Escape From the Noose

By William James Stoness

Young Mark Kirkham was only looking for a job the day he was mistakenly chased and shot by Rangers for a stagecoach robbery in which he had no part. After being nursed back to health by a beautiful rancher’s daughter he goes in pursuit of the real robbers who had killed the passengers of the stagecoach. While in pursuit of the killers Mark meets a lovely young lady and confusion reins.

• Language: English
• Publisher: William James Stoness
• Release date: Nov 28, 2010
• ISBN: 9780978146146

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.

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Escape From the Noose

William James Stoness

Published by Stoness Publications at Smashwords

Copyright 2000 James Stoness

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.

Acknowledgments

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the author.

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

Chapter One

The sun, a burning orb that seared the Texan landscape and everything that crossed its surface, followed Mark Kirkham’s aimless ride across the featureless plain. There was little purposeful direction in his travelling. Two days ago his poke had been wiped out in a poker game in Abilene. Broke, but not totally discouraged, he had saddled his horse, packed his warbag and headed out for new horizons. Somewhere, there would be a job waiting for him. All he had to do was to find it.

Mark Kirkham had just turned twenty-one. When he was fourteen, Indians attacked the wagon train that his parents were travelling in, killing both of them. Orphaned and alone he had drifted from town to town. Working as a stable hand had kept him from starving during the first couple of years. At last he got work at a ranch and over the next few years learned the necessary skills to become an excellent cowboy. There was little difficulty for a good cowhand in keeping employed in the warm weather, but in the winter months when cattle hovered near the easy feed, and the haystacks, many of them were paid off, and sent packing.

This had been Mark’s fate. After too many months of inactivity, drinking and gambling, with the return of spring he had headed across Texas looking for a job in new surroundings. He reflected upon his mistake. He had heard about Abilene, and knew from roving cowboy’s tales, that it was not wise to stop at the Rim Rock Saloon. But he was thirsty, and still young enough to know everything. He learned quickly enough that the cards were stacked against him before he even pushed open the swinging doors.

His thick brown hair set off a face, well browned from too much time in the sun. His brown eyes seemed to sparkle, highlighting a face that had a tendency to smile even when he was sad. Clean-shaven, except for a small mustache, he was a handsome young man. A bit under six feet tall weighing about one hundred and eighty pounds he felt well able to take care of himself in a fight. At his right side was his ever-present revolver. No gunfighter, he could still shoot quickly and accurately when necessary.

He looked back in his mind as he rode along. He had certainly been gullible, and could see how easily he had been taken in. As soon as he opened those doors, one of the saloon girls had met him by the arm.

Hello, cowboy. Wanna buy me a drink?

She was a nice-looking girl, friendly, and he was lonely. Several drinks later she had asked him if he liked to play poker.

You look like you’d probably be good at poker. If you’re interested, I know where there is a private game that I could get you into, that is if you’d like. I know some of those men and they can’t play well enough to save their lives. I think that you would make some easy money.

That was all the coaxing he needed. Easy money! These words had sunk through to his liquored brain. An hour later he was on the street with nothing but his clothes and gun. Losing his money so rapidly had brought him back to reality before he had gambled his horse and saddle away too.

When he had gone looking for the girl after the game was over, he found her at the front of the saloon, waiting for another sucker. She rebuffed his advances quickly.

How can you show a girl a good time, mister? You’re flat broke.

Now it was late afternoon of the third day. He hadn’t seen a living soul for the last two days. His hopes of finding food at a rancher’s table had faded away during the last couple of hours. He was crossing a rolling plain that was severely eroded and fissured with deep ravines separating high flat, narrow plateaus. His sight line was limited and he had been spending quite a bit of time detouring some of these gaps and in dropping down into others and finding his way out again.

Somebody must live in this wilderness there’s cattle here and there.... and that must mean there’s a road. If I can find a road then maybe I can find a place to get some supplies.

These thoughts had come to him as he climbed out of another deep ravine. He had decided that if he didn’t see a ranch building or road in the next half hour then he would look for a place to make night camp.

Mark pulled his puffing horse to a stop at the top of the climb and as he sat there letting the animal rest a crackling popping sound came across the air.

Sounds like gunfire, Prince, he said to his horse. Let’s go see. Where there’s guns, there’s people.

He kicked the horse into movement riding quickly in the direction where he thought the sounds had come from. Unfortunately he encountered several more deep ravines through which he had to find a passage and it was quite a while before he at last topped a ridge to see below him the road.

Further down the road he saw a stage stopped near a rock outcropping. There appeared to be no one around it as he rode closer. The situation made him nervous and he looked anxiously around, but seeing no one he continued towards the motionless carriage.

He stopped a little bit away. Hello, the stage...is there anyone there?

There was no answer. He drew his gun and walked his horse off the road and around the stage keeping well out of handgun range. He had passed the team before he saw the man on the ground. Beyond him lay another, and yet another.

Quickly he kicked his horse into a run, and pulling him up to a skidding stop near the first man he leapt to the ground, his gun still in his hand.

