

No niggars, the clerk said, as if he had a bad taste in his mouth. We don’ ‘low ‘em.

Before the clerk could react Tad reached across the counter and grabbed him around the neck, dragged him across and into his face. He felt the man’s Adam’s apple bob frantically across the back of the knuckles of his fist. The man’s eyes bugged from his hatchet-shaped, no-chin, hook-nosed face.

First off, Mister, Tad said, his voice low and menacing. "Never call my friends ‘niggars’!

Second, you will treat these decent folks as if they are lily white and direct descendants of your great, great grandfather, since they may very well be. If you don’t, you’ll learn it’s a very rough and rocky three miles from here to the middle of the street. You get my meaning, Mister?

The man’s head was nodding and his body trembled in fear long before Tad finished. Yez’zir, he stuttered nervously. Tonight. Rooms four and five. Top of the stairs, to the right. First and second doors on the right.

* * * *

Two hours later Leo sat with four other men in the saloon playing poker. The bottle at his elbow steadily emptied as did his pockets. His anger and belligerence rose to new levels with every drink and every loosing hand he was dealt; such as the one he held. He cussed angrily under his breath and threw his cards to the center of the table on the discard pile.

You say something, Mister? the man to his right asked, glaring at him accusingly.

Damn right I did, Leo answered drunkenly. I said this is my last hand.

I believe you and Lady Luck caught separate trains, the man smiled.

Never met that bitch personally, Leo replied, sliding his chair back.

The man laughed loudly, leaning back in his chair and slapping the table top with a free hand.

Well, I suppose the least I can do is buy you a drink, he said, pouring a drink from his bottle into Leo’s glass.

Leo downed the drink in a gulp, then stood on unsteady feet, he grinned sheepishly at the man. Thank you kindly, Sir. He burped then hiccupped loudly and weaved his way to the batwings and stumbled out the door.

Leo had had plenty of practice at stumbling his way home in the year he had been in Lawrence. Especially since he had won Rebecca and her eight year old brat from the old trapper that had been down on his luck and had all his faith invested in the five cards he held in his hand. He had been so sure of them he had challenged Leo to a raise and then a call when he had put up the woman and the brat. What the trapper didn’t know was that Leo was all in for the hand also and had no choice but to see it through. When the cards were shown the trapper held a pair of Aces and a pair of Queens. Leo held three kings and two deuces; a full house and had won the pot and the woman and her child. He now felt it had been the unluckiest day of his life, since he had hardly won enough to survive since. As a result he had had to seek employment at odd jobs that no one else would do. Thus, his reason for being at the railroad station earlier. He needed the two dollars and the tips he earned from the passengers for whom he carried luggage and assisted into their wagons and carriages.

Then had come Tad Jacobs and his pocket full of money. Leo wasn’t a fool; he knew the chances of sticking with the rancher from now on were slim to none at best. However, there was nothing that said he had to stay with him to get his hands on the money. He figured two days on the trail would probably do the trick. If he didn’t get a chance to get the money in that length of time, he figured he could just fade away and leave Mister Taddius ‘Deep Pockets’ Jacobs stuck with his burden and her brat. After all he wouldn’t be losing anything. It wasn’t like he had been sleeping with Rebecca or anything. It was rare that they even spoke. And the child stared silently at him like he was a hog or something else unclean. He knew he was cleaner than most; he bathed once a month without fail.

He became angrier the closer he came to his house. He stumbled up the walkway and crashed through the door and down the hallway. He kicked his bedroom door open and stumbling for the last time, fell unconscious across the bed fully dressed, boots and all.

He didn’t hear the door down the hallway gently close, nor did he see the golden eyed beauty with the blue black hair sigh with relief, and ease the door closed gently.

Rebecca Reborne crossed the room and looked down at the most important person in her life; Jenny Dawn Reborne, her nine-year old daughter. She gently brushed a stray strand of blue black hair from the corner of her mouth, and then lay back down beside her, thankful that Leo had not started any trouble, as he usually did. He had developed a penchant for hitting her when he drank too much; which was often. She prayed she would find her soul mate. When she did she knew her troubles would be over.

She was surprised that she dozed off and was halfway asleep when Leo came roaring into the room demanding that she get up and get their things packed; just the essentials. They were going to Colorado Territory and be ranchers. He then explained the job he had taken with Taddius Jacobs and that they were due at the stables in less than an hour. So, they had to hurry! There was no time to waste!

Rebecca scrambled around quickly and threw their meager possessions together in what seemed to her record time. Then, before she knew what was happening, Leo was dragging her down the street by the sleeve. She in turn held Jenny’s hand and together the three