Stilts

By Earl Chessher

No way in hell can a boy survive with his legs shot out from under him. Harsh realities dictate that the weak perish while the strong survive, and there’s no compassion for those who cannot fend for themselves.

Life without your legs is a sure sign that you’ll die ...
unless you’re born with a lot of heart and a will to live long enough to serve your own kind of justice.

Randy learns to get along perfectly with his powerful arms and shoulders, and a pair of stubs ending just above his knees. But a set of wooden legs designed for him by Father Jeremy, a priest in need of saving, become weapons no outlaw can outshoot.

— A “Reader’s Choice” selection from Writers of the West

• Language: English
• Publisher: Earl Chessher
• Release date: Aug 12, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311797919

Earl Chessher

Career journalist, editor, publisher, photo journalist, writer and contributing editor for Videomaker magazine for five years, full-time video producer and independent businessman.

Book preview

Stilts

By Earl Chessher

Text copyright © 2014 Earl Chessher

Cover art by Princess S.O.

Smashwords Edition

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.

Dear Reader,

Stilts is written under the auspices of the Writers of the West brand (www.writersofthewest.com).

Writers of the West authors aren’t in this to get rich, create million-sellers or take the western genre by storm. We’re in it to revive western storytelling, uphold the elements of quality writing and storytelling, and encourage readers AND writers to reconsider any negative thing they may have heard about westerns.

While other writers, authors and publishers, both independent and traditional, might focus on giveaways and blue-light specials, we’re taking our creative properties a bit more seriously. And that means putting a reasonable value on them. You’ll rarely see anything on Writers of the West for 99 cents.

But we do offer up some GREAT reading in the Shorties section of our website. They’re free, and always will be…individually. However, once we’ve created enough of them, these shorties will be included in a flash fiction or short story anthology and offered for a fistful of change.

All other published works will be offered at reasonable and commercially competitive price levels. We believe the quality of our publications is such that we don’t have to have fire sale, garage sale or yard sale pricing to interest our readers and followers.

Writers of the West authors

Dedication

I can only write when my story tells me to.

— Earl Chessher

To my friends and excellent fellow writers: Ted Atoka, Angel Potter Cox, Sharon McKane, Mary Bradford, John McGinn, Micheal O’Flaherty, Patti Geesey and Will Carpenter.

And, to Fiction Writers Group, where dreams flourish.

Acknowledgement

Thank you, to every reader on the planet. Without you, we writers would be relegated to reading to ourselves, in silence. If you read and liked Stilts tell me, tell everyone! If you didn’t like it, don’t tell Ted Atoka.

My editor for this western storytelling adventure, Katie Ritcheske. You make something to be feared a thing to love and appreciate, and in the process, you helped me create an awesome story about a man with no legs.

My other editors and readers, you know who you are, and you will be named in the upcoming titles you’re helping me develop. Thank you.

— Earl Chessher

Foreword

The awesome thing about western storytelling is it encompasses more than pistols, knives, horses and shootouts. It is, and was, and has been a way of life for many, many years, beginning with the adventurists who explored new lands wearing coonskin caps, all the way to romantic (in a deadly way) bank robbers like Bonnie and Clyde.

The beauty of western storytelling—the genre, if you will—is that it includes all other genres, from romance, to adventure, mystery to history, cradle to beyond the grave. You’ll find the western in supernatural and horror, as well as in humor and satire. In fact, there’s a bit of cowboy and cowgirl in each of us. Not everybody has to ride a horse.

So, when you think about good resisting bad, boy meets girl, hope, despair, fighting city hall, chasing asteroids or ass-kicking loners, like it or not, folks, you’ve got some western storytelling between those book covers. It’s all about living—some of us heroically, others just surviving.

— Earl Chessher

Table of Contents

Dedication

Acknowledgement

Foreword

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 1

The horsemen rode up on a cloud of dust, their rides covered in white froth. They surrounded the wagon Randy and his mother and father were riding in. Randy watched as Pop slowly let the reins down and dropped his head as if in prayer. Randy didn’t like the look of that at all. Dust continued to swirl, then settled. Only the snort or snicker of one of the horses, clearing its nose, broke the silence.

The dozen men sat tall and quiet, staring. Not moving. Pop kept his head hung, sitting motionless. Randy heard his mother start to sniffle.

What do they want? Randy asked his father.

Nothin’ good, boy. Pop finally raised his head and turned to look at his only son. The last of three, the older two gone during the war. Hush now.

A huge man front and center of the group straightened in his saddle, then spat a brown glob into the dust. Another horse snickered and snorted. That was when Pop grabbed his Winchester and started firing. Men dropped out of their saddles as if kicked by a mule. But the giant, their leader, calmly drew his pistol, and Randy watched as his mother’s face disappeared.

Pop grunted, but he didn’t stop shooting. When he spilled forward into the harness rig, there were five men left, plus the giant.

The fourteen-year-old grabbed his father’s rifle, cocked the lever and pulled the trigger. It was empty. The only thing left to do was either run or grab the reins and try to outrun the horsemen.

Grabbing the leads, Randy gave them a snap. The team was ready to respond, but men on either side of the giant raised their rifles and shot Mister and Micah in the head. The wagon wasn’t going to go anywhere.

Randy jumped off the wagon and ran. The last words he heard were, His legs. Don’t shoot him in the back. Don’t kill him. Boy’s got grit. Cripple him. He’ll crawl under a rock and die, but if he lives, he deserves it.

Then came the cracks of pistols, and Randy’s legs were knocked out from under him. He tasted dirt, then everything went black.

***

Slade’s big black beast snickered, reared and turned, then giant and horse were headed away. The other five followed. Mack kicked his gelding to catch up with the leader, then yanked on the reins to pull up even.

Why let ’im live, boss?

Slade spat another dark lump of juice between them, then cut his right-hand man a look. They rode on at a fierce pace, the other four struggling to keep up.

Didn’t, Slade said, showing no emotions either way. Good as dead.

Shoulda made sure, Mack snapped. He put the spurs to his ride and moved up ahead. It was his job to make sure there were no surprises down the road. Every rise posed a threat, every rock a possible ambush.

Heah! And with a shout, the rest of the men hurried to catch up. Slade kept his pace, no faster and no slower than before. He gave no further thought to the boy or his condition. The boy’s pa had been a part of their operation for a long time, then got righteous on them and left the pack. Bad thing was, the man had also taken more than his cut.