Piper-The General's Daughter

By James Evers

Young Love, Forbidden Love...
Forced to leave his home with the threat of death for loving a general's daughter and for speaking out against the general's murderous forays against the Indians, Elijah Jenko travels the West, helping to uphold the law as a bounty hunter. Piper, the general's daughter, fights the amorous attentions of a callous lieutenant, while praying for the return of her one true love.

• Language: English
• Publisher: James Evers
• Release date: Sep 18, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310881824

James Evers

James Evers’ favorite past times include reading God’s Word daily, writing, traveling when the opportunity arises, singing karaoke, and searching for antiques in the great state of Texas, where he lives.

Book preview

Piper—the General’s Daughter

Also by James Evers

Wyoming Fervor

Western/Fiction/Romance

In This Moment

An Alcoholic’s Path to Recovery

Winning Your Battle

Spirit vs. Flesh

Coming soon: Time Lasso & Piper 2

Western/Fiction

Available at: www.Amazon.com in

Paperback book and ebook

Piper

The General’s Daughter

James Evers

Piper—the General’s Daughter

Copyright © 2014 James Evers

ISBN: 978-150069284-1

All Rights Reserved by the Author and Publisher. This publication may not be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in whole or in part, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, with the exception of a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a newspaper or magazine—without prior written permission from the author.

Email: [e-mail].

Characters by Heather LeAnn Evers

Contributions to the content by Tonna Thomas

Final edit by James Evers

Book interior and book cover design by Jean Boles

http://jeanboles.elance.com

Dedication

To the Cherokee People

To those who

suffered and those who died during the Trail of Tears.

To my Aunt Letha. I love you and will miss you.

Chapter One

Socorro, Texas 1878

I’m taking you in! Elijah Jenko stated profoundly to the man leaning against the bar in the run-down saloon. You’re a wanted man!

The man looked at him with surprise in his eyes. I’m not wanted! Besides, I could take you right easy, boy! Now run along home before I bend you over my knee, he laughed violently.

Obviously drunk, the man appeared as if he hadn’t had a bath or a shave in months. Elijah recognized the man despite his grime and change of appearance. He carried the man’s wanted poster folded in his shirt pocket. He had looked at it a dozen times and had watched the man for a couple of days. After sketching a beard and mustache on the poster, he was certain that he had the right man. Josiah Mansfield. Wanted for shooting a man in the back following a card game in East Texas.

You are wanted! Josiah Mansfield! Elijah submitted, knowing that the man was now using a different name.

The man narrowed his bloodshot eyes. My name is Fred Barnes, his words thick and slurred from too much whiskey.

No, it isn’t. It’s Josiah Mansfield. Now come along peacefully, and I won’t have to get mean like.

You ain’t nothin’ but a kid! The drunk man said with a laugh of disbelief. You’re nothin’ but a skinny, big-mouthed kid that should still be suckin’ at his mama’s paps.

Elijah easily ignored the statement. He’d heard it before from other calloused men and expected to hear it again.

Kid? Maybe, but I’m going to escort you over to the jail, willingly or not! Elijah stated with certainty.

Suddenly, Mansfield lunged at him with a knife.

Elijah quickly stepped aside, pulling a chair out in front of him with his boot, which tripped the man and sent him sprawling to the floor. The saloon fell silent. A couple of scantily clad saloon girls quietly made their way up the stairs.

Elijah had acquired quite a reputation of being a rough-and-tumble bounty hunter. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind that Josiah Mansfield, aka Fred Barnes, was going to jail. That was a sure bet—unless of course he ended up at the under-takers instead.

He had captured every outlaw that he had gone after, and he never got the wrong man. This was going to be bounty number ten. He was very good at tracking men down and landing them in jail. After that, he didn’t care what happened to them. He’d done his job, and that was that. The reward money, which was often a rather large sum, he stashed away and used sparingly.

Elijah never stayed around long. He did his work and disappeared. No one saw him for days, even weeks on end. Many knew of him, but nobody really knew him. He never drank or fraternized saloons unless he had business there, and he never took up with the women. Some said he had a wife somewhere. If he did, he was staying true to her.

He wasn’t just fast with his gun draw. It was unerring. It seemed he was reaching for his gun to draw and replacing it at the same time. He had a way of reading men and anticipating trouble. He knew when they were going to draw before they knew. The slightest flinch after that and someone lay dead on the floor. This produced one problem. The more his reputation grew, the more some wanted to take him down to advance their own.

