The Trail Ends In Ouray

By William James Stoness

When Tex Hallman returns to town he thinks nothing will ever be the same again. A vicious gang has stolen his gold claim and controls the little mining town of Ouray. Two young ladies complicate his life just when he needs no other distractions. How can he recover his gold when there appears to be no one who will stand up to the killers? Only the use of hot lead and strong ropes will work.

• Language: English
• Publisher: William James Stoness
• Release date: Nov 21, 2010
• ISBN: 9780978146184

William James Stoness

William James Stoness grew up on a farm in Eastern Ontario. After graduating from Queen's University he started into a career teaching Chemistry. A youthful interest in geography and geology encouraged him to travel by RV across Canada and the United States where he photographed scenery and geological phenomena. It was this travel which developed an interest in the Old West, an interest which has led him to write several novels about the never ending fight between the 'good cowboys and the bad hombres'. In his westerns, Mr. Stoness writes with an exciting descriptive style, emphasizing the beauty of the southwest, and matching the stories to the terrain to create a feel of reality. In his novel 'The Yellowstone Hotspot', the author fashions his tale around the geologically active volcanic hotspot that exists under the famous park. Mr. Stoness is also working on a scenic driving series "Tour North America". Each travel guide consists of several driving tours that interconnect so that the reader can link together driving tours which interest him to create longer scenic drives, all of which list things to see and do. Each book is packed with photos and maps. Geological interesting facts help explain the marvelous scenery of this continent. Over his lifetime the author has had many varied experiences. He has been a pilot, a teacher, and a farmer and is a skilled carpenter using lumber from his own sawmill. As well, he has been involved in conservation, is an advanced ham operator, and spent time as head of council in municipal politics. Mr. Stoness creates his travel guides using Adobe InDesign.

Book preview

THE TRAIL ENDS IN OURAY

William James Stoness

Published by Stoness Publications at Smashwords

Copyright 1995 James Stoness

All characters in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to any person living or dead, is purely coincidental.

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 to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Chapter One

The stage rolled along the valley, a plume of dust behind it covering the road like some gargantuan caterpillar. High above it a large hawk soared on the gossamer tendrils of hidden air currents. A small herd of antelope, startled by the passing coach, bolted for the safety of the distant hills.

Reaching the edge of the valley the team of horses and its wooden conveyance surged up the first of the small hills leading to the mountains. The horses laid into their harness as if there was a devil flying over them. The laggards were urged on by the driver’s whip, a whip that was being flailed with a vengeance.

Behind them, partially hidden by the cloud of dust, came riders. The exact number was in doubt, but something that was not in question, was the fact that those riders who were visible through the dust were brandishing guns. Puffs of white smoke emerged, from time to time, testifying to the truth of it.

The driver of the stage occasionally looked back over his shoulder, only to return to using his whip more fiercely, if that were possible, over the horses. The crooked road was causing the vehicle to sway precariously as they skidded around the curves and jounced over the uneven terrain. The man with the reins showed his experience as he whipped and guided his six horses through the tortuous road.

Men leaned out of both sides of the stage, their deadly guns in their hands, shooting back toward the partially hidden riders. Inside, the passengers who were not fortunate enough to have a window to hang onto were being flung from side to side as the perilous journey continued. Of course, one, being objective about it all, might argue the point of those being near the window being fortunate, at all. From their point of view, the sound of the occasional blue whistler was not at all reassuring. It didn’t help either, to have to look down on the body of one of their fellow passengers, whose countenance stared with sightless eyes toward the ceiling. The passengers were a mixed lot, which was not at all unusual in this part of the Territory of Colorado. There had been four men, but one man was with them, only in body, but not in spirit. His spirit had moved away the moment that his heart had absorbed a bullet from an accurately aimed rifle gun.

One of the men sat in the forward facing seat, holding on to his wife, trying to keep them both from being tossed onto the floor at the feet of the other seated passengers. He was a fashionably dressed elderly man and running a little to the plump side of the scale. He was well shaven except for a longhorn moustache that was drawn to two needle like points, and heavily waxed to keep its shape. On top of his vest, visible through his partially open topcoat, was a looped gold chain, ornate in appearance, and obviously expensive. Underfoot lay a tall stovepipe hat, much the worse for being the recipient of many feet, and it now lay under the unmoving body on the floor. There could be no doubt, that this man was the owner of that fancy hat, for there was no one else on board, who would have worn such a thing.

Clinging to him was his wife. She was a slim, frail looking, middle-aged woman, who at this moment appeared to be somewhat distraught. Her head was buried against her husband’s chest, and from time to time she turned to look at the man on the floor, who had the unkindness of rolling, first against her legs, and then away, depending upon which way the coach had skidded. Whenever this happened she would stiffen and turn her head back so that her face was hidden in her husband’s coat. Occasionally, she would emit mewing sounds and her shoulders would tremble and shake.

Next to her sat her daughter. A bigger contrast could never have been purposely planned. Instead of a shrinking, quivering, pathetic woman, like her mother, she sat there proud and strong, a symbol of the courageous and determined pioneer woman. She had given up trying to comfort her mother and was now loading, alternately, one of the two revolvers that the man at her window was using.

The wild ride continued unabated, yet, the rising excitement in the men’s voices told her that a change was occurring. Suddenly, they rounded a curve, and she heard a new and compelling call for more speed. As if by a miracle, she felt the coach respond as the tired team gave all they had to obey the master with the whip.

