Dodge City 2004

By Stephen Shaver

Dodge City Police Chief, Bob Shanahan IV, is gunned down by members of an Al Qaeda splinter cell. In a coma, he spirals back in time to stories of his great-grandfather and his adventures in the Old West working with Wyatt Earp, Bat Masterson and Doc Holliday to bring law and order to the original Sin City. Later, Bob Shanahan V joins the Army Rangers, out to avenge his father in Afghanistan.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Stephen Shaver
• Release date: Dec 2, 2009
• ISBN: 9781452475011

Stephen Shaver

Stephan C. Shaver was raised in rural Iowa on a working farm. He served two tours of duty in Vietnam, stationed in and around Da Nang, living and working among the Vietnamese people. As a trained bodyguard, he has worked with the Royal Family of Saudi Arabia. He spent time in Jeddah, meeting with King Faisal's son, setting up microwave television in the Kingdom. He currently lives in Arizona where he is working on various projects. His imagination and passion for the Old West and knowledge of the War on Terror weaves the story to an exciting conclusion.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

DODGE CITY JANUARY 1, 1993

EVERY MAN IS entitled to be the very best he can be no matter how big or how small of an impact it may have on his final destiny. As I'm now the Chief of Police of Dodge City Kansas my name is Bob Shanahan. It is January first the year Nineteen Ninety Three, New Year's Day. I just got up from the dinner table to leave for a night of police work. As I looked at the photos on the mantel for a moment of four generations of Lawmen, how proud I am to be among them. The four of us look almost a 100% alike, we all resemble our fathers.

On a typical holiday weekend, I myself like to be out in the public's eye as I'm an elected Official of Dodge City Kansas. It is my solemn duty to the people that elected me.

I kissed my lovely wife Meg of Fifteen years and said, Good night honey, I'll see you for breakfast in the morning. How about steak and eggs with a bagel?

I always looked forward to the time I spend in the mornings with Meg. We work on crossword puzzles together, even though I'm not as good at the puzzles as Meg. But I think they make me wiser.

I'm in good shape for my age. I have broad shoulders and a stocky build. Not a big man, but solid. At my age, I can still run five miles non-stop and I do so every week at least once and sometimes more. At one time, I had trained to be a professional boxer, but I always felt I was the wrong color. I'm not a racist or anything like that, I just felt they had a better chance than me.

As I reached for the gun belt and pulled out my antique Colt .45 Peacemaker Revolver, I popped the cylinder open and checked to be sure it was loaded. I always carry a white bone handle .45 just like all the other Family Officer's before me. The Revolver was passed down to me by my father and his father and so on. I was not born a big man but that .45 makes me big enough for any problem that might arise.

Meg said, OK! Your order's been placed Chief Shanahan.

She giggled as she watched me put on my Gun belt and place it in my revolver in the holster.

I picked up a shotgun, put six double buckshot shells in it. Then I put on my winter coat and gloves. Meg said, Keep bundled up warm honey and be safe out there tonight. You know how I hate the holidays!

I Laughed and said, Yeah, I know, I might get attacked by a rabid skunk. Dangerous business this police work in Dodge City! For the most part, Dodge had become a quiet little City after the late eighteen hundreds.

I turned the doorknob and pushed the door open as the brisk winter air slapped me in the face. I stepped out into the night closing the door behind me and leaving the warmth of the house behind. I looked up to the sky and it was as if it was almost daylight as a full moon lit up the night. It was as bright as any night I could remember growing up in Dodge City.

I remember my grandfather saying that on nights like this the devil will bring out the worst in man and the crazies will run rampant amongst us. Then as I looked around, I thought, ' Hogwash, Just Superstitions, No Time For Those Kind Of Thoughts.'

As the Chief of Dodge City, I fixed my tie and wanted to be sure I was looking my very best, as I have an image to keep up in Dodge City. I might want to run for Mayor next. It's not every day you have the opportunity to be an important City Official as I was.

As I walked to the patrol car, I turned and looked back at the house thinking it might have been nice to be at home sitting around the fireplace with a nice warm Baileys & Cream and Watching TV with the family tonight for a change. But it's my job to serve and to protect the people of Dodge City.

