Silver Concho

By Michael Westborn

After being coerced by the Commander of Fort Lyon, Jake and Pat are left with no choice but to take on a manhunt for some outlaws. The hunt leads them across Colorado and draws them to a small town where Jake becomes at odds with the powers that be. Jake is left for dead on the Concho. The only thing that saves him is the ruthlessness and devotion of his pal Pat.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Michael Westborn
• Release date: Apr 27, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301829309

Michael Westborn

After more than forty years as a metal worker I retired. Only then could I pursue my fondest wishes to walk the streets of the old western towns that come to mind whenever cowboys and the old west are mentioned.I spent my summers in the early 1950s as a kid on my grandfather's farm in Las Animas Colorado. Even at that age I could see the old west in those surroundings. I was so close to the old west but I knew it was gone to the pages of history. Like most kids of that age with a wild imagination I could bring it all back like I was really there.In Jake Cleary and the Colorado Reckoning I called my grandfathers farm the Rising Sun Ranch. I guess at the young age of ten the fictional stories I now write had their beginnings on that old dirt farm in the mind of a kid who knew he was born too late so he brought it all back with a vivid imagination.I have traveled from one corner of Colorado to the other and have visited numerous locations in many states where the old west left its mark. I have traveled Arizona and spent several nights in Tombstone. I saw the stone covered graves to the McLauri and the Clantons. I visited Lincoln, New Mexico home of the Lincoln County War, Idaho and totally covered Nevada. I got married in Pioche Nevada which was probably the deadliest town in the west.I read the grave markers on Boot Hill in Pioche. I've visited the resting place of the greatest pistoleer in history, James Bulter Hickok who rests in Dead Wood South Dakota. I saw the grave of the most famous shooter that ever walked, William Bonnie (The Kid). I have walked in the footsteps of Billy the Kid, John Tunstall, Alexander McSween the very people that put the Lincoln Count war into history.Most of the locations in The Reckoning do exist and I have been to them. Fort Ross is strictly fictional; it is defiantly part of a kid's imagination.I presently live in Ely Nevada, a small mining town that has its own stories yet to be told. Ely is one of the last Western towns that still has its share of legal brothels.

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Silver Concho

A Jake Cleary Adventure

by

Michael Westborn

Published by Michael Westborn at Smashwords.

Copyright 2013 Michael Westborn

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

About the Author

More books by the Author

CHAPTER 1

The crack of the hammer and the ring of the nail were muffled by the thunder of fast-moving horses. The sun was straight over head. Sweat dripped off of Jake’s nose drying instantly as it hit the hot tin roof. He looked up and took the bandana that hung around his neck and wiped the sweat from his eyes and the band inside his hat.

Coming hard three hundred yards in the distance were six riders riding two abreast; they were cutting a fast trail straight across the open fields of the Rising Sun Ranch.

Quickly, Jake picked up his holster and strapped the iron around his waist. Pat Brennon stood with his rifle in hand watching the incoming riders through an unglazed window in the incomplete bunk house. Jake shaded his eyes from the glare off the tin roof with his left hand while his right rested on his Colt.

They’re troopers Jake. Pat hollered.

Jake slipped the tie back down on his pistol and dropped to a squatting position as he watched the riders approach. Pulling their mounts to a stop just feet away from the new bunk house, Jake looked down on the man who wore the stripes.

What can I do for you Sarge? Jake asked.

I’m Sergeant Walker and I suspect you’re either Jake Cleary or Pat Brennon.

I’m Jake Cleary and he’s Pat Brennon. Now what can I do for ya?

I gotta take you back to the fort. The Colonel wants to see ya,the dirty looking Sergeant replied.

You know what he wants? Pat asked.

Nope. He just said bring you two back, the Sergeant calmly answered.

Ok, Sarge, you boys can water your mounts then start back, we’ll be along shortly. I got two more sheets of this here tin to put down then we’ll be along,Jake said.

A young private still mounted at Sergeant Walker’s left, pointed to Jake and said with a heavy southern drawl. You get your ass off that roof and get mounted.

Without a thought Jake ran foreword and took a flying leap directly in the face of the young trooper. Instantly, all six horses spooked and jumped in all directions, throwing dust into the air as the young trooper and Jake rolled off the back of the startled horse. Hitting the ground in a thick cloud of dust Jake grabbed the young private by the shirt. Open handed he started slapping the soldier back and forth as he said,

Didn’t your mama ever teach you any manners?

Just then two more troopers bailed off their horses, and jumped on Jake’s back. Instantly, Pat came through the door with his rifle in hand. Running between the startled horses Pat swung the butt of his Henry rifle and caught one of Jake attackers at the base of the skull, rendering him unconscious. Quickly, moving forward Pat brought up his right foot and kicked the other trooper directly in the mouth. At once the soldier fell to the ground as blood gushed from between his ruptured lips.

Jake and Pat then turned to face the grinning Sergeant Walker. Walker looked at the two remaining soldiers and said.

Don’t just sit there with stupid looks on your faces. Get down there and help ‘em up.

Looking at the smiling Sergeant, Jake said. Didn’t you ever teach that little whelp some manners?

If his ma couldn’t do it what makes you think I can sides I think you just did it for me. Walker said as he slipped the chewed up cigar between his yellow teeth.

Pointing to the two noncombative soldiers, Walker said to Jake and Pat. You boys point out your mounts, I’ll have them two ladies over there saddle em for ya.

Sarge you see that barn out there? Jake said.

Sergeant Walker’s eyes drifted to the barn at his left.