His hair hung in loose waves down the middle

of his back. He never shaved, though he kept his beard and mustache neatly trimmed. His dark eyes were as sharp as a hawk’s. He had a scar over his left eye where a man had hit him with the butt of a gun. The man and his partner had tried to rob Elijah of some reward money that he had collected. One was now in jail; the other lay six feet under.

Once Mansfield was face down on the floor, Elijah was quick to put his boot on the fallen man’s neck. He removed a thin rope from his back pocket and tied the man’s hands. There. That’s more like it, he said with satisfaction and stepped back, hauling the man to his feet. He then gripped the man’s shaggy chin. Now, you be a good boy, he cooed to him, causing everyone to laugh. He stood the chair back up on its legs, pushed it back under the table neatly and left the saloon, tipping his hat courteously to everyone.

He marched Mansfield down the boardwalk by the arm toward the sheriff’s office. So, why did you do it? Why would anyone shoot a man in the back? he asked sharply.

You’ve got the wrong man!

No, I don’t, Elijah stated confidently. I never get the wrong man.

You did this time, law dog.

"Nope. I didn’t. Just so you know, I’m not a

law dog. I’m just a man hunter, and I do it for the bounty on their heads."

I’ll get you for this, Mansfield hissed.

Uh-huh, Elijah answered with disbelief. That’s what they all say.

You’re gonna get yers.

Gosh, I really hope so, Elijah answered sarcastically. I would hate to think this is all life has for me.

Mansfield tripped over a loose board in the walk and went down with a thud, landing on his face and howling in pain. You broke my nose! he wailed.

Nah, I didn’t, Elijah said nonchalantly as he helped him to his feet. You just need to learn to not drink so much. He righted the man then brushed dirt off his shoulder. Blood spurted from Mansfield’s nose.

The sheriff might call the doc for you—but then again, maybe not. I don’t know and I don’t much care, he said honestly as he nudged Mansfield to start walking again. Elijah kept silent the rest of the way to the sheriff’s office, as Mansfield babbled on about everything that had gone wrong in his life.

Elijah opened the door to the sheriff’s office and ushered his prisoner in, causing the sheriff and a deputy to look up from their desks. I have another one for you, sir.

Fred Barnes? the older man asked with surprise as he rose to his feet.

Elijah pulled the wanted poster from his shirt pocket and snapped it open, showing it to the sheriff. Here’s your proof.

The sheriff looked at the poster, then at Mansfield, who was still bleeding all over himself, then back at the poster. Well, I’ll be darned, he said slowly with the realization of who Fred Barnes actually was. Lock him up, Joe, he told the deputy. And get him something to clean up with.

The tall, burly deputy took the prisoner by the arm and led him through the open door to an empty cell.

I believe you owe me three hundred and fifty dollars, sir, Elijah told the sheriff.

Fair enough. He rummaged through his desk drawer. Fred’s been around here for quite a spell, and until now no one’s took notice of who he really was. I could have sure used this here reward money myself.

Elijah smiled as he counted his money.

If anyone had known where to find you, they could have sure used your help down in Webb County a couple of weeks ago, the sheriff stated. They had some bad trouble with a band of Mexicans and Kickapoo, Lipan and Seminole Indians who crossed the Rio Grande. They raided ranches and killed eighteen men, women and children, I hear. And stole a couple of hundred horses. Cavalry didn’t seem much interested in responding. Six days and they were gone, back across the water.

They rode thirty miles shy of San Diego in Naches County, Elijah replied. I happened to ride into the area after they were long gone. Man named Gravis got some men together, sent for the cavalry who was in San Diego, and followed the raiders himself. The cavalry never responded to their request either. Gravis caught up with them at the Rio Grande, but his group was small and they were easily driven back.

It’s a shame, the sheriff said flatly. You gonna be around long this time?

I don’t usually make plans, Sheriff. They end up changing.

Well, the new wanted posters are in. Thought you might wanta have a look at em’. Four in all. Ya might wanta take a close look at one of them there. Looks awful familiar.

Elijah picked up the drawings of the men and thumbed through them, stopping at one, he then looked back at the sheriff who was staring at him with a raised eyebrow.

Three wanted men in as many months. That’s quite a record you got going, Mr. Smith.

They just keep showing up, Elijah answered.

I guess a border town to Mexico is a place one would find wanted men, the sheriff replied with squinted eyes.

"I