I try and give my staff a break on holidays so they can be with their families, but I don't know if they really appreciate it. Oh, I guess I'm just feeling sorry for myself. ' Get Over It,' I thought. I have a job to do tonight and I'll do it well.'

I unlocked the door of My Patrol Car and got inside, turned the key and started the engine. It ran like a newborn baby. The big motor let out a whine as if to say, Fuck! We got to go out tonight in this cold! As I laughed to myself, I locked the shotgun in the holder. I turned on the radio, pressed on the microphone and called in. This is car number one. Chief Shanahan going ten forty-eight, over!

It was silent for a moment then the radio cracked and blared back. Ten four, read you load and clear Chief, said Deputy James, who was manning the switchboard at the Station tonight.

Him being a single man, it was no problem for him to work holidays. His wife had up and taken off with another man about a year after they where married. It didn't seem to bother him much though. I guess he must have known it was coming.

His voice was a high-pitch, almost enough to make your skin crawl, but I didn't let it bother me because I was a good Lawman and so was Deputy James. Even though he sort of reminded me of Barney on Mayberry, the old TV program with Andy Griffith.

I pressed down on the microphone and said, Station, this is the Chief. Any calls tonight? Car One over.

James said, Station to Chief, Car Number One. Mrs. Williams up on Freemont street called again. She's lost her cat tonight and is worried about the fireworks scaring it! Over.

I keyed the microphone, hesitated for a moment, as I thought, Why Do I Have To Deal With This Shit?

Station, this is Car One. OK, I'll ten eight with her later. Please call her and relay the message. And reassure her that the cat will be fine! Car Number One over and out.

James responded back saying, Ten Four Chief. Car Number One, Station over and out.

I put the Patrol Car in reverse and backed down the short drive onto Cherry Street. I began cruising the blocks with the occasional shining of the spotlight, looking only at images and shadows. I turned left and headed to Highway Four Hundred, the main highway going through the center of Dodge City. It was a cold night as I turned the heater and defroster on Maximum and drove the Patrol Car down the dimly lighted streets of Dodge City, Kansas.

I, Bob Shanahan the Fourth, have everything a person would want. I'm the Fourth generation of Policemen to serve in Dodge City Kansas since my Great Grandfather. I know pretty much everybody here by their first name as I had grown up and lived here my whole life. I am now Thirty-five years old and the new Chief of Police, as my father had retired about six months earlier from the Police force, as the Chief of Police.

My son, Bob Shanahan the Fifth, will more than likely be the fifth generation of Policemen in Dodge City, Kansas. He has told me that's what he wants more than anything is to be the Chief of Police of Dodge City when he's old enough, because he's so proud of his old man. I've told him College has to come first: ' Bobby Junior, Times Are Changing And You Need A Degree To Keep Up With The Modern Technology Of Police Work In Today's Day And Age. Things Are Now Moving Almost Faster Than People Can Think. What Will Ten More Years Bring?'

Things have really changed a lot since the days after my Great Grandfather had come here and policed the streets of Dodge City, Kansas. In the early days, I think all you needed was a sharp mind, a little luck, a good gun hand and a little courage or maybe a whole lot of courage.

I had reached the main highway and turned the Patrol Car Northwest heading up Highway Four Hundred through the center of Dodge City. I turned off and made a left going into the alley checking the stores with the spotlight. I'll be lucky to see a squirrel stealing an acorn from a tree in this City tonight. It's so damn cold, no one in their right mind would be out on a night like this. Everyone's either home or in the local tavern by now. Most know better than to drink and drive because I have a rule that anyone caught will be put in Jail for one week.

Things are so laid back in this City of little Middle America, the Wheat capital of the world. How did things go so wrong for a City in the West that had everything going for it? The people spent a lot of money here in the early days. The top Cattle Brokers from around the country played and spent loads of money here. Why is it so boring now? There's nothing to do here but walk around and look important and collect a paycheck.

In Dodge City, nothing has happened since Al Capone's Gang drove through on the way to Las Vegas, that's how long it's been. The Old Timers still set and drink coffee in the local coffee shop over breakfast in the mornings, talking about that as if it happened yesterday.