The man was on his back, two red wounds in his chest. His open eyes stared at the sky and Mark stepped past him to the others. They were dead also, also shot to death. He was bent over them holding his gun in his hand in case of danger and did not hear the approach of the horses until bullets began sending up gouts of dirt around him.

Startled, he looked behind and saw a several men on horses racing across the open range. They began to yell and he could see white smoke from their guns. Too far back for pistols they nevertheless were trying hard. It was fortunate for Mark that the few with rifles could not hold them steady on their charging mounts, but they were coming too close for comfort.

His mind in a turmoil, Mark ran to his horse, and laying low over his saddle he spurred the horse toward the nearest of the hills. Shooting and shouting it looked like they’s catch him before he reached the relative safety of the hill. The horse was running flat out now, reaching far ahead he pushed his body along on his powerful legs. Mark had sometimes raced the other cowboys on the ranches where he had worked. Prince’s appearance was deceptive to the casual observer. His off chestnut colour tended to make him look like a smaller horse. To the expert who knew horses, it was a different story. They could see the well formed muscles and deep chest and knew that this horse was probably fast and a stayer.

Mark knew this, and over the years had collected regularly on wagers from the unwary cowboys. Now only the great horse could save his life. Those who were following him were not in the mood to ask questions and he could hang before nightfall if lady luck was not with him.

The pursuers were falling back and he could hear them shouting with alarm. They had spread out widely to both sides preventing him from cutting away from his intended path, even if he had wanted to. He eased back a little on the horse’s pace as the gap widened. Ahead of him he could see a break in the grass and hoped for a ravine down through which he could ride, perhaps losing them in the twists and turns. In the failing light of the afternoon he had a chance.

Suddenly, he felt a terrific blow to his thigh that almost caused him to lose his balance. Even as he tried to recover he heard another bullet passing close to him. Looking back he saw one man had stopped and was aiming his rifle from the ground. Mark sawed violently on the reins almost staggering the horse with the sudden move.

For a moment the man had lost his bead on them, but he was good and it would not be many seconds before he had them again in his sights. Mark forced the horse to run a zigzag path as he approached what he assumed was the edge of a ravine. When he arrived he was not prepared for the sight. Far below was a river and the sides were shaped like a large vee. He knew now why the pursuers had spread out. They were driving him toward this trap.

They knew that there was no escape. It was too steep to climb. Panic-stricken, he looked back and saw them coming hard upon him. He looked at the depression ahead of him and desperately spurred the horse over the side. The horse screamed in fright and then set to work in a monstrous attempt to keep its balance. Mark held back on the reins as they began the long slide. The horse was good, no doubt about it. Valiantly it scrambled to control its descent. At more than one point the horse was sliding on its rump. The terrifying ride was over quickly and as they approached the flatter area near the river Mark looked back up behind him and couldn’t believe that they had actually come down that embankment which seemed to rise so steeply above him.

Then, he spurred the horse westward along the banks of the river. Soon he was out of view of any of the pursuers who would soon be at the brink of that stupendous slide. Mark slackened his hectic pace and seeing a calmer place in the river he pushed the horse into the water and swam with the stream current, heading for the other shore.

Once there, the horse pulled himself out of the river and Mark headed him down following the stream. A couple of miles later, after fording many smaller streams that entered the river at intervals he selected one of them, and turned left and began climbing up away from the river.

The pain in his side was growing stronger now that the numbness of the first shock was gone and Mark felt himself feeling weaker. Until now he had been running on adrenalin, that great elixir which kept him going when his wound should have been enough to stop him. Now the loss of blood was beginning to tell on him. He reached down and found that his whole side was covered with it. He even felt, inside his boot, a pool of his body’s life fluid.

He stopped the horse. From his saddlebag he took a handful of flour and reached inside his clothes to pack it over his injury. On top of this he placed his bandanna to cover the flour and the wound with the soft cloth. Then he took off his belt and put it around his body over top of the bullet wound. Slowly he drew it tight so as to force the bandanna tightly against the bullet hole. If it worked, he might stay alive for a while yet.

He was reeling in the saddle when he finished his repairs. Sluggishly, Mark touched his heels to the horse’s flanks, starting him heading upward along the stream. Some distance from here it should be possible to climb out of the side ravine, when the sides became low enough. With any luck he might elude his followers. An hour later he was riding slowly, the stream falling behind him, and a forested area ahead of him. The sun had set but it was not yet dark when he stopped. The safety of the woods was still ahead of him but he felt ill. He had barely stopped the horse, when he keeled over and fell from the horse and lay motionless on ground.

Chapter Two

Blue shadows lay across the trail as Melody Ainsworth rode her running horse towards her ranch. She was still about three miles from it as she headed away from Papoose Gulch.

Father will be furious, she thought. I should have left Emily’s sooner, but it was so much fun seeing her again. I love this big country but sometimes I get so lonely...

She leaned further over the saddle and urged her big black mare into greater speed. Oh, you wonderful great horse, she squealed with excitement as they flew across the land, shrubs and trees flashing by on either side.

Suddenly, as they passed through an opening between two pines the horse shied and jumped over an object unseen to her. The quick move almost unseated her and she drew back on the reins to slow their speed.