We been sleeping in there all winter, and I ain’t going nowhere till I get the roof on this bunk house. Jake snapped

Walker chuckled slightly. Don’t fret over that tin. Them two ladies gonna finish that roof for ya. Just then the three bloody beaten soldiers took their positions beside their mounts.

Joe, Pat hollered.

Out of nowhere Jake’s young ranch hand Joe Burk stepped from behind a large stack of timbers and planks a rifle held securely in his hand.

Sergeant like you to meet Joe, our top hand here at the Rising Sun. Joe nodded, Walker looked at the long haired boy.

What you doing back there with that rifle? Walker asked.

Joe looked at the cigar chewing soldier and never spoke. A few minutes later the two troopers approached with Saber and Pat’s white eyed mare, saddled and ready to ride.

Now you two ladies climb up on that roof and get that there tin put down.

Then give Joe here a hand till sundown. You ladies stay the night here and you be back at Lyon by noon tomorrow. You ride in on lathered mounts, you’ll both dig holes for a month stead of a week." Walker said in an angry voice.

The two troopers looked at each other. They were in trouble and they both knew it. Jake and Pat looked at each other then the hard faced sergeant.

Mount up. Walker said.

The three bloody beaten soldiers briskly swung into the saddle. As Jake and Pat mounted their horses Sergeant Walker clicked his mount to the three mounted soldiers. Looking at the young southern private he said, You keep your Alabama ass hundred feet to the rear till we get back to the fort. Do you understand me private?

Quickly, the young private stiffened in the saddle. Yes sir, he immediately replied.

Both Jake and Pat understood this. This was a common military punishment; the man in disfavor had to ride drag. This man had to endure the dust and the smell of the other horses.

Neither Jake nor Pat understood why Sergeant Walker had censured the two troopers that had held their positions.

Fort Lyon lay approximately twelve miles from the Rising Sun ranch and was the strong- hold for Western Colorado and Eastern Kansas, and the Northern New Mexico territory. With the day more than half gone both Jake and Pat knew they would not return to the ranch this day.

As the three troopers pulled their mounts about, Pat reined his mare to the side of the young Alabama private. With a lightning fast move, Pat lifted the flap and yanked the service revolver from his holster. Spinning the cylinder he dumped the rounds to the dust below.

Looking in the trooper’s eyes he handed him back, the empty pistol.

You even look like your gonna load that gun, I’ll break your arm, Pat said in a firm voice. Seeing this Sergeant Walker shook his head with disgust. Pat looked at the disgusted Sergeant and said. I ain’t letting that young pup ride behind me with a loaded gun.

Walker then set his spurs and led the small troop into the grass covered fields of the Rising Sun ranch.

They had been mounted about a half hour when Pat heard the hoofs of a galloping horse coming from the rear. Instantly, Jake and Pat turned in the saddle to see the Alabama private coming at a full run. What’s he up to Pat thought. Both men watched as he galloped past his sergeant and his friends. Not a blue cap turned as he made his way to a closed gate fifty yards in the distance. Pulling his mount to a quick stop the Alabama private quickly dismounted in a cloud of dust and tied his horse.

Without hesitation the young private unlatched and swung the gate to an open position.

Coming to attention the young trooper watched as Sergeant Walker and company rode through the now open gate. Jake and Pat looked at each other then looked at the hard faced sergeant.

Riding behind Sergeant Walker who was several yards in front of his troopers, Jake clicked Saber to his side.

Sarge I wanna ask ya. Them two troopers back at the ranch?

Sergeant Walker quickly cut him short. Cause your red haired friend should have never made it to ya. They should have been on him like a duck on a June bug.

Walker slowly turned and looked at Jake with a face of stone. Jake then reined Saber to Pats side.

I ain’t never seen one like him Pat. Jake said.

As they rode Jake studied the hard sergeant; he looked to Jake to be in his late thirties. Not having seen him dismounted Jake measured him to be less than six feet tall. With his short thick neck his head looked as if it sat on his shoulders. His hands ungloved looked like old, weather beaten leather. A short salt and pepper colored beard failed to cover his round, wrinkled face. The most noticeable thing about this warrior was his cocked left eye, giving him an untrusting look.

Something Jake and Pat both saw was the fact that these men were either deathly afraid of him or they had a mountain of respect for the cock-eyed, stone face Sergeant.

As Jake rode his eyes rested on the strait backed Sergeant: something was different about him and Jake couldn’t put his finger on it. Jake's eyes then drifted to the two troopers that rode directly behind him. Something kept turning over in his mind.

Jake slowly turned in the saddle to get a look at the private riding drag. What is it he thought just then it hit him. Gloves these men are bare handed. They ain’t got no gloves he thought. Leaning to his right he asked Pat in a low voice. Pat them troopers back at the ranch. They have gloves on?

Pat’s eyes quickly shifted to the men in uniform. Don’t recall. Pat answered.

They had been in the saddle several hours when Sergeant Walker reined his mount to a stop. Jake and Pat rode to his side. Again the Sergeant raised his left hand. Glancing back Jake saw the private that was riding drag spur his mount to a gallop. Pulling his mount to a stop in front of the Sergeant he said. Yes Sergeant?

Load your side arm, Private, and hold your position. Walker barked. Quickly, the private drew his pistol and started feeding rounds into the cylinder. Walker looked to the two troopers to his rear. Take position around the private. He hollered.

Reining his mount to the left: the stone face Sergeant took up a position five yards to the left of the three mounted troopers. Jake and Pat moved to his side. Staring straight ahead Walkers eyes rested on a mesquite stump sticking through the ground no more than a foot, and fifteen yards in the distance.

Unload your weapons, the sergeant