The City isn't totally without crime. We do have a few Dope Smokers and a few rednecks that get in fights now and then, but all in all they don't bother anyone and we pretty much turn our heads and look the other direction. They are mostly kids and locals that grew up here anyway. The Drug users here are not like that Manson family in California that killed after using drugs and raped harmless people. They just wander around the coffee shops and the streets not bothering anyone.

The Chief had turned back on Highway Four Hundred now. As he was pulling out a black car went past him as almost a blur. ' Looks As Though I've Got Myself A Speeder In Front Of Me. What The Hell's A Matter With Him Tonight? I thought. This Son-of-a-Bitch Must Be Crazy To Speed In My Beloved Dodge City Kansas On New Year's Day.'

I stepped on the gas hard and the acceleration pushed me back into the seat. As I began to approach from behind, I could just make out the license plate. The speeding car's license was not quite right, it was hanging at an angle as if it had been put on not too long ago and in a hurry. This car I was about to pull over was out of state, displaying plates from New York. ' Man Are They A Long Way From Home,' I thought. 'He must have got lost to end up all the way here in this sleepy little City.'

At times I wish I were a Policeman in New York where my Great Grandfather started out. How ironic he ended up here in Kansas. That would have been an exciting job with all the international activity going on there in these times.

As I got closer to the Black Honda, I pulled in behind them and I hit the lights and siren. I haven't had the opportunity to do that in weeks, I love that about this job. This is usually such a boring job, not the way it was when Great Grandfather came here.

As they started to pull over, I saw an image of one of them grabbing for something in the rear seat. The Honda slowed and stopped and I pulled the Black and White in behind them. I reached for the radio, keyed the microphone and said, Charlie Four, this is Car Number One, Chief Shanahan.

Deputy James answered, OK Chief, you don't have to tell me who you are. You're the only one out there tonight Chief.

Impatiently, I keyed the microphone, Car Number One to station.

Deputy James replied, Go ahead Car Number One. I read you load and clear Car Number One.

I quickly responded, Car Number One to Station. I got a code four out of state from New York, off highway four hundred. Over.

I roger that Chief.

Car Number One to Station. Over. I need a 28 - 29. Run this plate nationwide, for registration, warrants and auto theft. Over.

I looked at the license plate and read: New York State - apple, mary, kilo, four eight six four. Over. Car Number One. Station, you copy out?

The deputy said, Ten four this is Station! I copy, read you load and clear Car Number One. Station checking for warrants, arrests and auto theft, Chief.

I reached for my Black Cowboy hat that was lying on the front seat beside me and my citation pad that I carefully had placed in the back of my pants behind his police belt. I opened the door and slowly stepped out of the Black and White Patrol Car. I was wearing my black shiny boots with my pants were bloused inside of them. I definitely liked that look. It makes me feel like a Storm Trooper or Military Man. As I closed the door, I stopped to look at my reflection on the side of the shiny Patrol Car, as if looking in a mirror. I thought, ' Man Are A You Good Looking S.O.B. In This Uniform.'

I immediately turned my attention back to the auto I had pulled over and the people inside it. I tried to see the occupants as I got closer, but I was having a hard time seeing anyone. The windows were very heavily tinted. I started walking toward the driver's side of the Black Honda. As I Got closer he thought that I might have an easier time seeing inside of the Honda. But as I shined my flashlight at the windows the glare blinded me for a split second. Still I could not see in them.

I walked up to the Honda and tapped on the window with my flashlight. The dark tinted window of the Honda came down about half way and I was finally able to see the driver. The Driver, a dark skinned man, and two other younger darker skinned men were visible inside of the Honda. These men were not Negroes but they were from another Country.

The dark skinned driver said, I don't speak good English. I'm foreign student. I am student! I am student from foreign country! I have visa you understand policia?

I just looked down at them expressionless and said sternly,

License; insurance; and registration please!

Then, shining the flashlight in the driver's face, I asked the Driver, Where you headed in such a hurry, Son, maybe a fire?

I didn't give him a chance to answer: Didn't you see the twenty five mile an hour posted sign, Son?

The Driver said again, Student! I student. I not American. I am student. I don't understand what you try and be saying to me. I am student! Please you don't understand I only student.