Then to one side she saw a saddled horse standing looking at them, its head held high to one side. She noted then that the reins were dragging.

Whoa, whoa, she called out dragging her horse to a stop. Turning its head she rode up to the riderless horse. One side of the saddle was wet with blood.

Oh, no, she breathed, some poor cowboy had been hurt. But where can he be? She panicked a little. Blackie, we’ve got to find him soon, it’ll soon be dark."

She swung her horse around, and then putting her thoughts together, she remembered her horse’s disquieting jump only moments before. Clucking the horse forward toward the pine trees they walked past a juniper shrub and then she saw the still figure on the ground.

Melody stopped the horse and for a few moments she stood looking at him. She dreaded getting down and going to the dead man, but she knew that she must. She had to be sure before going on home to take the bad news to her father.

Climbing down from the horse, she advanced hesitantly. She knelt beside the man and put her hand upon his forehead. Astonishment grasped her. He was hot to touch. He was alive. Carefully she eased him upon his back and searched for his wound. Looking at the place where he had placed the bandanna, she saw the blood and noted that it was not bleeding. She decided to leave it alone for the moment.

Melody took her canteen and with a soft cloth bathed his face and was shortly rewarded by movement of his eyes. Slowly they focused upon her.

Easy, cowboy. You’ve been hurt, she warned, as she pressed him back.

He lay still for a moment, and she took the opportunity to give him a sip of water. Soon he took some more and licked his dry lips. It took him one or two false starts before he could speak.

Go...got to get up. They’re after me. I must move...

You’re not going... anywhere.... Who is after you? I haven’t seen anybody, Melody asked as she tried to keep him quiet.

The riders... they shot at me..... Can you hide me? he whispered hoarsely.

He was beginning to feel stronger and tried to sit up. At his insistence she helped and soon he was resting with his back against the trunk of a small tree.

She tried again. What happened, cowboy, who is after you?

The stage... attack... they think I did it....no chance to explain... they just started shooting... It was difficult for him to speak coherently but she understood enough of what he was saying to know he was in trouble.

He asked again, Can you hide me? Please? They’ll hang me... if they find me here. She could see the fear in his eyes and felt sorry for him.

He looks so kind, she thought. Surely he’s not the kind to get mixed up in something bad.

Aloud she said, All right, I’ll help you hide. I know where there is a line shack close to here. It’s well hidden but how will I get you there? she posed anxiously.

If I can get on Prince, I’ll make it. Mark said weakly.

Melody mounted her horse and rode over to Prince and led him back to a large windfallen tree. Then partially supporting Mark she helped him to his horse. Once he stepped upon the fallen trunk of the tree it was possible for him to get into the saddle. Melody took Prince’s reins and rode off with him in tow.

She took care to select a trail that would show very few tracks. By the time they had entered a small rocky draw it was getting much darker but it was only a few more steps until he could see the cabin under the lee of the hill.

Getting him down and onto the cot in the cabin took all of her strength and she could see that he was drained of any energy he might have had.

Miss... he said weakly, you’ve got to get on home now. Your folks will be frantic all ready.... why they...

"It’s too late to worry about that, now be still while I get a fire going. It wasn’t long before he could feel heat radiating from the little metal box in the corner. Melody had covered him with some blankets before starting the fire and he began to warm a little.

She picked up a pail and went out to where she knew there was a little spring. Inside again, she began to heat the water in two dishes on the stove. With the one dish she made a hot broth using some of the emergency rations that were kept hidden in the little cabin. When it was warm she took it over and began to spoon it into Mark. He was sure he wasn’t hungry but his weak feeling had fooled him and it was not long before he swallowed it eagerly.

That was good. I think it even made me feel better...now you had better go along, he urged.

Next mister, I look at the gunshot. Now turn over. She pulled off his shirt and began to clean him off. You sure lost a lot of blood. I think I’d better get you to the ranch.

She felt him stiffen. Not a chance. I’ll try my luck, and stay here, he said firmly.

When the water had softened the bandanna and flour enough she removed the temporary patch that he had used. Cleaning up the wound she could see that it was a clean entry and exit hole and at the moment was not bleeding. It doesn’t look too bad but I wish I had some disinfectant, Melody said as she finished her inspection.

In my saddlebag you will find a small first aid kit. There’s iodine in it, spoke up Mark.

In a few minutes she was back and poured it over the damaged areas, an action that caused the injured lad to faint from the pain. Ripping up some clean material she put some salve, which she had found in the first aid kit, onto the cloth and proceeded to rebandage him.

It was several minutes before he roused sufficiently for her speak with him again.

Melody looked anxiously at him, deeply worried about his weak condition. He looked so terribly pale and drawn. She asked once more. Are you sure that you don’t want to go back to the ranch? I really don’t feel right about leaving you here alone.

I’ll be all right now. You have done all anyone could do. Now I need time to get my strength back. He smiled a weak smile at her. Now you get along with you... and thanks... thanks a lot.

Before she left she fixed the fire and went outside to unsaddle his horse, tying him where he could obtain plenty of fresh grass and a little water from the stream running away from