Moments later she saw a building fly past the window and then the driver was hauling up the team and had locked the brakes on the stage as he skidded around to the side of a larger two-storey log house. There was a tremendous roar of shooting as new guns entered the fray. Suddenly a man was at the door urging them to move out quickly, and led them into the shelter of the building.

In what seemed to be only a few moments, everyone was inside with her, all talking at once. From what she could make out of the talk, the attackers had stopped by the bend in the road, and appeared to be holding a conference. She managed to reach a window where she cautiously peered down the road. She was just in time to observe the riders turning back and disappearing around the bend.

That was a fine job you did handling that team, Howie, spoke up one of the men. At his waist he wore a weathered holster. She decided that the man was a cowboy, perhaps on the way to another job.

Howie certainly knows how to make those hosses move, someone agreed. She looked up to see that this was the man for whom she had reloaded the guns. She had not taken much notice of him, but here in the brightly lit room she took his measure. She judged him to be about medium height, lean and strong looking. He was dark haired and his tan made him look much darker than he probably was, for at first glance one might think that he had some Indian blood in his veins.

His lips seemed to be ready to break into a grin at any moment, and this impression was aided by a boyish sparkle in his deep blue eyes. She guessed him to be in his mid twenties. His clothes were clean and neat, and in fact they were obviously selected with some care. At this moment they showed the wear and tear of many days in the rough, but his tastes appeared to be discerning. He wore a six shooter at each hip. She decided that this was a man to look out for. His manner was deceptive, for he seemed quiet and well mannered. However she still remembered the way that he handled himself during the fight with the mounted riders.

He had been the one who was most responsible for their escaping. It had started easily when they had rounded a bend to find the road blocked by three masked riders. The shotgun guard had tried to raise his gun and had been shot from the seat. The driver had raised his hands while the other two came to the door, yanking it open and pointing their guns inside. They ordered the passengers out, but before most of them had had a chance to move, the whisky drummer had made a quick motion that was mistaken for a move to get a gun. A muffled shot echoed, and he fell to the floor.

At this moment the man opposite her took a chance and kicked upward, knocking the man’s gun upward causing a bullet to go through the roof. This outlaw now blocked the one behind from getting into the action and the passenger continued his attack, drawing his gun and shooting down the murderous outlaw and wounding the one behind.

The driver, seizing the opportunity, grabbed the reins, and hurrahed the teams into action. As they passed the bend they saw other riders standing by their horses, some already having started to mount, probably to move up to the stagecoach. In moments the stage passed unscathed through a flurry of shots and the race was on.

A man speaking to her roused her from her thoughts. Miss, perhaps you shouldn’t stand too near the window. Those rascals might try a few rifle shots through the glass just to see if they could cause a little more harm.

His brown eyes seemed to twinkle as he spoke to her and she liked his firm manner. Perhaps you are right, she murmured as she backed away to the protection of the wall.

He continued. Since we haven’t been properly introduced I’ll do it myself. My name is Tex Hallman.

Oh, I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. Hallman. I want to thank you for what you did for us back there.

Well, I guess that it would be more accurate to say that I did it for myself, as much as for anyone. It was a pretty sticky situation. I only did what had to be done. When the opportunity presented itself, I took advantage of it.

That poor salesman, she started to say, but shuddered at the thought of that man lying there.

Don’t distress yourself, miss, Hallman said, and then added. Say, you haven’t told me your name, I don’t believe.

Oh! I’m so sorry, Mr. Hallman. It has been very rude of me. I’m Kathylene Morton. Please call me Katy, all my friends do.

Katy, the man said, doffing his hat, I’m mightily pleased to have met you. I only wish it was under better circumstances. You will call me Tex, won’t you, please?

Of course, Mr..., Tex. I would like you to meet my father, and mother too, if she has recovered. She takes everything so seriously. I believe that she hates the west, but she was bound and determined to come with father on this trip. Me, I love it here. I think it’s super.

Hallman looked up in surprise at the eastern slang. It was clear to him that this girl certainly did enjoy it here, and even after their narrow escape, her eyes were still shining with the excitement of it all.

Katy led him through the other passengers to where her father and mother sat on a bench at the far side of the room, about as far as they could get from the exposed windows. Obviously, they did not share their daughter’s enthusiasm for the day.

Her father looked up as she approached. Father, I would like you to meet Tex Hallman.

Her father rose, and extended his hand. I’m grateful for the assistance that you gave us back there. My wife seems to have fully collapsed, you’ll have to excuse her for not getting up.

That’s quite all right, Morton, Tex said graciously, stealing a look toward Katy, who threw back one of those ‘I told you so looks’. This country is hard on women, he continued, they have to have the right temperament for the rough life that they will see out here. Some people, like Katy here, seem to be able to take it, even thrive on it. It’s people like her who will make this Wild West a decent place to live. But it’s going to take time.

I suppose there might be some truth in what you are saying, but it seems to be a ghastly country, with robbers and cutthroats everywhere, countered Morton.

Tex Hallman chose to ignore this, and instead, asked where the Morton’s were headed.

I heard, Morton, said slowly, that there were silver strikes in the San Juan Mountains. I thought that I might look the situation over, and.... maybe invest in some interesting looking claims.

Yes, there’s no doubt about silver strikes being reported. Of course a lot of them fizzle out to nothing, but the prospectors are finding some very rich claims. Where did you think that you might go first?

Well, in New York we had heard about a place called Ouray. That’s the destination on our tickets. We had hoped to be there by tomorrow.

Hallman started momentarily at the place name. You don’t mean to take your family there? he asked.

"Certainly, I do. Where I go, they go too. They insisted that they come. Now, after the