The Driver seemed to be jumpy and nervous reaching in the glove box moving papers. I said it again, this time more loudly, as I watched them, LICENSE; INSURANCE; AND REGISTRATION PLEASE!

They were talking between each other in a language that I didn't understand. It seemed as if they where having a problem finding anything, even a license plus communicating with the me.

Exasperated, I finally yelled, OK. I ORDER YOU TO STEP OUT OF THE CAR, ALL THREE OF YOU. AND PUT YOUR HANDS ON THE ROOF OF THE CAR WITH YOUR FINGERS LOCKED. DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?

I was starting to get a little frustrated with the three men by now. I was getting cold and they were wearing on my nerves. It was as though I was talking to myself and getting nowhere fast.

I thought, ' These No-Good Law Breaking Sons-Of-A-Bitches Come Into My Quiet Little City Making Me Stand Out In The Cold. Maybe They Should Go Back To Their Own Country And See If They Can Break The Law There.'

I stepped back now putting my hand on his white, bone-handled .45 revolver and removing the safety strap with my thumb from the hammer. As I looked in the car with my flashlight I could tell the driver had beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

Chief, Car Number One. Chief, Car Number One. Can you read me?! Deputy James was calling.

I ignored the radio and focused my attention on the Driver, Son, you are sweating? Is something wrong? Are you sick or what? Are you not feeling well, Son?

The car door started to open. The Driver suddenly fell forward. The passenger pulled something shiny from his lap and a shot rang out. BANG!

The Chief felt a pain hit him in the neck and run down his side and then the pain went to the back of his head as he fell back hitting the pavement hard. He felt as if a horse had kicked him. As the black Honda sped off in the dark of night, all the Chief could see was the taillights fading in the distance. Something warm was running down his neck and around his back.

The Middle Eastern Driver of the Honda looked over at the other two Middle Eastern Men and said, Stupid Infidel! He needed to die. The Three Men started laughing and saying, Praise Allah. Praise Mohammed.

The Driver said, We should go back and cut off his head.

One passenger looked at him and said, Keep driving, we have a mission in New York. We don't have time for the infidel. He's dead anyway. I seen half his face come off.

CHAPTER 2

MEMORY'S A NEW LIFE

AS I LIE on the pavement I remember the stories my Grandfather had told me about Great Granddad and his Wild times Policing the streets of Dodge City, Kansas. I would sit on his knee for hours on end and listen to the many stories as Grandma would bring us milk and Warm cookies from the oven. The way Granddad told the Stories it seemed like they happened one after right after another, yet I recall they were all over a period of years.

But as I lay here, the Stories come to me and seem as almost a part of me and my own life. I remember it began in the summer of 1879 after the Civil War that divided this Great Nation had passed. There were still many divided lines and hard feelings during the early days proceeding the Civil War both in the East and out West.

Many of the Southern Soldiers had come out West for a new beginning, still holding a grudge, like Quantrill's Raiders, a lawless group of men against the Northern Soldier and the Government. Their whole plan was to kill and disrupt everything the Union had stood for. They had for the most part lost everything and were against law and order and would take anything they could steal. It was well known that they would murder, rape and pillage everywhere they went.

I was able to avoid the war due to my status as being a Police officer in New York City. I had at one time looked into joining, but felt I better served where I was at.

Twenty years as a Police officer in the now relative peaceful city of New York. I was now ready to leave for a new adventure. Things were just too calm in the city for me. I was still a young looking man, even though my age was starting to show in my face. Hard times and sleepless nights do that to you. I had never married, so I hadn't to worry about family. I still had a good gun hand and that was the most important thing. My age was not as much the factor for leaving as was the city closing in on me. I needed room to breathe.

I had read many stories about the Wild West and felt I should be part of that and the stories to come out. It was like a fire burning inside of me that wanted out. When I first started Police work, New York City was a small but busy place, with lots of foreigners moving in. All they wanted to do was make a living. Most were hard-working people that were trying to raise and to support there families, nothing more nothing less.

Nowadays every type of asshole and his brother had moved into the City after the War. All were trying to take each other and to get rich any way they could at anyone's expense. The main job of a Policeman in New York